Trolled By The Game Part 1 Of ? (Commission) free porn video

"No, that candle goes there. In the symbol of Tanit-no, to your left...the one that looks like a lady's room sign." Isabel's mouth twisted at that. That comment hadn't won me any favors but honestly, I was proud of how well I'd kept a straight face through this. I did as she said, stepping gingerly over the lines of salt she'd poured on the floor of my apartment. She'd dumped a lot of things on the floor of my apartment today, as a matter of fact. Salt, incense, wax candles, and incongruently; bundles of haphazardly soldered electronics. "There. Done?" I asked, stepping outside of the circle. My girlfriend nodded. An awkward silence followed. "I'm not crazy, Todd," she asserted. Well, pouted really. I didn't mind. It was cute. "I didn't say you were." "Yeah but I know you. You were thinking it." She gave me a reproachful look. That was something of an exaggeration, but it hit closer to home than I liked. "Not you," I told her. "Steph." "Not her either." Isabel insisted. "She showed me or I wouldn't have believed her. You'll believe me too, once you see." "If you say so." I cleared my throat. "So, how do we start?" "We stand on opposite sides of the circle, here and here," She pointed to two smaller circles that each lay at the end of an arm of salt. Then there's an...ahem," She blushed. "Incantation." It was a struggle not to roll my eyes. The things I do for love. "But we're not quite ready yet." She finished, with more confidence. "There's a lot of settings we need to lock in." "Ah. Back to your design documents?" "Exactly." ------ About an hour ago, we'd both been going over them. "So basically it's an MMO." She frowned. "More like a MUD." "Old-school. Nice. But weren't MUDs just MMOs without graphics?" "I guess you could look at it that way. But there were more differences than that," Isabel explained. "It was more social. You didn't just queue up for instanced encounters with random pick up groups. You had to organize everything with other people. Plus roleplaying was just assumed." "Some older MMOs were like that. Everquest, Ultima Online. EQ even had roleplay servers." "Yeah, I guess. Anyway, here's the part you're not going to believe. It's uh...virtual." Ah, the catch. "Izzy, I do want to play this with you but I don't think I can afford to buy an oculus rift or whatever just to do it." "Not that kind of virtual," She exhaled slowly, then all at once - "Youwon'tbelievemebutit'smagic. There. I said it." "Um, magic?" Isabel studied her toes. "Yeah...well, kind of? It's complicated." "You actually buying Steph's crap now?" I wasn't too thrilled at the idea of my girlfriend suddenly going all new-agey neo-pagan on me. "It's not crap! At least, this isn't." She bit her lip. "Uh-huh. Not crap. Just magic. Magic that needs a bunch of electronics to work, apparently." "Well, magitech. It uses both. Works off the symbols we draw, correlates them with the collective subconscious of the players. Technology is important to both of those since we're all from the 21st century." She sighed. "At least, that's what Steph said. I don't know that I buy it, but...Todd. She actually demonstrated it to me. It really works." I sighed. "So you want us to conjure the spirit of an MMO." "More or less. I swear it really works. Just give me a chance...please?" She pleaded at me with those big doe eyes. I couldn't resist the puppy dog look. ------ The design documents as it turned out were part world book, part sales pitch, and part document explaining how to actually design the 'interface'; what the text called the weird mix of salvaged electronics and occult whatsits sitting on the floor of the room in a tree of concentric circles of salt. "Here's how it works." Isabel explained while reading from the manual. "Those are called upkeep bindings." She gestured to the largest circles towards the middle, the ones that were almost entirely populated by witchy artifacts; save for one, an ouroboros wrapped around what looked to be a shoddily repaired oscilloscope. She claimed they were basically like a source code for this magi-tech game. They supposedly governed things like the basic layout of the world, and the game rules. For instance Ouroboros-oscilloscope there governed the amount of time dilation we'd experience in the simulation, apparently. "The upkeep bindings are the same for everyone doing this," She had already explained to me that this MMO/MUD/Cult had several hundred people participating in this ritual on a given day, mostly organized online. "But we also have the communicant bindings. Those are unique, or mostly unique, to each player of the game." Isabel looked up from the book, this time pointing at various empty circles on the outer reaches of the drawing. "Basically right now think of them as character creation options. They're how we choose our race, starting location, stats. You know, the usual. Look." She handed the book to me. I had to cradle it carefully. It wasn't really a book, just a cheap binder overstuffed with print outs. Still, there were lots of pretty figures, maps, illustrations; everything you'd expect