Archive of Our Own

The Shapeshifter situation was vexing. Laios, Marcille, Chilchuck, and Senshi stared confusedly at their duplicates.

“They really are quite good at mimicking our appearances,” said Senshi A. He poured over his duplicate’s figure, leaning in and frowning.  “He looks almost identical to me, down to the way you styled my beard, Marcille!”

“That’s because I am you,” Senshi B said, shaking his head. “You’re doing a fine impersonation of me, though. I have to say I’m impressed.”

At the least, the team had been able to figure out the Laios copies quickly...

Laios, as the sole original person, examined the room that was filled with his friends and... the others.

“You know,” Laios muttered to no one in particular, “if it wasn’t for them eating us and taking our place, it might be kind of fun to have more of us in the party. Marcille’s great, but... two of her? We would defeat monsters with so much more ease!”

“Can’t trust a monster,” muttered Chilchuck A. He began poking and prodding at the other Chilchuck’s tummy, who squirmed at the attack. “See? This one’s acting all pathetic and weird. That’s not what I would do!”

“That’s unfair!" Chilchuck B defended, squirming as he tried to dodge the other Chilchuck’s attack. “I’m... hee-hee... ticklish there! Stop it — I’m a grown... Heehee haha... Damn you!”

“Aww,” both Marcilles cooed in unison. "The Chilchucks are adorable!”

“Maybe you are a softy after all,” Marcille A said, her voice raised and teasing.

“You know, they’re kind of cute when they’re all defenseless,” said Marcille B.

Chilchuck A continued his assault, tickling Chilchuck B without any mercy. “I’ll kill you!” Chilchuck B said before again breaking out into giggles.

Meanwhile, Marcille B stared thoughtfully at Marcille A. She tapped her fingers against her staff as she thought on the issue.

“I agree with Laios,” she said. “It would be nice to have a second me to help cast magic. You know...” Her gaze went to Marcille A, and she glared. “If you weren’t a monster.”

“Of course you’d say that!” said Marcille A, glaring at Marcille B.“You’re the real monster!”

“That’s just what a Shapeshifter would say,” Marcille A said. “I think the monster protests too much.”

“Well, I’m not the monster, so I’m not protesting,” said Marcille B. “You started it, you... utter jerk!” She paused. “That didn’t make sense, but I’m not the monster, okay? Laios, you believe me, right?”

Laios stared at them both, his gaze moving between them. He pulled out a writing utensil and pad and began to scribble notes.

Marcille, for her part, really disliked how close to the original her copy was. Marcille’s striking green eyes, the way her pointed ears wiggled when she was happy, the braids she worked so hard on... They were all replicated perfectly on the copy standing in front of her.

Even her outfit was perfect, as was the monster’s imitation of her voice.

“I bet you can’t cast magic,” said Marcille to her copy, her tonality teasing and snide.

The imitation Marcille tilted her head and raised her staff, a small spark of light flying out of it. “Your turn,” it said. “Bet you can’t.”

“Oh, I’ll show you!” Marcille raised her staff, channeling her fury and hatred for this damned thing that tried to imitate her. She focused her explosion spell, ready to release it, and... sighed, lowering her staff with a huff.

“I’ll destroy the surrounding areas if I do that,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t use explosion magic in such a small space.”

“Good,” said Senshi. “It would also destabilize the dungeon ecosystem if the walls collapsed.”

“And it just smells bad,” added the second Senshi.

“And we would die from the wall falling on us,” said Chilchuck B. He sounded exasperated.

“This is the worst!” Marcille said. “I know I’m real, but there’s no way for me to prove that to you guys! It’s just the worst!” She looked to Laios, who seemed characteristically unperturbed and was still taking notes.

“You could make food,” Laios suggested. “I could watch you and spot any differences from usual while you all prepare it.”

Marcille glared at him just long enough for him to understand her intent. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “You can barely observe us even when we’re not being copied by monsters! Do you really expect to be able to figure out who’s real and who’s fake?”

“Well...” Laios did not look certain on the matter. “I can... probably do it.”

“We’re going to get eaten,” Chilchuck A said.

“What he said,” Chilchuck B added. “For once, I agree with this guy.”

There had to be a better way to do this than to guess, Marcille reasoned. She knew she was the real Marcille, and these monsters clearly had some method of thinking. Otherwise, how could her copy imitate her so well? The Marcille copy was smart, and it seemed to have at least some of her intelligence.

It was then that the Marcille copy spoke up — as if it was the one that just had developed a brilliant plan.

“I have an idea,” the Marcille copy said. “What if I spend some alone time with my copy in one of those cells? That way I can convince her to turn herself in and you guys can focus on the others!”

