Drawing the Line

The chance that Lancelot **still** might not be finished with me, despite turning me into - literally - a walking wet dream, fills me with indignation. Was it not enough of a violation to make me look this way, to force me to **feel** as if I were an actual woman? The memory of that first touch still reverberates in your mind. "Will you **look** at this body you gave me?" I demand, striding up to Lancelot and jabbing his armored chest with my manicured finger. "No one in their right mind is going to think a man is using this Avatar. No **man** is even going to be **thinking** when he catches sight of me." "As you wish," Lancelot says. "We'll transport you to the Sated Hog shortly." Before I can turn away, he catches my arm, bare metal touching my skin, and while the effect wasn't the same as it was from skin to skin contact, the strength in that grip sent shivers up and down my spine, and I swallow a gasp. "But listen to me well, 'Danielle'," he whispered into my ear. "These men have perverted my world, my dream, and if your masculine pride keeps me from catching them... Well, let's just say, you don't want to have me for an enemy. In this world or the real one." With those words ringing in my ear, Lancelot issues a command to transport me, and I feel the world around me dissolve.