kingdomcomesooc | TEST DRIVE MEME: ONE

SCENARIO ONE:
Whether you're an Apprentice, a Guard or one the free, liberated and extremely poor Outliers, it's always fun to browse the markets. They begin early in the morning, when the air is crisp and the birds are singing and the sky is still pastel purples and pinks.

Soon, mighty stalls and banners are erected in the center of the village. What was once a bare circle of ground is now a bustling, circular shaped market. Perfect for wandering. Suddenly the coins in your pocket are starting to feel heavier and the scents and sounds lead to temptation.

Wondrous aromas may lead you to the bakery, where a woman entirely clad in leather BDSM is offering free "fuck cakes" specifically in "BDSM flavour". If she's not tempting enough, the smell certainly is. She'll look you up and down, ask if you're suuuure you want to try and possibly try to tempt you with another cake. Vanilla missionary sponge, maybe? Sugar daddy cakepops? Red bloodplay velvet? Maybe she nails your kink in one, maybe she misses it entirely. Maybe her insistence that you should stick to vanilla makes you try a chocolate donut (there's nothing weird about them, they're just donuts).

When you've sampled your treat, she waits a long moment before reminding you of the sign behind her that reads: "FUCK CAKES. CAKES THAT MAKE YOU WANT TO FUCK. WE KNOW. WE'RE WORKING ON A SLOGAN." There's a sign under it that reads: "HIRING: COPYWRITER."

Yes, indeed. Even a sample inspires the most intense urge to practice the alleged sexual act. The fantasy is gripping, it tingles down your spine and makes your belly ache with need. Whether you can resist is up to you. Whether you buy a whole slice is also up to you.

SCENARIO TWO:
A feast followed by a dance followed by an orgy is a Tuesday evening for The Mistress. Commonplace. Dull. Even the horniest of diplomats had begun to find them quite bland. That is, until the promise of new, exciting guests from worlds and universes you've never heard of had become more than just rumors. How droll! How quaint!

The diplomats are excited by anything new, and so the gifts flood in. Everyone has been provided with a new outfit for the dance, and everyone believes it is a dance. Your outfits are revealing, but luxurious and beautiful and suspiciously well fitted. You're told that you can expect all eyes on you, you're told that the feast and dance will be quite an occasion, you haven't been told an orgy will begin.

The signs are subtle. The incense is muskier, the lights are dimmed. You look to your right, a woman is shirtless. You look to your left, people are making out. Suddenly there's hand stuff. Suddenly it's like they aren't even trying to hide it anymore.

You can join in. You can stay frozen in the spot. You can slink outside and get some air. Nobody is holding you anywhere (but they'd like to).

SCENARIO THREE:
You've managed to piss a wizard off. Whether it was a mistake in the marketplace or an ill encounter in the forests, you've gone and done it. They've transformed you into something. A frog, a goat, WWE Champion The Undertaker. Whatever. You think it was unjustified, but at least you can still talk.

When the wizard departs, they do so with a cackle and a mutter. "Good luck finding someone to kiss you now" they say, and you can only assume this means they've put a curse on you that will be broken by a kiss. Luckily for you, it isn't true love's first kiss or you'd be boned.

Now it's up to you to wander into town, get someone to listen to you and convince them to kiss you. You have ten hours until it's permanent, good luck.

SCENARIO FOUR:
Get creative! Take a look at the info pages and make something up! The mods are here with notepads, waiting to steal your ideas.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(one)

When life gave her lemons, Maeryll had but one response: fuck the lemons, she was getting cake. Getting stuck in some foreign city she'd never even heard of before without a soul she recognized around or so much as a single coin from her usual sources to live on was not her idea of a good time. The idea of serving some bitch as her sorcerous apprentice was laughable on so many levels, and she wouldn't be caught dead wearing one of those guard uniforms, so back to the life of an outcast it was. Outlier. Whatever.

At least cake was always there to comfort her, she could think of no better use for her extremely limited funds than getting something tasty to eat. The fact that the cakes were hypersexualized was... not a surprise, everything in this fucking city was, so she thought nothing of it as she listened to the overly-enthusiastic and kind of hot chick rattling off various flavors of smut-themed baked goods. It only took a few tries before said chick noticed Maeryll mostly staring at her breasts through the whole spiel before she offered her a titty cake: a small, round pastry shaped, appropriately, like a titty. You were even supposed to suck the cream filling out through the nipple on top before chowing down, how authentic. The sample was good, so what the hell, she spent her entire meager allowance and bought a dozen.

Now, it was normal for Maeryll to think about breasts a lot. They were one of her favorite things, the whole place was sexually charged, and she was walking around snacking on tit-shaped treats. It was a little odd, though, that she was slowly beginning to have trouble thinking of anything else, like how she was going to throttle whoever left her here, or how big of a pain in the ass getting something decent to drink was going to be, or where a good bathhouse was. Every woman that passed by got a long, lingering stare directed toward her chest.

This was disconcerting. Especially since she had no idea how long she was going to be able to simply look. God help anyone with a large rack coming close to her now, and given a little more time, even the modestly-endowed may be in danger soon.

-

(two)

Oh. That escalated fast.

Maeryll had jumped at the chance to attend the feast, mostly for the decent dress being offered, but the other perks were swell, too. Food, drink, and the chance to associate with high society types, that was her jam. She mingled, she sampled the wine, she flirted with noblewomen and serving maids, it was almost enough to make her feel like she was somewhere she belonged.

And then it turned into an orgy so fast, she almost missed it. Suddenly, tits and dicks were out, just like that, and things were going stupid. Now, Maeryll was no prude, she was an elf that had been around the block several thousand times, but this just seemed crass. Crude, even. For fuck's sake, someone was pushing someone else's face into the chocolate cake while railing them from behind. Orgies weren't exactly the most dignified of affairs, she knew from experience, but come on.

Then again, it had been, what, a few days or so since she'd gotten laid. She wasn't about to tear her clothes off and dive into the first ass she saw, but maybe it couldn't hurt to stand off to the side, sip at her drink, and look hot in that low-cut dress of hers while looking for the right lady to proposition. Someone busty, preferably. Being a little freaky wouldn't hurt, either.

Now, a woman like Porrim is no stranger to being stared at. Even in the Capitol, where everyone was stare-worthy, she garnered a lot of attention for That Rack™ and That Ass™. Most people assumed it was thanks to plastic surgery, which was hardly a bad thing, but she'd never addressed those rumors, because the fact of the matter is, she's all natural under all those tattoos.

Still, it's not often that the person staring at her chest is a woman. That's novel in and of itself that Porrim actually pauses and smiles as she goes by, instead of calling the woman out like she might if it were a man.

"See something you like, darling?"

"Tits."

Whoops. Under normal circumstances, when she tried, Maeryll could be subtle. She wasn't always, sometimes it was a lot more fun to just be blunt and say exactly what she meant, but she liked having control over herself, dammit. The moment this voluptuous woman passed by, though, she couldn't not stare at her chest, and when she asked her question, she blurted out a single word response that more or less said it all.

Now, Maeryll didn't embarrass easily. She was more annoyed than ashamed of what she'd said, and after grimly pressing her lips together and clearing her throat, she tried again. "Nice rack- fuck. I mean, yes, I do. I think I've made that painfully obvious by now."

Porrim can't help but giggle at the way the elf can't help the things she's saying. It's charming, in a way, because she knows that it's the by-product of some questionable baked goods.

"Quite so, yes," she laughs. "You're funny...I like that. Funny women aren't thought very highly of where I'm from."

TEST DRIVE MEME: ONE

Maeryll | I Roved Out

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