Dragged to Another World… and I Took the Goddess with me!

Hearing the Midwife's words filled Finn with excitement. Finally—finally—he was going to get paid for all his miserable hard work. He couldn't help but silently thank Lysithea from the bottom of his heart for what she had done for him.

"So hold onto those carefully," the Midwife purred.

"So wait," Finn asked, "which ones do you actually need?"

"Just two of the dark blue ones."

Finn plucked them from his palm and handed them over.

"That will be enough for the Hornus Potion to take full effect. Now, sit down and relax, darling~."

The thing didn't need to tell him twice. Finn plopped his ass into the nearest chair with all the grace of a man who had been waiting way too long for this. He was ready to slam the potion and get the hell out of this foggy nightmare.

Behind him, the girls stood around like they had during their last visit. Majestria crossed her arms under her chest, tapping her foot as though she had somewhere important to be. (She didn't.)

With nothing to do but wait, Finn figured he might as well make small talk.

"So… do different slime melo colors mean different things? Since you specifically wanted the dark blue ones."

The Midwife, now busy turning knobs and boiling water, answered smoothly.

"Well, it doesn't matter much for this particular potion. Dark blues are the most common, so I only took those—no need to rob you of the more valuable ones."

Finn hummed happily. How considerate.

"The other colors," it continued, "are in high demand for their taste, quality, and the rare potions they can produce."

"Like coffee?" Finn asked.

"Yes. Slime melo coffee is extremely popular throughout the Sapient Kingdom. Nobles especially prize it."

Finn's eyes lit up. "Wait—so what about the sky blue ones? They special or something?"

"Yes," the Midwife said, now sliding a penis-shaped plant into a womb-shaped pot of boiling water. It crushed the two dark blue melos and dropped them into a tall glass cylinder. "The sky blues are considered the finest. People would kill just to taste them."

Finn leaned forward. "Have you tried one before?"

"No." The Midwife froze, turning its head toward him. Its eyes were utterly flat. "I don't eat."

Finn stiffened. "…Okay," he whispered, in the most uncomfortable voice imaginable.

The Midwife turned back to its work as though nothing had happened. "The other colors, as I said, are used for cooking, brewing, and potions like the one I am making now."

It lifted the womb-shaped pot and poured its contents into the glass cylinder. Strange substances within hissed and frothed, the whole mixture bubbling ominously.

Then the Midwife turned to him, smiling. "It will be finished in just a minute, darling. Please be ready."

Finn blinked nervously. "Ready for what?"

"To drink, of course~."

After a minute had passed, the Midwife took the glass cylinder and poured its contents into the most cliché potion bottle imaginable—straight out of some bargain-bin fantasy novel.

It held the bottle up, narrow eyes glinting as it gave the mixture a delicate swirl, wrist moving with almost tender care. Then it turned to Finn.

"It's ready~."

Finn swallowed hard. Finally. He reached his arms out, desperate to just grab it and go.

"Uh-uh~."

Finn froze. "What's wrong?"

"Let me feed it to you."

"…Heh, what?" Finn blinked, smiling nervously as though he had misheard.

"I will be feeding it to you, darling~."

"Heh… heh. Funny. No, really, I can drink it on my own—"

"Finn, hurry up. I'm tired of standing here," Majestria interrupted, arms crossed, foot tapping.

"Yeah," Lickthorn purred lazily.

"What they said!" Chestelle cheered, raising both arms like she had no clue what was even happening.

"You guys?!" Finn whipped his head around, betrayal written all over his face.

The Midwife only gave him a slow, predatory smile.

"Come now, they want to leave. You're only making things more difficult."

Finn squealed internally. Sweat rolled down his forehead. With no backup, no way out, he gave in.

Mouth trembling, he opened wide, forcing out an awkward "ahhh."

The bottle was shoved into his mouth. Too forcefully. Finn gagged immediately, choking as the warm, dark-blue liquid rushed down his throat.

The Midwife purred at his gagging, even letting out a faint moan.

A single tear slid down Finn's cheek.

Its icy hand slid up under his chin, then down his neck, fingers brushing his Adam's apple. The cold touch made the violation all the worse.

Finn whimpered through the mouthfuls, muffled cries escaping him as he swallowed. The potion didn't even taste good—it was vile. Like expired sour cough medicine from Earth, but worse.

Finally, the last of it drained into him. The Midwife pulled the bottle away, and Finn doubled over coughing, clutching his neck and rubbing frantically where its hand had been. His eyes were wet.

The Midwife admired the empty bottle, then looked back at him with a satisfied smile. "You drank it all like such a good boy. So obedient. So… submissive~."

"Please stop," Finn whispered hoarsely, still trembling.

Unbothered, the Midwife casually shifted topics. "I don't understand why it's so foggy out today. It's never been this heavy before."

Finn rubbed his throat, traumatized into silence, but forced himself to croak out, "…What?"

"I wonder if the swamp is producing more fog than usual," it mused.

That got Finn's attention. "What do you mean?"

"The swamp has always released a great deal of fog, long before this town even existed—likely from centuries of people tossing things into it. And the mayor, of course, encouraged it during Moistvile's short history. But now? It's finally backfiring. Who could have guessed?" The Midwife shrugged, then waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. The potion should take effect soon."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Finn flailed his arms. "What do you mean 'throwing stuff in it'? Like—no care at all? What kind of stuff?!"

"Anything. Everything. The mayor believes the swamp is his wife. Claims he hears her voice calling to him from it—begging him to keep her 'moist' and to feed her things."

Finn's mouth dropped open. "…No funking way," he muttered, half in disbelief, half in despair.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter, darling~."

"Yes it does?!" Finn barked back.

"Isn't your fertility more important?"

Finn paused. "…Oh. Wait. Yeah, it is."

The Midwife gave a satisfied nod. "It should have taken full effect by now."

"So… that means I can leave?" Finn rose slowly, hope flickering.

"No, no." The Midwife wagged a finger. "We must confirm it's working."

"…Yeah? How so?" Finn tilted his head, curious but wary.

"Simple." Its voice dropped into a sultry moan. "Drop your pants… and pleasure yourself in front of me—for me."

Finn's face drained of all color. He let out a bloodcurdling scream of pure horror that echoed through the fetus-shaped-house.