As Dolly was busy plotting a neutering, Damien found himself on the floor. He opened his eyes and wiped at them, his vision slowly coming into focus and finding Vera standing over him with a look of clear disgust.

It seemed that he had fallen from the bed? Or maybe she'd shoved him off. Yeah, probably that. He rose from the floor with a yawn, the sheet slipping down from his waist. He felt a breeze. 

Looking down, he noticed, belatedly, that he was nude. 

Vera didn't even seem to care, she simply threw his clothes at him. They were warm. Had she ironed them? 

"Will the harlots be joining us for breakfast, or are you done with them?" 

Harlots?

Damien looked towards the bed and saw the two women from the other day passed out. Usually, there'd be a pleasing glow to the skin of a woman who'd been so finely pleasured as they'd been last night.

But while they certainly had expressions of satisfaction, they were actually pale instead. 

Damien, however, was full of vitality. He clenched his hand, feeling a well of power circulating his whole being. His eyes flashed. Damien struck out with a fist and a faint boom could be heard. 

He was strong. 

He'd noticed this a long time ago, but the more women he slept with, the more powerful he'd become. Forcing Vera into admitting her feelings for him wasn't the only reason he'd started acting upon his more slutty desires.

He must've fucked over three dozen women from Beauclair to here.

To be perfectly honest, he never did gain full control of this. His mother was right, he should have proper training. But he got along well enough that he could reign in his aura of masculinity long enough while out in public that it didn't cause too many problems. 

Thanks to Mary, he'd learned a lot. Her body reacted to him in the most delicious of way, so sensitive and all but begging to be brought to orgasm. He'd tried various methods on her, and it looked like there were...pheromones of sorts that he naturally exuded. 

It seemed to vary between women but all of them, without fail, became aroused as soon as it hit them. They all talked about how good he smelled, which is why he thought of it as pheromones instead of some purely magical compulsion there was no explanation for.

Damien, however, could not control these pheromones. Which is why...

"Hurry up. They're already starting to crowd the place."

Damien looked out the window. Sure enough, there was all kinds of young women making their way here

"Shit, this is really getting annoying." He muttered. The longer he stayed in an area, the wider these pheromones spread. And, sure enough, they'd attract....the Whored! Like a horde of zombies, but all they want to eat is his semen.

He's living in a damn smut novel. That's the conclusion he'd come to. What Otome Game? this is clearly just straight smut. 

Probably written by some neckbeard incel in need of a wash or something. 

Or a 30-something year old woman with too many cats. Though, if that was the case, where is his Mate, hm? Isn't that a staple when it comes to supernatural romances written by lonely middle-aged women?

Maybe she hasn't gotten to that part of the series yet...

....Fuck my life. I'm going to end up as the jaded womanizer character who has to wait 7 books before it's my turn to get a serious love interest. 

As Damien had such irreverent thoughts, Mary popped her head in. "Are you quite ready yet?"

He nodded. "Let's hit the road." The words barely left his mouth before they woman teleported them to the carriage outside. He grinned. "I love you can do that."

"I hate that I have to," Mary replied. "You've no idea how nauseous it makes me."

"Is it that bad?" He asked as he opened the door for them. 

"Yes. I remember when I first learned to do it. The first dozen or so years, I always vomited. Even now, it's giving me a headache." She rubbed her temples with a sigh, closing her eyes and resting her head against the window.

Vera kept quiet, remembering all the times she used the ability just to throw all the love letters addressed to Damien into a volcano...

Ah, she had a throbbing head almost constantly.

Well, she got used to it. 

"Sorry. Would you like me to--?"

"I'd rather not have to deal with the urge to mate with you, Young Master." Mary replied sourly. As if she didn't already deal with that enough as-is. 

His offer was to rub her head for her because his touch could soothe pains in women. He'd learned how to do that much, at least. Took him a good long time, but his experiments on her did make some small progress. 

However, once that pain was gone she'd then have to put up with other kinds of aches. 

Damien sent Vera off to summon the driver. Then, "What about that thing you were telling me about last time?"

"Ah.... Yes, I've heard it's going to be at auction soon at this month's  black market somewhere in Valen."

"That's not too far. We should be able to make it with time to spare."

Mary looked out the window. "If your mother hadn't restricted our abilities, we'd not have to spend so long on traveling."

After Damien took Mary from her, she had restricted much of Mary's and Vera's freedom. That meant their most convenient ability was now limited. They could not only teleport only a hundred feet or two away at most and only a few times before they were locked down. 

It was her petty way of telling her son that he may have taken Mary, but he couldn't use her as he pleased. 

Damien didn't really mind. He liked taking the scenic route. Plus, his mother was an idiot. If the woman hadn't clipped Mary's wings, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to spend so much time with her.

Should he aim for a mother-daughter sandwhich, hm? Baz might feel some type of way about it, but they were already like siblings anyway.

And the boy could use a good father. Who better than Damien, his good brother?

He'd probably be overjoyed!

Damien could imagine it now...

"Just so you know, even if you use the mask, it will only hide your glamour. Your scent will still persist."

