Ethan’s fingers trembled as he reached for the dice, his grip unsteady, the plastic cubes pressing into his palm with an almost unbearable weight. His hands felt clammy, his chest tight with the pressure of everything that had happened—and everything still to come. He stared at them for a moment, his mind screaming at him to stop, to find some way out of this, but he knew better.
There was no escape.
Swallowing hard, he passed the dice to Amelia, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor, unable to meet anyone's eyes. He didn’t want to see their faces, didn’t want to see the silent accusations, the unspoken thoughts running through their heads. He just wanted it to end. But it wouldn’t. Not until the game said so.
They were trapped.
Amelia hesitated for a moment, twirling a strand of her long blonde hair anxiously around her finger, her nails clicking softly against the strands. The usual carefree ease in her movements was gone, replaced by something tighter, more nervous. She shifted in place on the bed, pulling her hoodie sleeves down over her hands before finally flicking the dice onto the board with a half-hearted toss.
The cubes bounced against the surface, rolling, spinning—before settling on a solid 10.
The board responded instantly, her game piece sliding forward to space 17 with a soft hum, before the words burned into place in glowing, ominous text:
"Black - Random Effect: Truth or Dare Lock!"
Amelia blinked at the board, her nose wrinkling in immediate distaste. She let out a dramatic groan, throwing her head back with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Ugh, are you, like, kidding me right now?" she whined, pulling her legs up tighter to her chest. "Truth or dare? Seriously? What is this—middle school?"
Ethan barely reacted, staring blankly at the board, while Stacey, still curled against Amelia, peeked out cautiously from behind her shoulder, her body tense. Clarissa sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, her expression wary but expectant.
Before anyone could respond, a thin black card slid out from the deck with an eerie smoothness, floating to a stop just inches from Amelia’s face. She huffed, swiping it out of the air with a dramatic pout, her fingers drumming nervously against the edges. Her eyes scanned the words silently, the usual casual confidence draining from her expression with each passing second.
The blood drained from her face.
"Like... ohmygod," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the card, her eyes darting up toward the others, wide and filled with something between horror and disbelief. The game was pushing further, digging deeper, and Amelia suddenly wasn’t so sure she wanted to keep playing.
Amelia's hands trembled as she held the card, her fingers curling around the edges like it might somehow soften the blow. Her eyes darted across the words again, her throat tightening, the words heavy in her chest like they physically resisted leaving her mouth.
She swallowed hard and tried to stall. “What were you really thinking when you saw Ethan’s... situation?”
The weight of the question pressed against her ribs, a hot flush crawling up her neck. “I—uh—” she stammered, gripping the card tighter, willing it to disappear. But the game wasn’t interested in hesitation; it wanted the truth, raw and merciless.
The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.
“I was, like... thinking about my, um... Pokémon fantasies, okay?” she blurted out, her voice cracking mid-sentence. “You know, the ones I think about when I—when I, like, get off? And I wondered if Ethan’s, like... looked the same.” Her voice wavered, horror flashing across her face, but the game wouldn't let her stop. “Like if it’s all weird and... tapered or something.”
The confession hit the air with an audible weight, and Amelia’s entire body tensed as her hands flailed in a frantic attempt to explain herself. “I mean—ugh!—you know when you’re just lying there, and your brain starts wandering and you think about those big, muscly Pokémon, like... ugh, Machamp or Arcanine? And you just wonder, you know? Like, if they had... parts that matched, not just, like, normal parts, but, like... weird ones that fit their bodies?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning into her hands. “And I guess when I saw Ethan’s, I was just, like, ‘Oh my God, what if it’s like that, too?’” Her voice pitched higher, her hands fluttering helplessly before covering her burning face. “Like, the way it—ugh, the shape, and how it just kinda... stuck out like that. And I couldn’t help but think, would it, you know... move the same? Or feel... different?” She groaned loudly, collapsing inward. “I didn’t mean to think it, it just, like... happened, okay?!”
Silence. Thick, unbearable silence.
