“You mean I have to take... 'that' out? With so many people around me?”

The hero has verbally whipped out a lot more than just a harmless toy that gives pleasure to people. Why would it suddenly become an issue?

“It's not just any type of pleasure. It's a very specific and private one we're talking about here.”

Our virgin hero shouldn't mind such matters. The common man and woman have interacted with a fake member on many occasions. They were even ruled by them throughout most of history. This narrator can remember of the aptly named King Dick'nhole the third who...

“No, bad narrator. No info dumps for you. Let me see if I can fix this somehow.”

Our untouched vanquisher of theoretical holes made his way to the gift-shop and came out moments later with what appeared to be a lewd magazine in a brown, paper bag.

“Had no idea our dear narrator used a farmer's almanac in such a dirty manner. But who am I to judge? Except for, you know, being the hero and all. Explains your relationship to your missus though. Things between the both of you would be different if she could expose her naughty weather predictions right? Sexy mild rain with a chance of sweaty lightning-storms, hmmm.”

Is our hero discovering a new kink? It started out as a subpar diss, but now the narrator isn't so sure any more.

“Truth be told, I've always wondered what it'd be like to fuck a cloud. But that's just between you and me.”

And the little, old lady in front of you managing the priority access. Now quickly hero, expose your rubber thing to her!

The old lady looked like she wanted to scream, mostly internally. But also loudly. She hid behind her counter and with a very weak voice asked the hero what he was after.

Our hero, feeling more defeated than after he's had his usual bit of private fun in the shower, pulls out his royal weapon and hands it over.

The little, old lady carefully inspects it until she finds the button at the end. She flips the switch and is forced to hold the sacred weapon with both hands. But the vibrations prove to be too much for her. So she vibrates away from our hero who is busy laughing his ass off.

“Oh, come on, that's funny. Probably the most action she's had in the past thirty years.”

Still more than our insipid hero, indeed. But try not to forget that the old lady had your entry ticket in her pocket.

“Ugh. Have I mentioned how much I hate this world today? Because I feel I haven't given it it's proper due yet. I really hate this fucking world. With all my heart.“

And this world hates you back, young adventurer. But multiplied by a factor of ten at the very least. Which is still only a fraction of what this narrator is capable of.

But there's been all too much loggygagging and especially too much gagging on lollies while our hero has a granny to catch. Let the chiptunes battle music commence.

With the determined look of a GILF predator, our hero stretched out his hands and ran towards the old lady who by now had already covered quite a bit of ground. In what, we're not allowed to say. But the janitor won't be happy that's for sure. After only an hour of trying to capture the proverbial greased piglet, our hero finally managed to hold on to her backside. But the holy sword's power was simply too strong, which meant both characters were now happily vibrating along down the centre plaza in front of the castle. Well at least the granny looked happy. Maybe a bit too happy. It's never a good thing for society when old people look happy. But that's an economics lesson for another day.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The narrator rooted for the trembling hero and told him that more confidence might take care his fearful affliction.

…

…

…

Well, it was funny inside the narrator's mind at least. Now, if the hero truly wants to offset the vibration, he can simply use his own abilities.

“I-I-I c-c-c-ast-t p-p-p-elvic-c-c barrage-agaagagagagagagaaaaaaa”

Somehow this spell was also accepted. This narrator guesses that the final fantasy save went corrupted. Someone should blow the memory card. And no, not that kind of blowing. Final fantasy wasn't that kind of game.

Now, the heavens split apart and inflamed the hero with courage and fire. Mostly fire. Normally the heavens would engulf an individual, but the sheer amount of friction between the hero and granny's backside produced a slightly different result.

Or rather, two different results. The first being an overly happy granny blissed out of her mind. Reliving her youthful years, before she and grandpa started resembling each other down to the very last detail except for a small red bow in her hair. The second being that, to the casual observer, both individuals stood perfectly still while moving very fast. Like an optical illusion with some weird age-kink mixed in. The hero's weapon, the one the granny held, not the other, smaller one, lit up. Rays of light shone from it's hardened plastic handle and penetrated the sky.

The sky hadn't been ready for this and let out a moan, felt violated and went to the police to file a rape charge. But seeing as this happened in a medieval fantasy setting, the sky was told to go back home to her husband. Since skies don't have rights, they just refer to a collection of lower, denser layers in our atmosphere when discussing the weather. But that's a legislative issue for another time.

Meanwhile our gerontophilian hero(no, don't look it up if you don't want to end up on a list somewhere) managed to man-handle the old lady into surrendering her precious possession. He then man-splained to her on why he needed it and man-hid behind a tree when the old lady tried to woman-beat his ass with her cane. Another victory for uncivil rights.

The chiptunes battle music ended and displayed the character screen:

Level... something around ten, I think. The shaking gave me a headache, leave me alone.

STRENGTH: no

INTELLIGENCE: also no

AGILITY: definitely no

DEXTERITY: hahaha, no

LUCK: was it 200?

ACHIEVEMENTS:

'Oh you lucky so and so.' - Sh, trynna to sleep.

'Innate asshole' - SSShhhh

'I'm a kitchensink, daddy!' SSShhh, seriously.

Slayer of children – Common man, be quiet. Need my rest.

ABILITIES:

'Pelvis thrust' – A

'Pelvic barrage' – B.

'Pelvic barrage-aga' – C

'P-p-p-elvic-c-c barrage-agaagagagagagagaaaaaaa' – Always Be Closing, hah. Also eww. Changing this to rank AF. It means Abject Failure.

The fourth wall came forth and gave a very long and angry look at the party and the new interface.

Everybody hung their head in shame.

“Wait, even the hero?”

EV EH RY BO DY hung their severely damaged head in shame.

“Fine, watch, it's hanging. Happy now?”