I stretched, the fluid white fabric of the dress sliding over my skin with a softness that made my breath hitch. After a night of restless sleep, half-spent adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of my chest, it was time to move. I deactivated the Sleep Mode.

  The white dress felt like a luxury I wasn't ready to surrender, so I folded it with a strange, sheepish care.

  "Eren," I called out. "Can you... put this away? I don’t exactly have a closet."

  "Sure thing, Tay-Tay! My Dimensional Den is always open for your 'special' outfits," Eren chirped. She flicked a wrist, and a small, shimmering rift opened in the air. The dress vanished into her storage. "Just remember, the 'Den' has its limits. If I pack too many of your scandalous dresses, I might have to start tossing out Joshua's spare maces!"

  I ignored the tease, focusing instead on the cold, tingling sensation as I reactivated my armor. The nanoweave latex emerged from my pores, a black tide that sealed against my curves, firming my chest and mapping the arch of my back with surgical precision. I was back in the suit, back as the apex predator, but the memory of the silk stayed with me.

  The tavern downstairs was a ghost of its former self in the early morning light. The heavy, lust-filled silence of the night before had been replaced by the smell of stale ale and pine needles. We purchased a few links of spicy sausage for the road, simple breakfast snacks that I ate.

  "We need a Guild," Alan stated, his elven eyes scanning the horizon as we stepped out into the crisp morning air. "Oakhaven is a village of farmers and woodworkers. If we want real coin, we need to get to a hub. I saw a sign that said Braeburn’s Crossing has an Adventurer’s Guild."

  "Then we walk," Joshua said, his silver-and-cobalt armor clanking. He still wouldn't look directly at the way the sunlight made my latex suit shimmer, but his protective "Bulwark" stance was as firm as ever.

  Our departure was interrupted by the sound of a discordant flute and the rattle of a precarious-looking wagon. Pulling up to the inn was a man who looked like he had been put together from spare parts and colorful silk scraps.

  "Adventurers! Seekers of glory and presumably... very tight clothing?!" Barnaby shouted, his eyes wide as they snagged on my suit. He didn't look with the hunger of the tavern drunk; he looked with the wide-eyed wonder of a man seeing a strange lady. "I am Barnaby! I'm heading to Braeburn’s Crossing. I know a path, not the common road, mind you, too many taxes and boring people, but a scenic route through the Whispering Grotto!"

  "Is it safe?" Joshua asked, stepping forward.

  "Safe? No! But it’s fast!" Barnaby grinned. "Travel with me. Protect my cheese and my charms, and I’ll get you to the Crossing by nightfall."

  We agreed. There was no other choice.

  I climbed into the back of the rickety wagon, the wooden boards groaning under my new, dense weight. I sat among crates of pungent Oakhaven cheese and hand-carved wooden trinkets, the high heels of my boots digging into the floor. The space was cramped, forcing me to tuck my legs in, which only served to highlight the powerful, toned curve of my thighs.

  As the wagon lurched forward, I felt the rhythmic sway of the vehicle. Every bump caused my chest to shift with a soft bounce, the latex straining to hold me together. I could feel the "Gaze" of the group again as we sat in the small space.

  "Let’s talk business," Alan said, breaking the silence. He pulled out a small leather pouch that was our groups money bank. "I’ve counted our assets. Between the goblin loot and what we had... we have 15 gold pieces."

  "Fifteen?" I repeated, the word coming out as a frustrated exhale that made the suit tighten across my ribs. "That's barely enough for a decent meal and a round of repairs. We're broke."

  "We're not broke," Eren said, using her telekinesis to make a wooden spoon dance in front of my face. "We’re 'economically challenged.' Besides, once we get to the Guild. We can immediately start earning."

  Fifteen gold. A new world. I leaned back against a crate of cheese.

  As the Journey progressed. The rickety wagon lurched violently as a wheel caught a deep, rain-washed rut in the trail. I wasn't prepared for the physics of it. Without the low center of gravity I’d spent eighteen years mastering, the sudden jolt sent me tumbling sideways.