Clarissa’s mouth hung open, her eyes locked on Amelia as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. Stacey looked like she’d seen a ghost, her face twisted in sheer horror. “What the actual fuck, Amelia?!”
Ethan felt his entire body lock up, his skin burning hotter than it ever had in his life. His ears rang, his fists clenched, and his breath came in short, panicked bursts. She seriously just said that? In front of everyone? The room spun slightly, and he stared at the floor, willing himself to melt into it.
Amelia’s hands shot to her face, muffling her next words into a groan. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, just kill me now! I can’t believe I, like, actually said that!”
Clarissa coughed awkwardly, clearly trying to suppress the laugh bubbling up in her throat. “Wow... I mean... wow.” She glanced between Amelia and Ethan, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and some twisted form of amusement.
Stacey groaned, rubbing her temples furiously. “I need bleach for my brain. All of my brain.”
Amelia curled in on herself, clutching a pillow like it was a life raft, her face still glowing bright red. “No one talk to me ever again.”
Ethan swallowed, his entire body frozen in place, his mind racing in a thousand different directions. He wished he could erase everything that had just happened, wished he could erase himself.
But the game wasn’t done with Amelia yet.
As soon as Amelia finished her humiliating confession, another card slid from the deck, hovering ominously in front of her. She eyed it warily, not wanting to reach for it, but with the weight of the entire room pressing down on her, she had no choice. With trembling hands, she snatched it, her lips moving as she silently read the words.
Her face paled instantly.
She swallowed hard and read aloud, her voice a breathless whisper, “Ethan’s new change—hold it. For thirty seconds.”
The room froze. No one breathed, no one moved.
Amelia’s jaw dropped, and for a moment, all she could do was blink at the card in disbelief. Then, shaking her head so hard her blonde hair whipped around her shoulders, she snapped, “No. Nope. Nope! I am not doing that.” Her arms folded defiantly, the flush in her cheeks deepening.
Ethan let out a relieved breath, his face still bright red, hands clutching the edge of his seat like his life depended on it. "Yeah, I'm good with that."
But the board wasn’t.
Before Amelia could even lower the card, a sudden, sharp jolt shot through her body.
It was as if invisible fingers pinched her chest, a deep, searing pressure that made her whole body lock up instantly. Her back arched involuntarily, and a choked gasp slipped from her lips as she went rigid, unable to even raise her arms to defend herself.
“Ohmygod, what—" she croaked, panic flashing in her wide eyes. She tried to move, to push through the tightness gripping her like a vice, but her muscles refused to obey.
Clarissa shot forward from her spot on the bed. “Amelia? What’s happening?”
Stacey, still clutching Amelia from behind, pressed herself closer, whispering, “Just say yes! Just—just do it!” Her voice trembled, her grip tightening around Amelia's waist.
But Amelia clenched her teeth, her pride warring against the invisible force crushing her chest. She strained against it, every muscle in her trembling with the effort. "I’m not doing it," she gasped through gritted teeth.
And then the pressure increased.
Her body shuddered violently as if the game had taken offense at her defiance. A fresh wave of pinching agony spread through her chest, sharper, deeper, until her eyes squeezed shut in pain. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the sensation built to an unbearable crescendo, making her breath ragged and uneven.
“FINE! I’LL DO IT!” she finally screamed, the words tearing out of her in a desperate, breathless cry.
The pressure vanished instantly, leaving behind a dull, aching soreness that radiated through her chest like aftershocks. Amelia groaned, clutching her chest and shooting a murderous glare at the board. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”
Despite the overwhelming embarrassment, something deep inside Amelia understood that there was no way out of this. Her hands trembled at her sides as she looked up at Ethan, who sat frozen, his face flushed, his eyes wide with horror.
Amelia wiped a shaky hand across her forehead, swallowing thickly. “So,” she muttered, voice raw, “are you gonna, like, get it out? Or do I have to, ugh, do it myself?”
Ethan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “Wh-what?! No—no way!” His voice cracked, his whole body stiff with mortification.
