---
title: "Chapter III - Scientific Childmaking · Vol 3 - Third Wheel"
url: https://deovandski.github.io/HusbandOutWorld/novel/vol-3/chapter-3/
section: Light Novel
spoilers: public layer first, Behind The Scenes after
sources: [Legacy/Behind The Scenes/Light Novel/Arc #1 - Dubious Contract/Vol 3 - Third Wheel.md]
---

<!-- PUBLIC LAYER: as published for readers -->

# Chapter III - Scientific Childmaking

*Vol 3 - Third Wheel*


## 1

![Subchapter illustration](Vol3/3_1.png)

Harry stood by himself in quite a familiar kitchen in the late afternoon glow of another day. The wind coming through the fully cracked open window smelled of a breezy summer. It was like walking through the woods barefoot on the dewy ground, amidst the chirping birds and biting mosquitoes. Walking outside would be nice, but something about the cold, hard stone floor on which his chained feet firmly stood felt homey. His hands were feeling a chilly breeze too, but it was from something else. He stood in front of the ice preserver—a boxy container caked in ice on the inside that one would think looked like a fridge-freezer combo.

*I wish Eori would make that eye nari gel again instead of this fixation with horse—hmm, wait. Not horse. She called it—egua\! That’s it. What a weird name.* In his mind, a memory of a red gel with pickling eyeballs encased in glass came to mind. One that tasted horrible but improved his vision from piss-poor to almost-seeing-atoms kinda good. *Well, not like this is bad either.* The fur covering most of his body was still slightly weird, like wearing a fuzzy warm coat, but it wasn’t bad either—like a weighted blanket type of feel you get that somehow calms you down. The sweet and natural oils from the skin were there, though\! Harry’s nose could pick up a bit of his smell, and it did smell a bit different. Despite being a bit more pungent, its earthy tones balanced well the intensity—the type of smell some Frenchmen would pay out of the ass to acquire, drench themselves on it, and womanize.

Feeling the colder breeze as he stuck his face closer, his eyes were better able to prowl what the ice preserver was offering: A complete, wide range of meats, roots, veggies, and even popsicles, with the stuff in the bottom frozen like a rock compared to the stuff up top. His wandering mind, amongst the random thoughts while under the effect of decision paralysis, began to cook up on its own what Eori’s stomach might be clamoring for—Kebabs\! Or maybe it was his stomach deciding it? Either way, now the ten sapphire balls question arose from that: Use the last chunks of the familiar fanchaki purple meat or try out the light blue with white strikes meat he was told to use. *So that’s Yuyta meat\!* He arched over, bringing both hands forwards due to the small chains in his handcuffs, and grabbed a fleshy piece of Yuyta and brought it close to his nose. Hmmm, *she told me it’s similar to fanchaki but looks like a painted a piece of tilapia—*The smell was clean, mild, almost like fresh tuna, but lacking that distinct oceanic smell. *Smells like it too, I think—hmmm, not quite though.* As he kept sniffing this not-so-frozen hunk of meat, faint wet grass notes, like being downwind from someone cutting grass, hit the back of his throat. *Smells nice, but I really don’t think this is going to go down well as a Kebab—maybe as a stew instead with celery.*

His hands stalled for a bit, letting the freezer fog dissipate into the warm room of a summer evening. *I guess that thing that looked like celery was more minty than I remember.* Part of him wanted to experiment and discover the unknown, but the risk of pissing off Eori was growing louder. *Maybe tomorrow\! I could do something small as a side dish first.*

His hands grabbed a handful of chunks of purple meat and closed the ice preserver softly, plopping the purple meat bundle into one side of the cutting board. With a sharp knife, he started to chop the purple meat meticulously as the chains tugging his wrists rustled against the table. Despite the meat being cold and rigid, it felt like cutting through butter. His imagination got the better of him, imagining the knife cutting through his finger like butter. His fingers clenched at the thought, making him squint his eyes to be even more precise with it.

Squint. Measure. Cut. Squint. Measure. Cut. Squint. Measure. Cut.

That repetition felt soothing in its own way as he stood in this silent, empty kitchen. Perhaps it was the daily repetition of this being the single moment he knew he wouldn’t feel pain from whatever Eori was experimenting on him, or maybe he actually liked cooking stuff. Or the simple fact that he could feel the breath of nature inviting itself through the open window.

Maybe a combo of it all\! Except, his memory also reminded him of something else that tickled him\! A genuine, simple smile on Eori as she enjoyed his food\! Despite everything that happened, is happening, and will most likely happen, that smile on her face was above it all. It wasn’t the same smile, or more like a whole grimace, when she was experimenting on him—even if she was on top of him, pounding her lower innards against his nari-gel infused egua third-leg. That nearly absurd portrayal of a smile on her face as she furiously rammed herself against him felt good in its own way, but somehow felt superficial, like it was nothing but just another experiment he had to perform, except the pleasure rather than pain signals were activated in his neurons. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Squint. Measure. Cut. Squint. Measure. Cut. Squint. Measure. Cut.

The shackles on his hands and feet continued to hinder his movements, but it had been so long that they had become an appendage, an extension of his body.

Despite there being a clear reminder of the predicament he had been in for a while now, that fact became truth, and with that, acceptance. This weird chapter of his life started the moment he was left behind at random night in a random forest by that old guy whose name was not coming to mind, only to be hunted down by Eori and put in this house in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.

