Inspired by [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/6bwc4u/wp_you_go_about_your_day_as_normal_but_notice_a/dhq1ojq/) in r/WritingPrompts
I started the first day of my new life the way I always did. I had my morning coffee, my morning wank, my morning shower. The drive to work was *okay*, except I kept feeling like I should’ve tried for a second wank. That’s Mondays for you.
The guard at the office opened the door for me. She always did that, but this time she smiled.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said, and tried not to finish the sentence with *Cupcake.* In my defense she did look like a cupcake, with a
sprinkling of freckles and a rather soggy bottom.
“I mean, really,” she said. “Anything I can do for you? Anything you want?”
I bit my tongue. There were many things she could do for me. But this was no way to behave in a professional setting. She kept
pestering me, though.
“Look, why don’t you just go and pick up my dry-cleaning?” I said.
If only I’d known.
Everyone at work was giving me funny looks.
*They know*, I thought. *They know that those aren’t smoke breaks I’m taking. They know I masturbate in the third-floor bathroom. Oh, God, why wasn’t I more subtle?*
But that must not have been it, because they didn’t avoid me at all. Some of them were downright friendly.
“Can I help you with anything?” this girl asked. I think her name was Sophie. She’d come into my office and leaned over my desk, a
move that brought her cleavage to eye level.
“Anything at all?” she asked.
I frowned. “Okay, what’s going on? Is this a prank?”
“No, no, there’s no prank,” she said, raising her hands over her breasts.
“People have been coming in all day asking if I needed something,” I said. “Do I look like a needy person?”
“We-elll . . . ”
“The things I do in the third-floor bathroom are none of your business.”
She bit her lip. “It’s just . . . something tells me I really ought to do you a favor. Any favor. I’ll do it.”
“Anything?” I asked.
“Anything,” she said.
I motioned to the door. “Go and lock that.”
Sophie had a warm, wet mouth. She was slobbering all over my balls, actually, but who cared?
I slipped her top over one shoulder, then the other shoulder. Still sucking, she lifted her arms as I peeled the fabric off her elbows.
At one point both her arms were behind her back and she was *still* tonguing my shaft.
“Look Ma, no hands,” I said.
“Mmrrmbhl?” she said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Keep going.”
Her nipples were hard, her breasts rather pointed. I weighed them for a bit, then leaned back and made a headrest out of my hands.
“What a weird day,” I said.
Then I saw it reflected in my computer monitor: an exclamation point, shining gold, floating a foot over my head. I reached up but my hand went straight through.
“The hell?” I said. “Am I, like, an NPC questgiver now?”
Sophie chose that moment to suck, *hard.* She put her tongue to my pee-hole and pulled on her own nipples.
“Oh shit,” I said. And then I came. As I did, I felt something pass between us, and it wasn’t just semen.
Sophie blinked and licked her lips. She suddenly seemed . . . different. Stronger somehow, more alert, more aware, as if she’d . . .
“Holy fuckballs,” I said. “I can level people up.”
From there, everything was different.
My friends? I gave them easy stuff. Things like “Bake me cookies” or “Give me back my Game Boy.” They leveled up quickly, getting stronger, smarter, better-looking. Strangers? I asked for cash, bitcoins, Amazon gift cards. They, too, leveled up.
Gaining a level could give you superpowers. It could save you from death.
Anyone I didn’t like, I gave impossible tasks. Like collecting dodo eggs, (but I’ve heard there’s a lab working on that one.) Fetch quests, basically. People from across the world came to beg favors from me. I became more selective. Some people didn’t like that, but they soon found that attacking me was like attacking the thing floating above my head.
After six years I was one of the most powerful people in the world. One of the most perverted, too, but it was all in good fun. Nobody was being forced to do anything.
I started the first day of my new life the way I always do. Beautiful women opened their mouths and kissed every inch of me. Loving tongues swirled over my body, and then the last night’s lottery winner would lower herself over my cock. I had my first orgasm before I was fully awake.
I had my morning coffee, had myself bathed (“The Questgiver’s penis is clean, Master.”), and walked to my throne. The throne was made up of aging Hollywood actresses. No guesses where *they* would put their stat points.
“Lick me,” I said. Cupcake uncurled herself from my feet and moved to my lap. She was chained at the neck and the chain brushed my leg. I jumped at the touch of cold metal.
“Sorry, Master,” she said. “Please forgive this slave.”
I shook my head. “That’s a paddlin’.”
She looked very different from the security guard I’d sent to fetch my dry cleaning. Her bottom wasn’t so soggy, for one thing. Years of exercise will do that, especially if your trainer has a whip. For some reason Cupcake had never leveled, no matter how many things I put her through. You’d think the nipple rings would’ve done it, or the deep-throating lessons. I’d offered to just pay her, but she kept asking for more.
She didn’t level-up when we ran a train on her, or entered her in the Bukkake Olympics. She didn’t level-up when I tattooed the word “Slave” on her forehead. She *liked* it.
“You’re not really here for the levels, are you?” I’d asked her once. She didn’t answer because her mouth was full.
“Your robes, sir,” said my butler for the day. He was an old guy with rheumatoid arthritis and leveling-up would fix that. He shuffled into the room with one of my robes in his arms.
“Cupcake, could you get that for me?” I asked. She lifted off my cock with a *pop* and took the robe in its plastic bag. As she handed it I remembered something. That time I sent her to get my dry-cleaning, it had been a joke. I didn’t have dry-cleaning then.
But I did now.
Something passed between Cupcake and me, and it wasn’t semen. *That* was already drying on her breasts.
There were gasps around the room. Even the furniture was gaping.
The exclamation point was gone from my head. It had reappeared over Cupcake’s head. The collar and chain fell away from her neck. Her “Slave” tattoo was gone.
I always suspected this day would come. It wouldn’t be the end of the world: I was still rich. I still had lots of powerful friends. But I’d never leveled-up myself. I’d never felt the rush as my stats climbed higher.
But I never imagined that *Cupcake* would be the new Questgiver.
I knelt before her. “Can I help you with anything?” I mumbled. “Cupcake?”
She smiled and took her place on the throne. She was nude, but she was the least naked person in the room.
“My name,” she said, “is *Petronella.* And there is something that you can do for me.”
“Name it,” I said.
“Lick me.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6by8vf/the_questgiver_mf_bdsm