Rennia had gotten up from the stairwell. When she woke, someone had covered her and tucked a pillow under her head. Part of her hoped what had happened—who knows how long ago—had been a dream. It wasn't and here she was, in the deeper inner workings of the Ebon Gild. Her lower body remained naked, her cock flaccid but exposed.
She gripped it. It felt strange and oddly wet, though no fluid was present. Maybe, just maybe a certain spectre had suckled it while she slept. No—just her imagination. She needed to cover herself. Before heading back upstairs, she stared into the basement.
Total darkness.
"Basement" was hardly an apt description. Dark as it was, this place was anything but a typical underground dwelling. Alchemical stations lined up on the walls, along with a large metal contraption that reminded her of a forge, and... were those chains and straps?
Against her better judgment, she ignored the mechanized equipment and stared at something far more curious. The basement extended deeper than she'd expected—a door stood at the far end, but she lacked the courage to explore it.
She collected herself. Perhaps Ishmere wasn't the authority figure she'd come looking for. Of course, she wasn't—she had just phantom-fucked Rennia, though she'd also been kind enough to cover her from the cold.
She needed to assess the situation more thoroughly before deciding to move in with the ghoul. It would be better than shoving a dozen goblin dicks in her mouth. Now that's a thing she hadn't tried yet.
Naughty Rennia.
A voice called out to her. She had gotten fairly quick to being alone, and now she was haunted by sex incarnate.
"Are you up, Rennia? Come here, I'd like to show you something." The spectre's echoing voice called out to her. Rennia walked up the stairs. Sunlight still blazed through the forest, but judging by the light's reflection, it was just past morning, the start of the afternoon.
Ishmere loomed near a window, hovering with her finger pointing outside the shattered pane where the forest grew thick. Rennia grabbed something flimsy to hide her genitals, then walked to the woman.
"My body lies out there. Guarded by nothing. Forgotten. Still rotting in the place where I died." Ishmere's arm lifted, finger pointed. "Go and retrieve it, my new student, so I can breathe again."
Rennia rubbed her eyes. She wanted to sit down first, gather her courage and bearings, eat something, maybe take a longer nap—definitely not deal with a desperate and horny ghost. It didn't go unnnoticed how much she had to sleep since, changing—perhaps her body was still adapting. "Right now?"
"What do you mean, right now?!" The specter shouted at her, voice distorted.
Rennia winced but decided not to take it. She was supposed to be learning how to control or remove this baggage, for gods' sake—not prance to Ishmere's every whim. "I'm human! You old hag, I need time to rest and prepare. You want me to stalk the forest unarmed and unready, after you just got what you wanted?"
Ishmere looked away, ethereal lips pouting, arms folded. Their was guilt in her eyes, but her humanity was twisted.
"We had an agreement. You help with my problems, and I'll tell you where to go from here." She approached Rennia, standing a hair's width away. "Do you think I enjoy being in this state of ectoplasmic goo? Are you aware of how uncomfortable it is? Everything is slippery, most objects are impossible to touch and hold. The only tangible thing was another person—and how many of those do you see around here?"
She gestured to the kitchen where the skeletons had lain. Rennia noticed they were all piled in one bunch—nine of them in total. The sight made her shiver. Even a novice necromancer could turn that pile of bones into an army of abominations. She'd prefer to remove them entirely from the tavern.
Six foot under.
"You want me to bring you another cadaver here? Why can't you just drift to it, do magic, and leave it there?" she asked. "I didn't ask for this. And you're agreement is shaky and non-bindable"
Ishmere smirked—not kindly.
"Because old magical rituals needs performing. Because the magic keeping me alive was designed not for one person but for a sect of mages and magicians. Because I need someone to preserve my body. And just so you know—as I've stated before—my real body couldn't decay anyway. I didn't lie when I said I was immortal. But even immortality has its limits. Magic is especially volatile, you think gods are immune. No."
Rennia had so many questions and so little time. Did she have much choice? No. Was there a way forward from here? Maybe. Could she abandon Ishmere? After what she just through, it would be for nothing.
"One more thing."
Rennia side-eyed the woman—or the spectre of one. "What is it, your ghostliness?"
"When my body is whole again, I intend to restore this establishment. My small little tavern, my Ebon Gild. And for that, I'm going to need a barmaid. Preferably one I can milk in three places. I'll need a partner too—nights can be lonely without workers. Unfortunately," she pointed to the kitchen, her voice becoming distraught, sight lingering on the pile of bones. "unfortunately my dear friend, my previous barmaid, was torched by fireball and flame. She left me here—can you believe it? I told her I could keep her here with me, that I'd make her a new body if she was patient, but she chose the afterlife instead. How boring, and how selfish."