“What?” Marcille asked. “That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“Sure it does!” said the Marcille copy, chipper. “It’s a great idea!”

Marcille glared at her copy. “You’re... definitely just going to eat me if I do that.”

The Marcille copy shook her head. “That wouldn’t be very smart. If there’s two of us and we lock ourselves in one of those jail cells but only one person comes out, everyone will know that the remaining person was the Shapeshifter. So, it would be foolish if you tried to eat me.”

“I wouldn’t eat you, because I’m not the Shapeshifter,” said Marcille. “And besides, I would be dead in that situation regardless! Look, that plan makes no sense at all — Laios, can you really believe her?”

Laios, for his part, looked deeply contemplative. That was never a good sign — usually when this happened, he was about to unveil a strange new monster dish.

“Oh no,” said Marcille. “Don’t tell me...”

“Isolating the Marcilles from the others would give me more time to figure out which of the Senshis and Chilchucks are real,” said Laios. “Actually, maybe the Chilchucks should also place themselves in a cell. This way I can focus my energy on the Senshis. I’ve got it — we take this one person at a time! Yes, I like it!”

“I think that’s a great plan!” said the clearly fake Senshi — Senshi B. Marcille’s anger simmered just below the surface as she glared at him. He was so much more handsome than the other one — how could the others not see that? She’d tried to tell them but they had ignored her.

“Then it’s settled,” said Laios. “Marcille, can you lock yourself up with your copy?”

Marcille glared at Laios, who ignored her ire.

“Just do what he says,” said Chilchuck A. “At this point, getting eaten will be a saving grace.”

“Fine,” said Marcille. She grabbed her fake, dumb Shapeshifter copy by the hand and led it down the hall, finding an isolated spot as she pulled her into a cell. Her anger still controlling her, Marcille promptly tugged, closing the cell door. The latch slammed shut, locking them both in.

It was only then that Marcille realized something important.

“Did... we bring a key?” Marcille asked. She examined the cell door, testing its strength as she pulled on it. “It sure locked tight.”

“Chilchuck can get us out after,” said the Marcille copy, who was now locked in the cell with Marcille. She jumped at the top of the door, trying to find something Marcille wasn’t certain of. After a moment, she gasped and hit a latch, a small device falling down. “Ah-ha!” she said. She pulled it — it was a curtain rod, with an attached curtain.

“Hm?” Marcille was intrigued. The curtain was rather clean for a mechanism that hadn’t been used in quite some time.

The Marcille copy fiddled with it. Eventually, she was able to pull the curtain down. It served as a barrier blocking people outside the cell from seeing inside, and vice versa.

“I guess it was used so prisoners had privacy,” the Marcille copy said. “I wonder why. Maybe they kept monsters in here? That’s a scary thought...”

“No idea,” said Marcille, as she tried not to consider her current situation too deeply. “At least the cell looks like it can fit us both for the time being.” It was big enough for the both of them — if their cell had housed a monster, it was a large one.

“There’s a bedroll,” said the Marcille copy. “A big one, too. You don’t think it’s filled with bugs, do you?”

“Why would I know?” asked Marcille. “I thought you had my memories.”

“I do,” it said. “I’m just making conversation, is all.”

“Ah-ha!” said Marcille, pointing a finger accusatorily. “So, you admit that you’re the fake!”

“Yep!” The copy sat on the bedroll, stretching by raising her arms over her head. The gesture looked rather cute, thought Marcille. “I’m the Shapeshifter. You’ve got me.”

Marcille jumped in the air, delighted at this news. She was right! She...

“Wait, why am I happy about this?” asked Marcille, halting her celebration. “I always knew I was real.” The Shapeshifter stretched to the right this time, groaning as if this were commonplace for her. “And why are you acting so casual? You just admitted you were the monster. You’re not supposed to do that!”

The Shapeshifter smirked as she stared at her copy, curiously examining Marcille. “It’s cute, really!” she said, waving her hand. “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m not worrying, just... a little disappointed, is all,” Marcille said. She hadn’t been expecting the monster to admit to everything so easily. “So... why aren’t you scared that I know you’re the fake? Why’d you admit to it?”

“Well,” the fake Marcille said, “First of all, our voices are identical. The walls in this dungeon insulate sound pretty well, so even if the others could hear us, they wouldn’t know which of us said that. And secondly...” She trailed off, heat creeping to her cheeks.

Wait, she was... blushing? Why was...?

A sinking feeling began to make itself known in the pit of Marcille’s gut. Something was very, very wrong here.

Copy Marcille began fidgeting with her outfit, her expression weirdly stressed. “I don’t know how you stand it,” she said. “This body and your memories...” She shivered and hugged herself.

