Becoming Lona

For anyone who doesn’t know the game, I recommend googling at least a short description before reading =D

Patreon or DevArt definitely won’t allow that if I start writing the story part of this game))

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Part 1

I had no idea how much time had passed since I talked to that chick in the heavenly office — some kind of… secretary? Yeah. Definitely not a goddess or an angel — just some bored woman in a white shirt with glasses on her nose, like she came straight from an IRS cubicle. She was lazily chewing gum, glancing between me and the computer, which looked ridiculously out of place in this weird heavenly-cosmic bureaucracy.

— Looks like you weren’t supposed to die, — she muttered lazily, obvious irritation in her voice.

— Uh… what? — I frowned, standing in this glowing white void where there were no walls, no ceiling, not even a proper floor — just… like when Windows XP freezes and all you see is the mouse cursor. But here, in the middle of all that, there was this woman with her tax-office desk.

— Yeah, you’re a driver. How the hell? You were supposed to hit, not die yourself. — She rolled her eyes and tapped something on the keyboard. — Well, whatever. Since you’re already here, guess you’ll have to take that poor bastard’s place in another world.

My name was Randy Miller, I was a long-haul truck driver, 38 years old, three divorces, four loans, and not a single damn day of retirement. I didn’t even get how it all happened — I was just driving home like usual, decided to grab a bite on the way, small town diner, and then this kid in a green tracksuit pops up out of nowhere. I swerved, and then… next thing I knew, I was standing here, scratching my huge beer belly.

— Oh, don’t get all upset, — the gum-chewing lady didn’t even pretend to sound sorry, — you weren’t gonna last long anyway, by the looks of it. Heart attack in eight years, lonely as hell. And hemorrhoids. — She added that with some special smugness, tapping the keyboard again.

— Hey, wait… Can I… I mean, get out of this? I didn’t even wanna die! — I couldn’t tell if this was a joke or if she was dead serious.

— Nope. — She snapped her gum, staring at the screen. — But you can reboot. New life. New body. The “Isekai Randomizer” system is ready. Hit the button and find out who you’ll be.

A big, glowing red button appeared on the desk with the words Spin the Wheel of Fate written on it.

— What the hell is this circus? — I snorted, eyeing the button. — Is this some kinda joke? What damn randomizer?

— Just press it, we got a line here, — she leaned back in the chair with a sigh. — Or you can stay a frozen cursor on a white screen forever.

I exhaled loudly, scratched my belly — instinctively, like always when I got nervous. But now, even my beer gut didn’t feel familiar anymore. Something inside me was screaming that I was signing up for some serious bullshit. But hey, better than death, right?

— Alright, screw it, — I muttered and slammed my hand down on the button.

Suddenly, a huge spinning wheel appeared, like I’d landed in some cheesy 80s game show, and it started spinning fast. I couldn’t even keep track of the letters or what was written there, but after a while, it stopped, and the arrow pointed to something called LonaRPG.

— What the… — I frowned, squinting at the text.

The woman, same as before, lazily raised her eyes, looked at me, then at the screen. And then, that dumb grin spread across her face — the kind I swear I’ll never forget. She looked at me again, then back at the screen, like double-checking — and suddenly, so loud I thought my eardrums would burst, she burst out laughing.

— Oh my god… LonaRPG! Man, you’re screwed! — she sobbed with laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. — Jesus, you are so screwed!

I instinctively took a step back, feeling something brush against my neck. I touched it — hair. My hair. The clothes on me started to shift, changing along with my body. I barely managed to mutter — what the hell…, realizing how my voice was changing mid-sentence, like someone pumped helium straight into my lungs.

Part 2

— Alright, Lona, good luck to you, — the woman chuckled, still laughing, and I got literally thrown out of that white void into darkness.

I slammed onto some slimy stone floor with a muffled splat. The air changed instantly — from sterile and tasteless to stuffy, heavy, like I just crawled into some old sewer after rain. I sat up fast, spitting and grabbing at… my Breasts?

— Shit, this… what the… — I exhaled in a thin, high-pitched voice, with some sassy girly accent. Every word sent shivers down my body. It sounded strange, disgustingly real. This wasn’t some glitch. Not a costume. This was me.

I looked at my hands — thin, fragile, skin — smooth, clean, young. Wrists like a schoolgirl’s. Hair — long, strands stuck to my face, blocking my view. I brushed them away with irritation — and felt them tug along with… braids?

My hands instinctively shot to my chest — and landed on two firm, totally real weights under the shirt. They jiggled with every movement I made. I grabbed them tight, trying to convince myself this was some kind of joke. No. It was real, alive, soft. These were my Tits. I squeezed again. Too hard. And yelped immediately. It was… insanely sensitive.

— Oh god… am I seriously… — I swallowed. Terror mixed with some inappropriate thrill. The body was small, fragile, I was sure I wasn’t taller than 150 centimeters now. And… where the hell even am I? Looks like some kind of sewer?

