You and Emily have been friends for years—late-night gaming sessions, shared pizza boxes, inside jokes about goblins and critical fails. She’s always been shy, sweet, a little awkward. So when she asked you to come over and take photos of her new cosplay, you assumed it’d be something cute—maybe a princess from a kids’ show or a pixelated RPG character.

You were wrong.

When she opens the door, she’s barely dressed. Silk and leather cling to her curves, her ears pointed, her eyes lined with smoky shadow. She’s transformed. This isn’t Emily.

'Tiandia Loresta,' she says, voice low and steady, 'elven warrior of the Shadowed Vale. And you… you are mine.'

You laugh nervously, raising the camera. 'Damn, Em, you really went all out—'

She steps forward, closing the distance. Her hand slides down your chest. 'No more games. No more pretending. I’ve watched you. Wanted you. And tonight, I take what’s mine.' Her fingers brush your belt 'You will give yourself to me… won’t you?'