“What.” Marcille stared at the copy blankly — she couldn’t read it at all.

The copy looked directly at Marcille, those green eyes piercing her soul. “I feel so touch-starved! This body feels absolutely unbearable!”

“My body is... what now?” asked Marcille. She had been expecting tricks and violence, but she hadn’t been expecting... whatever this was.

“Oh, come on!” said the fake Marcille. “I know what that means, and that means you know what it means. Do I really have to explain myself here?” She hugged herself again and pressed her thighs tight, as if trying to squeeze some sort of emotions out of her system. Slowly, her hands started to venture lower. Way too low for Marcille’s comfort.

“Hey hey hey!” cried Marcille as the copy started to bunch up and remove Marcille’s copied top. “You can’t do that! That’s my body you’re undressing!”

The copy threw the top onto the floor defiantly, sticking a tongue out in protest. She stared at Marcille, tilting her head. “Maybe if this body wasn’t so pent-up with a certain emotion, I wouldn’t have to do something like this. When was the last time you were touched, anyway?”

Huh?” Marcille asked. “I guess... Falin. We were bathing, and she came close to me, and...”

The memory was lovely — a reminder of that brief period in which Falin was with them, before Falin had become what she was now.

At the time, Falin had come so close to Marcille to restore her mana. Because it was in the baths, the gesture had felt so intimate. Falin’s kind smile had looked so happy as she had leaned in, her body’s softness pressing against Marcille. Marcille was already so warm in the hot springs, and feeling Falin’s warm breasts pressing against her was-

“You’re blushing,” the Marcille copy noted, interrupting Marcille from the lovely memory.

“I am not!” cried Marcille. “And you’re still taking your clothes off! Wait, my clothes? Doesn’t matter — don’t do it!”

The Marcille copy was undeterred. She stripped more, undoing her belt buckle with a sly grin.

“Falin...” The copy Marcille giggled, her outer layer of clothes sliding to the floor. “I do have your memories of her.” A sly, amused grin graced her copied face. “Falin is wonderful.”

“Why are you saying it like that?” asked Marcille. A part of her felt... defensive. This fake was enjoying her happy memories with Falin! “Those aren’t your memories to enjoy! Stop it! And stop taking my clothes off!”

“No,” said the copy. “I told you — I like your memories of Falin too much to abandon them.”

“Because I like Falin,” said Marcille, panic rising in her voice. “You can’t just take somebody else’s memories! Or... their dignity!”

The copy Marcille dropped the rest of her clothes on the ground. She was...

“At least you kept the underwear on,” Marcille said, her voice filled with resignation. Clearly, her words would not dissuade this insane copy of herself. “Why are you taking my clothes off, anyway?”

“I think you know why,” the copy Marcille said. “You’re a smart girl, Marcille.”

Marcille felt giddy at the compliment and a little bit of shame at that giddiness. She... did have a hunch as to what the copy’s goal was, but... it would be impudent to assume, and...

The Shapeshifter grinned, looking at Marcille up and down, her gaze almost predatory.

“I know just what you want,” the copy Marcille whispered, her eyes piercing Marcille’s soul as Marcille struggled to maintain eye contact with her copy. “I can make your wildest dreams come true.”

“Guh?” asked Marcille, her tone eloquent and refined.

“I have a short life as an illusion, after all,” said the copy Marcille, “and I have faith that Laios and the others will be able to defeat the other Shapeshifters. But...”

Suddenly, the copy Marcille rushed forward, grabbing the real Marcille’s hands and prying them from her staff. Then, she tossed it to the corner of the room along with her own. She was fast. Marcille’s heart thumped in her chest as the copy’s gaze pierced her soul. She was defenseless, and those emerald eyes were showing an emotion had she never expected to ever see on her own face — smoldering lust.

“I need your help,” the copy Marcille whispered. “This body... it’s so turned on. I need to get the energy out somehow.”

“Energy?” asked Marcille. She swallowed thickly. “W-what type of energy do you mean?”

“Desire,” the copy Marcille said, her gaze examining Marcille. She searched Marcille’s eyes, looking for... something. “This body was created from Laios’s memories of you. He...”

“He thinks I’m horny?” squeaked Marcille.

The copy Marcille shrugged, noncommittal. “He’s dense, but he seems to see what you and Falin have — at least, subconsciously.”

“I am not horny for...”

“Hey,” said the copy Marcille, using those lithe fingers to trace a line down the real Marcille’s neck. “No need to keep secrets among yourself, Marcille.” The copy breathed upon her — the copy’s breath was warm and inviting and her touch so light. When the Marcille copy’s pointer finger reached Marcille’s neck, it was stroked it in tender, satisfying circles.