*This might still be better than being a Sanbi eye\!* The thought passed by his mind, but at the same time, a wanderlust feeling was gnawing in the back of his head. He could barely picture anything from his previous life—the one before suddenly appearing at Sanbi Castle—but he could feel a repetition there as well. *Is this what I did previously? I do feel like I ate a lot—wait—no\! I would go somewhere every day, too. Somewhere I didn't like at all—except I wasn’t walking there either—did I have a ho-egua too? If so, then where would that be?* A very blurry memory of being seated between his parents, watching TV with a dog sleeping nearby, came to mind, but its whereabouts were just as elusive as knowing where he is right now.

Harry looked towards the stairs leading to the basement. *Was I an experiment all along? Did Kibe and—what was his name again? That old guy Eiri mentioned—did they do the same thing to me before her? But what about the parents I had? My family? A car\! Yeah—the metal thing with wheels\! That’s it\! I didn't have an egua\! I had one of those\! I hadn’t seen anything like that on the day I left the Sanbi Castle\! Not even the green and red lights hanging in the streets—*

A familiar voice, belonging to none other than Eori, echoed in his mind, intruding through all his meandering thoughts. *You’re from nowhere\! Nobody knows you\! And you have nobody\!*

His hands paused, cutting up the purple meat. His eyes wandered to the open window. He breathed deeply and slowly, letting the exact nature invite itself through the open window into his lungs. *Not even Tolerideme—I wonder if I will ever see that place.* With the bloodied knife in his hands, the intrusive, devilish thought of just jumping over the ice preserver and out of the window came and went, but the sheer unknown of what would happen if he somehow escaped Eori froze his feet to the cold, stony ground. *Where would I even go? I can’t even trust Eiri\! They all screwed me up\! Even Eori, but at least she doesn’t lie about it—*

He looked at his brown fur covering most of his body. Maybe *that’s why Eori is doing this? Even if I escape, there is no way someone would help me because I look like this?* Harry looked at the behemoth of a third leg in between his legs as the sliver of semi-vivid, nari gel murked memories of Eori sexually experimenting on him resurfaced—*maybe not? I guess at least it would feel better without the nari gels.*

Thinking about it, the lower brain felt tingling, but the upper brain did not reciprocate. Deep in his soul, he could feel all these waves sloshing around; maybe it was hollowing him further, or perhaps that’s what kept filling the empty void. *But what will happen between us later on?*

## 2

![Subchapter illustration](Vol3/3_2.png)

His hands were busy preparing meat and root kebabs as he felt a mosquito bite on his bare feet. It wasn’t even close to the pain of transforming in or out of whatever Eori was experimenting on, but it somehow felt way more bothersome.  He supported himself on one foot and used the hanging feet to scratch right at the bite, making sounds of iron shackles rustling in the silent kitchen. *Aww—much better\!* The itchy skin felt a slight reprieve.

The flexibility in his body seemed to get better with time, maybe a lot better. Catching himself still in one foot, he moved his feet outward until the chain was tight, barely needing to keep track of his balance. *Yeah. That’s different\! I don’t think I was ever able to do that before\! Weird, though—why would I be that fat if I had access to darfaries interface and nari gels? Maybe I was drinking too much black honey?* Harry looked out again at the late afternoon, seeing a blurry shape of a not-so-small, weirdly whitish creature with greasy fur and cyan tribal-like streaks accenting its body, hopping outside. He couldn’t quite see what it was, but it for sure had a long yellow vertical thing in front of his face, and some black-looking thing that resembled tentacles near what he thought was its mouth. Whatever that weird thing was, it also came with what had to be a big, bouncy butt. “EORI\! The big butt thing you told me to look out for\! YUYTA? I think so\!” The descriptions Eori gave of the creature matched perfectly when it started to jump several times its own size, as if a cricket was the size of a small dog. It was able to jump higher than an entire flight of stairs with ease.

A familiar-sounding step came pounding from the basement and up the stairs quickly. It belonged to none other than scientist Eori. She chucked a cup and a small plate in the sink, making clanking sounds that sounded like something chipped or cracked. Rushing to the living room, she made a quick rustle and appeared back in the kitchen with a crossbow. “Where’s the fucker?” Her beady eyes were ready to pounce like a jaguar.

Harry pointed out the window as he felt his own heart squeezing in fear from being on the receiving end of that crossbow. Unfortunately, his mind and heart still remembered a bit too vividly that night Eori hunted him down and killed him with what had to be the same crossbow. His fur concealed his clenched muscles, but the outline of a rigid animal in fear was still noticeable—the smell too\!

TWANG\! Eori released the latch of the crossbow, making the arrow streak through the sky with an annoying zipping sound in the air as it made its way with full force toward the innocent big booty creature. “FUCK\!” Eori blurted loudly as she threw the crossbow through the window with a broad, abrupt swing. “FUCKING MORIKA\!” She continued to blurt out as she stomped the window tightly shut and closed the curtains. “Is dinner ready?” Her beady eyes fixed on the scrawny, furry, silent creature standing beside her.

*Morika?* A strangely familiar name, Harry, couldn’t put a face to it. Regardless, not daring to look towards her, Harry kept making kebabs. “Sorry\! I’m close—can you light the fire?” He continued to stick one root medallion, then a chunk of purple flesh after another, in the most wooden stick in his hand.

Eori approached the mortar and stuck her pinky finger on it, tasting the seasoning he had concocted. Making sloppy, wet mouth sounds, then suddenly whacked him on the back of the head with a semi-hard slap. “Not enough salt\! Make it spicier, too\! I like my meat sticks hot\!”

