Chapter 4: Revelation
The pink nectar tasted like lies. It was cloyingly sweet, with a floral aftertaste that clung to the back of Alex’s throat. Each sip was a reminder of Tommen’s condescending care, of the way everyone saw him—something fragile, something to be curated. He set the flute down with a definitive click, pushing it away.
“Not to your liking?” Tommen asked, his voice a low rumble beside him.
“It’s too sweet,” Alex muttered, staring into the frothy head of Kaelen’s abandoned ale. The tavern’s roar was a physical pressure, a wall of sound that made it impossible to think. But one thought cut through anyway, glowing with insistent, humiliating clarity: [Cock Curious: 0/5].
“I’ll get you something else,” Tommen said, already rising.
“No. I’m fine.” Alex stood up abruptly, the movement making the room tilt slightly. The two nectars, on an empty stomach, had left a warm, fuzzy haze in his head. “I just… need to piss.”
He didn’t wait for a response, weaving through the press of bodies. The quest text seemed to float in front of him, a taunting specter. Five. He just had to not look. How hard could it be? He was a guy. He’d spent years in locker rooms, public restrooms. It was just a matter of keeping his eyes to himself. A simple, basic act of will.
The hallway to the privies was narrower, quieter, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and lye soap. A door stood ajar at the end, revealing steamy air and the sound of running water. A shared bath chamber. He hurried past, finding the door to the simpler latrine.
He pushed it open. And froze.
Kaelen was there, his back to the door, facing a long, stained trough that served as a urinal. His plate armor was stacked neatly against the wall, leaving him in his tunic and trousers. He was humming some tuneless song from their world, perfectly at ease.
Don't look. Just turn around and walk out.
But his feet were rooted to the spot. This was it. The most mundane, ordinary situation. His best friend. The first one on the list. The quest counter seemed to pulse in his vision, a silent, demanding countdown.
Kaelen finished, giving himself a casual shake before tucking himself away. It was a fleeting, unthinking movement. But in that half-second, Alex saw everything. The familiar, comfortable shape of him, so different from what Alex now carried between his own thighs. It was normal. It was right. A stark, brutal contrast to his own delicate, shameful equipment.
Kaelen turned, buckling his belt, and jumped when he saw Alex standing there. “Whoa! Alex. You scared me.” He grinned, his face flushed from drink. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Alex’s mouth was dry. He could feel a hot blush crawling up his neck, burning the tips of his ears. He had looked. He had actually looked. The quest wasn’t some abstract horror; it was a real thing he was now actively participating in.
“Fine,” he choked out. “Just… waiting.”
“All yours,” Kaelen said, clapping him on the shoulder as he moved past. The gesture was familiar, brotherly, and it made the shame curdle in Alex’s stomach. He didn’t deserve it. He stood there, staring at the empty trough until he heard the door click shut behind Kaelen.
He finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. A soft chime sounded in his mind.
[Cock Curious: 1/5.]
A wave of nausea, hot and sharp, rolled through him. He stumbled to the trough, vomiting a thin, pink stream of nectar and shame. One down. The game was counting. He was counting.
He avoided everyone for the next hour, finding a shadowed corner to slump in. He nursed a stolen mug of warm, bitter ale, but it tasted like ash. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the fleeting image, and the number ‘1’ glowed behind his eyelids. The noise of the tavern was becoming unbearable, a suffocating blanket of joy he couldn’t share. He needed air. Real air.
He slipped out a side door, into a narrow alley choked with discarded barrels and the stink of rotting vegetables. The cool night was a relief on his feverish skin. He leaned against the rough stone of the tavern wall, tilting his head back to look at the sliver of sky between the rooftops. Just for a minute. Just to breathe.
A low, guttural moan cut through the quiet.
His body went rigid. It came from further down the alley, where the shadows were deepest. He knew that sound. Urka.
He should go back inside. Right now. This was none of his business. He turned to leave, but his feet didn't move. Another sound—a wet, sucking noise, followed by a choked gasp.
He knew he shouldn't. He knew it was wrong, an invasion, another step down a path he desperately wanted to avoid. But the compulsion was a hook in his gut, pulling him around. He peered into the darkness.
Urka was braced against the opposite wall, her head thrown back, a look of pure, animal ecstasy on her face. A man—one of the miners from earlier—was on his knees before her, his hands gripping her powerful thighs. His head bobbed frantically between her legs, servicing the thick, prominent cock that jutted from her groin. It was massive, veined, and utterly dominant, a brutal contrast to the fawning attention being lavished upon it.
Alex’s breath hitched. He couldn't look away. It was horrifying and fascinating, a display of raw, unapologetic power. His own body reacted with a traitorous twitch, a flush of heat that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with a terrifying, unwelcome fascination.
Urka’s eyes, glazed with pleasure, slid open. They found his in the gloom. She didn’t startle. She didn’t stop the miner. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face. She winked.
Alex jerked back as if scalded, stumbling into a barrel with a loud clatter. He fled back into the tavern, the image burned onto his retinas, the wet sounds echoing in his ears. The warm, noisy interior felt like a mockery. He collapsed back into his seat, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Another soft chime.
[Cock Curious: 2/5.]
He stared at the number, a cold dread settling in his bones. It was only two. It felt like a thousand. And he still had three more to go. The game wasn't just changing his body. It was rewiring his instincts, his curiosities, his very gaze. And he was, horrifyingly, starting to play along.