  I landed hard across Joshua’s lap, my palms slamming into his armored thighs for balance. Because of the way I’d been perched, my backside was thrust upward, the latex stretching to its absolute limit as it strained against my arched back.

  "I, I'm sorry, Josh!" I stammered, my voice a breathy, melodic purr. I tried to push myself up, but the height of my tactical heels made my long, toned legs feel like clumsy stilts in the cramped space.

  "Perfect timing, Tay-Tay!" Eren’s voice was a chaotic chirp.

  Before I could scramble away, I felt it. Not a hand, but the invisible force of her telekinesis. SMACK. The impact on my latex-clad rear was firm and startlingly resonant.

  "Ah! N-no!" A pathetic, high-pitched yelp tore from my throat. The sensation was electric; the suit was so hypersensitized that the phantom strike felt like it had landed on bare, exposed skin. I collapsed back onto Joshua’s chest, my face burning a deep red. Joshua froze, his breath hitching as he felt the soft, heavy weight of my chest pressing into his silver plate. He looked straight up at the wagon’s canopy, his jaw locked in a desperate struggle against his own "Bulwark" instincts.

  "Eren, stop it!" I hissed, finally finding my footing and sliding back onto a crate of cheese. I reached up, my fingers trembling slightly as I re-tied my platinum ponytail. The feeling of the long, silky strands brushing against my face.

  But Eren was bored, and a bored cat-girl was a menace. As the wagon settled into a rhythmic sway, she scooted closer, her mismatched eyes dilated with mischief. She began to poke and prod at me, her fingers sinking into the "glossy black tension" of the suit.

  "It’s so weird," she mused, poking the soft swell of my hip. "It feels like rubber, but it’s warm like skin. Does it pinch here? Or here?" She squeezed the side of my waist, her thumb grazing the edge of my ribs.

  "Everything... everything is sensitive, Eren," I whispered, my heart unsettled.

  The way she treated my body like a toy. I hated it, yet the kindness and attention were so jarringly different from how I’d been treated just a few days ago that I didn't know how to push her away.

  Suddenly, the wagon ground to a halt. Barnaby let out a sharp, jaunty whistle from the driver's seat. "End of the line for the easy part, travelers! The air's gone thick as curdled milk!"

  Eren’s tufted ears snapped upright, the golden fur bristling. "Noises. Big noises. In the brush."

  The whimsy of the moment vanished. I blinked my left eye, and the neon-amber HUD flared to life, shifting instantly into infrared. Through the dense, prehistoric ferns ahead, four massive, hulking heat signatures glowed.

  They were huge, twice the size of the goblins.

  "Orcs," I whispered, my voice turning sharp and cold. "Four of them. They’re heavy, armored, and they’re moving to flank the horses."

  "Formation!" Joshua bellowed, his voice regaining its command as he leapt from the wagon, his mace crackling with lightning. "Alan, take the left! Eren, protect the merchant!"

  "On it!" Eren shouted. She slammed her hands onto the floor of the wagon. Ground-magic surged; the earth beneath the wheels groaned and heaved, rising up into a thick, jagged rampart of stone and roots that shielded Barnaby and his cheese.

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  I didn't wait for an order. I scrambled onto the roof of the wagon, my heels clicking sharply against the wood. The posture they forced, shoulders back, chest out, spine arched, as I prepared to kill. I reached over my shoulder, my synthetic muscles hissing as I unslung the Widow’s Kiss.

  I dropped into a prone position on the roof. The latex creaked as I spread my long, powerful legs for stability, the material stretching against my thighs. I felt my breasts against the wooden planks, a distracting, intimate pressure as I peered through the scope.

  "Come on, you bastards," I breathed, my finger curling around the trigger. My HUD calculated the ballistic arc, the glowing reticle hovering over a massive, tusked throat emerging from the shadows.

  As I lay flat on the wagon’s roof, the rough wood pressing against the latex of my stomach. The heat of the morning sun was starting to make the suit feel like a second, tighter skin. I reached up, my fingers brushing against the soft skin of my neck as I adjusted my platinum ponytail.

  My HUD flared neon-amber. The heat signatures weren't just moving; they were blurring.

  "They're too fast!" I shouted. "They're weaving through the trees. I can't get a lock!"

