📘 Chapter Summary: Where Everyone Is Now End of Round 1
• Tyler 🧍 – Now in a tight white leotard, Tyler landed on a Truth or Dare tile and admitted his taboo desires for his sister and mother. Emotionally wrecked, he remains exposed and ashamed on the couch—uncertain what comes next.
• Emma 🦴 – Transformed by an Animal Tile, Emma now has a living monkey tail growing from her lower back. Her thong snapped, shorts fell, and the tail fully exposed her to the group. She’s trying to process the horror of her body betraying her in front of everyone.
• Kayla 🍆 – After landing on a Swap Tile with Rick, Kayla underwent a full anatomical transformation into a male—complete with penis and testicles. She’s now hiding in the kitchen, aroused, humiliated, and afraid to move. Her leotard clearly outlines everything.
• Rick 👙 – Now fully female in anatomy due to the swap with Kayla. He's dressed in a lavender leotard, feeling dysphoric and raw from the transformation. Currently outside the bathroom, dazed after losing his manhood and watching his daughter grow a tail.
• Heather 🎭 – Wearing a pink ballet leotard after landing on an Environment tile, Heather is reeling from seeing her daughter transform and hearing Tyler's disturbing confession. She's trying to keep the family calm but is barely holding it together.
• The Board 🎲 – Alive and autonomous. It has begun rolling turns on its own, accelerating the transformations. It exposed Tyler’s innermost thoughts, forced a gender swap, and created a new environment to match its cruel game theme: a ballet studio.
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POV: Shared (Room-wide)
The board flares—once, then dims.
No tiles glow. No cards rise. Just a single line etches itself across the top edge of the glass in golden script, like it's being carved from within:
“Congratulations on completing Round One.
Get some snacks. You’re in for a long night.
Five minutes until the next round.”
For a second, no one breathes.
Then the room erupts—
Not in noise. In motion.
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POV: Rick (Dad)
Rick turns.
Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t wait. Just walks—feet silent on the floor, lavender leotard clinging awkwardly to his hips. He rounds the corner, slips into the room he and Heather claimed.
The door clicks shut behind him.
He exhales.
Yanks the leotard down.
The fabric clings like it doesn’t want to let go. When it’s off, he just stands there. Naked. Breathing hard.
It’s still his body in some ways—broad chest, thick arms, that stubborn line of stomach hair.
But lower down?
Gone.
His shaft. His balls.
In their place: lips. Folds. A seam—swollen and pink.
Still surrounded by male hair. Still his thighs. But not him.
He stares.
“That’s not mine,” he mutters—
But it’s in his voice.
And that’s what breaks him.
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POV: Heather (Mom)
Back in the living room, Heather drops to her knees.
She grabs the edge of the board, trying to lift it.
Nothing.
Again—palms pressed under the glass, forcing upward.
Still nothing.
The board doesn’t move. The cards don’t shift.
The table legs feel welded to the floor.
“Rick!” she yells. “Rick, get in here! I think I can move it—”
A beat.
Then, from down the hall:
“Just changing clothes! Be right back!”
She swears under her breath. Her hands tremble slightly as she releases the board. Her fingers brush a card.
It spins once—then stops.
It let her touch it. But not take it.
She stares down, lips tight. “Five minutes, huh?” she mutters.
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POV: Emma
Emma doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speak.
She walks straight to the kitchen.
Her tights feel tight and springy. But it’s the tail that messes with her—the way it moves on its own. Brushes her thigh. Curls without permission.
“Kayla?” she calls, peeking around the corner.
Stops.
Kayla’s in the corner, half-turned, arms crossed low. Her leotard’s stretched tight over her body. And below her arms—
A bulge.
Not just a wrinkle.
A shape. Pressing against the fabric.
Real.
Emma swallows. “Oh my god,” she breathes.
Kayla doesn’t look up. “I didn’t do anything,” she says, voice cracking. “It just… happened.”
Emma steps closer. “What did the card say?”
Kayla’s jaw tightens. Then, brittle:
“It gave me a fucking dick, Emma.”
Louder than she meant.
The words just spill.
Her eyes glimmer.
Emma doesn’t answer right away. Her tail curls around her own leg—then reaches outward.
Wraps around Kayla’s waist.
Kayla flinches. Doesn’t move away.
Emma steps in.
The hug happens before they think.
Bodies press.
Emma feels it.