*Meat sticks? I thought they were called Kebabs.* Recoiling, Harry felt like more punishment was coming, but none came. “Sorry—”

She wiped away her pinky finger on his fur, then placed her hand on the cabinet before him to pull out a specific FIRE CREATE sigil ring. She applied the sigil ring to one of her hands to start up the Darfaries interface, letting a small, ghastly white fire run up and down her arms and into her upper back alongside five soul rings appearing on one of her forearms.

*Yuytas—*I thought sparked in Harry’s mind as he began visualizing something similar to them, but without large butts or the cyan tribal thing accenting its fur. “Eori—sorry, but is Yuyta the same as a cat?” Using a kebab like a baton, he waved it into jumping, wavy motions.

“What’s a cat?” Eori spoke beside him as she went back to the cabinet to drop the sigil ring, then grabbed a nari stick to feed the spell. “Cat—huh?” She spoke under her breath as she touched the pointy end of the nari stick to the same palm she had touched the sigil ring. Closing the hands in an eating motion, the blue light within the nari stick got slurped into the palm, creating a fireball that spun around one of the soul rings.

Bracing himself, Harry prepared for whatever was about to happen, “I don’t know—like four legs, and jumps on things. I think the same whiskers or whatever the blackish thing was\! No yellow teeth—I think—they meow and purr?”

She chucked the half-used nari stick back in the cabinet, spewing factoids about the creature without missing a beat, “Yuytas hisses and it makes a piercing scream like a human dying when you attack them. They breed quickly and burrow into the earth around houses. The meat is tasty as fuck\! But it freezer burns easily—”

*I guess cats and dogs are a thing only in my memories. But why?* Harry felt this familiar sinking feeling, all while listening to Eori continuing to spew factoids. However, he may have become so familiar with that sinking feeling that it no longer had much of an effect.

“—the whiskers are used for detecting prey through the dirt—or walls if added to a nari gel\!” Releasing the spell on the bottom of the brick stove, the soul rings in Eori’s forearm clashed forward into the back of her hand, transforming into a gust of fire out of her palm and into the slumbering logs, setting them ablaze in crackling agony. “Morika better fucking kill them all before they burrow into my lab\!” She spoke under her breath, making her way out of the kitchen.

*Morika?* A faint memory of himself nearly passing out on the experimentation table and hearing Eori upstairs screaming at someone came to mind. Then another memory of being up on the stairs and seeing a glimpse of a behemoth of a humanoid outside the door staring intently towards him. *Maybe that’s the guy I keep seeing delivering stuff?—*Harry kept silent at the memory that a certain someone, looking almost double his own height, straddled around carrying boxes like it was nothing despite wearing a heavy yellowish armor containing pointy spikes—as if he were a cheval-de-frise in the shape of a human. His heart skipped a beat, making him lose focus on nearly shoving his hand instead of a chunk of purple meat into a skewer. His mind came up with a vivid imagination of this spiked monster outside, somewhere, always keeping a watchful eye. *But wait—*Harry looked to the fresh, deep blue curtains that were installed recently. *Could it be that this is some weird callsign instead of a name like Sanbi-eye? Could there be more Morikas around?*

“—That’s it\!” Eori rushedly walked back to the ice preserver, shoving the plates and bowls on top of it to the table aside, and opened it with a swift fling.

*Oh shit—she’s going to hit me for not using up the other meat\!* Harry’s muscles clenched once again, prepping for whatever would happen. “Sorry—I was going to make stew for lunch tomorrow.”

“Yuyta?” Eori pointed at the two bundles of white meat inside the ice preserver.

Harry nodded softly, organizing the bowls that had been shuffled towards him and the kebabs on the griddle, just right for the seasoning dip.

“Leave a quarter of this to me in case that fucking retard doesn’t bring more\!” Eori snatched a handful of the colored, fleshy yyuta meat and closed the ice preserver with a loud thunk.

“I will—” Harry spoke softly. His mind, meanwhile, gnawed at what was going to happen with it, or him. “Eori?”

“What now?” She stared into his face as she encroached closer to him. Her hand was squeezing the flesh harder.

“Can—can I ask what you will do—research with it?” Harry continued to avoid her gaze, dipping the red spicy sauce on the meat and root kebabs.

“A nari gel that makes food less prone to freeze burn\! ” She spoke right in Harry’s face, grabbing one of his lean buttcheeks with her other hand, and giving it a tight squeeze, “Everyone will buy it\!”

Feeling a tighter grip this time, He glanced towards Eori, now seeing a very familiar soul-penetrating smirk of what had to be a witch about to antagonize an entire village. His face knew that whatever would happen, he should try to remain calm and let the storm pass on its own. A soft smile appeared on his face as his neck nodded on its own. “They will\!” These two words hummed out softly from his lips.

“Fucking damm right\!” Eori grinned, showing teeth that sparkled with the same intensity as her staring eyes. “Soon\! Soon, this will put me on the map and give me sapphires to build my lab\!” Eori spoke as she rushed downstairs to the basement, where her laboratory was—also where Harry’s trial grounds happened to be located.

