John playfully rolled his eyes and leaned back on his throne, watching the system's small translucent form float in the air. The white hair, the black and light blue tuxedo, the semi-see-through skin that glowed faintly in the torchlight. It was adorable. Absolutely adorable.
"You know," John said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "your new body has a big ass too. I noticed it when you were floating away earlier. Like, really big. Proportionally, I mean. For such a small frame, it's kind of impressive."
The system's shoulders tensed. He didn't turn around.
"I wouldn't mind fucking you," John continued, his voice casual. "I mean, I'm not picky. A hole is a goal, right? That's literally one of my skills."
"I hate you so much."
"But you'd refuse anyway, so it doesn't matter." John shrugged and stood up from the throne. "Oh well. Your loss."
He snapped his fingers and teleported.
The world folded around him, the throne room vanishing in a blur of black marble and blue light. When the world reassembled itself, John was standing in the middle of the goblin village, his goblin avatar settled over him like a second skin. Silver-gray curls, handsome green features, fitted leather armor. He looked around, expecting to see Zedrik getting a train ran on him by a horde of eager male goblins.
Instead, he saw nothing.
No Zedrik. No mob of goblins. Just a bunch of green-skinned creatures lounging around the central fire pit, picking their teeth, scratching themselves, and looking generally satisfied with life. A few of them were napping. A couple were playing some kind of dice game. One was sharpening a knife with a rock.
John's eye twitched.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?" His voice echoed across the village, making the goblins jump. A few of them scrambled to their feet, their yellow eyes wide. "WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS THE RED-HEADED PRISONER I GAVE YOU!?"
The goblins exchanged nervous glances. One of them, a skinny male with a missing ear, stepped forward.
"Uh... leader?" The goblin's voice was high and shaky. "The... the lady? The red-hair lady?"
"YES! THE RED-HAIR LADY! THE PRISONER! THE ONE I TOLD YOU TO HAVE FUN WITH! WHERE IS SHE!?"
The goblin winced. "She... she ran away, leader."
"RAN AWAY!?" John's voice went up an octave. "HOW!? HOW DID SHE RUN AWAY!? THERE WERE LIKE FIFTY OF YOU! SHE WAS CHAINED! SHE WAS NAKED! SHE WAS—"
"She wasn't chained anymore," another goblin piped up. "The chains... they just... disappeared. Poof. Gone."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DISAPPEARED!?"
The goblin shrugged helplessly. "They just... did. One second she was chained, the next second she wasn't. And then she ran. Really fast. We tried to catch her, but she was already gone."
John pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths. The chains disappearing. That was the system's doing. Had to be. Maybe it was a side effect of teleporting Zedrik here? Or maybe the system had done it on purpose, just to annoy him. He wouldn't put it past the little femboy.
"You better not have eaten her," John said, his voice low and dangerous. "I swear to Zero, if you ate her, I will turn every single one of you into fertilizer."
The goblins shook their heads frantically. "No, leader! No eat! She ran! Ran into the woods!"
"Thorn Woods," another goblin added. "The bad woods. Full of thorns and wolves and... and other things."
John groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Great. Just great." He looked at the goblins, who were all staring at him with expressions of guilt and fear. "Which direction?"
The goblins pointed toward the eastern edge of the village, where the trees grew thick and dark.
John sighed heavily and started walking.
---
Zedrik ran.
The thorns tore at her skin, leaving thin red lines across her arms, her legs, her chest. Her massive breasts bounced with every step, heavy and painful, and her bare feet—she had lost her shoes somewhere in the village—were cut and bleeding. But she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. If she stopped, they would catch her. If they caught her, they would—
She pushed the thought out of her mind and kept running.
"I'm going to be okay," Zedrik whispered to herself, her voice high and breathless. She ducked under a low branch, thorns scraping across her back. "I'm going to be okay. I just need to... to get to the capital. To find a mage. A powerful mage. Someone who can turn me back."
She stumbled over a root, caught herself on a tree trunk, and kept moving. The forest was getting darker, the trees pressing in on all sides. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
"I can sell my body," Zedrik continued, talking to herself because the sound of her own voice was the only thing keeping her from panicking completely.
"I'll find a traveler. A merchant. Someone with a cart. I'll offer them... I'll offer them anything. Whatever they want. I'll be so good. So accommodating. They'll want to help me."
She tripped again, this time falling hard, her knees slamming into the rocky ground. She bit back a scream and pushed herself up, her hands slick with blood.
"They'll take me to the capital," she said, limping now, one ankle twisted. "And in the capital, I'll find more... more clients. Rich ones. Ones with gold. I'll save up. I'll find a mage. A real mage. Someone who can undo... whatever that freak did to me."
She imagined it. Walking into a wizard's tower, her torn suit barely covering her body, her massive breasts on display. The wizard would look at her with disgust, or maybe with interest. She would offer him money. Lots of money. And when that wasn't enough, she would offer him her body. She would get on her knees and beg. She would do whatever it took.
"I'll be a woman for a little while longer," she said, her voice cracking. "It's fine. It's just... it's just temporary. I'll find a way to fix this. I always find a way."
She stumbled into a clearing and stopped, her chest heaving. The moon was visible through a gap in the trees, cold and distant. Zedrik stared at it, her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm going to be okay," she whispered. "I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be—"
Her foot slipped on a patch of wet leaves. She fell forward, tumbling down a steep slope, her body bouncing off rocks and roots. She screamed, the sound swallowed by the forest, and rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, her limbs sprawled, her face pressed into the mud.
Zedrik lay there for a moment, gasping, crying, her whole body shaking. Then she pushed herself up, spitting out dirt and blood, and kept moving.
"Okay," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Okay. I'm okay. I'm fine. I just need to... need to find the road. The main road. There's always travelers on the main road. Someone will help me. Someone has to help me."
She limped forward, one arm wrapped around her ribs, which ached with every breath. The thorns were thicker here, the branches reaching out like claws, tearing at her hair, her face, her already ruined suit.
"I'll sell my body," she repeated, the words becoming a mantra. "I'll sell my body and I'll get to the capital and I'll find a mage and I'll turn back and then I'll... I'll..."
She didn't know what she would do then. Go home? To her father? To her family? They wouldn't recognize her. They wouldn't believe her. She was a woman now. A busty, red-haired woman with a rapist's face and a murderer's past.
"I'll figure it out," she said, tripping over a root and falling again. "I always figure it out. I'm resourceful. I'm clever. I'm—"
She fell again. And again. And again. The slope was steep here, the ground unstable, and every time she tried to stand, her feet slipped out from under her. She slid downhill on her stomach, her nails scraping against the dirt, her screams muffled by the forest floor.
At the bottom of the hill, she lay in a heap, her body bruised and bleeding, her spirit broken. She stared up at the sky, at the moon, at the stars.
"I'm going to be okay," she whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. "I'm going to be okay."
But for the first time since she had woken up in that throne room, she didn't believe it.