Amelia groaned loudly, rolling her eyes to mask her own discomfort. “Ohmygod, just... do it already!” she snapped, arms crossed over her sore chest.
With shaking hands, Ethan reached down to his zipper, fumbling with it like his life depended on it. The metallic zzzip echoed through the room, and Amelia took a sharp breath as he slowly tugged his waistband down just enough.
And there it was.
The grotesque reality of his transformation jutted out, fully exposed, thick and unmistakably wrong. It stood stiff, pointed like some weird alien spear, smooth and slick beneath the dim lighting of the dorm room. Amelia stared, her throat tightening, but something inside her—something awful and curious—refused to look away.
Stacey peeked over Amelia’s shoulder, clutching her tightly. Her breath hitched audibly, but she didn’t look away either.
Clarissa, sitting frozen on the bed, stared with wide eyes, her fingers curled into the sheets. “Jesus,” she whispered under her breath.
Despite the overwhelming embarrassment churning inside her, Amelia knew there was no escaping this. The game wouldn’t let her. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she hesitated, still curled up with Stacey on the bed. She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her oversized hoodie as she glanced down at Stacey, whose wide, teary eyes pleaded with her not to go.
But Amelia had no choice.
With a shaky breath, she carefully peeled herself away from Stacey’s hold, prying the other girl’s arms off her waist with an apologetic squeeze. Stacey whimpered softly, curling into herself as Amelia swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She stood awkwardly, lingering in place, her arms crossing over her chest in a half-hearted attempt to cover herself.
Her eyes met Ethan’s.
For a second, neither of them moved. He sat frozen in his chair, his face flushed to an almost painful red, his eyes darting away and then snapping back to hers. Amelia swallowed again, feeling the heat creeping up her own face.
"Ugh, this is, like, so messed up," she mumbled, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she rocked nervously on the balls of her feet. Her lips parted like she was about to say something else, but instead, she just exhaled sharply, her gaze flicking between Ethan and the floor.
Then, forcing a shaky smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she tried to sound casual. “So... uh... are you gonna, like, get it out? Or do I have to, ugh, do it myself?”
Ethan’s whole body stiffened like a board. “Wh-what?! No! No way!” he stammered, his voice cracking as his hands instinctively hovered protectively over his waistband.
Amelia groaned, shifting on her feet awkwardly, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. “Ohmygod, Ethan, just... ugh! Do it already!” she huffed, throwing her arms out in exasperation before crossing them tightly again, her fingers gripping her hoodie sleeves like they were some kind of armor.
Ethan's hands trembled as they fumbled with his zipper. The metallic zzzip felt deafening in the suffocating silence. Amelia instinctively looked away, her eyes darting around the room—anywhere but at him. But then, despite herself, her gaze flickered back.
And there it was.
The red appendage—slick, unnatural—protruded from beneath Ethan’s waistband, its hue deep against the pale, human skin. It jutted forward with a kind of undeniable presence, its rigid form unmistakable. Amelia’s gaze snapped to it, her heart hammering in her chest as her body fought between repulsion and something raw, primal, she couldn’t quite name.
The air in the room felt thicker now, dense with something unspoken, charged like static, the kind that prickled on the skin just before a storm broke. Her throat tightened as she swallowed hard. The sudden tension felt as though it weighed down her entire body, making her limbs feel like lead. Her bare skin was alive with goosebumps, every inch exposed to the cruel game’s twisted magic. The chill in the air kissed her skin, yet beneath it, she could feel her body’s warmth creeping up, her pulse quickening in her ears.
Her fingers shook as they hovered above the strange, alien protrusion. The heat radiating off of it felt almost scorching, and her hesitation deepened, her mind spinning wildly. There was something insistent about the game—the invisible pressure that seemed to demand she act.
Amelia's voice was small, cracking with uncertainty. “Does it... hurt?”
The words hung in the air, awkward and unfamiliar in the space between them. Her eyes sought his, searching for any sign of discomfort. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white from gripping his thighs so tightly. He swallowed, his voice strained, a ghost of its usual calm.