*Hmmmm—I guess I will have flesh carved off my butt and frozen.* Harry looked towards the ice preserver. *I hope she doesn’t put that in there\! That would be gross\!* His shoulders squirmed at the thought. His imagination reminded him of all kinds of crazy shit he was put through at the experimentation table, with being wormified definitely at the top of the rank of weird science he was voluntold to participate in. *At this point, I just hope I don’t have to eat my own butt*\! *That’s just gross\!*

More memories flooded in; some very grainy and bloody-tasting nari gels were shoved into his mouth without regard. His stomach still turned at the thought, but there wasn’t much he could do—or even remember at times anyway. *Ehh—never mind. Eori probably did that already, and I don’t even remember.*

Poking open the curtains a bit, his blurry eyes saw a dying sun outside, trees, and grass all around. On the grass, a blur of a crossbow appeared to be stuck on the ground, and a curious Yyuta was snooping around it. *At least she hasn’t killed me with that again\!*

## 3

![Subchapter illustration](Vol3/3_3.png)

The night had arrived, and the Fost lamps were turned on\! But apparently, they weren't the only thing turned on either. A soft ticklish sensation rubbed itself up and down Harry’s fur-covered leg. It was a weirdly good sensation—like someone massaging your scalp. A rare moment when pain wasn’t the driving sensation, but now growing even rarer with Eori’s face showing a specific look he had never seen before. He had to squint to see it in more detail to confirm if that was a truly exceptional sight—from an open-eyed stare grimace, to a disinterred, near emotionless resting bitch face, or even a sudden bout of annoyed anger in the furrow of her immaculate eyebrows, could compare to her current face. Her flushed, cutesy cheeks accentuated her purplish hair and pink girlish clothing. He could feel his heartbeat pumping faster and his chest tighter as she chomped on the meat stick, letting the juices fall down her chin as she silently stared into Harry.

Suddenly, Eori put both feet up and stuck them between Harry's furred legs. The tip of her blue socked feet was in search of something peculiar, fondling its way there.

Harry could feel her cold toes digging into his privates. It was, of course, a bit too aggressive, but there was something about the cold fondling that tickled him right—especially when she moved her feet about and made a double egg and salami sandwich.

"For once, your food is actually fucking good\!" Eori kept chomping on meat sticks as her feet played with Harry's meat stick.

“Aaa\!” A soft, exasperated hum slipped out of Harry. The cold sandwich was now turning into a panini. “S—sorry, but too tight\!”

“Oh yeah?” The panine machine that was Eori's feet now turned into double pin rollers, perhaps trying to knead the dough to make it grow. Gulping down what she had eaten, she took a big sip of the glass beakers by her, containing a slightly jellified concoction.  Eori let out a long, pleasured breath, “FUUUUCCK YEAHH\! That’s fucking sapphire\!”

Harry took a bite of his own creation, bringing his mind back to the dinner at the Sanbi Castle. Maybe his memory was wrong, but the purple meat he was chewing now somehow tasted better than the stuff he had at the castle. The same burst of chicken flavor, specifically from dark meat mixed with bone marrow, was definitely the same, including a slightly gamey taste. The difference came in how the gaminess now complemented the rest of the flavor, like the ingredients in a curry, rather than standing out against them like cinnamon in an apple pie, where it can easily overpower everything else. The cadioca slices did tame down the intensity of it all, but it was like eating ginger in between sushi bites. It made the next bite that much more flavorful\! The slightly soft, starchy interior, combined with the crunchy exterior of the cadiocas, also had a nice texture change compared to the fanchaki's meatiness. Just like that, his first meat stick was done, and his hands moved up to get a second one from his plate, and chew on it.

A slight questioning hum came out of Eori as she continued eating, drinking, and fondling his privates. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and her cheeks were reddening more and more.

Maybe it was the spicy food making him act the same way, but Harry could sympathize with the hot and bothered feeling that was permeating from his mouth to his innards and then the rest of his body. "Thank you," he said softly in between bites of his second meat stick. Maybe it was the vibes of this pseudo-dining room, Eori's being nice for once, the food tasting that good, or something about this that caused a string in his heart to be pulled—was it a genuine feeling, or something was at play? At that exact time, it felt like he had a place in this world. It was an odd one for sure, but happiness may come in all kinds of different packages. Watching Eori chew down two meat sticks and already getting her third one with a similar delight on her face, but not the same crazy intensity when she experimented on him, rubbed him the right way, just like what her feet were doing under the table.

"The fuck are you staring at?" Eori's tone when saying this would generally be a confrontation, likely followed by a slap, but she seemed more playful.

On command, Harry averted his gaze and chomped on his meat stick. Maybe the feeling he felt was an illusion after all—except Eori didn't slap him\! “Want my kebab? Sorry, I mean, meat stick?”

A blushing grimace appeared on her face, finishing her last meat stick, bending forward to grab the final meat stick on Harry’s plate. Pointing the meat stick towards his nearly full brew beaker of whatever concoction that was, her smile disappeared, and a royal commanding tone pushed through her sauce-smeared mouth, “Drink that shit or I will make you do it\!”

Feeling her purply eyes almost controlling his hands for him, Harry chowed down the last of his meat stick quickly, gulping it down half-eaten, and shoved the brew flask in his mouth. The concoction was bitterly sweet, akin to mixing orange juice with burnt orange peels. It definitely had a bit of nari gel texture to it as well, but none of the usual creepy or weird taste. The alcohol punched through the competing bitterness and sweetness, mellowing out everything on the aftertaste, but you could still feel its warmth going down your throat. It developed a texture akin to that of drinking, or rather eating, egg drop soup. *Wow\! This is like the first nari gel that tastes good\!* After each chug, it seemed to taste even better\!