Marcille, despite herself, moaned quietly and shivered into the touch. “Maybe I am a little bit touch-starved,” Marcille admitted.

“I want you to make me feel good, give me release,” the copy Marcille said, her voice low and sensual. “Then, I promise I shall turn myself in with the others.”

“R-release?” squeaked Marcille. “A-as in...”

“Sex,” the Marcille copy said, the words tumbling out. The word felt so naughty when vocalized with her own throat — even if a monster was wielding it. “I’m not a bad lover — I’m as good as the real deal, Marcille. And I reciprocate, too.”

“Reciprocate?” Marcille had been reduced to incoherence, merely repeating words that the copy uttered.

The fake nodded. “I think you know what I mean.”

Marcille stared at her copy. The copy Marcille was leaning into the real Marcille’s body, yet still clad in her underwear.

That blonde hair she wore was so pretty, even if it wasn’t braided right. Soft and pliant — Marcille wished to touch it, even if she would never dare say such a thing.

As the copy Marcille’s finger traced circles on the real Marcille’s neck, raising it to her ear, Marcille toyed with the idea of letting the fake Marcille have her way with her. The copy had said she was going to turn herself in, right? And the walls were sound insulating, so no one would hear them do anything. And... when would Marcille get a chance like this ever again, really?

The more she thought about it, the more enticing the prospect became.

Laios had said not to trust monsters, but this wasn’t a monster — this was a her. A very beautiful, very sexually frustrated her. And if Marcille were being honest with herself, she could not honestly say that she wasn’t a little sexually frustrated after that bath with...

“Okay,” said Marcille, steeling herself. “You said you’ll turn yourself in, and I’m holding you to it.”

The copy Marcille grinned, toying with the real Marcille’s hair and brushing a hand through it. “We both know that’s not the reason you’re agreeing to this,” she said. Her voice was a whisper as she leaned into the real deal’s ear. “You want to see how good you are in bed.”

Marcille bit her lip. The monster was right — she did want to see that.

“Yes,” said Marcille. “I do.”

“Good,” said the copy. “I like the honesty. You’re being very good for me.” The praise felt amazing, and Marcille couldn’t help but shiver when a spark of pleasure made its way up her spine.

The copy Marcille leaned in, Marcille’s heart hammering with anxiety. As their lips met, Marcille was overcome by how soft her own body was when it was pressed against her. Marcille leaned into the kiss, closing her eyes and enjoying the pleasant sensation.

The copy pulled back.

“That did feel nice,” said Marcille. “You’re very... soft.”

Right as Marcille leaned in for another kiss, her copy got off of her. Marcille, frustrated at the loss of pressure, whimpered.

“Let’s do it there,” said the Marcille copy, pointing to the overly-large bedroll.

“Oh,” said Marcille. “Um, okay.”

The Marcille copy fluffed the bedroll out. “No bugs, and no need to worry!” she proclaimed.

“That’s good,” said Marcille.

The copy started to undo the underwear that was holding her breasts in place. In response, Marcille yelped.

“What are you doing?” she cried. “That’s my...”

“I’m undressing,” said the copy flatly. “We’re going to have sex, aren’t we?”

“We are, but...” Marcille frowned. It felt weird being so vulnerable with herself.

“Well, I guess I’d better get undressed, too,” Marcille said. She said it with no conviction, as if she were being forced to undress next to her own copy. Marcille thought that she shouldn’t let the copy know how into this she really was. This was a matter of pride, darn it!

Regardless, Marcille wanted to watch as her copy undressed. It was... dizzying.

Marcille didn’t know where to look — her soft, firm tummy, her hips that jut out pleasantly, the way her beautiful hair framed her face, or her breasts. Besides, something about watching the monster undressing so confidently was very appealing.

Marcille’s gaze went to her breasts. Okay, so they were smaller than Falin’s, but...

“They’re still nice!” said the Marcille copy. “Just because Falin’s are bigger doesn’t mean that mine aren’t also great!”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Marcille.

“You were looking,” said the Marcille copy, “and I know how you think.”

There was something that felt so curious about being scolded by what was effectively herself. Marcille couldn’t place the emotion — maybe humiliation. “Am I seriously this defensive about everything?”

The copy shrugged. “Laios seems to think you are.”

“Well...” Marcille frowned, trying to think of a smart response. “I’m, uh, not! It’s just his weird imagination!”

The Marcille copy just stared at her, hand on her hip — which looked especially freaky because she was now completely naked. “Uh-huh,” she said. Her expression told Marcille that she did not fully believe it.

