The Stiffening.

The thud of rain on the wagon's roof grew even fiercer by the minute. Droplets of water trickled between two ill-fitting ceiling planks and fell in the middle of his wooden cell every few seconds, ticking like a clock.

Every now and then, a pothole rocked the cart, causing a curtain of water to cascade onto him. The only clothes he'd been given, a shabby white pair of shorts and a blouse of the same color, weren't exactly keeping him warm either.

At least, because of the wagon's design, the wind couldn't get in too much.

"—Pff…"

The only light source came from two small kinds of portholes, which were divided by two iron rods to prevent prisoners from putting their hands through.

What a disgrace.

He'd not even had a chance to defend himself in the face of injustice. Well… he had killed goblins, yes, but he wasn't responsible for all the theft he'd been charged with.

It was someone else.

Still, he wasn't exactly surprised. He was well aware that medieval verdicts were handed down speedily if the local ruler or those in power viewed it as a means of placating the populace and gaining servants. Average isekai and medieval world, isn't it?

In fact, he didn't even take the stand. The local people had already passed what they believed was a correct sentence, and the judge immediately granted their wish in agreement with the prefect.

"Pink skin… It's all your fault! You framed Gobo!"

Micah raised his eyes toward the little green figure at the other end of their cell. Passing through the narrow windows, the light hit the dusty air creating a curtain of glitter that partly obscured the goblin's body.

"It'll teach ya to be a smartass."

"Gobo's mad!! Raaah!"

In a fit of rage, the goblin stripped off his trouser garment, an old beast-skin tunic, and threw it at Micah before pouncing on him, naked, to try and hit him.

"You… —ugly fuckin' cactus head…"

"Pink skin porcine swine…!"

"Go away from me! You fuckin' stink!"

"Raaah! RAAH!"

They were both taking jabs and kicks, but in his condition and with his stats, Micah was struggling a bit. If taking on a goblin by hand was already too much for him, he feared what would happen to him in jail.

This is a fantasy world, and gods only know what kind of psycho and monsters inhabit these walls.

"Hey, stop fighting in the back—" A womanly voice interjected as a small opening on the other side slid over, revealing a woman with grey hair, blue eyes, and wearing golden sunglasses. "—Huff. The goblin again." She muttered, sliding a telescopic baton that looked like it could extend infinitely but stopped expanding when she hit the green creature. "Behave. I already told you to behave. Do I have to hit you harder? I have to, didn't I?"

"Pink skin bi'ch hit Gobo! Raah! Go fu— Argh! Hurrrhg! Hurff!"

Micah wondered for how long he just saw this dumbass goblin take a beating.

These things were incredibly resilient for their small stature. If that were him, he would have been out for a while, but the green turd was still somehow fighting back, with words only, though.

"Are you gonna lay down now? And I mean, STAY down, now?"

"Gobof' will'f haf is revenge…"

"—Eh. Good luck with that." She said sardonically before shifting her gaze toward Micah, who looked at the goblin. "Not too hurt?"

"I've seen worst."

"Glad to hear. —We're close to the Alcajizz prison, so we'll get you off the wagon soon. Try to keep your green friend nailed for the time being, will you?"

"...Sure."

Without uttering another word, the jailer closed the flap that allowed her to speak to them, plunging their wooden cell back into another silence.

The goblin didn't even try to insult her anymore nor tried to move; his blood ran on the floor and mixed with the small puddle of water in the middle of the cart. He was out on his stomach, his cock peeking on the left side of his body, with…

—Is that fuckin' precum!?

Taken aback by this discovery, Micah backed down, sneering. What the fuck was wrong with this world? Till he arrived, everything seemed at first perfectly normal, in a fantasy world-like way, and then, a few hours after that, all his views and hopes were broken down, shattered.

—Is that goblin a masochist…?

What da hell? First, he arrives in this world butt-naked with no one to help him, then he meets dumb and masochistic goblins, then encounters a big dicked futanari who ask him if he wants to be ass-fucked, and now he is thrown into jail for legitimately protecting himself. All is well in the best of worlds.

Revenge. He'll have some, yes. Surely. Most surely, right?

Stepping up in front of the KO'ed goblin, he pushed him aside with his foot, revealing the whole of his body, but especially his green cock. In a sadistic, revenge-seeking gesture, he stepped on it barefoot, hesitating to put any force into it before squeezing his balls with his second foot.