Apparently, Damien, apart from being naturally handsome, had a "glamour" that made people want to like him. A kind of magnetic pull, a charm. 

"Yeah, but when has it ever done me good anyway? Most Noble brats still hated me."

"That's entirely due to your personality and treatment of them. Envy also played a part, but if you had been nicer, it wouldn't have gotten so bad. Take your time at Baumeister, for example. You played a good boy and everyone loved you, right?"

He folded his arms. "I hated that, though. Sure, I liked having a good reputation and not having to deal with bratty Noble kids, but being overly nice just isn't me." 

"You've always been nice in the meanest and most direct sense," Mary muttered. "Tough love, would you call it? Anyway, most people find that kind of thing abrasive."

"I'm fine with that." He shrugged carelessly. 

"If you aren't willing to play nice, then there won't be a point in even getting the thing. People are naturally inclined to like you, Young Master. Can't you just do it?"

"Remind me of the other options."

"You get molested."

"Well, once or twice isn't bad but that's bound to be very annoying." Like now. "Alright,  I can be a good samaritan. But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to go all out." He let out a devilish grin. "Be prepared for the coming of Saint Damien."

Mary felt an even bigger headache coming on at that. Why did she feel he'd be known as the Demon Saint instead? 

As they set off, Vera couldn't help but grumble, "Another night in the woods. I'm sick of it."

***

The woods were so quiet that night. It was unsettling. Every movement he made echoed seemingly forever. It was dark and a bit warmer than usual but there were no birds chirping.  Harris couldn't help but recall his first encounter with that thing, setting foot in the woods. Seeing that figure, how it clawed at itself. And then the murmuring. As if on cue, it came again. All around him from deep in the undergrowth.

Over here...come here...so sorry...

It came closer and closer. Call him a fool if you will, but Harris merely shut his eyes and tried to hush his whimpers. He should've run, should've moved. Done something different, anything. Maybe piled leaves atop himself in disguise. But he didn't.

And then he felt it. Something close to his skin at his scalp. Something sniffing at him, something that had just gotten done murmuring. He wanted to cry and scream, but there was nothing he could do now besides lay there and hope for the best or lash out in defense...which may make this thing to fight back. He felt a breath of air blow past him as it sniffed more and more. And then there was a warm and wet sensation as whatever this was began to drool on him. 

It was salivating at his scent. Then, millimeters from his neck, the murmurings came again.

Sorry...so hungry...have to.

Harris felt his body freeze. He dared not open his eyes, too afraid of what he'd see. A hot tongue licked at his cheek. Harris knew in his heart that he was dead.

But as soon as the thought gripped his heart he felt the creature being pulled back roughly, the crunching of leaves and a disturbing, inhuman wail an indication of it's surprise and struggle. 

 "So this is the fucker that's been making all that goddamn noise. An ugly son of a bitch, aren't you?" 

Harris' eyes flew open unbidden. He saw the monster first. A disturbing creature with pale skin stretch thin over elongated limbs that couldn't be described as human. It's head was just a deer-shaped skull with razor-sharp teeth and wicked antlers which were gripped firmly by a tall, imposing figure of a man.

Harris noticed him second. He was dressed in casual clothing, just  a simple shirt and trousers. But he was gigantic, every part of him corded in muscle. He stood there looking the creature not with fear, but disdain. 

"The fuck are you supposed to be, huh? Shit, who made you a thing? Someone been watching too many wendigo videos."

Damien yawned. Had these things been in the games? The Love Orgy series had been created during the whole wendigo/skinwalker boom, so a few cryptids being incorporated wasn't strange...but he'd never seen one until now.

"You fucker, all your goddamn murmuring has been driving me crazy. Can't even wendigo right. If you're going to eat the bastard, just do it without all this whining about being sorry. Now you woke me up and I'm just not in the mood for mercy." 

Damien was tired, grouchy, and very annoyed at having to hear this thing's incessant murmuring.  

He looked down at the scared man huddled inside a sleeping bag near the fire. He was an aging, balding man with a portly belly denoting a life of luxury. 

"You okay?" He asked, holding the abomination firmly in his grasp. It whined and made ungodly noises.

Damien felt his left eye twitch. "Look here, you dick, shut the fuck up or I'm going to put a tree branch up your ass. "

Wendigos, lore-wise, don't even have deer heads....they're like giant Gollums, really, so the fact that the devs didn't even bother to do any real research when they made these things already irritated him. 

Now he has to deal these dumb Creepypasta versions. Well, either way, they'd still be mimicking voices and shit. 

Ah, whatever. He's too tired to care. 

"Look, man, if you'd okay then get up and follow me.  If there's any more of these bastards out here, I'll just let them eat you. Long as they stay quiet. Otherwise...." He raised his voice in vague warning to whatever other creature may be lurking in these dark, dank woods. 

Damien didn't know whether the scared shitless man even understood him, but he didn't care. He just snapped the creature's neck, chucked its corpse away and walked off back to his camp. 

For his part, Harris scrambled after the man.