“Good—” Eori ran her eyes up and down Harry as he chugged the bottle like a frat college kid in a hazing party. She chewed the last piece of her meat stick; meat juice and sauce ran down her lips and chin, dripping onto her pinkish clothing.

“Ahhhhh\!” Harry dropped the glass back on the table as his lungs sought fresh air. He blinked a few times towards the cutesy girl in front of him, feeling his vision suddenly getting blurry. Out of nowhere, his shoulder dropped, his heart sped up, and a warmth took over. Everything was so sudden, it was as if he had butt-chugged the alcohol instead. He held his chained hands on the table as he felt the warmth turn into a raging fire. His fur skin now became his worst enemy—

Eori stood up, using her hands on the table to support herself, and approached Harry. “Ground nari stone—hic—forces the immediate uptake of whatever you mix—it with\!” Eori bent over and stuck out her chin near his face. "Clean it\!" She whispered, but her tone was just as commanding as if she had screamed at him.

Harry's tongue moved on its own towards such a feminine, soft chin. The tip of his tongue could taste the meat juices mixed with the seasoning he concocted. Something about it seemed wrong, but it felt so right. His tongue slurped up her chin; whatever was happening felt weirdly good.

Suddenly, Eori pulled Harry's back by the hair and stuck her tongue into his mouth, french kissing him as she stared deep into his soul.

The weirdly good sensation just went to another level. Eori's tongue playing around with his was impregnably amazing, but her glassy stare was just as impregnably uncomfortable. In the duel of tongues, his was definitely taking a beating.

Eori did not even blink once as she explored every last inch of his tongue. Her breath was shallow and her pupils dilated.

In the heat of the battle, Harry shared the same shallow breath through his nose. His vision was blurrier than usual, but he could see her cutesy purple hair around him, further imprisoning him to her will. But he could feel something else, something below his gut, wanting to experience that same warmth. His lower brain demanded to probe her mouth\! He tried to move forward on the battlefield to get a better taste of Eori, but suddenly she pulled back, slapped him hard across the face, and walked away with the fost lamp. *I fucked it up\!* He could feel the pulsating warmth of the slap as he was left behind in the dark, gloomily lit by a still-odd, dark green hue from the moon softly shining around the edges of the fresh blue curtains.

"Come here\!" Eori spoke a command from upstairs.

Immediately standing up, Harry made his way step by step. His heart and erect third leg pressing against his shorts were pounding as the possibilities of what would happen next became certain in his mind; everything else was facts that didn’t matter.

"Do it\!" Eori was completely naked in the upstairs main bedroom, with a syringe in hand, filling up with a bluish Nari gel.

Harry stood up at the door. Memories of scenes similar to this were just as vivid as it was jumbled. The underlying feeling was like he was speedballing as the push-pull effects of different nari gels made it all incredibly intense—much more so than anything else he had ever done in his life. Still, it was as if an external force was moving his legs forward and pulsating a huge, veiny, large thing out of his white shorts—like when you instinctively use turning signals while driving.

“Come here\!” Eori put aside the syringe she was prepping, this time with a small amount of an orange, jelly-like substance inside, atop the drawer. Pulling one of the drawers open, she fiddled around with the multi colored panties and took out a short key.

Harry stared at the purple-haired figure, his brain in a near-hive mind, single-thoughtedly thinking of fucking her until he passed out.

She unshackled Harry’s hands. “Go\!” She said firmly, nodding towards the bed.

Without thinking about it, Harry’s body moved on its own to make the blue shirt and shorts fly out of his raging, hot, sweaty body.

Making metallic rustle, Eori dropped the shackles on top of the drawers and rustled the syringe prep with speed, yet somehow looking precise rather than sloppy\! Not a single drop of the nari gel was wasted as she prepared the syringe.

Lying on the bed belly up, Harry stared into the window in the ceiling, seeing the last bits of orange rays from the sun fight with the moon's dark green rays. His heart was pounding, and his breath was so shallow he was nearly gasping for air. The feeling seemed kinda close to something else he had before, but whatever it was, got shoved aside into the depths of his mind as his dong was throbbing straight up so hard it felt like it was going to explode and fly off in the next throbe.

His blurry eyes had to take a look at the hot, purple-haired girl approaching, sitting on his belly, rubbing her soft butt cheeks against his inhumanly long dick.

“Ahhh\!” That alone almost made him cum a bucket—perhaps a literal one too this time as memories of doing that in the past after certain nari gel mixtures did surface, alongside a feeling of fullness near the perineum that subsided afterwards—all for the love of science\!

## 4

![Subchapter illustration](Vol3/3_4.png)

Using Harry’s long, hard, and throbbing third leg as a makeshift backrest, Eori, without hesitation, stuck a pointy needle filled with an orangy substance on her mound—or mons pubis if you want to get technical. She squeezed the contents into it steadily as her wide grim twitched in a mix of pleasure and pain, while her eye surveyed Harry's every little movement.

Harry’s mind was solely focused on one thing only\! The warmth and pressure from Eori’s back against his appendage. In his mind, he wanted more, and more of it, for nothing else mattered. His heart pounded in his chest as his blurry eyes could see two purplish pupils glaringly staring at him. More beads of sweat trickled down from every furry surface of his Nari gel-tainted body.

A girlish maniacal laughter echoed through the room, her eyes somehow growing even more intense.

