Becoming Monsters

When Honoka stepped out of the van into a cold September Norwood morning, her first thought was that she craved chapstick. Norwood was humid, less than an hour’s drive from the beach with muggy summers and frosty winters. She’d lived here for eight years, lived in Florida for the other nineteen: humidity was her natural state of being. And Norwood reached eighty percent some days. However, after living in Harvardtown for only a few weeks, already she had grown used to a constant one hundred percent saturation down there. Norwood was as arid as the Sahara on both pairs of her lips. Honoka smacked those lips as she closed the van door and walked to the building that used to be named Solomon’s.

“This is a mistake,” Diane grumbled, adjusting her new bra underneath the elegant - if inexpensive - muumuu she wore. The bra had been fitted yesterday, but the pregnant succubus had been fiddling with it the entire drive up here, leaving everything skewampus. The muumuu was a collection of bright colors, like a Jerry Garcia watercolor themed in reds and greens, matching her hair, wings and tail. Clothing was stylishly paired with a simple red purse hanging off one shoulder. Pregnant she might be, but at that moment she appeared regal standing in a parking lot lit with the predawn.

“Grumpy much?” Honoka snarked, holding back a yawn.

Diane shot out a Preggo Glare™, then sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, spent hours on the phone yesterday with an Enchanter trying to invent a replacement for Hunger Boxes. Sarah - her name is Sarah, works for a guild in Seattle - was like talking to an eight year old genius hyped up on twenty pounds of sugary candy. I wanted to help, but she asked the most random questions on top of each other. I’ve been in orgies less exhausting than talking to her.”

“Did she get what she wanted?” Honoka was understandably curious, thinking her own children might have to use Hunger Boxes in their future.

“I think? She’s still in the preliminary stages, but she ordered one of my hunger potions and I’ll ship it when I have time. If I can help, it could change the world in a few years for all young demonics.”

“Why am I here again?” Miaka asked as she stretched and yawned, finally roused from her seat in the van and joining the other women. A few small feathers shook loose when she flapped to wake herself up after an hour and a half drive. Normally an energetic drill sergeant whipping all the wives onto treadmills and weight benches, the owl woman was beat after returning from a delve a few minutes before the three left for topside. With no sleep and still wearing delving gear, the Japanese fighter nursed her second bottle of warm holstaur milk to stay awake.

“Nobody does anything alone,” Honoka said, leading the three women to the front doors. Honoka’s clothing appeared formal, the black on black of her kimono top tucked into a hakama, looking dignified even if it appeared foreign. Only someone familiar with Japanese culture would notice the clothing was too small for Honoka. Also, that this uniform was designed for a martial artist and not a formal occasion. Her feet couldn’t fit into the tabi style shoes, so they were cut to look more like an open toe sandal. Overall, the black half Asian woman appeared strange yet not unprofessional.

“I mean, I get nobody should go alone anywhere after the attack, but why am I here? Wouldn’t some wife who hadn’t pulled an all nighter in a Floor requiring us to swim for six hours make more sense?” Miaka chugged the rest of the bottle, tossing it towards a nearby trash can next to the door. Bouncing off the rim, the plastic bottle landed on the floor. Miaka glared at it, but didn’t go to pick it up.

“You aren’t here to fight, you are here to look dangerous.” Diane gave Miaka an appreciative glance up and down, nodding absently as she placed her hand inside her purse and fingered something there. “If intimidation doesn’t work, your job is to get me out of the building while Honoka does the fighting.”

“Hope it doesn’t come to that,” Honoka mumbled, opening the doors to the newly refurbished and rebranded Healthy Priorities, a complete gym, spa and brothel experience catering to the Greater Boston area.

********************

The monster attack five days ago was largely ignored by officials of Harvardtown, much to the annoyance and outright rage of Honoka. It was explained to her in bureaucratic detail that the residents of Harvardtown were responsible for their own safety and security and any actions require filling out the proper forms before their case would be reviewed in six to eight months.

It took all the willpower Honoka possessed to not allocate, grab the fat man by the neck and find out how far she could toss the unhelpful government worker.

Fortunately, the family survived relatively unharmed. A squad of redcaps made it into the building, but a quick acting Aruna grabbed his sword and a bandoleer of potions and stood in front of the doorway leading to the bath with all the incapacitated wives, a respectable pile of bodies dead at his feet. Aunt Shilo and Uncle Aki hadn’t even noticed anything was happening until the dinosaur roared, running outside after everything ended and helped take care of the injured women. Kenneth had on headphones and didn’t even notice the roar (his hearing was beastkin enhanced, requiring earphones mystically enchanted to cancel out all sound).

