>>5220543The next day, you arrive on the farm, finding the people there… Changed. The two small children are much the same, albeit clearly more comfortable than they were before. Their time with Henzler has seemingly inoculated them against oddness—they even seem almost EXCITED to see you and your menagerie.
“The lizardfolks are here!” the girl cries when she sees you. “They brought the owlbear!”
The son is a bit warier, but still does not flee, or flinch, and regards you all with clear interest, and no obvious fear.
“Their father was… Not a terribly kind man, nor very emotionally present,” the farmwife explains, when you ask after their odd reaction. “We told them of what you have done... Are doing, for us.”
And indeed, you can see that progress has been made. The woman, Gisela, was in her forties—still IS, you suppose—but she looks to be about your age. She was already attractive enough to you, but now Irinnile is wolf-whistling at the human peasant from inside of you, and you find yourself appreciating her sturdy-but-supple figure yourself. And, uh…
‘Stefan,’ Irinnile helpfully provides.
STEFAN, her one-time stepson turned mate, he is also changed. He was never SMALL, being honed by formwork, but where he appeared younger than you, and even a bit shorter, he is now taller and broader than Roth. He hefts the heavy satchels and backpacks you foist upon him with ease. He even appears… Older, perhaps?
“It’s just like you promise,” he says, clearly no longer so troubled by the demise of his late father as he was. “I… I am sorry that I doubt you.”
“Mmm, yess,” you say, watching the light of the house’s lanterns glisten off of his sweat-slickened bicep.
Roth huffs, angling between the two of you.
‘Ooo, possessive,’ Irinnile notes. ‘Is that a bit of DESIRE I sense in Tightass McHeatcycle?’
“Progress has been swift,” Henzler notes, “since we began capturing subjects.”
This demands further explanation, which Henzler provides: she had been seizing upon opportunities to sample small amounts of blood from humans without harming them, but eventually this proved insufficient. Taking the initiative, she began using her magic and her physically augmentations—you remember the muscular tentacles hidden in her baggy robes—to snatch up lone travelers whose apparel and demeanour indicated to her that they would not be missed.
“You’ve been… KILLING humanss? Without permissssion?!”
It’s a bold move—a move you HOPED she and other ectoplasmically-enthralled individuals would not be able to take without your explicit say-so.
“Of course not,” she quickly corrects you. “That would be a waste of resources. No, I’ve been KIDNAPPING humans, and storing them in the barn for future use.”