“I mean... it’s weird, but not painful.”
Weird. She could feel the word hanging like an unanswered question, a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. Amelia’s gaze flickered over the length of it—too alien, too strange, yet undeniably human in its presence. She shook her head, trying to stave off the growing curiosity gnawing at her insides.
“Like... how weird?” she pressed, her voice barely more than a whisper.
His eyes darted away, anywhere but at her. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, as though the very question had burned him alive from the inside out. He shifted uncomfortably, his body twitching beneath the pressure of her gaze. “It’s just... pressure. A lot of it. Feels... heavy.”
The word heavy clung to her thoughts, swirling in her mind, pulling at something deep within her. What could that even mean? Heavy? She could imagine it—how the skin must stretch and pull, how it might ache from the sheer weight of it. Her stomach tightened with an unsettling curiosity, a morbid fascination taking root despite herself.
Her hand trembled, hovering just inches away. She was so aware of the space between them, the pulse of her heartbeat thundering in her ears, as though the room itself had narrowed, focused on this moment of uncomfortable intimacy. The seconds stretched and warbled, each one more suffocating than the last. She exhaled through her nose, trying to calm the wild storm of her nerves.
“Does it... get worse?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, her curiosity overriding her common sense.
Ethan’s eyes squeezed shut, and a strangled noise escaped him—half frustration, half embarrassment. His voice was tight, his body bracing for impact. “Amelia, oh my god, please stop.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs, her face flushing a deep shade of red as she backed away, awkwardly fanning her face with both hands. “Sorry, sorry! It’s just... I’ve never seen one, like, in person, you know?”
Her fingertips brushed against it—a quick, fleeting contact—but the heat was unbearable. She jerked her hand back, but something primal inside of her refused to let go. The curiosity overwhelmed her, twisted in ways she couldn’t untangle. It was as if her body moved of its own accord, responding to an instinct she didn’t fully understand. She reached out again, her fingers curling around the firm, pulsing heat. She held on for a full thirty seconds—each one stretching into eternity, each one sending jolts of awareness to every nerve ending in her body.
The sensation was nothing like anything she had ever felt. The skin beneath her touch was taut, impossibly hot, and the strange texture of it sent a shiver through her fingertips. It pulsed in a rhythm that felt almost alive, vibrating with an energy that was unmistakable. Her grip faltered for a moment, then adjusted instinctively, her fingers testing the firmness, feeling the subtle shifts in its shape as it responded to her touch. Each shift was like a ripple of energy that shot straight to her core, igniting a strange, almost unbearable feeling deep in her stomach.
Amelia’s pulse thundered in her ears as she felt a tightness in her chest, like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She couldn’t stop the images that flashed behind her eyes, the intrusive thoughts that swarmed her mind.
Ethan’s reaction was almost immediate—a sharp intake of breath, a tremble running through him. His eyes snapped shut, his body stiffening as though he was physically fighting against the surge of sensation. A quiet shudder shook him, his control slipping, despite every effort to suppress it.
The world seemed to pause, caught in that moment, held hostage by their breathless, stolen seconds. Amelia’s eyes widened, the weight of what she had done crashing into her like a tidal wave. She jerked back, the air around her suddenly too thick, too hot, her mind spinning in a frenzy of disbelief.
“Holly shit—” she squeaked, her voice strangled with mortification. She stumbled backward, her hands flying up to her face as if to shield herself from the memory. “Nope, nope, nope! Why did I do that? Why the hell did I just grab it?”
Ethan’s face mirrored her horror, a deep crimson hue staining his cheeks. His entire body was rigid, hands shaking as he scrambled to pull his shirt down, trying and failing to shield himself from what had already happened. A strangled noise rumbled in his throat, but he managed to force out a hoarse, “Y-yeah. Totally dying.”
Amelia groaned loudly, pressing her palms into her eyes, as though she could erase the image burned into her mind. “I need bleach for my soul.”