out of a monster manual or player handbook. I skimmed the instructions for starting a new character. "Wait. We pick starting location first?" That was a little unorthodox for an RPG. "Yeah. It's uh, a consequence of how the ritual has to work. Locational concepts come before personal concepts. Or something." "Right..." I struggled once again not to roll my eyes. It had been oddly fun assembling the series of pentagrams and occult symbols with her. The way she had to stretch to make chalk outlines while keeping her hands and feet in just the right ritual positions was kind of like an evil version of twister. Now that that part was over I was starting to sour on the whole thing. Still, I'd come this far...I scanned the world building chapter some more. Pretty standard high fantasy RPG stuff. Overdell, the tree-city of the Sylvan elves. The human Tyran trading city-states. Acamucholco, the great plains where nomads and centaurs warred. To be charitable, whoever was responsible for this was deliberately evoking nostalgia for a time when memory requirements for gaming were measured in megabytes. To be less generous, they were simply lacking in imagination. One locale did catch my eye though. "I like the sound of Bleakmire." Bleakmire, the worldbook informed me, was a spooky land of misty subtropical forests, where hags and trolls stalked, and the more primitive varieties of human and wood elves offered sacrifice to the dark things of the deep bog. Fire flies, swamp lights, strange backwoods cults, elder things. Dungeons and Dragons meets H. P. Lovecraft. "You would." She smirked. "Emo." "Suck my dick." "Maybe later." Isabel smiled, blushing, and hurriedly grabbed the book back. I had to admit despite my skepticism, her excitement was infectious. "That gives us a few options for characters and classes." "But first we have to put the location on the circle right?" "Right. It's..." She flipped through the binder. "This symbol." She highlighted a spiraling three-armed glyph. I looked at the instructions with her. "So it goes here?" I asked, walking to the circle the diagram seemed to indicate and grabbing some chalk. "By the way," I said as I etched the triple spiral. "Let's say for a minute this is real. Wouldn't it be kind of, like, dangerous? Actually living in dungeons and dragons land?" She considered that. "I asked Steph the same thing once we were in. It feels real. Is real, in a way. But it's still just a game, she said." "So no 'if you die in the game you die for real' shenanigans?" "Nope." "What happens to our bodies while we're in? Do they just go to sleep? What if there's a fire or a gang of out of work salt miners break into my apartment?" She pointed to another symbol a few feet from the one I was working on. "That wakes us up if the ritual senses real life danger." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "But I wouldn't worry about it. We won't be out long. The time dilation makes fifteen minutes seem like a couple weeks. That's why it's so important we do the incantations together. If we're not perfectly in sync we won't arrive at nearly the same time." "Freaky." I brushed a lock of brown hair out of my face, examining the finished symbol I was hunched over. "Is this good enough? I suck at drawing." "Let me see." Izzy tiptoed over to me with exaggerated caution, careful not to break any delicate salt outlines. The tile floor was now completely crowded with symbols. I started sliding to the side to give her more room. "Shit!" One toe, protected only by a sock, hit a candle flame. I hopped on one foot-and slipped across a line of salt. "Careful! Don't break the circle!" Isabel shouted. Then things got weird. There was a flash of light, a smell of sulphur, and the taste of copper in my mouth. Then pain, all over. I could hear Izzy yelling at me as a fog descended over my senses. ----- I awoke to the sound of cicadas. I squinted, closing my eyes against the sudden glare. Why was it so bright? And why was I so sore? I ached everywhere. Once, a few years ago, I had been t-boned crossing an intersection. I hadn't been seriously hurt, but the car was totaled. Out of some combination of annoyance and misplaced stoicism I'd neglected to be checked out by paramedics. I'd felt fine. Until a couple of days later. It wasn't agony, but it did hurt. The dull throbbing in seemingly random parts of my body was familiar in that way. Was that what had happened? Was that why I was so disoriented? No, that couldn't be it. My head still hurt too much for me to keep my eyes open, but while I couldn't vouch for the sights, the sounds were all wrong. Insects droning. Birds chirping. A light breeze. Heat and humidity. I was outdoors. Even the pain wasn't the same as it had been. It wasn't concentrated in the same places it had been after the accident. And it was...stranger. My chest in particular felt...tense? Like someone had grabbed my pectorals and tried to pull them away from my torso in opposite directions. And while my extremities felt oddly numb, I could tell it wasn't a hospital bed I was laying on. It was...mud? Maybe this was a dream. Maybe if I just lay here awhile I'd