In the morning, the family walked the compound and made a detailed assessment of the collateral destruction. The final damage was tallied and Honoka’s respect for Arun Nair’s geomancer skills grew tenfold. Outside of the torn up and cratered open ground in the courtyard and the loss of their plywood gate, the buildings suffered minimal harm. From all the shaking and pressure waves, a lot of books fell out of bookshelves and paintings fell off walls, but very few things actually toppled or broke. While the courtyard was a mess, after a few hours of cleaning the home was back to livable.

For the moment safe and sound, the family then had an emergency meeting to plan out what they needed to do next. It was decided - with oblique language to account for children in the meeting - that the family was on their own and Honoka needed to harmonize as much as possible to get every woman there as many points so that the next attack would be a cake walk. For once, Honoka didn’t buck at the idea and instead suggested it. Everyone she cared about almost died in front of her eyes and she had been unable to stop it. Random chance and a massive octopus saved their lives, not Honoka. To make sure that never happened again, the former architect was fiercely determined to put aside her reservations and bow chika wow wow.

Sauce the roast beef sandwich.

Plumb the pink palace.

Get her groove on like a talking llama.

Get it on she did. Increasing the intake from her massive morning meals, Honoka put the O back in orgasm and aggressively pleasured her women. It reached the point where the wives sparkled an exhausted glint of fear in their eyes, sometimes hiding themselves in odd places around the complex just so their holes could get a little rest between climaxes.

On Wednesday, four women woke up shouting all at once, the strange pregnancy effects of Honoka’s Race reaching full term. With some difficulty, all four women were brought to Akisame’s clinic (the nickname given the dry witted doctor’s room of magical diagnostics) and tests were conducted. The results were all rather unexpected and Diane made sure to record the new Status developments with absolutely zero schadenfreude.

Despite being present for every single delve the guild made, Quinn hadn’t concerned herself with leveling. She was more focused on keeping everyone safe and completing the ticket objectives, only bumping up three levels. Her latest Class Feature, Pact Infusion, allowed one of her summon bugs to suck her blood, supercharging the infernal insect at the cost of HP. She put her bonus attribute points into Agility and Charisma, respectfully.

Quinn was pregnant with twins, and while she didn’t gain much more of a waistline than Diane, one of the children was a golem type. She gained nearly three hundred pounds (136 kg) all settling into her stomach. The other child was unnaturally strong, so even with her added weight she occasionally flew into the air as a single kick would launch her in any direction. Only high attributes allowed her to move around at all, though she was covered in bruises and getting up after one of her fetal flights took her a couple of minutes of grunting.

The little goblin woman was so focused on school, she barely left the house to do anything. This led to her Intelligence rising by two points naturally, though she got enough fighting in for one level and a new Class Feature. Dreadnought was a powerful ability for brawlers: for a few seconds a woman became an unstoppable force breaking all laws of physical momentum.

Eve had triplets, each one an abnormally large size. The goblin’s womb wasn’t just stretching her stomach out a little bit, her tummy ballooned four times as large as the rest of the goblin. Completely immobile, the small girl shrugged and took it like a champ, moving her computer to her bed and deciding to try to finish the semester early. One of her children possessed fire magic, though, so occasionally a gout of fire flared out of her pussy, forcing the family to fireproof her room as well as concoct salves of fire resistance for Honoka’s dick.

When Padmava wasn’t frantically sewing and altering the clothing of a family constantly changing their shapes and sizes, the naga mother was taking her children into the jungles surrounding Harvardtown and leveling them in the relative safety of the third Floor. This allowed her to level her own Class, her knowledge of effective leveling almost as comprehensive as her late husband. Predictably, she put her two bonus points into Health. For her Class, Battle Awareness allowed her to turn barriers into remote viewing screens, each barrier able to act as both camera and TV with one another.

Padmava would have also had triplets, but after she announced she used the stored semen from her surprise copulation last month (naga biology strange and too much like a snake’s), she was pregnant with quadruplets. In terms of volume, she was as large as Eve, her stomach stretching her scales to the point that the skin underneath became exposed, pale pink striping her abdomen. Her snake biology also affected her children, each child currently incubating inside a large egg inside Pad’s womb. Akisame didn’t have an answer whether the children would be hatched inside or outside of her body, other cases of pregnant nagas having gone both ways.