Firm. Warm. Real.
Too real.
Pressed between them. Nudging her ribs through the thin fabric.
It pulses once—slow, deep, undeniable.
Kayla whispers, “It’s hard. I can’t make it stop.”
Emma doesn’t let go.
She can feel it twitching. Can feel every heartbeat.
Her voice shakes. “Kayla… we’re supposed to play volleyball tomorrow.”
Kayla laughs. Just barely. “Yeah. In spandex shorts.”
They both laugh—quiet, exhausted.
Kayla speaks again, softer.
“I still have my boobs. But this... it’s so big. It doesn’t feel like it belongs.”
Emma blinks fast, holding back tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t know it would do this to you.”
Kayla leans in. Chin resting on Emma’s shoulder.
Emma’s tail tightens. Not instinct—connection.
A tether.
The bulge twitches again.
Emma holds on.
Eyes closed.
They don’t speak.
They just stand there, caught in something they don’t have words for.
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POV: Tyler
Tyler runs.
Not far. Just to the small bedroom with the twin bed.
He shuts the door. Doesn’t lock it.
Just sinks to the carpet and folds in on himself.
Arms around his chest.
Leotard creaking with every breath.
And then—
He cries.
Quiet.
Not loud.
Just enough to let the guilt escape.
The shame.
The words he said.
In front of everyone.
He remembers Emma’s face. That flicker of horror before she looked away.
The board glows.
Quiet. Steady. Waiting.
Then:
“Round Two begins in: 04:00”
No one sees.
They’re all hiding.
But the board knows who’s next.
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POV: Heather
Rick still hasn’t come back.
The board is glowing again.
But Heather’s focused on the hallway.
She moves.
Quiet. Listening.
The last door is cracked open.
She pushes it.
“Rick?”
No answer.
She opens it farther—
And stops.
Rick sits on the bed. Naked.
Back hunched. Hands hiding his groin like he’s still got something to cover.
He startles when he sees her.
“Heather—Jesus—”
He stumbles upright. Covers himself fast.
Heather’s mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Rick backs into the dresser.
“I haven’t figured it out,” he says. “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”
She steps closer. “Rick?”
He looks at his hands. Then at her.
Broken.
“Heather… I have a vagina.”
Everything in her halts.
The words don’t land. Not at first.
Then she sees it.
The way his hands tremble.
Covering skin that isn’t his.
She steps forward.
He doesn’t move.
Close enough now to see the tears. Not falling—just there.
“Rick…” she whispers.
Her hand hovers near his wrist—then lower.
“I have to know it’s real.”
He exhales like it hurts.
Then—slowly—moves his hands.
Heather sees.
Soft. Pink. Feminine.
Delicate folds. A slight rise where the clit sits.
It’s real.
Alive.
And it terrifies her.
She reaches. Doesn’t touch. Just hovers.
Close enough to feel the heat.
To see every line.
“God,” she breathes. “Rick…”
Then he stumbles back.
Cups himself again.
“Don’t,” he snaps.
Heather flinches.
“I wasn’t—”
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he growls. “Don’t talk about it like it’s mine.”
She raises her hands. “Okay. I won’t. I just—”
He sits hard on the bed.
Hands in his hair.
“This isn’t my body.”
Heather kneels beside him.
“Rick, I know it’s real. But you have to get dressed. Someone will come looking.”
He lets out a bitter laugh.
“In what? A floral nightgown? Some lacy panties from your hotel haul?”
She stands. “Something soft. That covers. I brought a whole suitcase.”
He bows his head.
“Christ.”
She opens the bag.
Pulls out simple cotton briefs. Pale blue.
Lays them out.
Rick stares. Doesn’t move.
“Fine,” he mutters. “But no one else. This stays between us.”
Heather nods.
“Of course.”
He stands—wobbles.
Catches himself. Winces.
“I’ve got it,” he says, as she instinctively steps toward him.
She backs off.
“I’ll go keep them busy. If they ask—”
“Tell them I’m fine. Just… getting changed.”
She pauses at the door.
“I’m sorry.”
No answer.
She closes the door.
The click is louder than anything the game has done so far.
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POV: Rick
Rick sits still.
Jeans on. Cotton briefs snug between unfamiliar thighs.
The room is silent.
The board glows.
Stronger now.
A single pulse.
Then:
“Round Two begins now.”
No warning.
No countdown.
Just whatever comes next.