wake up somewhere cool and quiet. Or at least maybe my head would stop feeling like it was bursting with electric Styrofoam. The latter happened. The former did not. This was bad. I didn't know where I was or how I'd gotten here. My heart started pounding. Even that felt off. It was slower than it should be, heavier. Thicker? Like it was trying to pump syrup instead of blood. It made my chest tingle. The other aches were subsiding, yet the strange torsion had only gotten worse over time I inhaled sharply. Once. Twice. Three times. The breath whistled through my nose. I opened my eyes. The blinding glare was gone. Had I been here so long? Or was it just a consequence of the headache receding? I was indeed outside, but it wasn't bright. I was in a thick forest. The sky, what I could see of it, was overcast; hiding behind gray clouds shot with angry indigo. Branches, leaves, and curtains of grayish moss blocked most of the view of the sky however. That and the long, green object that perched in front of my face. I raised an arm to push whatever it was out of the way, but stopped halfway through the motion. My arm was caught under something. Something heavy and rubbery. At the same time, I felt a light brush along the side of my chest. It tickled. I tried again. My arm was stiff, ungainly, and pinned under what felt like a warm, rubber-lined beanbag. I ignored the resistance, swatted the cucumber out of my gaze. At the same time, something coarse tickled my right nipple, and a fist impacted my nose. My nose. The cucumber was sticking out of my face. Because the cucumber was my nose. It came to me all at once. The flash. The pain. The stupid ritual. The starting location I'd chosen. The game. Oh no. I tried to rise, scrabbling crablike on my hands to right myself. But everything about the movement was off. Nothing was where it seemed it should be. My hands were thick and numb, my legs too short, my arms too long, my torso too wide. Just when I seemed about to beat gravity a great shifting weight on my chest sent me collapsing back on my ass, a shock going up my tailbone. The torsion, the tugging on my pecs...it felt like two burlap sacks filled with fifty pounds of putty were glued to my chest. I let it lie for a moment. Raised my hands to my face. My hands were wide, green, and possessed only three fingers. Jesus fucking shit. It worked. It actually worked. My crazy girlfriend's crazy friend was telling the truth. I took another three deep breaths. The slow pounding of my heart slowed further still. Ok. I was in the game. The swamp we'd picked. But...I'd never really finished designing a character. The ritual wasn't supposed to end that way, was it? What was I? Whatever it was, it was definitely bulky. Long nose. Green skin. Swamp. A troll? Not a race I'd ever been interested in playing. But that still didn't explain everything I was feeling. Unless... Oh god. My chest. A terrible suspicion was seizing me. I had to see it. Had to see everything. I rose, with some struggle. Felt the bags on my chest brush the sides of my arms. This time I was prepared for the shift in my center of gravity. I even half expected the tremendous feeling of weight sagging from my upper torso (and resting on my stomach?) as I straightened myself as best I could. Nothing, however, prepared me for the twin green hills that rolled into view when I stood up. Breasts. Massive, green breasts. There was no denying what was right in front of my eyes. But God, I wanted to. Especially considering they seemed to take up almost a third of my lower field of view... and I wasn't even looking down yet. I was a fucking female troll. A female troll with huge tits. That thick troll blood rushed to my face. I was mortified. My cheeks were probably glowing red. Or green, I guessed. I stood there for several long slow heartbeats, doggedly refusing to look down. I'd wanted to see myself, to confirm what I suspected. It turned out I'd hardly needed a thorough examination to do that. But still, I should investigate more, I knew. It was just so embarrassing. Everything my body was telling me about what went where, every single feeling was wrong. The delirious sensory assault sent shivers up my spine and kept me frozen in place. It was shameful. Almost obscene. I could the hot wet wind on my nipples and...other places. I was pretty sure I was naked. I could feel the weight of my...yes, my breasts dragging on my chest. And brushing against my arms. And even rubbing the upper part of my abdomen. None of the aforementioned body parts should have been anywhere near the things, yet they were, my brain screamed at me. The rest of my body, while less prominent in my sensorium, was sending similarly scrambled signals. Even my point of view was changed. I was standing straight as I could, but I felt hunched, my head and neck seemingly stuck in a stooped-forward posture. It occurred to me then that as much as I didn't want to see myself, I wanted to be seen even less. Would there be other players around? Suddenly I felt exposed in a whole new way, an overwhelming desire to run and hide creeping into my consciousness. I craned my