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Into the Game, Part 4 (Fantasy TFTG)
🕑 Added 2026-01-07 21:00:27 +0000 UTCBy FoxFaceStories
A Story Tier Prompt for TGSorcerer
David and June are a happy married couple who love to play geeky fantasy tabletop games together. But everything goes wrong when they try a new two-player card game and instead are sucked into a fantasy world - one where David is his burly dwarf cleric and June is stuck as her lithe catfolk rogue.
Part 4: Up the Great Mountain
The newly changed pair were struggling to come to terms with their changes, even as they exited the dark forest and entered a rugged territory that led up to a grand mountain. The land of Erutell was beautiful, and the sight of floating islands off to the west high up in the sky, and grand lakes to the east, were truly something out of a fantasy. But it was hard to appreciate that when the married pair no longer had their original player character forms, but instead ones that were far more macabre and grotesque.
“Do you have to ride me?” Naralae, the black-skinned female drider turning a little to look back over her enormous abdomen.
Daria shrugged a little as she shifted to face her wife. She appeared to be a beautiful woman in a sort of fantasy Victorian style, her corset pushing her ample chest up significantly. She was also ghostly-green and semi-transparent thanks to her new ghostly nature. It was not what she had expected to become at all, but now she was cursed with a dead woman’s likeness, and she couldn’t deny that she looked as beautiful as she did ethereal. It was, in just two words, quite mortifying.
“You said I didn’t weigh anything?” she said. “I thought riding on your back would be fine!”
“That’s not the point, sweetie,” Naralae groaned. “It’s just . . . I feel like a cattle!”
“You’re not a cattle, you’re a drider.”
“That’s worse! Look at me, scuttling along. I’ve got far too many legs! Ugh, even worse, I’m getting used to them after several days. I’m a gross spider woman!”
Daria patted her wife, though her hand passed through the woman’s abdomen. She could place her body on things, she noticed, but she was still incorporeal for the most part. Still, it passed a shiver of sensation from Daria, who had been renamed following her transformation into an undead woman.
“You’re not gross,” the new ghost lady said. “You’re just, er . . . different! Still very beautiful! You know, the top half of you, that is!”
Naralae folded her arms beneath her breasts, which were significantly larger than they had been, and barely covered by the fur chest wrap she wore. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I mean it! You look like the most beautiful spider woman there could possibly be! Again, the top half, I mean. You know I’m not a big spider fan, though at least your ass is comfortable. But yes, definitely, um, the best drider?”
Naralae was not exactly comforted by her former husband’s lack of enthusiasm. “That’s a very low bar. God, I miss being a catfolk! I was so dextrous, so agile! I was playing out my fantasy tabletop character and I felt alive. Now my ass is too huge and you sitting on it just reminds me how massive it is!”
Daria sighed and rose from her wife’s rather spectacularly large spider behind, then floated around to her side. She ‘sat’ on nothing but air and continued to float next to her wife, looking somewhat like a ghostly therapist from another age.
“Honey, this is all just temporary, remember? Once I finish my quest to forge a mighty family dynasty and you gain access to a forbidden paradise, all should be good, right? You won’t have to look like a big gross spider thing after that.”
Naralae rolled all eight of her eyes. “Oh, gross am I?”
“N-no! I didn’t mean like that, but . . . well . . . it’s temporary, that’s the major point. Just like me sounding like I’m a damn governess in some spooky BBC drama.”
“That doesn’t mean I get to be okay with having a giant spider ass or eight legs! You know I hate spiders even more than you do!”
Daria gestured to herself, to her prominent breasts and fine petticoat, to the way her hair was done in an elaborate up-do, and how she could literally put her hands through her own body if she wanted. “Well, I’m not exactly loving being an undead woman here, sweetie.”
Naralae smirked. “At least you get to fly.”
“That part isn’t so bad, I won’t lie. I’d like to be able to touch you, though. Or anything, really.”
The drider paused on the tip of a ridge, feeling a little tired from all her skittering about. She planted her eight legs into the crevices of the rocks and then adjusted her fur wrap, wishing she had something larger to cover her massive teardrop-shaped breasts, or the bravery to wear nothing at all and go ‘full native drider.’ She placed her hands on her broad hips where her body spread out to her arachnid lower half.
“Would you touch me like this, if you could?” she asked.
Daria paused for a minute, then said, “Of course!”
“You hesitated. I really am a turn off now, aren’t I?”
“The top half of you isn’t! I mean, I could get used to the eight eyes. It’s not like you find me as attractive as I was, now that I’m a ghost woman.”
