Chapter 7

Content Warning: Sexual acts performed under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

Rosalie was acting strange.

The culprit was obvious. Had Zoey really thought nothing would come from the pink liquid that had been shoved down Rosalie’s throat? It had been a trap. Traps didn’t imply nothingness when they succeeded.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Zoey asked carefully, after the seventh time she caught Rosalie turning around and staring at her cock. She had effusively denied it each time, because Rosalie was Rosalie. She’d even denied that the liquid was having any effect, but the truth was plain as day.

An aphrodisiac. Rosalie had had a bucket of aphrodisiac injected into her stomach. And the effects were showing.

Which was a troubling realization. Zoey wouldn’t be taking advantage of the situation; that much was a given. Honestly, she didn’t think Rosalie would be yielding to the sensation, anyways. She was prideful like that.

And repressed, more frankly. She’d never admit she wanted Zoey’s cock inside her. However many times she got distracted when she looked Zoey’s way, then had her eyes ensnared by the enormous, soft protrusion of girlmeat between her legs.

“Fine?” Rosalie asked, her cheeks flushed almost a crimson red—as they had been for the past ten minutes. “What do you mean? Please don’t tell me you’re still worried about the trap. Clearly, the liquid didn’t do anything. It would’ve shown by now.”

Uh-huh, Zoey wanted to say. Rosalie’s stalwart adherence to refusing to acknowledge that her skin and mind had been set aflame by a liquid influence would have been amusing—scratch that, was amusing, just concerning in equal measure—if not for how distracted she’d become. Seeing how they were working their way through a shard, where dangerous critters and traps lay at every corner, distractions were really not what they wanted, for safety’s sake. Zoey’s eyes certainly weren’t discerning enough to pick out suspicious features.

“Do we need to take a break? Let it wear off?”

“Let what wear off?”

“Rosalie. Please. Your face is red.” And you’re staring at my cock. Right now. As we speak.

Her hand fluttered to her face, as if to check the temperature of her cheeks, and she blinked. “No, it’s not.”

“Let’s take a break.”

“I’m fine. We’re continuing. But you can do as you want.” She wrenched her eyes from between Zoey’s legs, then turned forward and walked.

Why did this woman have to be so stubborn?

And the aphrodisiac was picking up potency. Rosalie’s steps grew less certain by the second; she seemed unsteady on her feet, which was unsettling to see, with how Rosalie normally moved like a predator, or if not that, a queen striding through her domain.

Zoey realized she needed to take executive command here. Rosalie’s brain wasn’t working how it should. She strode forward and grabbed Rosalie by the wrist. “We’re taking a break. I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” she echoed.

Zoey needed to frame it as weakness stemming from her, not Rosalie. Rosalie would never admit to having anything resembling weakness. “Yes. I need to rest.”

Rosalie shook her head. “You’re trying to get me to stop. I’m not stupid. I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” She jerked her hand out of Zoey’s grip and continued forward.

Inflamed, Zoey jogged forward to spin around and intercept her—but she stumbled, foot snagging on a vine, and she sprawled forward onto the stone, elbows jarring as she landed.

Oh, crap.

The vine rippled to life, and barely a second passed before Zoey was wrapped in a slimy plant-embrace.

Except ... rather than hanging her by her thighs in the air, the vines sucked her into the wall. The largest of the plants—what she had tripped over—encircled her by her stomach, pinning her into a mass of cold, lubricated plantlife.

But they made no move to shove down Zoey’s throat, or any of her other holes. Or even to molest her. They simply locked her in place, securing her arms, hands, and legs in various positions.

Rosalie stood there, blinking. Her reactions had been dulled by the aphrodisiac; she was reacting even slower than Zoey, by this point.

“You’re not supposed to go ahead of me,” Rosalie said. “That’s why.”

Zoey struggled against the vines, but if Rosalie couldn’t escape without help—despite having runes focused on empowering her body and reactions—then obviously Zoey found little success.

“Little help, here?” Zoey snapped. Why the hell weren’t they doing to her what they had to Rosalie?