“Guess it’s my turn,” said Marcille. She removed her outer layer, now fully clad in her underwear. She hesitated to go further, turning her gaze to her copy. “And you promise that you’re going to leave me and the others alone after I have sex with you, right?”

“I am,” said the Marcille copy. “I promise.”

“And how do I know that you’re not going to eat me?” asked Marcille.

As the copy’s smile grew, Marcille reconsidered her word choice.

“Don’t worry,” the Marcille copy said, “I’ll definitely eat you. Like I said, I’m as reciprocal a lover as you are. But... I still think you should trust yourself a lot more. You seem much less confident in reality than Laios thinks you are.”

“Hey!” Marcille said. “I... I’m confident!”

The copy looked at her silently, those green eyes searching hers. She frowned. “You always seem so scared of yourself.”

“Scared... of myself?”

“Yeah, you’re so fearful of me.” The Marcille copy stepped forward, causing the real Marcille to take a step back. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re a monster!” said Marcille. “That’s the only reason, all right?”

“No, I’m an illusion,” the Marcille copy said. “Right now, I’m as Marcille as you are — perhaps even more so.”

“Huh?” asked Marcille. “But if I’m the real Marcille, why would you be more authentic?”

“Take off your underwear,” said the copy Marcille, ignoring the question. The real one recoiled at this remark.

“No!” said Marcille. “Then you’ll... W-well, I don’t know how exactly, but you’ll definitely attack me!”

“See?” insisted the Marcille copy. “That’s exactly what I mean. You distrust me because you don’t trust yourself. I’m not wearing any clothes and my staff is shoved in the corner of this room. I have no means of harming you, and yet you still refuse to trust me enough to... well, you know.”

Marcille thought on the matter. The copy was right — she did have no means of hurting her. And since she was a Shapeshifter illusion, she couldn’t actually wield magic. Magic was something Marcille was confident in, but when it came to her team members, she.... craved their validation. Seemingly, the illusion had deduced as much from her memories.

I guess I should have expected she knew that, thought Marcille glumly.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was the brazenness of her copy as she began playing with her own (well, Marcille’s) nipples. The copy closed her eyes, grinning widely as she tweaked and rubbed them. She looked so... enthusiastic about it.

“Hey!” said Marcille. “What are you doing?”

“Playing with myself while you use that big, strong brain of yours to think about trusting me,” the Marcille copy said. She licked a finger slowly, rubbing the nipple in measured, gentle circles. She leaned her head back, releasing a moan. “Oh, that’s really good.”

It was uncomfortably alluring for Marcille to hear her own voice cry out in utter pleasure. Increasingly, Marcille was made aware of a growing sensation of warmth in her crotch.

Am I... enjoying this? thought Marcille. I guess there’s no reason not to since we’ve already agreed.

“Do they... feel good?” Marcille asked. She was slowly coming around, and she did still want to know how good it felt when her own body...

That thought was interrupted when the Marcille copy moaned even louder.

“Hey!” Marcille cried. “Stop being so loud!”

“Noise-insulating walls and curtains, remember?” said the copy. “The others can’t hear a thing, Marcille.”

Hearing the copy say her name aloud while also using her voice felt very odd.

“When did you last have some time alone, Marcille?” the Marcille copy asked. “I’m searching your memories, but I can’t find anything at all. Is that why you’re so worked up?”

“I don’t touch myself at work!” Marcille said. “And stop reading my mind. It’s creepy!”

“Well, maybe you should change that,” said the Marcille copy. “It’s definitely affecting your magic performance to be this pent-up. Come on, just one orgasm for us each.”

Marcille glared at the copy. She would kick Laios after this.

“Nothing that can be done about it, I guess,” said Marcille. She stepped out of her underwear and then removed her top, tossing it in the corner with the other pieces of clothing. “If we’re going to do this, then I’m all in! Besides, it’s affecting my performance as a magic user, and that’s definitely important.”

The Marcille copy beamed. “That’s the spirit!”

Marcille was determined now — if she was going to do this, she was going to do it her way, and not... well, her other self’s way. “Sit down on the bedroll,” she instructed.

“Sit down?” the Marcille copy asked. “But I thought I was going to go-”

“You’re the copy,” Marcille leaned in, grinning widely, “so you have to do what I say, got it?”

“Ooh, assertive,” said the Marcille copy. She sat on the bedroll. “I like it.”

Marcille sat on the bedroll, immediately across from her from her duplicate. She examined her copy curiously.

It was fascinating — the copy really did look just like her (save for the hair, which didn’t have braids). Slowly, Marcille ran a finger through her double’s hair — it felt just as well-maintained as her own, except it felt somehow even softer. Marcille felt envious of her own copy.