  I tracked them through the scope of the Widow’s Kiss. These weren't the clumsy goblins from the stream. These were Orcs, hulking masses of gray muscle, but they moved with a predatory, zig-zagging movements. Suddenly, they broke cover of the treeline, charging down the trail. Their eyes were a terrifying, blood-soaked red, and thick strings of saliva flew from their tusks. They looked crazed, driven by a hunger that felt more like a disease.

  One Orc, larger than the rest, led the charge. He held a massive, polished slab of metal, a tower shield that caught the light and blinded my thermal sensors. The other three tucked in behind him, using him as a high-speed battering ram.

  "They're closing! Fifty yards!" I felt a spike of adrenaline and panicked breaths.

  I didn't wait for the perfect shot. I centered the reticle on the middle of that shining shield and squeezed the trigger.

  CRACK-BOOM.

  The .50 cal round left the barrel with a thunderous roar. The recoil was monstrous. It ripped through my frame, sending a visible shockwave through the soft, feminine curves of my body. I felt the vibration ripple through my chest and down to my backside.

  The bullet didn't pierce the shield, it was just impossibly thick, but the kinetic energy was undeniable. The lead Orc was slammed backward as if hit by a literal truck, his boots carving deep furrows in the dirt. The three behind him stumbled, their formation breaking.

  "Now!" I cried out.

  Joshua moved like a landslide of silver and cobalt. He planted his shield, Dawnbreaker, into the soil just as the Orcs regained their momentum and slammed into him. The impact sounded like a cathedral bell ringing. Joshua didn't budge, his armored shoulders hunching as he held the line, though I saw him wince as the crazed Orcs clawed at his plate. Trading blows with the Orc , mace on mace combat.

  From the left flank, a blur of cobalt blue and frost-breath erupted. Alan. He didn't run; he glided. His Rimefang blades were out, leaving shimmering trails of ice in the air. He moved with a clinical, elven grace. He caught the flank of the shield-bearer, his blades biting into gray flesh and instantly flash-freezing the wounds into jagged crystals of gore.

  "Taylor, keep them pinned!" Alan’s voice was like cracking ice.

  I pivoted on the roof, the high heels scraping against the wood. I felt the seductive sway of my hips even in this life-or-death moment. I lined up a shot on one of the Orcs trying to circle Joshua.

  "I got you, Josh!"

  But before I could fire, Eren’s chaotic laughter filled the air. She was standing on the earth rampart, her golden tail puffed up like a bottle-brush.

  "Time for some 'Binding' magic!" she chirped.

  She flicked her wrists, and the ground beneath the furthest Orc exploded. Instead of stone, thick, glowing vines of geomancy erupted. They moved with a sinister, dexterous precision, wrapping around his thick neck, his wrists, and his ankles in a complex, restrictive pattern. It was a supernatural shibari, pinning the brute to a tree in seconds. He thrashed, his red eyes bulging, but the more he moved, the tighter the glowing ropes bit into his muscle.

  "One down! Three to go!" Eren shouted, her green eye glinting with mischief as she glanced up at me. "Nice recoil, Tay-Tay! Your 'assets' nearly flew off the roof!"

  "Shut up and fight, Eren!" I snapped, my face flushing as I felt the cool air hit the slick latex on my lower back. I repositioned the Widow's Kiss, my cybernetic eye zooming in on the shield-bearer’s exposed leg.

  I adjusted my firing position on the wagon’s roof, the rough wood snagging. The prone position was... difficult. My chest I’d so carelessly designed in a character creator was pressing into the timber with a distracting, soft pressure.

  The lead Orc was still behind that massive, gleaming shield, charging again like a freight train. My HUD flickered neon-amber, calculating the angle. If I couldn't go through it, I'd go under it.

  As the curious Barnaby's head poked out the rampart for a second.

  "Stay down, Barnaby!" I shouted, my voice straining with effort.

  I centered the reticle on the Orc’s exposed, tree-trunk-sized ankles and pulled the trigger. CRACK-BOOM. The Widow’s Kiss roared, and the recoil was a violent, physical assault. The bullet deleted its target. The Orc’s legs vanished in a spray of dark, arterial red.