“I do!” Naralae said. “You know I’m bisexual, sweetie. You look - you look gorgeous! Damn it all, I find myself jealous, David. Daria, I mean, since you find a male name so . . .”
“Wrong,” Daria said, pouting cutely. “This form wants me to have a female name.”
“My point is, I’d love to look like you, even as a ghost! You know I love ren faire stuff, and Victorian dress up. I dragged you to the Steampunk cosplay convention three years ago. You look hot. But . . . I guess you can’t feel the same towards me.”
“The upper half, I do! Even if you have eight eyes.”
She scoffed. “You just like my giant boobs.”
“I have no guilt about that.”
“But you can’t touch them anyway.”
Daria lay back in the air, looking sadly at the sky. “Can’t even eat for the past few days. Not that I feel hungry, but I feel like I’m missing out. God, I miss touching things.”
Naralae’s eight eyes all twinkled, and her front two spider legs rubbed together conspiratorially. “Have you touched yourself, yet?”
At this, Daria’s ghostly green cheeks turned just a little red. “Can you blame me? Look at these jugs I’ve got now!”
“Ha, I knew it! That’s why you disappeared for a stretch into the earth! Leaving me to keep scuttling about like a gross spider girl, I’ll remind you.”
“I keep telling you, you’re, um, pretty in your own way! I just, er, don’t exactly have the kind of body that can very well respond to you anymore.”
Naralae was about to question what Daria meant by that when she suddenly felt a pressure in her giant spider abdomen. She squeezed all eight of her eyes shut and groaned, trying to hide the building pressure, but Daria spotted it immediately, the ghost women circling around her wife.
Honey, are you okay? Is it the webbing again?”
“Yes, it’s the webbing!” Naralae grunted. She lowered her large body, preparing for the inevitable embarrassment to come. “God, as if this isn’t b-bad enough! Ohhhh! NGHH!!”
The pressure gave way, and suddenly a thick wad of webbing shot from her passage behind her and shot between two rocky pillars in the craggy landscape. It instantly formed a thick cobweb between them, and Naralae panted, trying not to feel too blissful about the strangely pleasurable release. Daria frowned and floated in front of her drider wife.
“Eww!” Daria squeaked, disappearing into the earth and stepping out from a pillar further away. It was a little ghost trick she’d learned, and one she appreciated during her wife’s little ‘expulsions.’
“Don’t eww m-me!” Naralae growled, before wincing again. “It’s - ahhh - what my stupid drider body d-does now! Nghh! Ohhh!”
This time she cried out in sweet relief as an even larger glob of webbing shot from her backside, unfurled, and formed another giant criss-cross of webbing between another set of rocky pillars. The relief was palpable, and it made her nipples harden against the fabric of her top. She almost squeezed her sensitive breasts from the sheer arousal of her own web production, and to her humiliation, Daria seemed to notice.
“Sweetie, I don’t mean to be rude, but . . . did you happen to enjoy that a little?”
“Don’t even talk to me right now!”
“I’m your husband! I’m just asking!”
“Talk to the spider-ass, Daria! I don’t want to talk about it! Let’s just make camp!”
Daria looked around. “Where?”
“Within the shade of my own damn webbing, I guess. It’s gotta be good for something, right?”
She scuttled off to where she’d expelled her body’s produce, feeling her large abdomen already producing more within her immense thorax. Her breasts jiggled with her hurried movements, and Daria floated after her, hair moving about as if underwater.
“You won’t be a drider forever, love! I’ll be attracted to you again, I promise!”
And that was the problem. As much as she knew it made sense, it hurt her so deeply to know that her partner didn’t find her attractive, especially when she did with Daria.
***
They camped for the night. Daria felt a strange pull to simply enter the earth, and while she tried to fight it, she couldn’t do so for long.
“Sorry, do you mind if I go?”
Naralae was more miserable. She was in her web, literally on a totally vertical angle, yet her body clung to the large construct with ease. “Go ahead,” she said. “I need some time alone.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“I know,” she said. “I love you too. I just wish the adventure was more like how it started.”
Daria caressed her wife’s body, but only produced that light ghostly tingle, and then she lowered herself towards the surface, trying not to look too visibly repulsed by her wife whom she loved. Ghosts did not sleep, but they did ‘rest,’ and this, she reasoned, was her way of resting. She descended down into the ground, waving an awkward goodbye to her wife, and suddenly she was in a void, floating naked, her hair spilling voluminously around her. Images of the life of the woman whose body she had gained a likeness of began to flood in. She turned in this floating abyss, observing a handsome man, his features manly and kind, helping to lift a beautiful dame across a river to avoid her getting wet. She felt his touch upon her body, the sensation of his fingers touching her most sensitive folds.
