After a man is stabbed in the back and dies, he wakes up in the Labyrinth with a new body, new power, and another chance.

This story takes place in the same universe as my story Invoker.

"Desert Valley's different," she said.

The Dead Pixel Society

© 2026 Zoë Taylor

“Sure, as long as it’s not about my eye,” she shot back playfully. He turned to look at her. She smirked back at him. “It was a joke. What’s your question?”

Monday, July 17, my bed-mate was just the doll again. I spent the day back out at well 2 again, but we resolved the problem that day and so they had me take Tuesday off. Since I felt like I had been neglecting her, I focused on dreaming about Victoria that night. Being Victoria had been awkward when I was working, and I’d had other priorities the last two weekends, so this was the first day that was convenient to bring her back since I’d figured out I had some control.

Chapter Ten

Taylor’s heart was pounding.

He knew that Anna would be on the other side of the house, since she would be the one answering the door, but that didn’t account for her friend(s). Based on his experiences returning from practice on the nights where Sarah had company over, he was assuming it would be the two or three usual girls that were around. They could just as easily be in the living room or Sarah’s bedroom, meaning he could also run into them in just about any hallway or the stairwell leading to the second floor.

I sit in the Target parking lot for four minutes before I go in.

The calculation happens here, in the car, engine off. I'm going to walk into the store and go to the women's section and stand in front of a wall of sports bras and buy one. More than one, ideally. I know what I'm looking for in general terms. I don't know my chest measurement. I know I take a large men's shirt. I don't know if that translates to anything in the women's activewear section of a Target.

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Chapter 60: Truths at the Table

The shift from the backyard to the house felt surreal. The evening air still clung to their skin, carrying the faint scent of smoke and grass as they left the chaos of the yard behind. Every step through the threshold felt like crossing a border between worlds—outside, the rawness of magic and fear; inside, the muted hush of ordinary life, untouched, waiting for them.

This is the first of a currently 2 part story which will be continuing on my patreon. Subscribe for updates, and for the latest chapters!

https://www.patreon.com/SissyGirlSammi/

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‘Boring’ sounds bad until you realize how insane ‘exciting’ can get.

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of a villainess, facing the end of a doomed route he himself wrote, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amelia quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance, and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she never even thought about. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system, or the demon that forced her into this situation to begin with...

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed... but surely she can come up with a way to write herself out of that, right?

...Right?

Chapter 9

When we went to school on the Sunday, we took both cars. Now that I was independent, I wanted to visit my own parents when I could. Our room was now totally redecorated, with neutral walls and a red, white, and blue cornice at the ceiling join.

After a man is stabbed in the back and dies, he wakes up in the Labyrinth with a new body, new power, and another chance.

This story takes place in the same universe as my story Invoker.

It may sound strange but I recommend you not to read parts 3 and 4 of this story.
Part 3 is only half decent while part 4 is way too confusing for readers. I had great fun writing these parts though. A classic example of self-indulgence.
I did consider pulling these parts but decided to let them stay as a reminder that I should stick to short stories.
So once again. Unless you actually like to be confused, don’t read parts 3 and 4.

Wychwood Day Seven

Early Morning

One

Sandy stirred in his sleep, disturbed by something. He groaned, desperate to get back to his dream. It had been so vivid, so real; he reached down to his groin and was almost disappointed to find his cock. His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, no doubt from all he had drunk with Annabelle and Fleur. A headache pounded behind his eyes, and he reluctantly dragged them open, groaning aloud before reaching for the glass of water he had left on the bedside table.