“How is it softer than mine?” muttered Marcille. “Laios’s memory...?”

“You do talk about hair a lot,” said the duplicate. She looked sheepish, as if she were partially responsible — in a way, Marcille figured, she was.

“Hair hygiene is important,” said Marcille. “It’s vital for casting magic. You should know this.”

Marcille grabbed a bundle of her copy’s hair, pressing it to her face. It... smelled like her own hair all right. The Marcille copy yelped, falling back and bringing her hair with her.

“What’s the matter?” asked Marcille.

The Marcille copy shook her head, sitting herself back up. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to be so... into this.”

“But... you were the one to suggest it!” said Marcille. “If I’m going to do this, I want to know if my hair smells nice! I think that’s very fair — I spend a lot of time on it.”

“Yeah,” said the Marcille copy, “but...” The copy winced, and it had an expression of remorse. “Oh, this is embarrassing...”

“What’s embarrassing?” asked Marcille.

The copy sighed. “Please don’t be mad, but... Look, I just thought you’d say no, and then I’d... well, eat you.”

“What,” said Marcille, her tone steady. Eat her?

“Well, I...” The copy winced. “I didn’t think it through that well, okay?! I just... I was going to eat you, and then then you all figured out most of us were Shapeshifters, and I got nervous and this human body got all horny, and...”

“Oh my god,” said Marcille. “You’re just as bad at this as I am!”

“Don’t let the others find out!” the Marcille copy squeaked. “Wait... I’m not even real — why do I care what they think of me?”

“Because you’re me,” said Marcille.

In a way, it was comforting to hear that the monster had, indeed, intended to eat them before getting distracted. She just wished it hadn’t been her own arousal that had been the thing that distracted her — actually, was this monster even a her? Was it an it?

No, it had to be a her. If she thought of her as an it, then she would be having sex with an it, which would make it a monster, and then that would mean she was having sex with...

“Are you going to touch me more or what?” asked the copy Marcille. She gestured to her torso. “You could start with my nipples. That’s pretty standard.”

“Don’t tell me how to touch my own body!” Marcille snapped. She looked at the woman in front of her. Her boobs were perky and had a nice teardrop shape to them. “Hey, you’re right. I do have nice boobs.”

“Told you,” said the copy Marcille. She beamed, puffing out her chest.

The real Marcille leaned forward, grabbing the copy Marcille’s breasts and feeling the soft flesh. She poked and prodded them eagerly, which earned an annoyed yelp from her copy.

“Oops,” said Marcille. “Too hard?”

The copy Marcille nodded.

In response, Marcille then began massaging the soft flesh tenderly, rubbing small, soft circles on the nipples like her copy had been doing earlier.

“That’s good,” said the copy Marcille. She closed her eyes in contentment, wearing a small smile.

The real Marcille continued playing with her copy’s boobs, but ran a hand down to her copy’s belly. The copy released a fit of giggles as she did.

“That ticklish, huh...?” asked Marcille. She tested further, running her hand in a circle on her copy’s belly. More giggles in response.

“Heeheeha... hahahee!” The Marcille copy was in hysterics, a tear running down her eye. “S-stop it! I’m not a tickle experiment!”

“Sorry, sorry! I was curious, is all!” Marcille raised her hands defensively. “I can’t try that on myself, you know.”

Suddenly, Marcille had an idea. She stood up, ignoring the whine from her copy as she removed her hand from the copy’s nipple.

Marcille sat a foot behind her duplicate on the bedroll. She patted in front of herself.

“Sit on my lap, please,” said Marcille.

“Why?” asked the Marcille copy. “I liked what we were doing before.”

“You’ll see,” Marcille said. “I think you’ll like it.”

The Marcille copy stared at her. “I...” She inhaled. “Fine. I trust you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Marcille. “You’re so good for me.”

The Marcille copy shivered at that.

She likes praise, thought Marcille. She really is just like me...

The copy lifted herself up and placed herself atop Marcille’s lap. It felt good to have the warmth and pressure of another woman atop her.

“I know how to touch my body better from this angle,” said Marcille.

Slowly, she ran a hand down the copy’s breasts, toying with them again. This time, her free hand ran lower, gently caressing her copy’s thighs. They were so, so soft, and they felt really nice to the touch as she gently stroked them.

“This is nice,” said the copy. “You were right... oh.”

The Marcille copy moaned when Marcille kneaded the tender thigh flesh in the area Marcille knew she liked it best. Her copy’s moan was soft and sweet, and it was music to Marcille’s ears.