Seeking everlasting peace was selfish? This woman was a piece of work.
Rennia met her eyes, then looked down at her bare bottom. Arousal—was her cock growing again? Part of her was intrigued. Sex, and so much of it here with Ishmere—it could be fun. It could also be disastrous. Who didn't like a lot of sex anyway? People with focus and conviction, perhaps. But no, she'd come here to be rid of her problem, not to become part of a new one. Ishmere was clearly a nymphomaniac trying to turn her into one—and it was working.
"No. Why should I? As a matter of fact, my mother Ilna sent me for a reason. Either you tell me how to get rid of this, or I'll just be wasting my time here."
Ishmere clicked her tongue. "I covered you while you slept. I was also gentle with you when I tore into you. I think you could at least have the courtesy of going through with my request."
Rennia bit her tongue and frowned. The entitlement of this dead thing was astounding. She clearly didn't have many people say no to her. No wonder none of her original party stuck around. She needed a ego check. "No. Tell me right away how to get rid of this."
"Are you sure you want the answer to that? I'm afraid if I tell you, you'd just leave."
Rennia's heart pounded. Either she got an answer right away or she wouldn't—why delay it? "Tell me the steps, and I'll pertain to the original promise."
Ishmere's face contorted and she looked away. Rennia glimpsed her emotion—eyebrows raised. Ishmere was full of it.
"I don't know why someone such as yourself would want to be free of such a blessing, but if you insist."
Silence. The spectre didn't speak, just hovered there, staring out the window.
"Well? Out with it."
Ishmere spat on the ground. "There is no way. There, I said it."
"Huh." Rennia couldn't believe it. She was just stuck with double genitals for the rest of her life, stuck being a girl with a cock. No man would look at her, and no woman would seek the masculinity hiding between her legs. She'd be living in hiding like her mother—small towns and strange favors with old men. That didn't sit right with her.
Wait? Is that why Baldeus was so fond of her mother. She thought it was simple blackmail. Did her mother entertain the Town's leader. Absolutely disgusting, one more reason to debate whether to doubt her own mother's credibility.
"Come again."
"Are you deaf, daft girl? There is no way. Now, you can lop it off if you want, but don't blame anyone for the excruciating pain, and good luck finding a flesh surgeon smart enough to move whole genitals. You could master transmutation, but do you want to use your body as an experiment? This isn't common science, you know. You're part of a very blessed bloodline—would you give that up?"
Rennia's hands trembled, and she became distraught. "But... but I can't be stuck like this. No one will want me. I am a woman, a woman has a vagina and an arsehole, not floppy cocks."
Ishmere snorted. "Do you know how many have paid for potions of hermaphroditism? Do you know how many would sell an organ to be like you? And unlike most futanari transformations, yours is rooted not in magical accident or consequence of absorping chemical sustanance—yours is rooted in divinity, Rennia of Perillion. Your bloodline is blessed by the goddess Eros herself. Would you forsake divinity to be normal?"
"That's—that's bullshit. All of it. You're a deranged spectre who refuses to die. And you're lying through your teeth, so you can get someone to do your bidding. How I was foolish enough to let you lay your wet mess inside of me, I don't know."
The accusation was weak, Ishmere didn't budge.
"Maybe, but I'm not deluded enough to deny reality. Face reality, Rennia. Your mother sent you here so you could learn to control your urges. No other reason. She sees you as a nuisance, otherwise she'd have train you herself."
Rennia dropped to her knees, hands on the ground, tears flooding from her eyelids.
"But my class—and my skills—they're all gone. I'm a pathfinder now. Barely level 5. What does that even mean? I was level 11 too. And my friends won't look at me the same anymore. Everyone knows what I did, what I became. I can't live like this—my whole life is ruined."
Ishmere knelt beside her, then pressed close and whispered in her ear. Her breath was frosty, and Rennia tried pulling away. "You don't get to make reality, Rennia—it chooses us. Maybe this isn't where you saw yourself, but listen: the way forward doesn't need to be rife with pain, grief, and suffering. Help me, and I'll help you. What do you say?"
Rennia was quiet. She didn't say anything.
She felt a spectral hand slap her on the backside of her bum, her ass cheeks jiggled more than it should. "Good girl, now get up, little exile. My body is waiting."