“Ohhhhh,” she moaned, her voice carrying an afterecho like she was not truly there, or anywhere. “Why am I f-feeling these memories? This is new! G-go away! I have a wife! I have . . . a wife . . .”
Naralae, meanwhile, had her own newfound instincts to deal with. She needed to hunt. Her large body required more food, and she’d kept hidden from her husband-turned-ghost wife that there was another repugnant part of her form: an urge to track down prey. She had fangs for a reason, and a hankering for blood, one that she knew would make her husband even worse off when it came to his attraction to her. He was squeamish about blood after all. So she lowered herself out of her web and scuttled off in search of the foxes and goats that seemed to litter the dry craggy landscape before the mountain that was their next challenge. A quick and almost orgasmic shot of web from her rear later, she was able to easily drag her latest catch up into her web and coat it.
“God, this body is so freaky. I can’t believe some people are into this,” she whined, before digging her fangs through her own webbing and into the goat she’d caught. Instantly, the warm blood filled her mouth, and she drank down greedily.
“Mhmmm . . . but it tastes s-so good!”
***
The pair had both been in their new bodies for over a week and a half. The rocky landscape was hard to traverse even for a drider, and both avoided the easier passages that resembled caves after what had happened last time. Naralae became ever more used to her large spider form, even using her legs to gesture or point at times, while Daria found herself drifting into the earth when she wasn’t needed more and more. The ghost woman would never, ever tell her wife, but she was experiencing her own instincts. Ghosts naturally craved the world of the living, the world of sensation, and her inability to touch or interact with things, to truly feel, was starting to drive her mad. Only in the world of the ethereal, when she disappeared into the void of memory between life and death, could she experience touch.
“Mhmmm,” she moaned each night and those times during the day when she entered that place. “Yessss. T-touch me. F-feel me. Ohhhh!”
The memories of that woman’s lover filled her heart and mind, and she slowly stopped caring that it was a man that was tasting her body in these memories, only that someone was making love to her at all. The man’s name was Clayton, and he was a man of the land, a traveller and performer. He had swept the long-dead woman off of her feet, and now Daria was tasting those memories, indulging in being romanced. His smile made her ache for him, particularly since her body was so very receptive to the advances of a man now.
“Mhmm, take m-me, Clayton! Make me f-feel alive again . . . ahhh . . .”
Her breasts were kneaded by his loving caress, and her form was protected by his grasp. She spread her legs, floating in that space and experiencing what it was like to be fucked by a man. It was all so wrong. It was, in many ways, a form of cheating. But neither ghost woman nor drider could do anything to one another, and Daria’s body was far too lustful. She needed this, and she convinced herself that Naralae would understand, though she never told her.
Naralae, meanwhile, continued to hunt and consume her food, disposing of it discreetly so as to not scare away her ghost wife when she rose again from the earth. She continued to make more intricate webs with each camp they made at night, and soon she was starting to develop an appreciation for the art of it, not that Daria ever noticed. In fact, the ghost woman thought the web production was disgusting, and while Naralae wanted to feel the same way about her body’s instinctive act, two whole weeks of feeling an orgasmic rush at producing her spider silk was starting to rub off on her. Her own mating instinct was rising, and her thoughts were tinged by the idea of making love to another of her kind in her increasingly advanced webbing. She couldn’t even touch her pussy anymore, so she took to rubbing her rear up against the pillars, groaning as she did so, fondling her own massive breasts so that all eight of her eyes were clenched shut as her body tingled from the pleasure.
“I just w-want someone back to f-fuck me!” she groaned. “Why c-can’t he be Strongborn again! Ohhh, but he still wouldn’t like me like this. It’s not f-fair!”
In fact, Daria was away more and more, and she felt increasingly lonely. She knew she couldn’t blame her husband-turned-ghost wife, but these changes had lasted longer than their previous ones, and a wedge between them was growing. Their shared excitement and romance was being replaced with separate trajectories, and she worried about where that might lead. And yet, when she went to sleep, she still dreamed of having a plump sac full not just with silk but eggs as well, and how wonderful it would be to carry her spider-babies on her back.
To say it was disturbingly erotic to imagine would be an understatement for the drider.