Clarissa, who had been strangely silent until now, let out a short cough, her lips trembling with restrained laughter. She bit her lip to keep the sound from escaping. “That was... uh, a choice.”
Stacey, who had been staring blankly at the floor, let out a long, exhausted groan. She buried her forehead in her knees, her voice muffled by the fabric. “I need therapy.”
Amelia, still reeling from the overwhelming mix of panic and something else—a heat she wasn’t ready to confront—peeked over her hands, her heart still racing in her chest.
As the aftermath of Amelia’s dare settled over the room, Clarissa remained seated, trying to maintain her composure, but it was a losing battle. The oppressive heat inside her hadn’t faded—it had only gotten worse.
The tightness in her chest, the damp cling of her sweat-soaked clothes, and the constant barrage of awkward tension all crashed down on her at once. Her pulse pounded in her ears, louder than the muffled conversations around her, drowning out everything but the lingering image seared into her mind.
It looked just like those dildos.
Clarissa swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She’d seen them before—advertised in sketchy banner ads late at night, the kind she never meant to click but did anyway, curiosity getting the better of her. The monster ones. The ones that boasted of impossible sizes and things she’d never admit to wondering about. And now, it wasn’t just some fantasy flashing across her screen—it was right here. Real. Too real.
And the worst part? Amelia had thought the exact same thing.
Clarissa had barely been able to keep a straight face when Amelia blurted out her truth, confessing how she'd fantasized about Pokémon, how she’d imagined what they might look like, how it turned her on in ways she hated to admit. Clarissa had laughed it off at first, like everyone else—but deep down, her stomach had flipped with something darker. Because she’d thought about it too.
More than once.
The way Amelia described it, that panicked, rushed confession, the guilty excitement mixed with horror... it was all too familiar. It was like Amelia had ripped the words straight from Clarissa’s own hidden thoughts.
I mean... what if it’s like that too? What if it knots?
A shiver ghosted down her spine, settling low in her belly.
The image of it—the red appendage—kept flashing in her mind, replaying in vivid detail, and it sent a tremor through her. It looked just like those things. The oversized toys she'd glimpsed on late-night ads—advertisements for the obscene, the impossible, the kind of thing she thought she’d never really think about. But now, there it was—right in front of her. Real. Too real. It was nothing like she had expected, nothing like a silly fantasy. The alien shape, the unnatural red hue... it was all too much, too tangible.
And the worst part? Amelia had thought the same thing. That same wild thought had been playing in the back of her mind, buried under years of self-control, but the way Amelia had confessed it, so raw, so vulnerable, had shaken her. Clarissa swallowed hard, the dryness in her throat as palpable as the heat gathering in her core. Amelia’s voice had trembled, her words a frantic confession, and it had sent a shiver through Clarissa, the same one that curled in her belly now. The same thoughts, the same forbidden curiosity that Clarissa had buried deep inside.
Clarissa’s fingers tightened on the couch, nails digging into the fabric, trying to find some sense of stability. But the pressure, the yearning between her legs, refused to let go. It was maddening. She shifted in her seat, trying to readjust her position, but every tiny movement seemed to amplify the ache building inside her.
She could feel it now. That overwhelming pressure. The unbearable heat that pooled between her legs, pressing against the thin fabric of her underwear. It felt like it was alive, humming beneath her skin, the heat of it making her squirm, her thighs rubbing together in an effort to create some relief. It wasn’t much, but it was something, a fleeting moment of pressure that gave her just a little release from the relentless throb. But it was not enough.
The ache kept growing.
Clarissa’s breath came quicker, more shallow, and it took everything in her not to react outwardly. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop—to control herself, to not be overwhelmed. But the heat between her legs burned so hot that it was almost unbearable. She bit down on her lip, hard, the pressure in her chest building with every second. Just a second. Just check.
Her fingers slid down beneath her thighs, pressing into the soft flesh as if she could quiet the rising heat. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. Her fingers trembled as they moved downward, inching toward the waistband of her underwear, the sensation already almost too much. The cool fabric of her shorts brushed against her skin, a strange contrast to the heat radiating from her core.
