Dave's POV ---
I trudged into the forest, the pink dress swishing against my legs like a constant reminder of this nightmare.
Every step felt wrong—too graceful, too light—and the bow at my hip bounced mockingly.
I needed to find someone, anyone, to figure out what the hell was going on.
The trees loomed overhead, their branches whispering secrets I didn't want to hear.
My mind raced, replaying that damn bookshelf collapse, the quake, the game cover.
This had to be a dream.
It had to be.
Then, out of nowhere, a glowing popup screen materialized in front of me, hovering like some cheap sci-fi prop.
Bold letters blazed across it: Welcome to The Masochistic Adventures of Diana.
I froze, my stomach dropping.
"What the—? Send me back!" I shouted, jabbing a finger at the screen.
"Send me home, you glitchy piece of crap!"
My new voice—high and melodic—sounded ridiculous yelling, but I didn't care.
The screen ignored me, the text shifting like it was mocking my panic.
You are dead. Your body no longer exists in your previous world. You will now live as Diana Lavelia in this realm.
"Dead?!" I roared, my hands balling into fists.
"Fine, send me back to my dead body then! I don't care—just get me out of this frilly hell!"
The screen flickered, unmoved.
My chest tightened as the words scrolled on.
Your current account balance: 0.
To earn currency, visit the various sex dungeons scattered across the land and perform the required activities. This is the only method of income. No cheat codes are available.
"Sex dungeons?!" I yelled, my face burning.
"Are you kidding me? What kind of sick game is this?"
I swung at the screen, but my hand passed through it like smoke.
Desperation clawed at me.
"What if I get a job? A normal job?"
The screen paused, then updated with a cold, clinical tone.
Even if you secure alternative employment, you will consistently lose money rather than gain it. This system is final.
With that, the popup vanished, leaving me staring at empty air.
I stood there, fuming, the dress suddenly feeling like a straitjacket.
"This is bullshit!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the trees.
Crows erupted from the branches, cawing in protest as they scattered.
My hands shook as I glared at the forest floor, the reality sinking in: no home, no body, no way out.
Just me—Dane, trapped in this Diana chick's skin—and a world that apparently ran on some twisted game logic.
I stormed deeper into the woods, the rustle of leaves doing nothing to calm my rage.
My feet carried me forward until the trees thinned, revealing a town bustling with life.
My jaw dropped.
Every single person was a woman—stunning, curvaceous women, their beauty almost surreal.
Some had horns curling from their heads, others sported tails that flicked with lazy grace, and a few had skin in shades of violet or emerald.
A couple stood out with those same bulges I'd noticed on the game cover—futafolk, I guess, in this all-female freak show.
This wasn't just a game.
This was the game.
I glanced down at myself—still just the pink dress, no bag, no cash, no clue.
My stomach growled, a harsh reminder of my predicament.
No money, no place to crash.
My eyes scanned the town and landed on a tavern, its wooden sign swinging in the breeze.
Maybe I could beg for a job, scrape by for a night.
It was worth a shot.
I pushed through the door, the chatter of voices washing over me.
The place was warm, alive with laughter and the clink of mugs.
Behind the bar stood a woman who could've stepped out of a fantasy pin-up—tall, with a voluptuous figure, her dark hair framing raccoon ears that twitched.
A matching tail swayed as she polished a glass, her eyes locking onto me with a knowing smile.
"Need something, sweetie?" she purred, her voice smooth as honey.
"Uh, yeah," I said, stumbling over my new voice.
"Got any work? I'm… new around here."
She eyed me up and down, her gaze lingering on the dress.
"A waitress, maybe? You've got the look."
Before I could protest, she tossed me an apron and a tray with two foaming beers.
"Start with those. Table three."
Well, that was easy.
Too easy.
I caught the apron, tying it over the dress with a grimace, and balanced the tray.
The weight felt foreign, but I shuffled toward table three, my mind spinning.
Waitressing?
In a world of sexy demon women and dungeon cash?
This was insane.
But if it got me a bed and a meal, I'd play along—for now.
Dane or not, I wasn't about to starve in Diana's heels.