neck, taking in my surroundings. The motion was awkward, inflexible. I had to pivot my torso when a simple head turn should have worked, causing me to shudder when it sent my right breast smooshing into my upper arm again. There was a hill jutting from the swamp behind me, exposing a cleft in the limestone that I might just be able to fit through. Hopefully. I wasn't actually sure how big I was right now, but more than just my chest felt thick and ungainly. I stopped fighting the urge to run. I broke into a jog towards the possible shelter from imagined prying eyes, only to find a human gait didn't work with my new body. Once again I found myself slipping in the muck, this time landing flat on my belly. "Oof!" Or what would have been flat on my belly, if my stupid giant tits hadn't gotten in the way. Instead my torso sat at a twenty degree incline, resting on my pelvis and breasts like a perverse misshapen tripod. The feeling was more disturbing than painful, at least. In fact, nothing seemed to feel quite as intensely as it should. I had no experience with female nipples of my own, but I'd imagined them more sensitive. Maybe troll skin was thicker? Troll skin. I couldn't believe the thoughts that were going through my head. I laughed suddenly, a throaty, scratchy sound; but unmistakably feminine. Like some lady doing a cartoon ogress voice. That made me laugh harder. I convulsed there in fits of hysterical laughter, the ground making soft squelching sounds where the throes of my chest dug furrows in the cool mud with my boobs. Breathlessness lifted the hysteria. I gathered myself up. Even with my boobs propping me up, I could tell I was heavy. My arms seemed a lot longer in relation to my chest than they used to be, at least. That helped. I could feel the sinewy muscles bunching in cords as I lifted myself out of the muck, black peat sloughing off my torso. Ew. This time, I took it slow. My legs felt stubby, especially contrasted with how I could feel my hands brush my knees even as I stood up. After a bit of wrestling with my new proportions I worked out a half-waddling, arm swinging trot as the most stable way to propel myself. Finally tucked away, I huddled in the mouth of the cave, trying to ignore the feeling of the mud on my new, larger nipples hardening in the cool subterranean air. Then something occurred to me. I'd just stumbled into a cave in a fantasy world. Bad things lived in caves in fantasy worlds. Giant spiders and goblins and- Trolls. Huh. Maybe I didn't need to worry after all. I was big and strong. Just how big and strong I didn't know yet, but the basic fact of it was clear. Nothing in a newbie zone- if this was what this was- was likely to be able to easily hurt me. I didn't even know if troll was supposed to be a default starting race. The ritual had gone wrong. Maybe I was experiencing some kind of glitch? It could even qualify as an exploit. The panic subsided. The awkwardness did not. Could not, while my body was still telling me all the wrong things. Time to bite the bullet. I needed to examine myself, coolly and clinically. I looked down. Jesus holy fucking boobs. Outside, standing straight as I studiously avoided looking at them, the troll tits had been a prominent feature in my peripheral vision. Leaning against the cave wall looking down my long green nose at them, they dominated fully two thirds of my line of sight; the mossy mountains dripping with congealed mud obscuring any hope of seeing anything below my chest. But even with the view blocked, there was just so much of me to see. I couldn't say for sure, since I no longer knew my own height, but they seemed to be about the size of watermelons. A similar color and shape, too. These weren't the perky anime monster girl or spherical fake pornstar tits you tended to see in fantasy cheesecake. Their prodigious dark green girth jutted from my chest for what seemed more than a foot before sagging under their considerable weight; becoming almost conical in their descent. I couldn't see my nipples, and not just because of the mud I felt splattered over me. With the angle of my breasts and the way I was leaning, the nipples would be pointing straight at my legs. My cheeks burned again. I felt like a cow. A cow with drooping old lady udders. Morose, I tried once again to ignore them and examine the rest of me. Above my breasts was emerald green skin, mottled with darker keratinous grey spots that rose like some unholy combination of freckle, scale, and wart from the troll hide. There were even little green hairs, so deep as to be almost black, sprouting in occasional lonely strands from my chest. When I touched my skin -gingerly to avoid brushing my breasts as best I could- I found it felt rubbery, thick. What I could feel of it anyway. The skin of my hands was even thicker than the skin on my chest and that seemed to reduce my sense of touch. The hands themselves were wide hairy-knuckled things; a stubby thumb and three thick, green fingers ending in dirty yellow claws. They hung at the end of inhumanly long green arms corded with twining muscle and dark veins. The tops of my arms were mottled with spots