This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder than Expected (A Futa LitRPG)

1.07 ❤❤ Under The Influence

Content Warning: Sexual acts performed under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

Rosalie was acting strange.

The culprit was obvious. Had Zoey really thought nothing would come from the pink liquid that had been shoved down Rosalie's throat? It had been a trap. Traps didn't imply nothingness when they succeeded.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Zoey asked carefully, after the seventh time she caught Rosalie turning around and staring at her cock. She had effusively denied it each time, because Rosalie was Rosalie. She'd even denied that the liquid was having any effect, but the truth was plain as day.

An aphrodisiac. Rosalie had had a bucket of aphrodisiac injected into her stomach. And the effects were showing.

Which was a troubling realization. Zoey wouldn't be taking advantage of the situation; that much was a given. Honestly, she didn't think Rosalie would be yielding to the sensation, anyways. She was prideful like that.

And repressed, more frankly. She'd never admit she wanted Zoey's cock inside her. However many times she got distracted when she looked Zoey's way, then had her eyes ensnared by the enormous, soft protrusion of girlmeat between her legs.

"Fine?" Rosalie asked, her cheeks flushed almost a crimson red—as they had been for the past ten minutes. "What do you mean? Please don't tell me you're still worried about the trap. Clearly, the liquid didn't do anything. It would've shown by now."

Uh-huh, Zoey wanted to say. Rosalie's stalwart adherence to refusing to acknowledge that her skin and mind had been set aflame by a liquid influence would have been amusing—scratch that, was amusing, just concerning in equal measure—if not for how distracted she'd become. Seeing how they were working their way through a shard, where dangerous critters and traps lay at every corner, distractions were really not what they wanted, for safety's sake. Zoey's eyes certainly weren't discerning enough to pick out suspicious features.

"Do we need to take a break? Let it wear off?"

"Let what wear off?"

"Rosalie. Please. Your face is red." And you're staring at my cock. Right now. As we speak.

Her hand fluttered to her face, as if to check the temperature of her cheeks, and she blinked. "No, it's not."

"Let's take a break."

"I'm fine. We're continuing. But you can do as you want." She wrenched her eyes from between Zoey's legs, then turned forward and walked.

Why did this woman have to be so stubborn?

And the aphrodisiac was picking up potency. Rosalie's steps grew less certain by the second; she seemed unsteady on her feet, which was unsettling to see, with how Rosalie normally moved like a predator, or if not that, a queen striding through her domain.

Zoey realized she needed to take executive command here. Rosalie's brain wasn't working how it should. She strode forward and grabbed Rosalie by the wrist. "We're taking a break. I'm tired."

"You're tired?" she echoed.

Zoey needed to frame it as weakness stemming from her, not Rosalie. Rosalie would never admit to having anything resembling weakness. "Yes. I need to rest."

Rosalie shook her head. "You're trying to get me to stop. I'm not stupid. I'm fine. Let's keep going." She jerked her hand out of Zoey's grip and continued forward.

Inflamed, Zoey jogged forward to spin around and intercept her—but she stumbled, foot snagging on a vine, and she sprawled forward onto the stone, elbows jarring as she landed.