***
The next challenge, they knew would be a ‘Battle of Perspectives Upon the Great Mountain.’ Well, they were finally rising up the mountain proper. Daria had it easy, though she found that if she overused her ghost powers she would start to fade, and so she had to occasionally rest on her wife’s back. Naralae was still frustrated at going from a sleek and beautiful catfolk to a bulbous-behind drider, though just as irritating was how well she was adjusting to it. Her eight eyes helped her notice all the best paths to climb, while her eight legs scuttled easily up the rocky mountainscape, particularly since her feet (well, her points) clung to the ground with an impressive stick. It meant, once she’d received enough encouragement from Daria, that she could actually even climb inverted surfaces, and even her large spider thorax was easily pulled along thanks to the strength of her lower body.
“Why do I even have breasts?” she complained as she climbed upside down along an inverted section of the mountain. She grunted, shifted, and fired a web from her ass, an act that made her moan a little with odd satisfaction. “Sorry, had to get that out of my system. But what I mean is, why would a drider need breasts? Don’t they lay . . . eggs?”
The last thought excited her, so she tucked it away under other thoughts. Daria floated alongside her, adjusting her corset, not used to the way her dress billowed around her. “Why do dragonfolk in this setting have boobs? I think horny nerds making fantasy universes is the answer. Not that I’m complaining. Yours are spectacular, sweetie.”
She grinned, her sharp teeth showing. “Speak for yourself! That corset is doing a lot of support work there, honey. How does it feel to be a woman?”
“Not as strange as it is to be undead, really, though having a kind of Victorian accent is odd. I won’t lie, I’m missing the big dwarf dick.”
Or his dick. She couldn’t stop thinking about Clayton. He was probably long dead, but the memories of the woman who had cursed her made Daria feel things for him, and his big thrusting cock.
“I am too,” she said. The drider woman climbed up over the lip of the mountain and kept on ascending. She fired a quick web to hold back what looked to be some loose boulders that could fall if they disturbed the ground too much, then continued to ascend with Daria on her back.
“Do you think you’ll ever not find me ugly?” she asked.
“I didn’t say that!”
“But you don’t find me attractive,” Naralae continued. “It’s the spider butt, isn’t it? Or having too many limbs? Oh god, is it the eyes? I’m getting used to them but they must look so gross to you. I was hoping time would change that.”
Daria literally phased through her wife to quickly face her. They pulled to a stop. “Sweetie, it’s not that at all. You’re beautiful, still. I mean, your top half is.”
The drider tapped several of her legs on the ground and folded her arms beneath her midnight black breasts, which were enormous. “But what about my lower half?”
“Well . . .”
The woman was crestfallen. “I’m not blaming you, Daria. But if you turn into a man at the top of the mountain, and . . . and I don’t change, then would you ever consider . . . you know . . . sex?”
“Sure!” she said. “Of course! We can make out, and you know I love your top half-”
“I mean including my bottom half. I mean you inside me.”
Another hesitation, and she already knew the answer.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Daria said. “I’m not saying never-”
“You don’t have to keep talking . . .”
“-but I can’t imagine it. Look, maybe it’s just who I am right now. I think I’m more of a . . . traditional woman at the moment."
“What do you . . . oh. Oh! You’re mean you’re into . . ?”
The undead ghost lady flew back a little, her hands outstretched. “It’s not my fault, okay? I’ve got other memories rattling around in here, and I go into the void and see Clayton-”
“Who’s Clayton?”
“-and it’s not my fault, I swear! This body is just so, so . . . God, let’s not talk about this!”
“Talk about what?”
The wedge grew a bit wider. Naralae looked at Daria and for the first time ever felt actual fear that the person she’d fallen in love with might be experiencing temptation towards infidelity. It made her scuttle back, and her abdomen nearly expelled some more silk purely from her agitation. And then it did out of surprise, when a new voice startled them.
“Hello there! Good to see another of my kind!”
They both turned to see a figure moving down from a pillar just fifty or so feet away. He was a drider with grey skin and a darker grey arachnid lower half, and long white hair that looked like a handsome contrast to Naralae’s blood red hair. He waved to her, entirely naked as he moved down the pillar of stone towards them.
“Hello!” he declared again. “I’m Narinth! I haven’t seen a drider in a good long while, let alone one so unbelievably beautiful. May I ask your name?”
Two things occurred to Naralae in that moment. The first was that this male drider couldn’t see Daria at all. The second was that, with his impressive muscles, naked chest, and powerful arachnid body that was just a little smaller than hers, he was very, very handsome.
“Oh no,” she whispered to herself. She feared where this was going.
To Be Continued . . .