of thicker grey hide the same way the upper part of my chest was. I turned my stiff neck, trying to get a look at my broad shoulders or anything below my waist. No good. My tits were too big, and my spine too inflexible. I tried examining myself by feel, but again, my hands were too stiff, too insensitive. Other than feeling more-and rougher- skin on my back, and a thick mane of what proved to be green-black hair falling from my head and along my neck, it told me nothing. Moaning with trepidation, I lifted the right udder, trying to move it out of the way. The feeling of it tugging on my chest as my arms pulled it up was indescribably weird. Even the feeling from my hands was off, like no breasts I'd ever touched. Too stiff, too resistant to movement. As if they were filled with something other than fat. "Ugh." It must have weighed twenty pounds. And I still couldn't see my lower half. With a stiff, clawed hand I scraped the mud off the ends of my breast. It was gross but I had to know. I shivered at the sucking sensation of the sticky black goop being torn from my new hidden point of sensitivity. "Sick." I complained. Removing the mud did nothing to make the things prettier. The fronts of my breasts were adorned with dark areolas, the deep green-brown of a stagnant pond, gigantic dinner plate things that took up most of the front of the teat. Worse, the ends of the areolas were lined with a scattered fairy-ring of more wiry, green-black hairs. I still couldn't see my nipples properly. Apparently, mine were innies. I had to find a way to see myself better. See... Wait. I was in a cave, in a dim cloudy afternoon, in a swamp. How could I see so well? Did I have infravision or something? I guessed that was cool, at least. That realization broke the dam for the rest of my senses. No longer focusing purely on the feel of new limb and flesh, I realized that I could hear more sharply as well. And my sense of smell... Woah. A thousand scents, but I could sift through them all as easy as I could change the focus of my eyes. Mud. Flowers. Pollen. Bird droppings. A deer that had urinated outside some time ago. Something...clear, crisp. Water? Not standing, but running. Clean. Focusing my senses, I realized I could hear it too. Echoing through the walls. And flowing, somewhere deeper in the cave. I followed the sound. At least I could maybe take a bath, get this mud off my chest and ass. It was drying and cracking, itching. Besides, exploring the cave would give me something to do. The walk through the cave was awkward, though due entirely to my twisted proportions. The darkness was no obstacle at all. Despite steadily leaving the light behind as I worked my way down the winding passage towards the source of the sound, things never seemed to get any harder to see. The only difference was a general lack of shade. All the colors became desaturated. Grayscale. Honestly, despite being a staple of fantasy RPGs, I'd never really got darkvision. Being able to see at night? Sure, if your eyes are better than a human's, why not. But in total blackness? You'd either have to use another sense or magic. And if it was magic, the setting rarely bothered to explain or establish it. Infravision sometimes paid vague lip service to being infrared, but how much heat would there really be in your average cave? At least I could find mental shelter in nerdy nitpicking. Ahead, the passage opened into a wide chamber. I grunted, squeezing uncomfortably past the last narrow cleft that I had the sneaking suspicion would have been no problem in my proper human body. As I scraped my breasts against the cavern wall, I reflected that it probably wouldn't have even been a problem if I were a male troll, either. At least my hide was thick enough that it didn't hurt. The chamber proved to be just a widening of the passage I had started in, albeit a significant one. I could just barely make out the far wall to my right. The passage itself continued down into black depths that even my magic troll vision couldn't penetrate. The source of the sound was an underground river cutting through a chasm between me and the far wall, originating from yet another passage. There was no discernable way to follow the river's source, and the chasm was too deep for me to be comfortable attempting to climb it; especially in this ungainly body. So much for a bath or a look at my reflection. But there was something else... I could feel my long ears twitch. Wind whistled down the river passage, sucked past me, blowing cool air out into the sweltering mire I'd come from. But I could now feel an irregularity in its path. A bow in the stream, somewhere to my left I shambled further down the path. There, to my left, was an alcove. More of an antechamber, really. Crisp right angled corners showed it had clearly been cut from the rock rather than formed naturally. In its center, four pillars in the vague shape of twining tentacles surrounded a pool of still black water, surface as perfect as a polished mirror. I waddled closer. This shrine or whatever it was looked a bit ominous, but what did I have to fear? Besides my own reflection... Gulp. For