Andrew flinched– or, to be more accurate, he spasmed– with surprise when he realized he wasn’t alone, and instinctively reached to protect his junk. He also, to his great shame, let out a high-pitched yelp.

Since he was in a LitRPG– since he was in his LitRPG– he should have spawned alone. Though probably not in a cave. That he was in his story or a variation of it was obvious to him immediately, although the calmness with which he accepted this fact was surprising.

It explained why he didn’t have any Race, Class, or Ability options, though. His story included leveling and game elements, but it had a strict, single-character approach.

“Can you hear me?” the woman’s voice snapped impatiently.

“What do you want?” Andrew called out, backing up nervously.

“I said you have to come over here and fuck me!” A mousey brown head popped out from behind the stalagmite. It was accompanied by a thin, bespectacled face dotted with acne scars, the remnants of what had to have been a traumatic adolescence. She wasn’t unattractive, though– there was a confidence and authority to her that Andrew found thrilling, if a bit frightening.

“Look out!” the woman suddenly yelled.

Andrew felt an arm on his shoulder and gave another embarrassing yelp, though this one felt more warranted than the last. He looked at the hand– it was human but rotting, chunks of decrepit flesh falling off of it as it moved, though somehow there seemed to always be more. Andrew jerked away and realized he still had his Sunshine mug in his hand.

With a twirl, he bashed awkwardly at where he assumed the zombie’s head would be.

The Sunshine mug shattered, leaving only the handle intact in his hand, and the zombie gave a moan. It didn’t seem hurt, though.

“S–ssss–toooooop,” the disgusting mouth formed the words with effort. “Mmmyyyy nnaammess-sssss Z-aaaaa-cha–rrrryyyyyyyy.”

Andrew gaped, and then quickly pieced together the situation. This man, this zombie– Andrew briefly wondered what label the creature preferred– was no threat. And the woman, too.

They must also have spawned here.

Andrew held his hands up, still clutching the handle of his mug. “Alright– alright. Look, I’m… I’m sorry. My name is Andrew, and I think–”

“--we’ve spawned into our LitRPGs,” the woman said impatiently. “We know.”

Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “If you know, why didn’t you say anything? Wait, are you with this… guy?”

The woman stood up, and he realized why she’d been hiding across the cave. She was completely naked except for a cute little handbag shaped like a big red heart that she wore across her chest. It seemed familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Sort of. We all spawned here, so… I guess so.”

Andrew looked at her quizzically. “Why were you hiding like that?”

The woman gave him an incredulous look and gestured at her naked body. “Hello?”

“Dude, you asked me to have… have sex with you,” Andrew said, voice reaching a somewhat panicked pitch. Now is not the time to lose it, man, he thought frantically.

“Well, yeah. For purely professional reasons. I was hoping it wasn’t just a two person spawn situation. Zack’s nice, but, erhmm–” she gestured at the zombie, who just shrugged. He didn’t seem offended. “Also, I’m pretty sure he’s seventeen.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understa–” Andrew stopped talking as he realized that wasn’t true.

He had spawned with his own Welcome! message. The other two probably had, as well.

“You’re Margeaux Sinclair,” he said, eyes widening with awe.

She held up her hands with a cheeky grin. “Guilty as charged! Now, if you could–”

Andrew gaped. Margeaux Sinclair was the most successful crossover author on Aristocratic Avenue. She’d made millions publishing steamy romance novels, and then one day just… showed up on AAve with a completed LitRPG arc with a Leveling system based entirely on sex. Her characters got into the wildest scenarios: cross-species orgies, BDSM, even vanilla scenes with such magnetic romance they compelled even the kinkiest reader. Andrew liked the last ones.

Not that he read anything by Margeaux Sinclair. No one did. No one would admit it, at least.

He didn’t know what to say, but fortunately they were all distracted by the crackling sound of his mug recreating itself.

Essential Item Restored!

+15 reaction attack bonus!

-50 lack of follow through demerit!

Oh. In his game, Andrew had given Sherlock an Essential Item: his pipe. He never lost it; it was essential to his self and the development of his story.

He realized that although elements of his story had come to life, this was obviously not precisely his story. And so, instead of a pipe, Andrew had… the Sunshine Mug.

He stared at it and its obnoxious message.

You’re the Sun in Our Life, Son!