Whether as a healer or the designated Penis Blesser, Banda gained levels hand over three-fingered fist, taking those eight bonus Attribute points and putting them right into Wisdom. However, Banda also milked herself dry and ran herself to physical extremes trying and keep the failing expenses of the family afloat, using milk blessings too often without enough food. She lost three points of Health and a few hundred pounds before putting those pounds back on with her pregnancy. The massive amount of Class Features she chose included Sustaining - the longer a blessing is activated, the stronger the effect, but at the cost of more MP - Harvest Home - can now dedicate a building to Teteoh, which becomes a sanctuary with special magical effects - and Wheat To Tares - gains the ability to switch blessings into curses, gaining attack magics.

Banda was both the least extreme and the most extreme with her baby. Pregnant with only one child, the large woman gained a waist comparable to a normal woman only six months pregnant, just a small bump compared to the unreal proportions of the other wives. However, it appeared as if this child generated the same thaumian readings as Diane’s kid and was more intense in how it kicked. An air elemental of some sort, Banda’s stomach would randomly expand to five or even ten times its size, followed by a blast of air queefing out of her vagina with enough strength to knock the mighty holstaur off of her feet. However, if that was all she went through Banda would have gotten off lucky.

All of the breasts of all the wives grew in some way as they filled with milk in preparation for the upcoming births. Banda’s breasts did more than just gain a few inches, her breasts tripled in size. After a quick conference call with Aunt Cholena - who immediately announced she would be moving down there to help out - it was discovered that a holstaur’s boobs grew when they were pregnant proportional to the thaumian levels of the child. Typically, it was only a few inches. The holstaur matriarch warned that Banda’s milk production was about to increase dramatically, though she couldn’t begin to guess by how much. During her next milking, the girls discovered Banda now produced five times as much milk as she previously produced, the cream a light yellow in color and thicker and heavier. They sold out of that batch in less than an hour with people camping outside for more later, preggo holstaur milk apparently a delicacy.

While not as high a level as Banda, alchemists were notoriously difficult to level. There were currently only six in the world over level twenty and no alchemist was anywhere near level thirty. Gaining four levels in a week wasn’t just difficult, it showed Diane spent most of her time in her lab these days. In fact, every conjugal visit Honoka made for the succubus coitused in that lab. Sex became an interesting logistical problem each time as they tried not to bump or spill anything while the succubus screamed harder mommy!

Two interesting potions she developed and gained a level when finished was a concentrated protein and hormone concoction that was the secret behind her recent increase of Strength. The second was finally creating a potion allowing someone with a Race to spend an hour as a normal human.

She put her points into her Intelligence, Chrysopoeia allowed her to substitute certain ingredients into her potions. Target Elixir created a potion with twice the potency, but it only worked on a single person it was specifically brewed for.

Diane had adjusted to pregnant life, little changing from the previous activities she did normally. Despite being an outrageous flirt, the succubus was actually a reserved woman who liked her private time. Anyone else would find alchemy for hours on end boring. The ability to start and complete something calmed the emotionally broken woman and gave her peace. She was now eating a quart of ice cream every day, but figured that was just what pregnancy does to a woman. Never mind Akisame told her this wasn’t the case.

Training all the women every morning in combat and leading them in exercising routines - while also delving as much as Quinn - Miaka hadn’t gained many levels. The final tally was a slight increase to fifteen and earning the Gyroscopic Feature, which allowed her to lock an object in a specific distance from herself and spin that object in an orbit around her.

However, on the Harmony side, the owl woman was driven and insatiable. Fully half of the sexual encounters since Sunday were with Miaka, the woman like a ninja sneaking onto Honoka and orgasm the poor woman nearly to death from every available place around the compound. Honoka discovered crawl spaces in the ceilings, tiny closets in most hallways, a storage compartment underneath Padmava’s bed. None of the other girls were safe, either. Banda discovered she enjoyed watching kinky sex while milking, but the rest were content to grab popcorn and cheer the bird on. These activities gave Miaka a natural plus one to her Endurance while accumulating eleven Harmony levels.

On Monday Honoka sat down with Miaka and opened the Harmony menu for the first time, gathering all the data on Miaka’s options for when they spent these points. It was during this session that Honoka learned what exactly a kikiyaon was and why Miaka didn’t talk much about her Race. Kikiyaon may appear like owls, but they had more in common with vampires than other Races. Not the undeath thing, but the Racial abilities and options made it clear kikiyaon gained power from devouring souls of monsters and people. Miaka was always reminded of this fact because her eyes spied HP on a person, essentially telling her how close a person was to death.