the first time, I truly saw my new self. I had felt that I was standing straight, but that was wrong. My natural posture was so hunched that my arms draped to my knees, not too far from the cave floor. They were orangutan long, sinewy, and freckled or spotted. Tufts of wild hair peeked out from the crotch of each simian arm. My too-long neck jutted forward, seemingly unable to straighten. I wondered if I could even look up. My body was huge, squat, and triangular. Misshapen was the word that came to mind. From head to toe a stereotypical RPG troll. Immensely wide shoulders that I knew would be green in daylight studded with tough darker scales of grey hunched over a torso that would be too wide and grossly overlong if not for the clear need for a trunk large enough support a mammoth pair of sagging, watermelon shaped dugs. Said dugs tapered down to rest on-and partially obscure-a comparatively thin waist well sculpted with hypertrophied abs. My hips were scarcely wider than said waist, but then, I suppose it was actually quite thick. It just looked small compared to the rest of me. The whole look was completed with spatters of blackish drying mud caking the left breast, belly, and the back of my legs. The perfect accessory for a swamp troll. The breasts, with their giant innie nipples and downward course of thick purplish veins vaguely suggested the way to two stubby legs substantially shorter than my trunk but possessing thick over-muscled thighs. These weren't thunder thighs so much as Thor, God of Thunder thighs. Though some Bronze Age fertility goddess might have been a more apt comparison. I almost felt sick as I looked further down, cheeks afire and stomach roiling. Between the pillars of my thighs was the mons pubis. A grotesque, overgrown thicket of dark tangled pubic hair which stretched from thigh to thigh, crept over my crotch, and continued up my abdomen in a happy trail ending at my navel. Despite the thickness it didn't manage to conceal the wrinkly folds of a dark gaping hole between my legs. My new genitals. Thick lipped, wide, and appearing almost purple in the low light. Two oversized drooping labia the color and texture of slices of roast beef that had gone off hung obscenely from my groin; even seemed to twitch slightly in the cool air, as if anticipating a penetration that no one but a male troll could actually want to see. I shuddered, tore my eyes away. My calves were shorter, thinner, to the point I was surprised they could even support my weight. Narrow ankles sprouted from them bearing long, wide feet with three yellow clawed toes that all in all were far too similar to my hands for comfort; albeit without the well-developed thumbs. Optimistically, my legs were half the length of my torso. Even compared to the indignity of the breasts or the pubic nightmare that was the troll's groin, my face was the worst thing of all. I could pretend, at least to some extent, that the rest of my body belonged to someone else, despite the sensations protesting otherwise. But the way the face in the water reflected my every thought and feeling, filtered through the dull gaze of a stupefied she-troll, was uniquely disturbing. Long strings of oily green-black hair fell from the top of my small, flattened, recessed skull to flow down a sloping forehead, and sprouted from my neck to drape my slouching back. My eyes were yellow, slitted, and mooning in vacant dismay. My nose was a long green crescent that hooked in a dramatic arch far in front of the rest of my face. My ears were similarly enlarged, sprouting crazily from the sides of my head and, like my nose, choked inside with hair. A wide, slack mouth with thick dark lips hung open in disbelief, moronic underbite crowned by slightly protruding yellow teeth. As I watched myself watching myself, drool began to puddle on my lower lip. I wiped it away angrily. It wasn't fair. This could have been the best experience of my life. Instead, it was going to easily be the most embarrassing. I could have been some badass warrior mage, a ruthless ranger or cunning rogue. But the reality was that I was stuck as something that was rarely even considered playable. A throwaway monster. A gross, ugly, awkward challenge for mid-level adventurers that would actually shape the game world. I didn't want to be a girl, but even being stuck as a regular female character would be better than what I was now. No girl in her right mind would ever choose a character like this. But then, I hadn't chosen. I could only hope to God that when Izzy got here she could fix this. When Izzy got here.... Shit. When would Izzy get here? The time dilation... We didn't enter at the same time. I could be stuck, a dumb ugly she-troll cow, for days. Maybe more. I watched rapt as the troll in the reflecting pool, the troll that was also me; slumped to her knees, face twisted in idiot frustration. Drooling as her gargantuan veiny udders flopped languidly against her long bristled chest, thick stumpy legs crossed as if to shamefully obscure her gaping moist cunt. A drop of viscous spittle fell into the water from her mouth. The pool rippled, and began to glow.