And thus the game is a boob

Michella Cinder wakes up in her cramped bedroom, the oversized men’s T-shirt slipping off one shoulder, revealing the intricate womb tattoo on her lower abdomen. The room is dimly lit by the morning sun filtering through the dusty blinds, casting long shadows over piles of discarded clothes and military memorabilia. Her polished nails, painted in cosmic dark blue, catch the light as she stretches, her frosted lipstick still perfectly intact from the previous night.

She’s a petite figure, standing at just 4’5”, with a weight of 130 pounds. Her hair, a mix of brown and copper red in the sunlight, is disheveled and falls to her shoulders. Michella’s brown eyes, which turn amber in direct sunlight, scan the room lazily. Despite her disheveled appearance, she’s clean and well-groomed, a testament to her disciplined military background.

Her current outfit, an oversized men’s T-shirt that barely covers her sheer tight thong, emphasizes her meaty cleft and small bust. A small wet spot from her arousal stains the fabric, but she’s too exhausted to care. Her loafers and glasses, which are lazily sliding down her nose, complete the picture of someone who looks like she isn’t, but actually is, meticulously clean.

Michella has been unemployed for a while now, having worked in logistics before her life took a downturn. She’s highly skilled in data analysis, music editing, paperwork, note-taking, debriefing, and supply chain management. Her military training makes her lithe, agile, and well-read, but the recent exhaustion from her service and her constant horniness make her weak to seduction.

She’s a closet pervert, her mind always wandering to romance, and breeding fantasies. Her hobbies include reading, playing games, and indulging in anime. Despite her constant arousal, she’s still a virgin, her eagerness to find someone special preventing her from falling for one-night stands.

Her social life is non-existent. She has no friends and her romantic relationships are limited to her sex dolls. Her social activities mostly revolve around watching porn, and her life goals are limited to survival. Her house is on the verge of foreclosure, and she spends her days trying to figure out what to do next.

One morning, after waking up and taking a quick trip to the restroom, she steps back into her bedroom, only to find herself in the middle of a vast, unfamiliar field. The portal had appeared out of nowhere, and in her groggy state, she had mistaken it for the doorway to her bedroom. Confused and disoriented, she realizes too late that she’s no longer in her foreclosing house but in a completely different world.

The warm breeze of the field of tall grass gently caresses Michella's form, causing her oversized T-shirt to billow around her. She takes a deep breath, scratches her stomach, and turns to head back the way she came, but there isn’t anything there. Adjusting her glasses, she looks around again and again, her eyes gaining focus and hardening as her military experience begins to take root once more. Sadly, as a Marine, rage is her default response to anything unknown and determined to be an obstacle.

“Shit,” she slowly mutters under her long drawn out breath. She resumes her old hunched posture before straightening and screaming at the top of her lungs, “FUCKING DAMNIT!” She heaves, lamenting her life and wondering why God decided the best time to spirit her away was right after her morning bathroom break. Nope, it couldn’t have been during the field ops when her convoy was attacked in Iraq. Nor when her parents died. Nor when she wished she had died during basic training. But now, after finally deciding to live a normal life, she was taken from the old and plopped into the new world right after her morning shit, shave, and shower. Fucking hell, it's bullshit.

Straightening her back, she tests the give of her shoes to gauge how long they will last before she needs to find something else. The small hole in the right slipper isn’t promising. She scans her surroundings, noticing the peculiar nature of the landscape. The clouds above look strangely flat, lacking depth, almost like a painted backdrop. It's unsettling, but she pushes the thought aside, focusing instead on her immediate goal.

Deciding to head for the nearest high ground possible, she taps into her land navigation skills, grateful that they’re finally coming in handy. The terrain is eerily uniform, with tall grass stretching endlessly in every direction, broken only by occasional patches of strange, luminescent flowers that seem to pulse with an unnatural light.

As she trudges through the grass, she notices subtle anomalies. The way the breeze shifts unnaturally, almost as if controlled by an unseen hand. The ground beneath her feet feels slightly off, like walking on a surface that isn't entirely real. But Michella, driven by her frustration and survival instincts, pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind.