"Here you go, you assho-"

"Uuuh! …uuh…!"

Truth be told, Micah didn't know what to expect, but he was beyond stunned to see spurts of white goo coming out of the goblin's cock. As some of it ended up on his feet, he gazed at it with nothing but bewilderment. Not even trying to clean this since he didn't want to soil his clothes or have some on his hands, he left the jizz where it was and sat down, lost in thought—

〖▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲〗

〖 ♥ New Skill Acquired ♥ 〗

〖Fancy Feet〗●〖Dancing gives you an additional 10% AGI, DEX, and CHA. Your feet remain silk and smooth, giving someone, if brushed by them, a 10% chance of getting [AROUSED] and a 50% if the person is a masochist. Cum on feet permanently increases AGI by a small amount.〗〖+0〗

〖▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲▼▲〗

"Again…?"

The cart sank into another pothole, startling him and preventing him from overthinking about his brand-new fancy feet.

If he changed just the whole sexual part of his god-forsaken power, he would be pretty OP. Or maybe he is, but not in the way he seeks and desires... which he was aware of.

After a few more rocking and stumping of the cart, they finally arrived at the prison, he couldn't see much of anything, but the shadow of the walls sent the inside of his cell into even further darkness as he heard the stomping of other guards and horses. Once inside, it soon smelled like farmland, mingled with a sulfurous scent.

Someone banged on the cardboard back door and jerked it open, causing the hinges to creak, causing fresh air to rush inside.

"Must feel great to breathe something other than goblin's sweat and blood."

Micah didn't reply to the verbal jab his jailer clearly aimed at him for two different reasons. He couldn't care less. Now that he could see what she fully looked like, he was stunned again.

At this point, it all felt like a fever dream. This woman was, like the other one he had met before, swinging, was seemed like an uncovered soft 7-inchers, ringed at the base of her cock and balls by a pair of handcuffs that seemed to fit snugly just like a cock ring would. Her latex pant covered everything up to her lower waist, everything but her crotch, and her leotard mini-bikini struggled to keep her boobs in check, letting appears her areolas from each side.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"What 'bout covering that up?" Micad uttered, pointing to the futa's dick with a movement of his head.

"—? You're clearly not from here, huh? In other nearby regions, people cover up in summer, but here, we avoid sweating our balls off." She explained, taking the half-conscious and naked goblin by the leg before dragging him like a potato sack. "Who knows, maybe showing your thing when you'll get too hot might do you a favor, too. This place is a hotbed of compromise, after all."

"What does that even mean...?" He muttered, trying not to think about the true meaning of these words. "Whateva..."

Shifting his attention away from the futa before him, he looked around. Early as it was and because of the rain, the place was almost devoid of prisoners; only a few guards and what appeared to be senior civil servants roamed the area.

Some thirty meters high, a gigantic charcoal-grey wall surrounded the complex as far as the eye could see, so much so that it extended behind the horizon. Buildings dotted the enormous expanse here and there, even windmills. It wasn't even a prison at this point but a humongous medieval citadel.

At the entrance, just where he was, was a sizeable square with kiosks and merchants built into the gigantic wall, as convenience stores would. Some rare people, probably privileged prisoners but also staff members, were opening their shops. A bit further seemed to be a grand building with a storefront more colorful than the rest—the metallic sign attached above the door by a thin wooden beam displayed: PUB.

"Is that really...?"

"A prison? Yes, not an easy one to escape from if that's what you're thinking. I wouldn't recommend trying it."

"It doesn't look like a slammer at all..."

"I understand the feeling, y'know, but believe me, it's not because you keep some of your liberty that you're free. There's quite a military presence here. The good and the bad. And other stuff, things. You don't wanna fool around."

"Forced labor?"

"Officials prefer to call it rehabilitative work, but yes, I suppose you could call it forced labor," she mumbled, lighting a cigarette. She averted her gaze toward Micah, readjusting her sunglasses before puffing. "Considering your frame, you might have difficulty finding proper work, but I'm sure you'll end up with something, whatever it is."

Tired of talking, she nudged him by the shoulder, indicating that he should move towards an enormous gate built into the wall. Although the reception area was sparsely packed, it was clear from the worn floor that people had passed through here for decades at the very least. Looking around to see if he could do anything, he picked up one of the complimentary newspapers but couldn't read any of it; he didn't know this language.