Her breath hitched, and she could feel the tension coil tighter with every passing moment, every brush of her fingertips against the sensitive skin. Don’t do it. Just wait.
But it was impossible to resist. Her fingers grazed the hem of her underwear, and without thinking, she slipped them beneath the fabric. The heat that met her fingers was instant, overwhelming, slick. A rush of sensation shot through her like electricity, sparking in her chest, down her spine, and straight between her legs.
Her breath faltered as her fingers slid lower, brushing the delicate skin there. She could feel the slickness, the way it was already soaked from the pressure, from the need she could no longer suppress. Her heart hammered louder now, each beat pounding in her ears, filling her mind with the only thing she could focus on. The ache. The pressure. The overwhelming need that made everything else fade to the background.
Her fingers slid lower still, testing the slickness, pressing gently against the heat that seemed to pulse with every movement. It was an instinct now, a raw need that she couldn’t deny, a sensation so intense it almost felt like a foreign body inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, fighting against the urge to let out the moan that had caught in her throat, the sensation of it all too overwhelming.
Her body was trembling, but she forced herself to stay still, to not let anyone notice what was happening. Her face remained neutral, but inside, her heart was racing, her chest tight, every inch of her body screaming with the need to give in. She couldn’t stop herself. The heat between her legs was unbearable now, a constant hum that seemed to fill her entire body, vibrating through her bones.
She pressed her fingers a little further, just a little more, until she could feel the slickness completely, the pulse of her own desire flooding her senses.
She couldn’t take it anymore. Every second that passed was another second she was on the edge of losing control.
Her breath came faster, and she knew she was close to breaking. She knew the pressure would be too much soon, that she'd be unable to hide it, that someone would notice the way her body had started to betray her. But she didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t.
Clarissa shifted slightly, praying no one would see. Praying they wouldn’t hear her breath quickening, wouldn’t see the way her fingers trembled with need. The fire inside her burned so hot now, so fierce, that she couldn’t suppress it.
But still, she held on. She held on and prayed that no one would see. Because the last thing she wanted was to let this broken, forbidden thing inside her spill out into the open.
Amelia stood, still shaken by what had just happened, her body tingling from the touch with Ethan. The heat between her legs was a constant reminder, and as she looked at Ethan, she saw him pulling up his boxers and pants, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“I—uh—sorry,” Ethan mumbled, looking away. “I didn’t mean for any of this... to happen.”
Amelia didn’t respond right away, the heat still burning in her cheeks as she moved back to the bed. Stacey was sitting there, hands covering her exposed body, but it was useless. The magic forced her to stay naked, no matter how much she tried to hide.
Amelia sat down next to her, immediately pulling her close. Stacey’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and the warmth of her body sent a jolt of heat through Amelia. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on shielding Stacey and not the ache growing inside her.
Stacey whispered into Amelia’s back, her voice shaky. “I can’t stop thinking about what happened... it’s too much.”
Amelia swallowed hard, her body still reacting. “I know, Stace,” she whispered. “I know.”
Ethan, standing awkwardly nearby, cleared his throat. “Amelia, I didn’t... I didn’t think things would go like that. I’m sorry.”
Amelia nodded but didn’t look at him. “Yeah, me neither,” she muttered, trying to focus on Stacey.
Stacey’s breath was steadying, but Amelia could feel her own pulse quickening. She couldn’t block out the desire that still lingered. “Amelia, I—I just can’t...” Stacey trailed off, and Amelia squeezed her arms around her.
“I’ve got you, Stace. Just breathe. It’s okay,” Amelia whispered, but even she wasn’t sure if she believed it.
Ethan shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know how to fix this... but we’ve got to finish it, right?”
Amelia nodded but her voice was uncertain. “Yeah... I guess so.” She looked at Stacey, whose arms clung tighter to her, and tried to push everything else out of her mind.