— Hey! Send me back! — I started screaming. My voice cut through my ears, I wanted to sink into the ground from how ridiculous I sounded.

In response — silence. Just drops falling somewhere in the distance, damp echoes of water, and some disgusting squeaking. Nobody heard me. Nobody was going to send me back.

I got up — awkwardly, struggling. My legs buckled, I almost fell right back down. My body’s balance was off, center of gravity shifted higher. Every movement felt ridiculous. My hips swayed when I walked, my Boobs bounced. I could feel the wet fabric clinging to my ass — I was too scared to even touch it. This was just… creepy as hell.

And then…

— Ahh… finally, you’re here… — a voice came from the darkness. I flinched, turning sharply. Hair slapped my face, I instinctively grabbed at it, getting tangled in the damn braids.

A guy stepped out of the shadows. Grim-faced, weathered, his hands in fingerless gloves. His eyes slid over me — too slowly, too thoroughly, like he wasn’t looking at a person, but… a piece of meat.

— I’ve been waiting so long for you to arrive. The Guild sent you to deal with the stinking rats. Right?

— What? What rats— — I trailed off, my voice cracked. He wasn’t listening. Already talking again:

— The parasites infested this area and started mutating back in January… — he stepped closer, and I felt the shadow of his body fall over me. — Follow me.

He turned and walked deeper into the sewer.

I stood there, trembling. My breathing was a mess. I could feel every inch of this body. Fuck, am I really in some game? But this doesn’t feel like a game, everything’s way too real… Way too real. Where the hell did that guy go?

— Hey, man, — I shouted, stumbling over my own thoughts. My voice came out shaky, girly, like I forced it through someone else’s throat. — I’m not even…

He’d already disappeared around the corner, ignoring me. I had to drag myself after him — bare feet on the slimy, stinking stone, with my Boobs bouncing to every step, and my ass sticking out under the fabric way more than I ever wanted. But I got lucky, he was literally just around the corner, standing there like he was waiting for me, and I barely took one step when he suddenly turned around.

Part 3

— So… — his voice sounded muffled, bouncing off the walls, — what was the name of that child…

He squinted like he was trying to pull some slippery name from the back of his mind, and I almost tripped over some crap on the floor. The stench got worse. I instinctively covered my nose — thin, girly fingers, small nails. Still couldn’t believe it. My mind, once Jack Connor — a truck driver from Texas — still couldn’t process what the hell was happening. Yesterday I was frying myself a burger and cussing out a cashier, and today… me? I’m Lona?

— …right. Feyra! — he suddenly said with satisfaction. — Such a sweet little girl… I wanted her to be my herald, but rage devoured her and took her mind.

I looked to the left — the girl by the wall. Pale, eyes wild with madness. She was chewing on something — her tongue? Her lip? Fingers scratching the stone, skin torn and bleeding. The whole place reeked of fear. Or was that my own terror stinking up the place?

— I thought I could enlighten Feyra, but it turned out to be too late… — he spoke evenly, not even looking at me, like it was just a monologue. — Now that you’re here, I believe you’ll be the one to help me deal with the pests.

He pointed his hand, and again I felt the damp, disgusting fabric of the cloak rubbing against my back. I shifted, and the belt around my waist tightened a little more.

— Look around you, child, — he said.

I turned my head slowly. The world was… rotten. Gloomy brick walls covered in weird symbols, slime underfoot. In the corner — a guy, face down against the stone. Was he breathing? Hard to say. And again, my gaze slipped over myself. Narrow hips, strong but small legs. And all of it wrapped tight in those gray pants, clinging so much I didn’t even want to breathe.

— What a sad and disgusting world, isn’t it? — he kept speaking softly. — These poor souls fled from Sybaris, and lost their homes, just like you.

I raised my head, ready to say I’m from Texas, buddy, but all that came out was:

— Mmm… um… yeah… — the voice was high-pitched, that damn girly accent. What the hell is this voice even?!

— But you’re young, you didn’t give up, you’re a strong girl… Let’s go, — he said, turning around without waiting for an answer.

— I’m not a girl! — I yelled, then froze. The echo carried my girly little protest all over the sewer, stretching that ridiculous “not” through the whole underground. My voice trembled, rang — like I wasn’t yelling, but flirting. It made me sick.

He didn’t stop, just kept walking.

I stayed standing for another second. My heart pounded — heavy, fast. I looked down: the shirt clung tight around those damn “pillows” on my chest, bouncing with every breath. I ran my hands over them slowly — couldn’t resist. Again. The feeling was driving me insane — soft, firm, warm… and the fucked-up realization that they were mine.

— Goddamn it, Jack, pull yourself together, — I hissed under my breath. But I wasn’t “Jack” anymore. My name was Lona. At least here. And… maybe this world ain’t so bad after all. Hell, kids play these games for a reason, right?