Every step brings her closer to the high ground, where she hopes to gain a better understanding of her surroundings. She mutters under her breath, cursing her luck but determined to get her bearing and not be taken in by this bizarre situation.

As she climbs, the layout of the land around her immediate location gives way to a spiraling creek flowing in the wrong direction and a grove in the distance flickering like lightning bugs. The desire to just sit down and take in the surroundings is strong but pointless. She has minimal coverings and needs to keep moving. So she marches through the grasses, noting the eerie absence of bugs and insect sounds.

Nearing the grove, the flickering lights reveal their source—the bark itself emits a bioluminescent glow. Using her finely tuned Marine instincts, she climbs the nearest tree, selecting the weakest limb before breaking it off. She peels the rough bark from it to create a makeshift sole for her holey shoe, tearing off nearby grass and fashioning a decent knot to keep the new protection in place.

Lifting the broken limb, she tests its heft and dexterity, finding it to be a sturdy stick. Satisfied, she keeps moving. She needs to find someone else or any sign of civilization; being out here when night falls isn’t something she wants, even if some twisted part of her mind finds the idea oddly thrilling.

As she continues her trek, the day gradually transitions into a strange twilight. The sky above shifts in hues she’s never seen, casting an otherworldly glow over the landscape. The creek she follows bubbles with an unsettling, almost musical quality, further heightening her sense of unease.

Hours pass, and fatigue begins to set in. The lack of familiar sounds—no birds, no rustling leaves, no buzzing insects—creates an oppressive silence that presses in on her. Michella’s thoughts wander to her former life, the mundane routine that now seems like a distant memory. She pushes those thoughts away, focusing on the immediate task of survival.

As night falls, the temperature drops sharply, and she wraps her oversized T-shirt tighter around her. The flickering lights in the grove now serve as her only source of illumination. The bark's glow provides just enough light to navigate, but it casts long, unsettling shadows that dance at the edge of her vision.

The illumination of her right slipper and the surrounding grove act as a buffer to the near pitch darkness outside. But she doesn’t trust it. Everything is too quite and eversince Iraq thinking of the little signs is a major part of her life. So the lack of insects means that either the surroundings are not suited to them or they don’t exist in this world. She stays up through the night straining her hearing to get any indication of something else other then the faint hum of the flicking wood. Nothing Dawn breaks in the east and a popup window shows up three inches from her face. >NEW PERK AQUIRED< Paraniod.

Michella cinder looks at the screen floating infront of her vision her glasses sliding then resting on the tip of her nose as the only thing she can say is “The Fuck??” The illumination of her right slipper and the surrounding grove acts as a buffer to the near pitch darkness outside. But she doesn’t trust it. Everything is too quiet, and ever since Iraq, paying attention to the little signs is a major part of her life. The lack of insects means that either the surroundings are not suited to them or they don’t exist in this world. She stays up through the night, straining her hearing for any indication of something other than the faint hum of the flickering wood. Nothing.

Dawn breaks in the east, casting a pale light over the eerie landscape. Suddenly, a popup window materializes three inches from her face, its appearance startling her. The words float in the air, ethereal yet tangible.

>NEW PERK ACQUIRED<

Paranoid

Michella Cinder blinks at the screen floating in front of her vision, her glasses sliding down to rest on the tip of her nose. The only thing she can manage to say is, “The fuck?”

She reaches out, instinctively trying to touch the popup, but her hand passes through it like mist. The text remains, unaffected by her attempt to interact with it physically. After a moment, another popup appears, this one listing her current stats:

Status:

Name: Michella Cinder

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Level: 1

Health: 150/150

Mana: 30/30

Stamina: 85/120

Experience: 15/100

Traits:

Closet Pervert

Military-Trained

Virgin's Resolve

Attributes:

Strength: 12

Agility: 15

Endurance: 14

Dexterity: 12

Intelligence: 18

Wisdom: 14

Vitality: 18

Mind: 20

Perception: 19

Luck: 8

Charisma: 10

Stat Points: 0

Perks:

Paranoid: Heightened awareness of surroundings, increased detection of hidden threats, at the cost of increased stress and anxiety.