Sighing, they remained here for a dozen minutes before an effeminate but boyish voice called them.

"Mrs. Maeve? I'm not mistaken?"

"No, you're not." She grumbled, standing up. "Next time, take even longer."

"I'll ask you to keep your passive-aggressiveness to yourself."

"Whatever."

The boy who talked back to their jailer was in no way impressive by his standard, but it was like he was still intimidating for most people around. On the shorter side, he was also slender, thin waist, larger hips, and some nice thighs. His latex suit covered his upper body, revealing just his small pecs and nipples and squeezing the little thing serving as his penis. Other than that, his face was feminine but still discernably male and his gray eyes were soft but piercing as those of a wolf accompanied by straight, short pink hair.

"If you don't mind, then follow me." He addressed them, readjusting his hat and pink glasses, looking at Micah. "The chief warden would like to know why such Gamete's Gift ended on the wrong path."

"Eh… Am I really forced to come by?" The futa asked, still keeping a hold of the goblin trying to fight back.

"No, you're dismissed. You can send the green convict to his cell. We'll take care of the rest."

"I'm off then."

Gazing back at the first few people he actually had a conversation with, Micah felt once again alone.

From one bad spot to another. It was never-ending.

"Is something on your mind?" The femboy asked, eyeing him from head to toe. "Did she hit you with her truncheon?"

"No, no… I'm just preoccupied."

"Nothing surprising then. Please follow me. The premises can quickly turn into a labyrinth for newcomers."

"Alright, lead the way."

Seems like this one wasn't too talkative nor like meaningless ranting, so they just kept walking until they reached an elevator controlled by what seemed to be a constant and robust flow of water. The air inside was fresh and much more breezy.

The boy heaved a long sigh before stretching and looking at him.

"Much better here, isn't it?"

"I didn't even know it was possible to have... elevators in this kind of world."

"What do you mean?"

"Is it magic?"

"Water magic, yes. More precisely, it's a water enchantment, wizardry that doesn't need anyone to work once well done, just a little maintenance every now and then."

"That's pretty cool…"

"—Can I ask you something?"

"Huh… Yes? I don't have much of a choice in the matter anyway."

"Do you think you can stand up for yourself as of now? From inmate, possible warden violence and other things?"

"...No, I don't think I can. As much as it pains me to say it."

"Honesty is a lost virtue in these times."

The sound of the elevator bell cut off their discussion, making them stop conversing for good this time. Micah had no idea what someone like this dude might think by asking this kind of question since he himself didn't look like he could protect himself that much, at least judging by his frame, but he knew it wouldn't be wise to judge a book by its cover.

Floor 7, the highest floor of the monstrously sizeable round wall in which he was walking in, was decorated with shields and emblems. Busts of buxom women and boys stood in some places between two doors. They stopped at one of them, a big, lustrous, and reinforced wooden door with the prison emblem carved inside. The pink-haired boy knocked on the door using the metal handle and called out to the person inside.

"Oh, Mike, dear, you can enter."

"Here we are." He announced with a much more relaxed tone. "Sorry for the delay, I had to take care of some annoying stuff on the way."

"It's quite alright. Early as it is, I'm not expecting anyone, so you needn't worry."

The big-breasted brunette turned toward Micah and gave him her best warm smile, her blue eyes clearly checking him up. Pushing back her glasses on her nose, she put aside her paperwork and cleared her throat.

"Well, young man, I never thought I'd see a face this cute entering this prison grounds. This is quite a shock, especially from someone in whom our Lord Gamete put so much work into."

"...I… I'm not sure what ya're talking about, I'm sorry."

"Are you part of a northern clan behind the mountains?"

"Not that I know of." He muttered, hesitating to say the truth, not knowing how he would be treated if he told everything. "I woke up in the middle of nowhere with no clothes on… I don't remember anythin' before that."

"Amnesia or falsehood?"

"I genuinely don't remember anythin'. Why would I lie now?"

"I suppose you have a point, but this kind of thing is rare enough for me to want to keep an eye on you. Criminals have been known to swallow amnesia potions to forget their wrongdoings and escape prison sentences. I'm sure you can understand my misgivings."

"I guess I can…"

The lady rose from the chair, readjusted her glasses again, and took some sheets between her fingers. She pulled down her short work dress a bit, revealing a semblance of something hanging between her legs while her cleavage grew even larger now that she was no longer leaning on the table.