Ergo, most of Miaka’s Racial options involved how those souls were used to terrible effects. In a fit of desperation, the poor woman begged to have her points spent on a Race change. There were two choices: Alghul and Phoenix (the third was the weird god option, Zhūquè Abdicates His Celestial Throne Of The Sì Xiàng, three thousand points). Alghul embraced the soul sucking part of the talent tree and cost ten points, the Phoenix option delving more into the bird. The problem was that the Phoenix option was fifty points. Combined with a slew of nerve and brain damage from her time in the MMA totaling twenty-five points, just those two options were already seventy-five points. Which led to Miaka becoming Honoka’s most frequent cuddle buddy. Diane collected all this information and Honoka closed the menu, giving the poor girl a single point of Intelligence.

Dolly was driven in a completely different way. Sex remained difficult for her and every session was with one or two other wives to help her through it. However, she appeared to not need or want sleep, spending every waking moment possible to grind out another level deep in the bowels of the dungeon. Going with the wives, going solo, hitching a ride with Carnival, Dolly forced her levels into the stratosphere, lending credence to the theory that being collected by Honoka really did give the girls a leveling boost. Also, still recovering from her ordeal, eating right, exercising, Dolly regained weight and Attributes lost from her imprisonment. Two Strength, one Endurance, one Perception, one Wisdom, then putting eight points into Perception and four points into her Luck from the twelve levels she gained. Her new Class Features included Flat Earth - the ability to visually ignore the curvature of the earth - Imbue Arrows - can spend MP to give arrows a magical effect - Lure - an activated ability drawing aggro from a single target - and Refining Hunter - increasing the thaumian content of harvested materials from monsters and dungeons at the cost of Stamina.

After sorting through the options with Miaka on Monday, Dolly was next and Diane recorded everything. The young girl didn’t have as many physical problems as Miaka had, but her mental PTSD would cost sixteen points while vaginal nerve damage cost another three points. There were a few Racial Features that interested the cheetaur, finding them online and matching them to Honoka’s menus, included a telescopic sight called Eyes Of The Sierra and the ability to track a person or monster called Marked By Rakeesh.

Dolly also made an interesting observation, noting that the most powerful weapons the family possessed were the Racial features rather than straight points in allocation. This echoed what Honoka already theorized, but it lead Dolly wanting to save her points for the extremely expensive Racial option of Sphinx, costing a whopping ninety points. There was a moment of ick when Honoka read off the god option, Wresting The Spear Of Execution From Mafdet’s Hands And Delivering Her Heart To The Gods, two thousand points. Honoka ended the session by putting a point in Perception.

After the whirlwind of points and harmonizing, Honoka made a decision when she woke up early Friday morning, checking her Status before getting ready to meet with Chastity in a few hours.

The glitch was back, and no matter how many times she opened and closed her Status, it stayed glitchy. Honoka couldn’t do anything with it, couldn’t open menus on it or anything, but it was there. Ignoring the glitch, she was otherwise unreasonably frightened to spend her bonus points or look through her Class Feature options, terrified she would have to make a choice that could ruin her life or the lives of her wives. She hadn’t forgotten how her choices with her Class were narrowing more and more into the devil’s trap.

Her fears were beside the point, pushing those problems aside as well. Plenty of Harmony points to spend. After discussing the particulars of her powers with Uncle Aki, it was decided yesterday the family was having a giant allocation party tonight. To prepare, everyone would peruse all of Diane’s notes and prepare a list of options they wanted spent, otherwise Honoka would make executive decisions and she really didn’t want to do that. It was her Class, but this was about each of her loving wives. Some of the talk suggested most of the girls were going to change Race, the kind of commitment that would affect how they spent the rest of their lives. Honoka didn’t even want to be part of the discussions, trying her best to allow each woman to make a choice without her influence.

Number one on the list of concerns Honoka had was if harmonizing would harm the babies. Akisame said no, even running diagnostics - Diane volunteered - and dropped one point of Perception to the succubus’ pool. Not only was the baby completely isolated inside the womb, but that single point spiked the thaumian levels of the child enough that the uncle doctor declared harmonizing pregnant women would shave years off reaching a thaumian threshold.

United in their need to get these babies out, the wives announced that harmonization couldn’t happen fast enough.

********************

Which brought Honoka, Diane and Miaka back to Friday morning and the meeting with Chastity.

