Chapter 2 : The Portal Moaned This Time. I Swear.
The portal was wet again.
Not literally—at least, I hoped not—but it sounded wet. That gross magical kind of wet that made my spine curl, like stepping into a puddle with socks on.
I stood in front of it with my backpack half-zipped, one of my wife’s panties still clinging to the Velcro. Not hers-hers. Technically, mine now. Technically.
From inside the house, I heard the rhythmic thud of a headboard. Chadriguez was punctual. Always started by 9:03.
Tuesday.
I gnced at my phone. 9:04. Slower than usual. Maybe he was being gentle today.
How romantic.
“Darryl!” a familiar voice shouted from the portal. “Let’s go! Time is time and your wife is loud!”
“Yeah, yeah…”
I stepped forward and pressed my palm against the swirling vortex. It rippled like hot jelly, groaned softly, then slurped me in.
Okay, this time it definitely moaned.
---
I nded face-first in what felt like sand but smelled like perfume and something slightly illegal.
I coughed. “Where the hell are we?”
“Welcome to Thirstoria!” said Celendria, arms spread wide like she was announcing Disneynd.
It was a desert. A glowy, hazy, absolutely horny-looking desert. Sand dunes shimmered under a twin sunset, and towering paces rose in the distance—built like boobs. No joke. One had golden domes, the other had what looked suspiciously like pierced minarets.
“I feel like I’m inside a teenage boy’s wet dream,” I muttered.
“You are,” Celendria said. “Literally.”
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
“This realm is shaped by desire,” she expined. “It responds to the subconscious fantasies of the traveler who enters it.”
“...So you're saying this is all my fault?”
Celendria smiled and pointed behind me.
I turned—and came face to face with a cactus. A cactus shaped exactly like my wife bending over in yoga pants.
It winked at me.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “I need therapy.”
“Nope!” Celendria said. “You need to finish the mission.”
She handed me a scroll, then vanished in a sparkle of elven smugness.
---
Quest: Retrieve the Orb of Everthrob
Location: Temple of Eternal Tension, Thirstoria
Warning: Contents may cause excessive arousal, sweating, or awkward public situations.
Note: Do not put it in your mouth.
Escort Required: Lady Selestra, the Lust Priestess
Complication: She hates men. All men. Especially you.
---
“Cool,” I said. “Another Tuesday in sex hell.”
---
I found the temple after three hours of walking, one hallucinated harem that turned into crows, and a brief conversation with a talking camel who called me a cuck.
The Temple of Eternal Tension was shaped like... I’m not gonna say it. You already know.
Outside, waiting with arms crossed and a scowl like she smelled something offensive, was Lady Selestra.
She wore what could generously be called a robe, though it did very little to hide anything. It sparkled. It clung. It moved when she breathed..Is this what we call jiggly Physics?? I think it was enchanted with the physics of disappointment.
“You’re te,” she snapped.
I adjusted my backpack, trying not to stare. Failed. “Sorry. Got lost in the Lust Dunes. One of them looked like my high school math teacher.”
“Don’t speak to me.”
She spun on her heel and started walking into the temple. I followed. My backpack squeaked. One of the zippers got caught on her dress. For one magical moment, I felt velvet and heat and holy judgment.
She spped me.
Hard.
“Fair,” I wheezed. “Deserved.”
---
Inside, the air was thick with incense and pheromones. Statues lined the walls—each one more anatomically ambitious than the st.
Selestra lit a torch and turned back to me.
“Listen,” she said. “The Orb is protected by trials. You must pass each one.”
“Trials like… puzzles?”
“No. Trials of discipline. Mind. Flesh. Will.”
I grinned. “I passed a flesh trial once. Her name was Chloe. Met her at a Red Lobster.”
She stared at me. “You are truly cursed.”
The first room smelled like strawberries and regret.
---
The Trial of the Flesh was, of course, a massage room.
Ten succubi lined the walls, each one dripping with oil and offering to “loosen my core tension.” Selestra handed me a tiny towel and crossed her arms. “Resist, or be lost.”
I sted 14 seconds.
In my defense, the red-haired one had a voice like hot syrup and thighs like political corruption.
---
When I came to, I was covered in lipstick, had a hickey on my eyebrow, and somehow gained +1 Charisma.
Selestra looked at me with thinly veiled contempt.
“I hope the next trial devours you.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me since the wedding.”
---
The next room was pitch bck. Only the sound of breathing. Mine. Hers.
Then a voice, slow and sultry: “Speak your deepest desire.”
Selestra turned to me. “Say nothing.”
I opened my mouth.
She jabbed me with her staff.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything weird!” I hissed.
“You were.”
“I was gonna say ‘peace and love and cake.’”
“You were going to say ‘I want to be milked by a dragoness.’”
“…Okay, wow. That was one Google search.”
---
We passed. Barely. The room faded. The door opened.
At the end of a long velvet hallway sat the Orb of Everthrob.
It pulsed. It glowed. It hummed Marvin Gaye songs.
Selestra approached it reverently. I followed. Respectfully. But also checking her out.
“Don’t touch it yet,” she said.
I nodded.
“Don’t say anything horny.”
I bit my tongue.
We stood in silence.
Then I whispered, “Do you think if I rubbed it, it’d purr?”
She spped me again.
Totally worth it.
