Finn stood before the "lonely" chest, sweating and mentally scarred by what was about to happen.
Everyone else watched with bated breath, especially Lickthorn—who was breathing heavily, completely entranced by the sight.
Finn looked back at the group, then narrowed his eyes at Arsenio.
"So… what exactly am I supposed to do with the chest?" he called out.
"You have to touch it! Snuggle with it! Oh—and grip it, too!" Arsenio shouted like this was perfectly normal.
Finn's face twisted in horror. He turned slowly to face the quivering chest, which was rattling anxiously in place. It let out a soft, pitiful whimper the moment he looked at it.
His eye twitched.
'So I have to… emotionally bond with this thing? Maybe even make love to it? This isn't even a living being! His eyes teared up slightly. This is beyond shameful…'
He knelt down slowly, and the chest shivered under his presence.
"O-Okay…" Finn muttered. "So… I just have to touch you…" He hesitated, then slowly reached out.
The chest trembled violently.
Finn paused—disgusted, but weirdly sympathetic.
Letting out a long, exhausted sigh, he finally placed his hand on the chest and gently rubbed it.
"There, there… everything's okay, Chest person…" he murmured with a fake warm smile, petting it like some deranged mother treating an bench like her newborn child.
From the outside, it looked like a touching, bizarre moment.
On the inside, Finn was dying.
'This can't be real. This CAN'T be real.'
From the back of the room, Arsenio shouted, "You have to go further with it!"
"Damn it…" Finn growled through his teeth. He put another hand on the chest, stroking it softly.
The mimic let out a soft, shuddering whimper under his touch. Finn raised an eyebrow. 'Is it… relaxing?'
Majestria giggled in the background, entertained. Lickthorn, on the other hand, looked like she was about to faint from arousal. She rubbed her thighs together and whispered, "I wish he'd touch me like that…"
Finn, sighing again, pulled the chest into his arms, rubbing it gently. It whimpered louder and even let out a moan. He felt something stir inside him.
'Am I getting turned on…? By a damn chest?!
Get it together, man! This is an object! Not a real woman! Just an object…'
He nervously laughed to himself as he rubbed the mimic's sides. Then, slowly, he slid one hand under the lid, gripping the underside softly.
Another moan escaped from the chest. A weak, submissive sound.
If it moans, you're in the zone, he remembered from every terrible Visual Novel and porno game he ever played.
So, naturally, he went further.
He gripped the mimic's lower seam, sliding his hand into its mouth and rubbing the inside gently. The mimic quivered under his touch, moaning again.
Majestria looked away now, visibly disgusted. Lickthorn was full-on panting.
"Am I almost done?!" Finn yelled, panicked. "Am I doing it right?!"
"You're doing—" Arsenio started, then stopped mid-sentence. His jaw dropped.
Everyone stared in shock.
"What?" Finn asked.
Then… he felt it.
Something changed.
On his right hand, he felt warmth. Softness. A squish.
Something that jiggled.
On the left—wetness. A slimy, swirling tongue wrapped around his fingers.
His eyes widened in horror.
He turned.
And saw the mimic had transformed.
And it left him in complete, utter shock.
Because lying before him… was a woman.
Not a chest. A full-grown, breathing, disturbingly attractive woman.
The once wooden texture beneath his fingers had changed. Drastically.
His right hand, previously resting on the mimic's lid, was now planted firmly on the soft, warm mound of her breast.
His left? It was inside her mouth. Her real, human mouth. Her tongue gently curled around his fingers, wet and warm, poking out slightly as if savoring the taste.
Finn's soul momentarily left his body.
The woman had long, flowing hair that shifted hypnotically between chestnut brown and deep mahogany. Glossy streaks caught the light like polished wood grain. Her eyes—sharp, almond-shaped—glowed with flickering amber light, staring directly into his soul. Judging him. Maybe loving him. He couldn't tell.
Her skin shimmered with midnight blue scales, sleek and iridescent, streaked with hints of silver. The silver almost moved with her breath, accentuating her curves in a way that made Finn's brain blue-screen.
She wore a tight, dark leather corset, trimmed with shimmering silver runes that hugged her form like the universe itself was thirsting for her.
And her mouth—still open slightly, her tongue still lazily tracing his fingers—revealed pristine white sharp teeth that were both beautiful and vaguely threatening. Finn wasn't sure if she was seducing him or preparing to bite.
She whimpered softly again, and the sound hit Finn in the soul like a well-aimed brick.
Panic mode: engaged.
His eyes darted down.
Right hand: still groping boob.
Left hand: still being lovingly tasted.
"Guh—AH—NOPE." He yanked his hands back.
Her body shifted forward instinctively, mouth parted, as if trying to get his fingers back like a kid reaching for candy.
Finn stumbled back a step.
He glanced around in full-blown chaos mode.
Majestria stood in the back with arms crossed and a look of unfiltered disgust.
Lickthorn was panting and drooling like a horny cartoon wolf. Arsenio stood with Beardman's box tucked under his arm, watching with both pride and confusion. Beardman himself peeked out of the box, blinking in concern.
"Heh… so uh… did I… finish the thing?" Finn scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh. "Was… was this part of the thing?!"
He looked down again. The woman now knelt on her thighs, looking up at him with glowing eyes full of gratitude and… worse, affection.
Her lips parted. "T-Thank you…" she whispered softly.
"Oh, great," Majestria snapped. "You violated another woman and now you want to play the victim."
"I DID NOT!" Finn shouted, spinning around. "I was coerced by mimic magic!"
He looked back down at the girl—Chestelle? Mimica? Chestina? Whatever she was called now—and then turned to Arsenio, hands flailing.
"What the hell am I supposed to do here?! HELP ME!"