Dragged to Another World… and I Took the Goddess with me!-Chapter 64: Decide Where we Sleep—Not Speak of Feet!

Majestria dangled her feet off the bed, palms behind her as she leaned back and gave Finn a sly look. "Come on, Finn-poo~ I’m eager to hear your answer." Her voice was firm, but sweet—like honey poured over a dagger.

It reminded Finn of those mommy ASMR videos he used to fall asleep to. (Life-changing stuff.)

"Y-Yeah! Tell us, Finn!" Lickthorn stammered, clearly more nervous than confident. "Mine have to be good..."

She tugged her feet in slightly. The lack of confidence was almost adorable.

It was obvious: while Majestria radiated cocky self-assurance, Lickthorn was flustered and unsure—making the entire situation way more intense than it had any right to be.

Both girls stared into Finn’s soul, their gazes burning like divine judgment.

Especially Majestria. She looked at him like he was hers already.

And honestly... Finn had no idea how to respond.

He wasn’t even a foot guy. Never got the hype. He was a boob man through and through.

Then, like a rogue bullet from right field, Chestelle raised her hand like a kid in class. "I vote the receptionist."

Majestria whipped her head toward her, dead-eyed and disgusted. "No one asked you." Her tone darkened. "Besides... she’s average looking."

Finn placed a hand on his chin, suddenly lost in thought.

’The receptionist’s feet, huh?

They’re probably nice. Not too special, but well-kept. Definitely the kind of foot you could see yourself casually respecting.’

"I do like average women," Finn muttered under his breath. "I’m not crazy about looks..."

"What. Was. That?" Majestria’s tone sharpened like a guillotine.

"N-Nothing!" Finn waved his hands defensively.

"Then hurry up and choose, Finn," she said, smirking. "We don’t have all night."

Lickthorn bit her lip, clearly nervous. Majestria kept her cool, smug as ever.

Finn’s brain short-circuited.

If he chose neither, he’d probably get kicked. If he chose both, they’d yell at him. If he chose the receptionist, he might die.

But choosing between Majestria and Lickthorn? That was a landmine too.

Pick Lickthorn, and she’d probably cry, confess her love, and talk about babies.

Pick Majestria, and she’d gloat for a week while Lickthorn withered like an emo sunflower.

It was lose-lose.

But... a smart man chooses the loss with the least consequences.

Finn sighed. ’Why the hell am I thinking this hard about feet?!’ He never even thought this hard in college—and that included when he cheated on the final with AI.

Still, there was no way out now.

He took a deep breath.

"I have my answer." He said firmly.

"Oh...?" Majestria tilted her head luringly, like she’d already won. Her gaze was smug, self-assured—absolutely certain of her victory.

Lickthorn whimpered beside her, bracing for heartbreak.

But then Finn, with dramatic flair, reached out and grabbed Chestelle’s leg. He lifted it up like it was a sacred artifact, revealing her weirdly scaly foot to the room like he was presenting Simba on Pride Rock.

"I choose her feet!" Finn declared, chest puffed out with ridiculous pride. Like he had just discovered fire or solved world hunger.

The room went dead silent.

Chestelle stared at him in shock, her amber eyes wide and dilated. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting to be touched—or chosen, for that matter.

Lickthorn blinked. Surprised, but not devastated. She looked more baffled than betrayed.

’Good...’ Finn thought.

But Majestria...

Yeah. No.

Finn didn’t even want to look at her.

Her expression had flatlined into something completely unreadable—smugness gone, lips pressed into a straight, emotionless line. Her head dipped slightly, just enough to cast shadows across her eyes.

And that was terrifying.

’Nope. Hate that. Really hate that.’ Finn gulped.

’This did not go as I have foreseen...’

Chestelle, meanwhile, looked delighted. Confused, but delighted.

Lickthorn glanced at Majestria and instantly recoiled in horror—like her instincts screamed Danger: Do Not Engage. She slowly scooted away from her, as if Majestria were a divine hazard sign with radioactive vibes.

Even Lickthorn was scared?

Oh yeah. Finn was funked.

"Finn..." Majestria’s voice came soft—too soft.

Finn stiffened. "Y-Y-Yeah...?"

"I think you need a reminder."

His stomach dropped. "A-A reminder about what...?"

"ON WHO YOU BELONG TO!"

And just like that, she lunged at him like a rage-zombie from Left for Zombies 3: Deluxe Undead Edition.

"AHHHHHH—!" Finn screamed in pure horror as she tackled him, sending his chair toppling backward with a loud CRACK. His spine hit the wooden floor like a piano falling off a cliff.

"Ughhh—!" he groaned, vision rattling.

And it only got worse from there.

Majestria immediately moved in—wrapping her legs around Finn’s neck like a divine anaconda. Her radiant, holy thighs locked in tight, suffocating his thick skull beneath their sacred weight. He was instantly submerged in celestial squish.

Finn panicked. He slapped her thighs in protest, flailing like a dying fish—but it was useless. She was unbelievably strong for someone her size. It made no logical sense.

Right.

She was a goddess.

A gorilla goddess.

Finn gasped—or tried to. His mouth, nose, and face were completely smothered in thigh. Her soft, meaty skin pressed against him like a living memory foam trap. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t even hear. The holy thunder thighs had him in a sensory deprivation nightmare.

He wiggled, (no pun intended), kicking his legs around in desperation.

But it did nothing.

Somewhere in the muffled distance, he could almost hear the other girls yelling. Chestelle was probably saying something insane. Lickthorn sounded horrified. But it was all underwater noise to him now.

Majestria screamed down at him too, tightening the grip like she was trying to pop his skull open like a melon.

Finn had no clue what she was yelling. Probably something divine. Or something petty. Or both.

Internally, Finn was conflicted.

This was—no doubt—one of his deepest, most deranged fantasies.

Death by thighs.

And yet... he didn’t want to die die. Like, not for real.

His brain was beginning to shut off. Darkness creeping in at the edges.

He couldn’t yell. Couldn’t moan. Could barely even think.

’If I’m... gonna die... I should at least... live out one last fantasy... o-or maybe... see what she—’ His thoughts faltered.

Then—reflexively—his tongue slipped out and pressed against her thigh.

And dear god.

Finn had always imagined what goddess thigh might taste like, but this? This was otherworldly. Soft, smooth, with the faint divine flavor of lavender lotion and ego.

Zeus himself couldn’t pulled him out of this.

He licked once more. A final act of holy desperation.

There was a small squeak from above.

And then—everything—

Went.

Blank.