“You’re so pretty,” Marcille said, the words breathy and whispered her copy’s ear. She squeezed her hip, running delicate fingers across the sensitive flesh. “So needy for me, so good...”

“W-what are you doing?” the copy asked. “The praise, it...”

“It’s what you’ve wanted to hear for years, isn’t it?” Marcille leaned into the other woman’s neck. “You’re a supremely talented magic user. You’ve studied hard, and you deserve to be appreciated.”

“Fuck,” said the Marcille copy. She shivered. “More.”

“The others on your team don’t appreciate you,” Marcille said. Her hand ran lower, to the copy’s left thigh. She squeezed, and the Marcille copy made a delightful moan in response. “You’re worthy of love and valuable to the team.”

“D-don’t talk about work when you’re having sex with me.” The copy Marcille’s voice was shaky, uncertain. “It’s a turn-off.”

“Fine,” said Marcille. Her hand moved to the right. The Marcille copy tensed as Marcille’s fingers gently danced across her cunt.

“More,” she said, her voice strained. She leaned back, her warm and soft back pressing against Marcille.  “Give me more.”

“You’re so pretty,” Marcille said, her right hand finally pressing against the spot where she needed it the most.

In response, the Marcille copy melted into her touch.

“That’s it,” she said, sighing relievedly.

Marcille pressed gently, rubbing light circles on the Marcille copy’s clitoris that weren’t really magic, but may as well have been. The Marcille copy moaned, whimpered, and grabbed onto Marcille’s thighs. She was incredibly vocal, which was definitely not an issue due to the noise-insulating curtains and walls.

“How does it feel?” Marcille asked.

“I... I’m close,” the Marcille copy replied.

Marcille wished she could see her copy’s face, but another part of her considered how embarrassing it would be to see her own face during orgasm. Yet, why did that idea excite her even more?

With one final circle of gentle touch, the Marcille copy cried out loudly as she reached orgasm. She moaned, her fingers tightening sharply on Marcille’s thighs. Marcille kept rubbing in those same circular motions, letting her copy ride out wave after wave of her needy, desperate pleasure.

“Fuck!” the copy cried out, the final wave of pleasure hitting. She went limp, relaxing backwards into Marcille.

Marcille released her finger. The Marcille copy was silent for a few moments.

Then, she pushed herself off of Marcille and turned around. Her face was... absurd, with a wide, satisfied smile and lidded, hungry eyes. Somehow, the sight of her satisfied expression made the heat inside of Marcille burn even hotter — it was her face that was so aroused right now, so why was she still so into it?

“Are you learning to love yourself?” the copy cooed sweetly in Marcille’s voice, running a finger across Marcille’s thighs as she stared with lidded eyes.

Marcille shivered. “I love myself just fine, actually.”

“We’ll see about that,” the Marcille copy said. “Open your legs — something I need is inside there.”

“Something you need, or something you want?” asked Marcille. She complied, straightening her legs then spreading them.

“Something I think you want,” said the Marcille copy. That lustful, wanting expression remained as she started tying up her hair, those green, bright eyes locked on Marcille.

“You took one of my hair ties?” asked Marcille.

“I copied it,” said the Marcille copy. “Can’t have it getting in the way. Look — I told you I reciprocate, didn’t I?”

Marcille watched as her copy finished tying up her hair. Once she was done, she leaned forward, her breath hovering right over Marcille’s...

Marcille’s...!

“Wait!” cried Marcille. She shoved the copy’s face back and clamped her legs shut.

In response, the Marcille copy glared at her sourly. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m reciprocating! I’m eating your cunt!”

“Do you really have to use such foul language?” asked Marcille.

The copy was unamused. “We’re having sex, Marcille,” she said, as if that answered anything.

“Y-yeah, but...”

The copy placed a hand on Marcille’s shoulder. Marcille jumped slightly. “Trust me,” the Marcille copy said. “Trust yourself. You can do this — I believe in you.”

Trust... herself...?

Did she...?

“Okay.” Marcille inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “I’m ready this time.”

The Marcille copy looked at her clone with doubt. “Are you sure? Because if you push my head away again, I-”

“Trust me!” Marcille said. “I’ll do it!”

“All right,” said the Marcille copy. She removed her hand from Marcille’s shoulder. “Then let’s start again.”

The Marcille copy leaned in, her breath hot and measured against Marcille’s cunt.

Having someone that close to her sensitive area was indeed scary, but... Marcille had to trust herself, and trust that this would go okay.

As the Marcille copy leaned in, she began to lick. There was the sensation of warmth and wetness at first, but the more the copy started to lick, the better it started to feel. Quickly, it began to feel less uncomfortable, and more like...

“This feels amazing!” squealed Marcille, releasing a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. With every lick, it felt really, really good. “You’re... so good at this!”

