No one moves.
The board’s glow pulses softly now—slower, steadier. Like breathing. The Swap deck has gone still again, but there's a pressure in the room, low and growing. Not heat. Not noise. Just a sense that something is watching… and waiting.
Then, without warning, something rises from the center of the board.
A scroll.
It lifts slowly, the air shimmering around it, paper dry and curled at the edges like old bark. But it glows—soft gold ink swirling just beneath its surface. No one touches it. It just hovers there. Turning. Waiting.
Then it snaps open midair, unrolling with a sudden, final stiffness.
Letters begin to burn across its surface.
At the top, written in a dark red hand that seems too careful, too alive:
THE GAME OF CHANGE
An Invitation, A Journey, A Promise
The parchment flattens.
More text writes itself across the scroll—slow, methodical, like something is carving it from behind the page.
BINDING RULES (PHASE ONE)
• Each player is now bound to the game.
• You may not leave until the Heart Tile is reached.
• Each turn brings change. Some will be visible. Some will not.
• Only one player may win.
• The winner receives a wish.
• The rest… remain as they are.
Emma leans in, blinking fast. “Okay. So that’s… official.”
Kayla shifts slightly in her seat, drawing her hoodie lower across her lap. Her jaw is tight, her arms pulled in. She glances at the board, then quickly away, like she’s hoping not to be seen by it.
Mom hasn’t spoken. She watches the scroll with a furrowed brow and one hand gripping the back of Emma’s chair—not protectively, just reflex. Like she needs something solid to hold onto.
Dad adjusts in his seat again.
Not dramatically. Just a breath. A nudge of his hips. But the sensation hasn’t gone away. If anything, it’s gotten worse—warmer, tighter, clinging in places he’d never noticed fabric before.
He doesn’t say anything.
He just watches the parchment finish its message.
Then, like it’s satisfied, the scroll rolls itself shut with a soft click and sinks—quietly—back into the board.
No puff of smoke. No fanfare.
Gone.
Emma’s the one to break the silence. “So… is that it?”
No one answers.
But Dad lowers a hand toward his waistband.
Carefully. Quietly.
Just to check.
He hooks a single finger under the elastic. Tugs it outward—just an inch. Just enough to look down.
Inside?
Not cotton.
It’s pale pink satin, edged with lace. A pair of panties—smooth, tight, and unmistakably not his. They wrap him snug, clinging to his skin in a soft, too-small pouch that pushes his penis sideways and down. His shaft is half-pressed along his thigh, encased in warmth trying to escape the prison.
He twitches. Hes wearing…. Female underwear? And adolescence looking too..
His shaft stirs against the soft restricting fabric. Reacting as it slightly grows in front of his gaze.
He lets the waistband snap quietly back and exhales through his nose.
No one saw. Probably.
Emma glances around. “So… we just keep playing, right?”
“We never even saw what that last card said,” she adds, rubbing her thumb along the side of the die. “Wasn’t it supposed to be a riddle or something?”
The board responds before anyone else can.
Her token flashes red.
NEXT PLAYER: EMMA
As her name appears, it carves itself across the side of the board—red light etching deep into the glassy surface. EMMA. The board chooses. The board commands.
Emma jumps slightly. “Wait, seriously?”
Before she can protest, the dice rise from their velvet pit—hovering weightlessly for a second, then floating toward her like they know where they belong.
She catches them without thinking.
Kayla hugs her arms tighter. Her legs stay crossed.
Mom says nothing, but shifts just enough to put her hand on the back of Dad’s chair.
Dad doesn’t move.
He’s not watching the dice.
He’s still feeling the tight satin against his skin—and wondering how long it’ll be before the next change is something no one can hide.
Her fingers tighten around the die for just a second too long. The weight of it sinks into her palm—heavier than it should be. Her smile comes late, like she’s waiting for someone else to laugh first.
Emma grins nervously. “Okay. Yeah. This is officially freaky. But like… kinda cool, right?”
She rolls.
Kayla flinches.
Dad watches the die tumble, jaw clenched tight.
They don’t say anything.
But neither of them are smiling anymore.