Harry could smell himself, but that smell didn’t feel like his. It smelled like there was a horse in the room. *Hmmmmm—this stinks\!* Something in his mind changed. Things no longer felt right—his throbbing penis, his pounding heart were still there, but now started to feel like there were entities of its own, acting and thinking on their own terms.

“—fuck\!” A strained mating call came from the scientist performing what had to be an impromptu experiment.

*Wait—that's not me\!* Harry pushed his neck forward, squinting to figure out why he didn’t feel the regular prick of injections on his skin. Instead, he saw a syringe injecting the least drops of an orangy substance into Eori’s growing fupa. Now his mouth wanted to know about it, too. "Can—can I ask what that is?" Things did not feel like usual at all.

"Slime Skin\!" Eori put the empty syringe aside and massaged her inflated mound, squeezing downwards. "Experiment Sixty-eight. Can I make it fit?" Jumping to a crouch, she grabbed Harry's kinda limping, nearly horse-sized cock with both hands and rubbed against herself, trying to get it inside her. "What the fuck? Fucking get hard already\!"

“Ahhhh—” A strained moan came out of him. The strong tugging and rubbing against Eori took some of the attention away from the stank horse smell tickling the back of his throat. That pleasurable feeling of rubbing grew into an outright pressure as the very tip of his dong was being jammed tightly against the door to paradise.

“C’mon\! AGRH\!” Eori bit her lips, her hands and hips orchestrating with each other to sequester a piece of Harry inside her.

That sensation alone got the two entities, Harry’s cock and the heart, to ready themselves for paradise, but his mind was somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t want to be. *Not that\!* He squinted his eyes towards a syringe with a very familiar-looking cyan color with small bits of seeds inside, sitting in the bed right by that focused fringe scientist—A paralysis-focused nari gel that suffocated you from the inside, leaving you completely powerless. *Something is not right\! What is happening?* Harry’s mind surfaced a fact his own mind had ignored, making him look back at his imprinted wrists, free from any shackles. *She kissed me, freed my hands, and she still hasn’t injected me with that horrible thing? What did I do? Hmm—*

With a loud gurgle, Eori spat on that thing and really went for it. "Not—enough\! Hic\! It needs—AHHH—" She screamed louder and angrier, sounding like she was trying to wrestle his dick into a KO on the fourth bell.

Harry’s upper brain was trying to understand what was all happening, while his lower brain was getting nearly hydraulically compressed by Eori's tightness. “Ohhhh\!” Harry rolled his eyes as the squeeze around his member was off the charts, becoming a weird, painful tickle. Meanwhile, his mind was still trying to find more time to process the fact that he was unshackled for the first time in a long time.

"To create more lube—and—ahh FUCK ME\! " Eori moaned angrily as her uncontrollable shivering hips backed away a bit, while beads of sweat coursed through her entire body. She bit her lips hard, nearly drawing blood as she powered through what had to be an orgasm to continue the experiment, "NEED—MORE—Improve the girth—flexibility\!"

That unclouded, unadulterated feeling of your brain thinking of itself as an extension of your dick kept trying to overtake Harry again. Still, his true self fought back against this external force. A softer moan came through his breath as he genuinely felt Eori for the first time. It wasn't his natural body feeling her, but the feeling was true nonetheless\! The feeling was so genuine, in fact, that the horse's smell wasn’t as bad anymore. This facet of his mind wanted to hug her, to love her, to feel her soul and become one truly, but it wasn’t the only facet of his mind. Another facet just wanted to grab Eori's side and thrust deep inside her like a wild animal surfaced. That facet brought another one; this other facet was beaten to submission before, but it wasn’t dead. A quick thought of using his free hand to smack her on the side of the head, wipe her disturbing, vicious grin away, and attempt to flee. However, the imagination of seeing her blood in his hands while staring at her limp body on the floor made him physically recoil. The other facets were beating this inexcusable facet into submission on behalf of Eori, as there’s no way he could do such a thing to her—for despite everything, she was, in a sense, a partner, the only one he could trust in this new, weird world he awoke in.

Eori seemed entirely focused on experiment sixty-eight, so much so that it appeared she had forgotten Harry was still in the room. She was more than halfway through her goal, but she seemed to lack enough resources to complete her objectives—whatever they were, other than scratching a real deep itch.

All the imaginations and facets in his brain gave way to the current reality, of a horse monstrosity version of himself lying on a bed while a purple-haired girl was using him as a human dildo. His heart pounded with excitement; his monster cock was so deep inside her that he could’ve puppeteered her into soliloquy with a thrust of his hips.

*At least she hasn’t injected me with Body Paralyze. That’s nice.*  A single thought perused through his brain, preferring to just watch it all happen.

This time it was realer than ever before—no nari gels affecting his brain or memories.

Why bother? Let it happen—but something deep down was still bothering\!

## 5

![Subchapter illustration](Vol3/3_5.png)

Sparkly rays of the sun shone through the roof window. Harry slowly opened his eyes towards the ceiling, gazing at the awe-inspiring, orange-hazy sunrise. It was another day, given life by the same sun Harry had memories of seeing many times. But where?  He could remember looking at the same-looking sun a long time ago, somewhere that felt utterly different from everything he had experienced since he woke up in that Sanbi castle tower. A longing feeling tightened his furry, horse-smelling chest for something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But for what he could feel, something was truly off. He felt well-rested and not at all groggy.

