Chapter 160

Sol stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing herself. She drifted fingertips over her lips, nose, cheekbones, and eyelids. Felt her silky black hair hanging down to her mid-back. Cupped her breasts and weighed them, watching how their naked form changed shape in the mirror. Pushed them together. Squeezed. Turned to view them from the side, then from the front.

Humans. An interesting species. One Sol felt unusually attuned with. The Famished had no true physical form, no default to return to. They were beings made of magic. To interact with the world, they needed corporeality, but they weren’t strictly beholden to it. There was always the Passage to flee to, a realm physical creatures couldn’t enter.

Sol turned around and looked at herself over her shoulder. Her bare, feminine back, the curve of her ass and thighs, her milky and unblemished skin. There was something so appealing about these creatures. Graceful wasn’t exactly the word she would use, though in some ways, they were. But more prevalently: Alluring. Sensual. Humans were hardly the only sexual creatures Sol and her people had appropriated the forms of, but she had never felt such a strong urge to explore those desires.

She faced back forward. Running her fingers through her hair, she focused on morphing her form. Black locks melted to brown, then to blonde, to red, and less typical colors: blue, green, orange. She lengthened and shortened the silky material, turning it curly, then straight, then short enough she couldn’t get a grip on it. Her eyes were her next target, shifting through colors, testing to see how each felt. She grew a few inches, then shrunk. She made her breasts larger, and her butt, exploring different shapes.

In the end, she reverted herself back to how she’d been. Long black hair, red eyes, medium height, and a lithe but still curvy form. It had been the form she’d initially chosen, and it felt right. An echo of whatever initial memories had imprinted upon her with her arrival to this world. Perhaps in time, she would explore the full variety of shapes a human body allowed, but Sol hadn’t even begun to learn what this shape was like. Experimentation with deviancy came after understanding the base.

Sol withdrew a vial from her pants—which was laid on the sink—and peered at the liquid inside. The cock-growing potion, which she had stolen from Zoey’s inventory.

While Sol could morph her body, the potion was special: an item of divine origin. The physical addition it created wasn’t any different from a mundane one—besides being larger and prone to heavier emissions, from what she’d seen—but to Sol, particularly, it was special. The magical liquid vibrated to her senses, and she itched to drink it. To consume the energy held within not for the effect it provided, but for sustenance. It wasn’t the overwhelming, intoxicating power that radiated from Zoey, but it had her mark on it, and even an echo was enticing.

Zoey. It was a shame Sol needed to avoid the woman. It was too risky to interact with someone blessed by the divine, ignorant as she was. But it was a hard conviction to keep. Every time she thought of that throbbing, fourteen-inch monster between her legs, Sol’s heart started slamming. Like it did now. She placed a hand on her chest and felt the wild beats. A hunger grew in her stomach, thinking of Zoey. A hot clenching. And not Hunger as her people knew it, but a different kind. Lust. Desire. Familiar, but not.

Sol shook her head to clear it. There would be time enough to indulge in Zoey later. Once she knew more about the world and felt more confident in her understanding, Sol could afford to be bold. To seek out that ultimate prize. Until then, she needed to learn.

She downed the potion. The dense magic slid down her throat, and Sol shuddered in delight. She repressed the urge to dismantle the magic and Consume it, since doing so would ruin the effect.

Her crotch heated in a becoming-familiar way—this wasn’t her first experiment—and her legs trembled as her cock surged and grew. She watched in the mirror as her member formed, ten inches long, and two wide, a thick, hefty beast. Smaller than Zoey’s, but still a cock that would make most women go pale.

Sol reached down and grasped it. She didn’t mean to, but her hand started sliding up and down the thick shaft, squeezing the warm, throbbing rod. The desire had come out of nowhere, shockingly intense. She bit her lip, pleasure washing through her as she played with herself.

Women didn’t normally have cocks, Sol knew—even just from her passive memories, not something she had needed to learn. Maybe that was what made the sight so alluring. So special. The lewd, angry weapon, framed by all the plush curves and softness of a woman. It was really something.

The door to the bathroom swung open. Sol paused, then glanced over to see a short blonde woman step inside. She was wearing a tight black tank top and a pair of shorts that clung to her curves—typical for the venue. Her face was framed by a pair of glasses with thick black frames.

Their eyes met. The woman froze. She looked at Sol—at her naked body—and her eyes went wider and wider.

“W-What the hell?” the woman squeaked. “What are you doing?!”

Sol tilted her head, confused. She looked into the mirror, then back to the woman.

“Experimenting,” she answered honestly.

The woman gaped at her.

“With myself.” Sol gestured at her cock, which jutted from her as angrily as ever.

The woman continued to gape. She seemed to have frozen in surprise. Which Sol didn’t understand. Why was she shocked? Sol had every right to be here. This was a communal space.

“Bathrooms are for handling private business,” Sol told her, confident in the fact, but hesitant because of the woman’s strange reaction. “Where else would I do this?”

“This is a public restroom,” the woman shrilled.

“Exactly.” Which meant everyone was welcome in it. “What’s your point?” she asked, genuinely wanting to understand.