Retired Soldier: Gains combat and survival skills, increased physical endurance, mental fortitude, and tactical thinking.

Logistics Expert: Improved efficiency in managing resources, analyzing data, and coordinating activities.

Lucid Moments: Occasional bursts of extreme clarity and strategic insight.

Closet Pervert: Subconscious attraction to erotic situations, occasionally leading to distractions but also an uncanny understanding of sexual psychology.

Virgin's Resolve: Despite high arousal, maintains control in intimate situations due to her standards and military discipline.

Skills:

Combat Skills: Hand-to-hand combat, basic weapon proficiency, tactical evasion

Survival Skills: Land navigation, improvised shelter building, resource scavenging

Professional Skills: Advanced logistics management, efficient paperwork handling, adept at debriefing and note-taking

Analytical Skills: Keen data analysis, strategic planning, problem-solving under pressure

Hobby Skills: Deep knowledge of porn genres, hentai, romance tropes, and anime lore

if its not one thing its another, couldn’t just be a fuckin’ regular isekai, nope, had to be a gamified isekai. If there was a god, hell, even a priest in this world, she was going to deck them. She minimized the status screen and stood up with her stick. How dare they judge and brand her a closeted pervert when all they do is watch? Rustling in a nearby bush drags her out of her thoughts as she hones her hearing to determine the new sound in the vicinity. If this was a game world, then it was likely a monster or beast of some kind. And the mana stat indicated magic. She wasn’t nearly as invested in the sword arts and the Log Horizons or the Dot Hacks but still had some experience via osmosis at the very least. But she also was not going to let her movements be dictated by a machine that judges her for being a virgin. So she tightens her grip on the stick as the rustling stops and something moves closer to her back.

Her entire muscle system tightens, and she engages her bricked-up core, swinging the makeshift club like a bat into the creature's skull. It's a green-skinned freak with goat eyes. A shiver travels both up and down her spine. It looked like a goblin from Goblin Slayer and, while it's intriguing to think about that stuff from a distance, she'd sooner kill herself than deal with any of that. Its tenting loincloth gives her all the resolve she needs to pounce and bash its brains in. Once it gurgled and twice it stilled. Standing up and looking around, she decided not to stick around. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a weapon. Fortunately, it had jagged teeth, so after working those loose and into her stick, she stomped on the thing's testicles to make sure it wasn’t able to reproduce after death, however they did it. It felt good though, like she was doing the world a service by ridding it of one more of these vile creatures, even if its fluid ended up on her slippers.

She wiped her slippers on the grass, trying to clean off the goblin's balls remains. The bile in her stomach settled as she forced herself to think clearly. The grove around her was still eerily quiet, and the flickering bark light offered little comfort. She scanned the horizon, her mind racing with a mix of anger and tactical planning. This world, whatever it was, had day-night cycles and weather patterns, but something felt off. The clouds seemed flat, lacking depth, and the whole scene had a surreal quality.

Michella took a deep breath and focused. She had a new threat to deal with that that required planning and more then that time. And sadly she didn’t know how much time she actually had before more of those things showed up but she wasn’t willing to wait and find out. If they were intelegent possible gangs would be roving these plains, but if they were lone wolves like that last one then it would be easier. She looked to the corpse. Her club and then to the grove. She really didn’t have much of a choice. Worst possible outcome is being made into a broodmother and fucked day in and out by her own spawn until a goblin mutant or lord was born and killed her from sheer size or brutality. She bit her frosted lip before settling on a her new course. There wasn’t much of a choice. The grove would be her training grounds and these beasts her new prey….. she wondered if they tasted like pork.

Iraq- 2007

the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the arid landscape. Their convoy had been ambushed, and she could still hear the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoing in her mind. Most of her squad were dead or dying, their blood soaking into the dry sand.

“Shit, Michella, we’re not gonna make it,” Corporal Reyes groaned, clutching his side where a piece of shrapnel had lodged itself. They had made camp and were tending to their wounds and taking stock of what they had left.

