The rooster crowed a little too te for its job. The wooden walls of the house creaked as they expanded with the growing heat of the dawning sun. A spoon hung in the kitchen clunk against the side of a bowl as Rob brought out the big pot, shouting with a stiff and strained voice, “Food’s done. Carrot stew!” Probably from the weight of the pot. Table prayed he was straining from the weight of that pot. Gonna be awesome training today.

  The faint traces of whatever herbs they’d managed to gather did manage to disguise some of the disgusting smell of the vegetables. The atmosphere was warm, but the kind of warm one would get from sitting on a chair that another person just vacated their buttocks from.

  “No eggpnts?” Lena asked in a slightly muffled voice. She was probably still buried under a bnket or slumped half-asleep against a chair.

  “Price went up by one shilling, so no.” Rob’s response was ft.

  “C’mon, you know they’d give you a discount if you have asked. You know how much respect the folks have for the defenders of the town.”

  Huh? I thought this was a normal farming household? Where does this Defender of the Town title come from?

  Rob’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything else. Lena also didn’t bring it up afterward, which was rather strange for someone so chirpy.

  No! Keep the conversation going! I’m starting to get invested!

  Of course they did not keep the conversation going.

  The old man had already gone out even before the sun was up, with no indication as to where he headed. Makes sense. Everyone else was still fast asleep, and he wouldn’t announce his daily itinerary to a table.

  Table was eager for his stats to rise again. He braced himself as breakfast is served, ready to soak up some more precious END gains.

  He waited. And waited.

  The couple finished their breakfast and put away the cutleries.

  Nothing happened.

  Why? Isn’t this par-for-the-course training?

  Lunch came. Dinner followed. Not a single notification appears. The grind had stopped.

  He’d pteaued.

  I’ve become TOO STRONG.

  This was worse than being weak! If he didn’t grow, how would he ever evolve? How would he achieve his dream of becoming the Ultimate Table?

  Days passed. Lena dropped a heavy pot on him. Nothing. Rob accidentally smmed his mug down. Nothing. Tabby stepped over him, tail flicking in indifference. No scratches, no progress.

  Table was in hell, and he couldn’t walk away from any of this.

  But then one day, salvation arrived.

  The deep indigo of nightfall stretched over the window, and the rustle of the wind through the sparse trees was interrupted by the hushed voices of Lena and Rob as they entered the room.

  “Old man’s out of town,” said Rob.

  “He would never approve of this if he’s here.” Lena’s voice was even quieter.

  Their gazes met. There was a pause.

  “We have to do it now,” Rob insisted. “There will be no better time.”

  Lena gnced toward the door, hands clutching the religious neckce she was wearing. She murmured, “Oh Lord, please spare me from divine punishment.”

  Rob, on the other hand, reached for the nearest candle and blew it out.

  Lena csped her hands together. “We should at least put down some cloth.”

  Rob coughed. “We don’t have a piece of cloth big enough.”

  “What about the bedsheet?”

  Rob looked at her weirdly as he tried to surpress his coughing. “Do you want to expin to the old man why the bedsheet smells like stew?”

  Lena chewed her lip. “…We sit directly, then.”

  What the hell are they going to do? Table thought. Summon a demon?

  Table’s mind spiraled into a rabbit hole.

  They’re going to summon a demon. That was the only expnation. Why else would they blow out the candle? Why else would they speak in hushed voices like two conspirators about to commit unspeakable horrors?

  Would that give him stats? If the demon appeared and scratched him, that could be a solid STR boost.

  Or if the summoning circle required heavy objects to be pced on him, he might get another endurance gain. Maybe if they start chanting, he’d absorb some arcane energy and unlock a hidden Magic Resistance stat. He didn’t have one yet, but there would always be a first time.

  Oh, what if they sacrifice something? Could he absorb life essence? That’s got to be a thing, right? Dark rituals went astray, and suddenly, BAM—Table of the Abyss.

  Maybe they were plotting murder? If someone got stabbed on him, would that count as impact resistance? Would blood stains make him a cursed item and unlock hidden abilities? Table of the Dying Man Coughing His Blood Out on Its Face.

  His mind raced through possibility after possibility, each more ridiculous than the st.

  Then Rob just… sat.

  Lena followed.

  They rubbed their buttocks on Table. Then they started kissing.

  The table was not a huge one, but it had more than enough space for two. At first, it was just a shift. A slight scoot. Nothing dramatic. But then—oh no. Oh no no no.

  They settled in, wiggling ever so slightly to get comfortable, pressing their full weight down onto his surface. Every time Lena and Rob adjusted themselves, Table felt it.

  Table wanted to scream until his vocal cord ruptured.

  Stop grinding against me!

  [New Weight Detected. Endurance Training Resumed.]

  Oh. OH. NEVERMIND.

  I LOVE GETTING BUTTOCKS GROUND AGAINST MY FACE.

  The couple grew more enthusiastic.

  [+1 END]

  YES.

  [+1 END]

  YESSSS.

  Table had never felt more alive.

  The rest of what happened should be best left unspoken, but the stats change was forever etched into his memory.

  [+1 END] – The weight. The pressure. The sheer force. He is a big boy now.

  [+1 STR] – His body has been tempered in the fires of passion.

  [+3 PER] – Wait. PER? What the hell is PER?

  As the couple returned to their room, Table thought long and hard about what PER can represent. Perseverance? Perturbation? Perishability?

  Then, slowly, horrifyingly, understanding dawned upon him.

  Perception.

  Oh no.

  OH NO.

  He had seen things. Things that could never be unseen. Things that had seared themselves into the very grain of his existence. The way Lena’s hair fell over her shoulder. The hitch in Rob’s breath. The look in their eyes.

  He was forever changed.

  But at least he had gotten stats out of it.

  Now that Table had gained enough stats, he felt something. It was subtle at first—like a tiny ripple in a still pond. A strange, foreign sensation ran through his wooden frame. Like a scratch from the paw of a cat.

  Wait.

  He focused. His legs, normally stiff and lifeless, felt just a little… less rigid. Not enough to move, but enough to twitch.

  Oh!

  He willed himself to move again. One leg nudged; barely, imperceptibly. But it happened.

  He was evolving.

  He would no longer be just a table. He would be a humping table.

  NameTableRaceAnimated Furniture (Table)CssNoneLevel1EXP5/10HP6/6MP0STR3END5AGI14PER4SkillsNone