Chapter 132 My Friend Says She’s Full
Jima put her hands down and said, “They will come.”
Little George said seriously, “You’re the first person to say that to me. Thank you.”
At the same time, I couldn’t help but hate the people from the Holy Hall who missed you back in the day. Haha, you were so cute and obedient when you were little, but now you’ve grown up and are trying to insert yourself into someone else’s bedroom. You’ve really gone off track.
Jima glanced sideways at Little George. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, completely unaware of himself.
Indeed, I needed to “distort the dream” and transform it into a new one. But if I forced it too abruptly, I was afraid it would be discovered; I needed to guide it.
Jima placed her hands on either side of her body, propping herself up on the stone beneath her, and casually asked, “Just now, when you saw me, did you feel something?”
Little George’s youthful face showed a bit more maturity as he furrowed his brows and said, “There’s something… something very important waiting for me, to rescue…”
Jima quickly misled him, saying, “A promise.”
“A promise?”
Little George’s voice gradually matured.
“Your promise,” Jima emphasized again, her voice softening as she said, “You promised to give me a free pass.”
“It’s dangerous outside.”
The childish voice had fully transformed into adult George’s voice. Jima caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye; Little George beside her had grown into a virile man. He was tall, clad in thick silver armor, with a bucket helmet on his head.
Jima didn’t speak but turned to pick up the bucket helmet, revealing George’s bewildered face.
She said, “You promised to take good care of me. You promised to give me a free pass.”
George’s face was filled with guilt. He stared blankly at Jima, seemingly wanting to apologize, but in the end, he only said one word: “Okay.”
The corners of Jima’s mouth curved upward.
The absurd guilt of the virile man was indeed easy to manipulate; he often wasn’t as strong as he appeared.
Since Little George had already turned into Big George, it was time to harvest some desire.
Jima half-kneeled on the stone, tossed the bucket helmet aside, and wrapped her arms around George’s neck, her face pressed against his side, feeling his heavy breath spray on her neck, making the back of her neck tingle slightly.
It wasn’t as disgusting as she had imagined; instead, excitement surged through her as she felt the thrill of seducing him. Maybe after learning from the perverse servant of the fairy Litis, her sense of shame had been thrown to Java.
Jima’s heart raced. She gently bit George’s earlobe and whispered in his ear, “I hope on our free pass day, you can take me outside the city to see the wildflowers bloom.”
In the real world, he would have probably kicked Jima away by now, but this was a dream, and he didn’t wake up.
George’s body trembled, his hands hugging Jima tightly. Like caressing a cat, one hand traveled from the back of her neck down her spine, all the way to her backside, brushing against her tail. Jima let out a light gasp, pulling her tail away from his fingers.
George said, “Okay.”
With the dream’s host’s consent, Jima smoothly distorted the dream. It felt natural, not too abrupt, and didn’t wake George.
The surroundings changed. The distant white castle transformed into a gray sand fortress by the sea, and the surrounding trees morphed into lush green grass. The large stone beneath them remained the same, only slightly flatter.
Jima caught a familiar scent of peach blossoms. As she inhaled, she felt a rush of excitement surge through her body. Getting a bit tipsy, she felt a playful urge to indulge her desires; after all, it was just a dream.
She pushed George down, climbing on top of him like a cat. With her arms supporting herself beside his face, she looked curiously at his hazy, blue eyes. As she willed it, white flowers began to bloom all around in the grassy area.
Why not use him as a teaching tool and apply what she learned from the fairy’s perverse servant on him?
Even she felt a bit scared by this thought. What frightened her was that she didn’t feel as disgusted and uncomfortable as she had imagined.
Rationally speaking, over a month ago, she was the demon king with a harem of thirty. She shouldn’t feel so unbothered, so heartbroken, right? But now, that feeling had faded significantly.
Jima felt as if she were the son of a grieving mother at a funeral, realizing that she felt no sorrow at all among the mourning relatives. There must be something wrong with her.
Jima spoke, “George Hammer, it’s all your fault.”
With that, she touched the armor he was wearing with her fingertips, preparing to make it disappear and add some inappropriate scenes.
Suddenly, a large hand tightly grasped Jima’s wrist. To her surprise, and even a bit of fear, George’s eyes became bright and clear.
Could he be waking up?
He said, “I will atone for my sins.”
Jima quietly sighed in relief, her tail that had stood up in tension relaxed.
This little commotion helped Jima’s muddled brain calm down. Engaging in inappropriate activities now would be too dangerous and easily “wake up” George.
After all, George’s feelings for her were more about guilt than love. She wasn’t his dream lover yet, and starting inappropriate activities directly would be too abrupt.
Jima stepped down from George and inhaled the light scent of peach blossoms, feeling her hungry stomach come alive again, as if it had just tasted a delicious meal.
George got up from the stone, and unbeknownst to him, he held a holy sword in his hand. He said, “Feel free to play; I’ll keep an eye on the surroundings.”
She was all too familiar with the holy sword in George’s hand, since it had pierced her chest once. Others had only seen the sword up close; she had experienced it firsthand.