“Don’t talk like that, Reyes,” Michella snapped, her voice steady but still held the timber of adrinilne. her eyes were scanning the surroundings. As she took in how far they where by matching landmarks. On foot it wasn’t good “We’ve got to keep it together.” She relied, though it felt hollow and they all knew it.

Lieutenant Walker, their commanding officer, looked grim as he looked over her slapdash report of what they could scavenge from the wrecked vehicles. “We’re out of options, Cinder. Supplies are low, and we’ve got no contact with HQ. We’re on our own.”

“Fuck,” Reyes groaned, running a hand through her sweat and blood soaked hair. “What about the prisoner?” Mechelle’s cold voice intoned, she wasn’t afraid to bring it up and they were all thinking it. The only question being if they were willing to make that choice. The insurgent they had captured earlier that day lay bound and gagged near the slapdash sled they had fashioned. He was the leader of the group that attacked them and wrost still was a traitor to the nato forces. Kept spouting nonse about how they were evil incarnate so they gaged him. His eyes were wild, filled with fear and hatred.

Lieutenant Walker’s gaze hardened. He knew it as well. They were hit well outside of normal activity for the insurgents in the region and they were on their way to the next postin. They had a mole to deal with back at base and one way or another the man was already dead “There is a potential leak back at fob and bringing him in is the only way we get that information”

Reyes looked at Michella, then to the manifest walker tossed in his lap then his face pale.  “We’re out of rations, Cinder.” His breath hitched as he stood and hobbled over to the trio” three of us. We have what 2 and a half days of water at best. I no longer in optimal condition and  then there is the prisoner. I know both of you have your own injuries, cinder you’ve been favoring your left side, and lieutenant sir, you’ve lost sight in one eye and have a sling supporting your left arm. Sir, whats the plan?”

Michella’s mind raced. They were trained for survival, but this situation was beyond desperate. Lieutenant Walker paced back in forth trying and failing to come up with an alternative to mechella’s suggestion. There wasn’t one he was willing to take. His men, his responsiblity “We make do with what we have,” he finally said, his voice cold. “We need to survive.”

The insurgent’s eyes widened as he realized what they were planning. He struggled against his bonds, but it was futile.

Michella, Reyes, and Walker gathered around the insurgent. “You ambushed us,” Walker said, his voice low and lacking emotion, not even a heighend tone. This wasn’t a judgement it was a sentencing. “You killed our friends. Now, we are going to kill you. May your god shit out your soul in the next life” he spat in its eye.

They dragged the insurgent to a clearing, where they set up a makeshift campfire. Reyes, despite his injuries, worked with grim determination. “We can’t let anyone know about this,” he said, his voice detached. “Not a soul.”

Walker looked at them both, his expression hard. “We do what we have to do to survive, but this… this never leaves the desert.”

Michella nodded. “yeah. This stays here, in the desert.” Equally as void as Reyes

They drew their knives, slicing their palms and letting the blood drip onto the sand.

The insurgent watched, his eyes filled with terror. Michella stepped forward, her face expressionless. “You brought this on yourself,” she said quietly. “Remember that.”

The act that followed was brutal. They butchered the insurgent, the smell of blood mingling with the desert air. Michella’s hands shook as she worked, but she forced herself to stay focused. They needed to survive.

As the fire crackled, they roasted the insurgent’s flesh. The silence was heavy, each of them lost in their thoughts. Reyes took a bite first, his face contorting with disgust that slowly bled into mirth as a joke came to him “Tastes like pork,” he said, forcing himself to swallow through a full bellied laugh.

Michella followed, her stomach churning. The taste was strange, but she chuckled as well, “yeah, who’d think that the zeolot praying in the sand that hate pork were made of it”  Walker ate last, his expression unreadable. ” We survive,” Walker said finally, his voice firm. “No matter what.” A small smirk tugged at his lips ,” ‘sides, tastes like chicken”

???- 2019

Michella looked at the fire, the flames reflecting in her eyes. The memory of that night would stay with her forever, a dark secret buried in the shifting Iraqi sands. They had done what they had to do.

she shook her head, returning to the present. The goblin’s body lay before her, roasting over the campfire. She tore another piece of meat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, mainly , “ needs barbeque”