He turned to pay attention to a sweaty, cute, purple-haired girl soundly sleeping by his side. *What happened? She didn’t use the body paralysis at all\!* His eyes were still blurry as shit, yet the tranquility of that moment, almost like he was in another reality, came through perfectly fine in his vision. That beautiful, innocent-looking girl sleeping couldn’t possibly be the same one who, hours before, was trying to split herself in half with his cock for some odd reason. He could even still feel a lingering heat emanating from her. Part of him wanted to cuddle her up, too, but a more critical question came first\!

*What kind of nari gel is that?* His memories of seeing the streets of Sanbi, specifically the glimpse into a store with walls filled with nari gels to the brim, tickled his imagination. *Is everybody this weird and want to shift shape? Hmmm—* He looked downwards to his furry chest and hands, then glanced under the sheets at his over-squeezed and over-used floppy third leg. *Maybe not? Everyone walking about seemed so normal—*this dangling thingy between his legs was so tender that even rubbing the tip against the sheets felt like rubbing against sandpaper. *That tall Darfaries guy—what was his name? He seemed cool\! Yacamim seemed like Maiara, but more normal too.*

*Wait\! She even forgot to handcuff me.* He brought his wrists closer to his blurry eyes and rubbed them, still feeling an irritation of the skin and a ghost-like pressure as if the cuffs were still there. He looked at his forearms and hands, which seemed to be those of someone or something else. That wasn’t him—but it was because it was his will moving them\! He moved and clenched his soft hands in front of his face, still only seeing a blur of it all.

Tears sprouted in his eyes. *I don’t know who I am\!* He sniffed, wiping them away, *Mom—Dad—please save me\!* He wanted to blurt that out, shout out of the window, but his mouth knew better than to bother scientist Eori in her innocent-looking rest. His memories of his parents, his family, and his home all seemed like they belonged far, far away. So far away, his memories were barely enough to recall who they were, not even the fur color of the family dog. The only thing left that came to mind was watching TV together. Weirdly enough, the tranquil, timeless serenity of that moment was the exact one he was feeling now, resting by Eori. Harry glanced back at her, feeling a familiar tie that didn’t seem to belong there but was clearly there. *Is she my girlfriend?* His own mind didn’t reply. His feelings didn’t quite seem there either. *Is she even my friend?* A longing breath slipped out of his nose. *Did I even have friends?*

Sounds of neigh came in the distance, and with it, the thunderous rumble of a carriage barreling over a dirt road.

Harry’s brain was still perusing the supposed friends of the Sanbi kingdom. *Hmmm, Eori was clearly there when I first woke up—she seemed more shy, distant—maybe she knew it all already? But then, would you be planning that? Eiri? Itagiba?*

Meanwhile, the sounds of neigh and the thunderous rumble of a carriage kept growing louder.

*Maybe it was arranged beforehand? But why me?* Harry’s inner focus suddenly got pulled away back into reality—

“FUCK\!” With a swift jump out of bed, Eori stood up straight, bare naked, and ran towards the windows to peep through the curtains. “Fuck\! Fuck\! Fuck” She chanted as she vested the pajama tops from the floor, then blew up the curtains and pushed out the windows. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE TODAY?”

Despite the blurry vision, something warmed Harry’s heart at the sight of rays of sunshine on Eori’s plump butt. He could also hear a mumble from the outside. It was a male for sure, but he couldn’t understand his soft-spoken voice.

“Are you retarded? That’s tomorrow\!” Eori stomped past the bed, putting on the pajama bottoms and shuffling her cutesy pinkish pajama and purple hair. “What the fuck is he doing here today? Mother is going to hear about this\!” She spoke loudly to herself, grinding her teeth, pounding the stairs with her feet. Then a swift, loud bang came from downstairs; it was, without a doubt, the front door being swung open violently.

Harry could hear the warnings blaring in his head for the curiosity itching in his brain as it would piss Eori off—but his body moved on its own, carefully making his way towards the window to see what was happening. It was indeed an opportunity of a lifetime to learn about his circumstances.

His heart was pounding in his chest while his ears focused all the attention he could muster\!

## 6

![Subchapter illustration](Vol3/3_6.png)

Squinting his eyes as hard as he possibly could, Harry could see two familiar figures—one slender purple-haired girl screaming at a spiked-yellowish armored guy, soaked in blueish blood by a wagon with a pile of corpses of a familiar-looking rodent. *Is that the big butt thing? Yuyta\!* Harry’s eyes were squinted into a pancake as he tried to grab every detail from this macabre scene. What tickled his curiosity the most was that the guy’s helmet was placed aside, and the person underneath that armor was a blonde white dude. He looked tall and stood in formation as if his general was yelling at him.

Seeing that scene, Harry felt like he was looking behind the curtain, feeling an illusion spell that his mind had created— a powerful, threatening aura of that armored monster that would impale him, like a stick of butter, melting away. *Maybe I could talk to him?* A hopeful thought zipped around his mind, but achieving that goal seemed quite elusive. The self-placed illusion spell was gone, but Harry could still imagine all the bad endings if he attempted to make contact.

"—Paulin 55th\! That was the day I told you to come back, you fucking retard\!" Eori shoved her finger toward the fully armored man, standing straight and taking the verbal brunt without a flinch.

The man in armor bowed forward. "It is as you wished, Princess Eori\!" As he returned from the bow, the pointed finger turned into a resounding smack across his face.

Eori yelled out loud with her flustered cheeks, "MORIKA\! STOP IT\! I FUCKING HATE IT\!" Eori looked like she was on the verge of calling in for another slap when she stomped her feet instead.