“This is…different,” Honoka stated, remembering the last time she was here and the elegant gothic vibe emanating from the massive themed brothel.

“Smells the same,” Diane muttered, dealing with cramps and unimpressed, clearly wanting to get it over with. Miaka didn’t say anything, keeping a gruff eye out.

Healthy Priorities was good branding that implied a gym not so focused on making muscle heads, instead catering to well-being. The interior matched what the name advertised, two thirds of the giant warehouse now open in the center with platforms encased in glass lining three walls and rising into the air for three floors. Shiny steel, thick windows, brightly colored plastic under indirect lighting: it was clean, ultramodern and expensive. Everywhere, gym equipment of all shapes and sizes, aerobics classes, a lap pool in one corner and a whole section dedicated to massage tables and mud baths. The cost to utilize magical crafting or high level Classes to finish all this renovation in the unbelievable short time must have been astronomical.

It also wasn’t subtle about the sex, either. The uniforms personal trainers wore retained as much fabric as a pair of tissues. Succubi, kitsune, jorougumo, fauns, nymphs, vampires, aelfs, dwarfs and a bunch of vanilla humans for flavor. Majority were demonics, such as a pair of karackts in leather, a few balar leading aerobic classes, a glasya receptionist taking people’s money. Every so often another of the more obscure Races poked its head out - was that a babau at the buffet? - catering to the fetish or curious, Honoka was sure. There were even a few angelics, though they appeared to be here as customers. Regardless of the race, though, the overall theme was sex and fitness. Honoka drooled a bit seeing a purple slime girl assisting a John with dumbbells. The total amount of exposed cleavage in the building was enough to drown in.

From what Honoka understood, since the Change, prostitution wasn’t only a service anymore. With the number of Races that required physical sexual feedings (or other tangent energies) - like Diane - or were driven to instinctual sexual release - like Honoka - brothels were no longer debauchery clinics. Eh, no longer just debauchery clinics. Today, a place like Healthy Priorities was more akin to a whole foods market: it was pricey and catered to specific crowds, and some people could only get their dietary needs met at one.

At least, that’s how the civil rights and lobbyist groups described them. To Honoka, there was still an intimacy inherent in the act. No matter how enticing this place appeared, she was uncomfortable. So when a toned and sensual man sauntered up, wearing only a bright red thong, she yelped a little. Fortunately, they were in a secluded spot away from any other people at the moment, so Honoka didn’t feel too embarrassed.

“Welcome to Healthy Priorities, the only place where all your physical goals can be reached. Can I…?” Breaking from his spiel, the man’s eyes bugged out while staring at Honoka’s pregnant wife. “Diane? Is that you?”

“Brad,” Diane replied dryly, giving the chiseled sculpture of male yummy a once over and smiling hungrily. “You look good. Have you been working out?”

“I…” Running a hand through artfully tousled brown hair, two tiny horns poked from underneath his bangs. A dark blue tail swung behind him, yet he otherwise showed no other Racial cues. “Am I allowed to ask about when your due date is, or is that rude?”

“You’re not allowed to bring up the subject, it is totally rude.” Diane smiled and went in for a friendly hug and a chaste kiss. “However, because I know you don’t possess any tact, the baby is a Legendary and my due date is sometime in the next decade.”

Even though it only came off as a greeting between friends, Honoka had to smash down the sudden possessive fire of jealousy inside, reminding herself that Diane loved her and also had dietary needs.

“That sucks. I guess…I’m sorry and congratulations?” Smiling a radiant crooked smile, the mostly-naked man laughed and noticed the rest of the party. “I won’t even ask about how you got so big in only a month. I’m guessing Status problems, but is the father anyone I know? Maybe that Councilman I’m not supposed to…”

When Honoka brushed bangs out of her eyes, something in the motion - or whatever Brad noticed - clicked behind his turquoise eyes. Inhaling sharply, he quickly backed away and tripped, scrambling in an awkward crab before his back hit the glass wall of one of the empty sales offices.

Diane figured out what was going on and sharply snapped to Miaka. “Make sure he doesn’t escape.” Her voice became ice, reaching into her bag and pulling out a vial with a pitch black liquid inside. Striding to the office door and striding inside, she closed the blinds before either of the other women reacted.

“Please, no!” Brad pleaded as Miaka roughly picked him up and threw him into the room.