Rosalie didn’t move. Zoey looked up from the green wrappings. Rosalie had an idle look on her face, and predictably, her eyes were locked to Zoey’s crotch, as they had consistently been for the past hour.

Zoey stilled, coming to a sudden understanding.

Step one: drug Rosalie.

Step two: capture Zoey.

Step three: see what happened.

Set them up, knock them down.

“Rosalie,” Zoey said carefully. “I need help.”

“Huh?” Rosalie replied idly. “You do? Why?” Her eyes didn’t move from her crotch. Zoey could see the slickness between her thighs.

“Please help me,” she said slowly. “I’m stuck, and you need to cut me out.”

Rosalie approached. Her eyes didn’t drift up to meet Zoey’s. Zoey’s stomach continued to sink.

Rather than moving to help her, Rosalie got down on her knees.

Zoey’s body reacted on its own. Having the worshiping gaze of a girl she’d been constantly fantasizing over locked to her cock didn’t give her much choice. Biological reactions didn’t care for context. Her aching girth didn’t care Rosalie wasn’t in her right mind. It saw a gorgeous girl staring with lust, and responded.

All fourteen inches expanded outward, and Rosalie stared in awe. Zoey saw the way her knees rubbed together, the way she lifted up and squirmed in her knelt-over position, idly trying to satisfy the burning heat between her legs. Zoey could imagine the need coursing through her; she’d been feeling that constantly since her strange transmigration through worlds, and Zoey wasn’t even egged on by an aphrodisiac.

“Why is it so big?” Rosalie asked. “And on a girl ... why does a girl have such a giant cock between her legs?”

That subject hadn’t been brought up yet. Zoey had half assumed it must be normal in this world. But by the wonder in her voice, maybe not. Maybe Rosalie had simply had time to come to terms with the strange occurrence; she had been conscious for longer than Zoey in that coffin they’d shared. Maybe she had determined not to bring it up, to be considerate. Who knew?

“Rosalie.” This time, her name didn’t even pierce through the fugue. Zoey tried again. “Rosalie. Rosie.”

The nickname did the trick, and it even set the girl blinking. “Only my friends call me that,” she said absently. “I guess you can. I think I’d like to be your friend, when you have something like this between your legs.”

Rosalie reached out, but Zoey preempted her. “Don’t touch it.”

Rosalie paused. “You don’t want me to?”

“No.” Yes. A thousand times yes. But she wouldn’t give permission for Rosalie to go against her own right-mind; she’d made it clear she didn’t want to be involved with Zoey, and for all that her aching sex wanted Rosalie to play with it, Zoey wasn’t some savage. She cared much more about her partner’s mental well-being.

However much the way her cock jumping in rhythmic pulses would suggest otherwise, or the way Zoey couldn’t quite prevent her hips from wiggling side to side in anticipation.

“But...” Rosalie started, staring down. She leaned forward and opened her mouth, and it took everything Zoey had to not jerk her hips forward, to thrust her cock into the wet, open hole. Rosalie breathed hot, humid air onto her cock head, and the sensation was so incredible she started leaking precum. “I think ... I think I’d like to, though.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Rosalie said. Her voice had affected a permanent idleness. Nothing she said came with anything less than with a dreamlike haze. Her lips hovered an inch away from Zoey’s cock. “Please?” she whispered, brushing hot air against Zoey’s member. “I can ... I can make you feel good.”

“No.” She said it as firmly as she could. “I don’t want that.” It was the most blatant lie to ever escape her lips, and she hadn’t been some goody-two-shoes teenager, growing up. But maybe the refusal would save Rosalie from her own mistakes, from the altered state of mind she operated under.

Rosalie hesitated. Under any rational state, the words would have stopped Rosalie’s advances in their tracks.

But she was too far gone.

“How far do you think I can get?” Rosalie asked. “It’ll reach to my stomach if I go all the way down, won’t it? And when you cum, it’ll go straight in. Wow ... I really want to see what that feels like.”

“Rosie,” Zoey said, trying the nickname a second time to grab her attention. It did little, so she tried again. Because Rosalie was leaning forward. “Rosie, don’t—”