  He didn't stop, inertia carried his massive, armored torso forward as he face-planted into the dirt, the shield sliding away. I didn't waste time. I slung the massive rifle over my shoulder, and drew my Glock 19. The matte-black grip felt cold and powerful in my obsidian-black hand.

  "Joshua! Finish him!"

  Joshua didn't hesitate. He stepped over the screaming, legless brute, his silver-and-cobalt armor glowing with holy light. He raised his mace up. With a grunt of pure, effort, he brought the weapon down. There was a sickening crunch of bone and iron as the Orc’s head was effectively erased, the sheer force of the blow leaving a large empty gap.

  To my left, Alan was a blur of predatory grace. He dissected. "Fracture Step!" he hissed, his breath a visible cloud of frost. The ground beneath his Orc suddenly flash-froze, turning the soil into a treacherous sheet of ice. The brute slipped, and Alan was on him in an instant. It was visceral, brutal. Alan’s Rimefang blades worked like a sewing machine, stab after stab after stab, puncturing the thick hide until the Orc was more holes than meat. The elven swordsman didn't stop until the creature slumped, frozen solid from the inside out.

  "Taylor! Behind you!" Eren’s voice chirped, but the whimsy was gone, replaced by a sharp, jagged edge.

  I spun on my heels. The last Orc had bypassed the others, charging the wagon with a roar of insane, red-eyed hunger. I leveled the Glock and pulled the trigger as fast as the cyber-enhancements would allow.

  Pop-pop-pop-pop!

  The micro-explosive rounds tore into him, blasting fist-sized holes in his chest and shoulders. Body pieces, shreds of gray muscle and jagged bone, flew everywhere. But his momentum was too much. He was a dead bundle of meat flying through the air, hurtling straight for my position on the roof.

  Panic flared, not the cold calculation of a cpu but a raw, feminine fear of being crushed. I dropped the pistol, letting it hang by its lanyard, and lunged forward. My obsidian-black "Power Arm" hissed, the hydraulic grip overlocking as I reached out. I grabbed with both hands.

  My fingers clamped around his thick, tusked tusks and body and with a scream of effort. I pulled.

  The sound was a wet, sickening snap-tear. I ripped the head clean off the torso, the headless body slamming into the front of the wagon with a dull thud while the head fell at my feet, its red eyes still twitching. I stood there, heaving, my platinum hair falling out of its ponytail and clinging to the sweat-slicked latex on my neck.

  Behind the wagon, Eren finished the job. Her bound Orc was struggling against the geomancy ropes, but she simply flicked her wrist upward. The earth-vines tightened, hoisting the massive creature ten feet into the air, the "Celestial Bind" magic acting as a literal noose until the snapping of his neck echoed through the trees.

  The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of our ragged, desperate breathing.

  "Gods..." I whispered, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it would bruise the soft tissue of my chest. My legs were shaking, the rhythmic trembling deep in my thighs making it hard to stand. I looked down at my hands, my synthetic, black hands, and then at the gore-splattered road. This wasn't a raid. This wasn't a game. It was raw. It was visceral.

  Alan was the first to move. He looked at us, his elven face pale. He raised a hand, and a gentle, swirling vortex of water magic descended upon us. It was cold, refreshing, and clinical, washing away the Orc blood and the grime of the fight.

  Barnaby poked his head out from behind the stone rampart, his mismatched leather coat trembling. "Holy... holy moly," he stammered, his eyes wide as they traveled from Joshua’s bloodied mace to my form on the roof. "Those orcs... they were Berserkers. Crazed ones! And you... you just... are y'all some kind of S-rank adventurers? A goddess and her knights?"

  I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just stood high on the wagon. I looked down at my cybernetic hands as I tried to process the violence I’d just committed. I was now a beautiful girl and WOOOO, I had just decapitated a monster with my bare hands.

  I looked down the road, my cybernetic eye zooming, scanning the foliage. The path ahead looked clear. I slowly, deliberately reholstered my pistol, the click of the lock sounding like a finality.

  "We're moving," I said, my voice regaining its smoky, command-laden purr.