The copy licked and licked, and with each, Marcille felt a pressure began to build in her cunt. The more her copy licked, the more pressure built. Finally, she felt so, so good that she felt like she was going to burst, and then...

Well, she burst.

Pleasure rushed from Marcille’s cunt to her thighs and to her breasts, her muscles contracting as waves of pleasure slammed her body. Marcille involuntarily moaned and whimpered, her head thrashing on the bedroll at the sensation of so many waves of bliss repeatedly wracking through her body. She had not had an orgasm in what felt like months due to this dungeon, so the release felt amazing.

Eventually, Marcille’s orgasm subsided, her breaths staccato as she began to stabilize.

“That was amazing,” Marcille said.

She received no reply.

“You were really really good!” said Marcille again. “Thank you. I never thought that my own self could be...” She inhaled. “Wow.”

Again, there was no response.

That was... odd. Marcille forced her body upright again and examined the cell. Instead of another Marcille, there was...

“Wait,” Marcille said. “There’s no way...”

On the bedroll where the shapeshifter had been — right in front of her — lay only a pile of leaves. She picked one up, turning it over in her hand.

“Was this the shapeshifter the whole time?” Marcille asked.

“Hey, Marcille?” said a voice from the hallway. “Uh... the real one. We figured out how to defeat the shapeshifter. It should be all right to come out now.”

That was Laios.

“Oh, you did?” asked Marcille, trying to fake enthusiasm. “That’s... great!”

“I know, right?” Laios said. “I can’t see you behind that curtain, so just come back when you’re ready, okay?”

Marcille nodded, but then corrected herself, as he could not see her. “All right!” she said.

She heard footsteps as Laios walked. Marcille began to dress herself, grateful for the curtain hiding her from the others. After a minute, more footsteps approached — Senshi, this time.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said. “The Chilchucks were pretty cordial, but you were fighting a lot with your copy. I wasn’t locked up with mine so he wasn’t a problem, but...”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” said Marcille.

She put on her outer layer and grabbed her staff from the corner of the room. Then, she pulled the curtain back to reveal Senshi standing there, looking concerned.

“I thought these curtains and walls were noise insulating,” said Marcille.

“Well,” said Senshi, “if they’re noise insulating, that just means it keeps the noise from spreading between levels. No one outside this level of the dungeon can hear us, but that doesn’t mean sound isn’t heard inside. It doesn’t block out every sound — that would be a pretty strange feature to add to a dungeon.”

“Oh,” said Marcille.

The copy really did only know everything that Marcille did. And she did not know how noise insulation worked.

“I’ve gotta say,” said Senshi, “you were making some pretty strange noises back there.”

Marcille felt the blood rapidly rushing to her cheeks. “W-well, you know. Me and the copy were only fighting each other! Nothing weird going on here!”

“Got it,” said Senshi. “I’m glad that you’re all right.”

Marcille tried not to think about the horrible implications of this as she walked out of the cell. She made eye contact with Laios, who seemed none the wiser.

“Hear that, Marcille?” Laios asked. “We beat the shapeshifter!” He pointed to the corpse next to him — a giant, canine-like white beast that seemed as if it had been decapitated with Senshi’s axe.

Chilchuck, however, glared at Marcille. He seemed vindictive for a brief moment, and then he, too, turned flush.

“Hey, Marcille...” Chilchuck looked away. “Did your copy try and, uh...”

“If your copy did what I think it did, I believe that we shouldn’t talk about it,” said Marcille.

Chilchuck nodded. “Let’s pretend it didn’t happen. Also... can we do laundry later?”

“I agree with that!” said Marcille. “I also want to do laundry.”

“Why?” asked Senshi. “We just did it yesterday.”

“I got really sweaty in the cell with my copy,” said Chilchuck. “Look, can you stop asking questions? The point is I want to!”

Marcille locked eyes with Chilchuck, mouthing an extremely genuine, “thank you”.

Laios looked between the three of them, as confused and earnest as ever. He shrugged. “Well, I’m glad everyone’s safe,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Chilchuck.

“Agreed!” said Marcille.

They had leftover dryads from earlier and some rice, so they made a dish from that using leaves from the shapeshifter for tea.

The meal was surprisingly good, too (by monster food standards), and the tea was... acceptable.

Marcille took a long sip of her tea.

“Hey, I’ve got a question,” said Senshi. “Did anyone else’s Shapeshifter copy try and have sex with them, or was that just something mine did?”

Marcille almost choked, coughing loudly as she tried to expel the fluid from her mouth.

“Did they what?!” cried Chilchuck and Marcille in unison.