Jima turned her head, suppressing the hidden pain in her chest, and gazed at the endless sea of flowers.
Even without the inappropriate things taught by the fairy Litis, she could still satisfy her hunger.
She let out a light laugh, lowered her head, took off her little shoes from her white-silk feet, and tossed them aside where they hit the bucket helmet. She jumped down from the large stone, landing in the soft grass, laughing as she ran through the white flowers.
George held the sword tightly, his gaze unconsciously falling on Jima.
In the flower field, Jima ran and jumped. Occasionally, she would balance on one foot, spinning in a circle among the flowers, her tail brushing against dew-covered petals. At other times, she leaped over the flower beds like a ballet dancer, her delicate figure showcasing a perfect blend of strength and beauty. She wasn’t just playing; she was using the flower field as her stage, improvising a stunning and enchanting dance.
She danced freely. With the inherent seductive talent of the succubus, she freely displayed the beauty of her body, like a flower blooming under the summer sun.
She had no intention, or perhaps a disdain, to appear as a high-minded flower that no one could pick. She occasionally flashed innocent and playful smiles at George while twisting her body, making her skirt flutter in the wind, revealing fleeting glimpses beneath.
Finally, Jima gathered a large bouquet of white flowers, her cheeks blushing, a strand of black hair sticking to her face. She stepped barefoot through the soft grass, standing on tiptoe to present it to George, laughing as she said, “Here’s a gift for you. Thank you. My friend says she is alright now and has eaten well.”
The sunlight fell on her profile and on the dewdrops on the white flowers. George couldn’t tell if it was the dewdrops sparkling or her beautiful little face shining; he puzzled as he accepted the white flowers and asked, “Who is your friend?”
“Guess.”
As she spoke, she turned and dashed into the depths of the flower field.
“Jima! Come back!”
George’s anxious voice called from behind.
Jima didn’t stop; she dashed past a thicket and ran deeper into the forest. At that moment, dark clouds rolled in, blocking the sunlight. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, and the sudden downpour battered the white flowers, their shattered petals falling into the soil with the rain.
“Jima!”
George’s voice called from afar. Jima spread her wings and leaped into the air; as her surroundings blurred, when they became clear again, it was a black-and-white dream.
I actually succeeded; I had fun in the process but wasn’t discovered.
Jima patted her little belly, feeling proud. Next to her, George’s dream continued, but it had turned gray. She cast a glance; it seemed to have become a nightmare. In the torrential rain, armored George was covered in blood, brandishing the holy sword as he battled countless enemies in the sand fortress.
The reason she chose to exit in such a manner was to merge with George’s real-life experiences. This way, when he woke up, he would think that the ensuing gloomy weather and Jima’s disappearance represented her being captured by the savior, without suspecting anything else. Moreover, this would make the uh… virile man feel even guiltier.
“Hehehe.”
Jima chuckled lightly, “So what about divine protection? What of the hero? He’s still being toyed with in my hands.”
With that, Jima felt quite proud of herself and put her hands on her hips.
Her ankles felt heavy, and she looked down to see a heavy iron ring around her ankle. The inner circle had a leather lining that made it less uncomfortable. It was placed on her by a stout woman, claiming it was a tool to prevent Jima from escaping through non-physical means.
In the dream, Jima’s clothing was different from what she wore when she fell asleep. As long as she wanted, she could change her outfit freely.
But this iron ring followed her from reality into the dream. Moreover, Jima couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how hard she tried.
It might truly prevent her from escaping the dream, or perhaps the stout woman was lying; she would need to experiment to find out.
Jima looked at George’s dream. Her ability to “dream jump” allowed her to directly leap from one person’s dream to reality, and naturally, she would appear beside that person. George was someone she could trust; it was best to jump using his dream.
However, if this iron ring proved ineffective, if she fell near George, wouldn’t all her plans in the sand fortress be ruined? He probably had some tools provided by the powerful Fiuris to break contracts in his hands, and he could immediately nullify the slave contract on her and take her back to the Holy Hall.
So Jima abandoned the thought of experimenting, turned around, and left George’s room, flying back.
Several hours later.
George opened his eyes from the feather bed, feeling an emptiness in his heart as if something beautiful and cherished had flowed away from him.
He sat up and recalled the dream; Jima’s face appeared in his mind, her holding a bouquet of white flowers and smiling at him, revealing her cute little tiger teeth. Then she vanished…
“Jima.”
George called out, but the room was empty; no one answered.
His guilt grew stronger, and as he wiped his eyes, he realized he had tears.
He got off the bed, and on the large desk lay a partially opened book filled with notes and numerous bookmarks. George closed the book, its blue cover marked “The Chronicles of the Succubus—The Year 1379 and the Fall of the Gypsy Kingdom.”
This book was a rare account of how a succubus disrupted a prominent human nation. The author believed that the succubus had the ability to influence others’ dreams and used it to give several princes different beautiful dreams, ultimately leading to a civil war within the country.
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There will be another update at ten o’clock tonight.