Perhaps seeing a human also getting the same treatment as him made him feel something else for the blonde guy instead. It's like Harry could feel himself in his spiky boots—powerless to fight back. *So that's him for sure\! Wait—is he out there 24/7?*

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Scientist Eori." Morika bent the knee, genuflecting over his majesty, and tilted his head forward to stare at the ground. "It is unfortunate that I must ask you to understand that today is Paulin's 55th."

"Sanbi fucking shit\!" Eori tapped her feet as she curled her long purple hair in her fingers. "Fine\! Then go fucking kill the rest of these Yuytas while I get the batch ready\! I saw one yesterday by the kitchen window." She took a step back to the house, then pointed at the dead Yuytas in the carriage, "And don't bring them in like that\! Fucking cut them up\! Can the fur, teeth, leg muscles, and whiskers."

"Yes, princess—apologies—scientist Eori." Morika raised his voice slightly as he stood up, clearing his throat. "I have word from the queen as well." His voice suddenly sounded resolute.

Eori stopped in her tracks like she was tazed. She was frantically curling her hair. "The fuck she wants?" She didn’t seem to care, or perhaps want, to turn back to face Morika.

Back to standing formation, Morika spoke with a firmer monotone voice, "My Queen wishes to inform you that a production deal was realized, and she requested journals detailing all steps for batch production."

"Already? Fuck me\!" Eori tapped her feet as she checked her purple hair for splinters, "Who's the batch manufacturer?"

"Apologies, but she did not disclose the details," Morika replied with the same firm tone.

"And who's distributing?" Eori kept on with the pointed question, still looking away from the yellow armor guy.

"Apologies, but she did not disclose the details," Morika replied with the same exact firm tone.

"What about the release date?" Eori's foot tapping grew vigorous while her voice grew weaker.

"Apologies, but she did not disclose the details." Morika sounded like a broken record player. He waited for a second before breaking out of the loop, taking in a larger breath, "The Queen stated that I must review the hideout to ensure all production-ready nari gels are added to the journal that will be sent to the batch manufacturers. Any nari gel she hasn't been made aware of will be confiscated and brought for review. My princess—scientist Eori, please allow me to do so after I finish preparing the Yuyta and refreshing myself."

A strained, lowly spoken "Fuck\!" came out of Eori as she crossed her arms tightly.

"Any response you would like to relay to the Queen, my princess? Apologies\! Scientist Eori." Nearly immobile, Morika stood up there with blue blood still slowly coursing down his armor and tainting the grass around him.

Eori took a few silent seconds, only to then make a swift no with her head and walk back towards the house.

Harry tried to back away from the window, but it was too late. His curious squinting eyes crossed paths with Eori's.

Eori pointed at him, "Go fucking get me breakfast\!" then entered the house and shut the door with a loud slam.

Harry felt like an energy jolt rocked his brain, making him take off full speed towards the kitchen downstairs, his third foot flapping about in the open air. As he got to the main floor, he saw a sight he had never seen before. It was Eori seated at the living room table, slumped forward. Her face was hidden in her arms as her purple hair formed a barrier around it all. Part of him wanted to walk towards Eori and pat her for whatever was happening, but the other part of him warned of the possibility of him getting the brunt of whatever was happening. On the internal battle of what to do, he looked back at the kitchen. *Maybe I should try to make a really good breakfast for her—maybe that will help\!*

Grabbing the iron skillet, he added some lard, then walked over to the brick stove, only now realizing something quite important. *I need her to light the fire\!* Harry gulped as his unshackled wrists complained about the weight of the skillet in his hands. He looked around the kitchen for an easy way out, as if it would help, but it only delayed the inevitable. "Sorry—Eori? Can you do the fire spell? I'm sorry—" He looked down as he stood by the stove. *Please don't be pissed at me\!*

With a loud, forced sigh, Eori stood up and stomped her way to the kitchen.

A skipped beat on Harry's heart turned into two as he saw teary eyes belonging to this disheveled purple-haired silent creature fast approaching him.

Eori's arm forcefully pushed him backward out of the way to access the sigil rings and nari stone in the cupboard with an angry-sounding sniffle.

*What happened?* These words wanted to get out of Harry's mouth, but his mouth fought back, refusing to ask it. But the more he saw Eori in this unique emotional state as she was prepping the CREATE FIRE spell, the more his mind craved to know what it all meant. "E—eori?" An inward, weak voice came out from him, still holding the iron skillet in his pained hands.

"WHAT?" She was holding the spell about to release into the brick store, but now she was aiming her hand towards Harry.

Feeling like he was looking at the barrel of a gun, Harry's heart skipped another beat, bringing the iron skillet in front of his chest. "I—I—just wanted to ask if everything—is—okay?"

Eori released the fire on the stove and stomped her way out downstairs, "Just fucking make me breakfast\!" These pained words rolled out of her mouth. Normally filled with anger, curiosity, or pure intent, but this time, perhaps the first time, none of these feelings were palpable.

*That's weird—*Harry stood with an iron pan in his hands by himself in the kitchen. Everything now felt surreal. The warmth of the fire in his horse-smelling fur was definitely real, but what has been happening since last night sure couldn’t be real.

*Wait—things didn’t change overnight.* His memories now continued to feed his confirmation bias. *She’s been treating me better lately\! Maybe we are a couple?* A small half-smile shone on his gaunt face—but was that real as the fire in his fur? *Maybe?*