"Your criminal record so far was pristine, or to be more accurate, you didn't even appear on Smegm Empire's files and records. It's not uncommon, but considering what you've committed, i.e., serial thefts, albeit without evidence, and a self-defense double goblins murder, you hardly deserved such a hefty sentence."

"—R-Right! Then why!?"

"You sound genuinely confused, so I'll simplify things for you. Given your non-existence in the Empire's records and the fact that, according to them, you had committed crimes against the Empire, they probably assumed you were a spy or thug sent by the two countries that decided to wage war against us: Ovum and Urethree. There's no need for me to explain to you how a country's domestic politics work, particularly on this scale."

"...So ya brought me here for questioning?"

"Well, more or less. I was wondering if you'd like to appeal."

"If it's possible…"

"It is, but not as of right now."

"Why not?"

"Firstly, you'll have to pay a share of your sentence. This is sadly how things work even when the justice system is wrong. Secondly, it's highly likely that no appeals will be accepted from anyone, as the Empire needs as many staff and prisoners as possible to populate the penitentiary, which acts as a bastion directly bordering on Ovum's frontier. Thirdly, you'd have to convince a higher stratum of society that you're innocent. The magistrates who deal with this breed of case are high-ranking and generally don't bother with such matters."

"What da fuck…"

"Please watch your language." Demanded the femboy with both calmness and a snark. "You are in the presence of the highest authority in this prison."

"Don't beat him up over it, Mike."

"If… If ya're the Chief Warden of this prison, especially with the info you gave me, I guess ya're pretty damn strong."

"Oh, yes, since you have no protection whatsoever from what I can sense, I could certainly overwork your brain in a matter of seconds and, in a matter of minutes, put you into endless burnout."

"...Is that magic?"

"My own magic, yes."

"You created your own… magic?"

"Yes. It makes it much harder for people to counter me or react accordingly. Moreover, I wallow in creativity thanks to it. This is very handy."

—This is isekai high-fantasy for you…

Micah felt at a loss, more than ever. This was a dead-end. What little hope he had left was gone with this futa's explanations. Considering his frame, what would be left of him at the end of his sentence?

"But fret not. It's not like this penitentiary does not have stuff for people like you."

"—Which means?"

"Why do you think people here can work and pay for goodies, food, books, etc.?" The Chief rhetorically asked with a warm smile. "It's like a large city, which is its strength. There's work everywhere, from restaurants to bars, agriculture to dungeon exploration. However, no one has ever managed to get to the bottom of it."

"Ya never tried to clear the dungeon?"

"No, it's not my job. I have already pressing matter at hand."

"I see…"

"Well, Mike, could you fetch me some prisoner clothes at his side? It shouldn't be too hard. Just one size larger than you, I think."

"You want me to let you alone with him…?"

"Come on now, he won't do anything. Just go, I'll still be there."

"Roger."

Stepping outside the office, Mike gave a harsh gaze to Micah, who had no idea why he had become so severe toward him in a matter of seconds. He heaved a sigh, fixing the ground, lost in thought-

"You don't know how to read, right?"

"They also wrote that into the record…?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah… I don't know how to read…" He admitted, shamefaced. "I can talk about pretty much anything, but writing and reading is…"

"Come here, come here, then.~" She hummed wispily after sitting back on her chair and tapping her pantyhosed thighs to encourage him to come and sit on them. "I can make you learn pretty quickly.~ What are you waiting for?"

In a sense, everything he had to do was to listen to the instructions, but he also felt very awkward. If he refused, he didn't know what would happen to him. Besides, she seemed to be lenient towards him, so not listening to her might lead to her becoming stricter, and he didn't want to lose the few people who showed either kindness or consideration.

"Alright…"

Clad in two shabby garments, and shoeless, he sat in embarrassment on her lap, but being taller, she repositioned him by pushing him towards her upper thighs. His back was pressed against her generous breasts, and he could feel her breath rubbing against his hair. A bulge on her skirt also pressed against his rear, but he didn't dare speak a single word about it.

In the middle of the predicament, one of his feet brushed against some of her exposed skin, making her a bit tenser.

〖AROUSED〗●〖Status Applied → Emeline takes 50% more flirting, teasing, and sex damage.〗

Trapped in a room and sensing something stiffening under his buttocks, fright soon swept over him.