Honoka was a bit slow on the uptake, thinking something in the air was messing with her head, but she pulled it together and entered the room last, closing the door behind her. Glancing towards Diane, the half-African woman quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know how, but sometime somewhere I’m betting Mr. Male Succubus here touched your skin.” Diane popped the cork of the vial and a foul smell accompanied a hissing as she carefully held it over Brad’s face. “His Class allows him to read a person’s Status if he touches them, even hidden details about Race and Class Features.” She grabbed his face with her hand and brought the vial down to eye level. “Which is why I know he now knows I’m not some low level herbalist anymore and this potion will be more than enough to dissolve any evidence of his body.”

Honoka didn’t think of herself as an evil person, and she wasn’t planning on killing a man purely for knowing her secrets, but her face hardened into grim resolution. Because depending on what Brad said, it could mean trouble for her family, and that might be enough justification to hurt a frightened male succubus. It terrified her that she was becoming capable of making these decisions.

“Talk,” Honoka said, leaning forward and folding her arms. Her hard-boiled act was marred when she forgot about her new breasts, getting in the way of intimidating arm folding.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear!” He visibly sweat, gulping for air while his dry mouth tried to talk. “When you came in last month and killed Solomon, you transformed into some kind of monster. You were moving so fast through the hallway I barely saw you. I couldn’t move out of the way. You hit me, knocked me into the stairs and broke my arm. When I learned what you were, I told Chastity. She swore me to secrecy and showed me a photo so I could be on the lookout for you. That’s all, I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

The pathetic man was about ready to piss himself, his entire body shaking with fear, his eyes locked on the bubbling black brew in Diane’s fingers. Honoka looked to Diane, who shrugged minutely and pulled the potion away, carefully corking the vial. Miaka dropped the guy and the three woman stood around him as he sobbed into a fetal position.

“I like to think of myself as a Christian,” Honoka stated, leading her wives to the door of the office. “Don’t give me any reason to come back and tie up a loose end.” Walking out, the three purposefully walked across the floor towards the back rooms of the warehouse.

“That was cold,” Miaka said, her voice low enough to keep it between them. “You ok?”

“I want to go home and cry into a someone’s arms while eating chocolate and watching Ghostbusters.” Honoka discretely wiped her eyes with the hem of her kimono. “Lets just get this done so I can find a bucket to puke into.”

The path to Chastity’s office was familiar, transcending up elegant stairs in a wide hallway leading to a string of rooms ending in a broad pair of doors. Honoka knew this place. The doors new, but she remembered bulldozing inside and meeting Chastity for the first time when Honoka picked the succubus up and thrust her through the second set of doors leading directly to Solomon Church.

Miaka took the lead, opening the doors for the other wives, leading into the secretary’s office. Or personal assistant, Honoka never cared about being PC. Instead of just one, there were two women in desks sitting across each other. The room had lost its old world charm, now as modern as the rest of the building. Both assistants wore headsets and absolutely nothing else, typing and chatting on their phones. Both conversations sounding like the kinds of customer service calls a person would make to a brothel.

“Yes, we do have women with breasts that size. Would you like her in light or dark skin?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, we’ll be sure to get you and your wife a refund for your orgy package.”

Shaking her head, Honoka pulled her eyes away from the two bombshells with difficulty. One was a succubus with short brown hair and prominent red horns, her small breasts taut and perky. The other was a Hispanic woman with two fox tails, fox ears and a glowing aura around her, larger breasts perfect natural teardrops on darker skin. Both also had their legs crossed under the glass desks they sat at, but every few seconds they would uncross and recross in unison, Basic Instincting the crap out of Honoka.

The kitsune didn’t stop talking into her headset, casually hitting a buzzer and motioned towards the other door, uncrossing her legs one last time with a winning smile.

Diane rolled her eyes, shoving the doors open and entering the office, the wives following close behind, both randy from the short show.

This office also completely changed, the entire room structured and decorated different when Honoka was here last. The cabinet where the Contracts had been kept was now walled off with a closed door. The other side of the room expanded into a large bay window open the distant Boston skyline and a gorgeous sunrise. There was a desk with three broad computer screens balancing against a large bed with some chains and whips arrayed on a nearby table. There weren’t any chairs to receive guests and there wasn’t any Chastity.

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Diane announced when it was clear nobody was in the room. “I am not playing these games no matter how much I want your sword back.”

From behind the door to the side, a toilet flushed. Seconds after running water was heard, the door opened and Chastity slutted into the room. It was an apt description, purple leather corset and matching thong striking against pale, creamy skin. Long, violet hair cascaded around her neck and pooled atop her left breast, pushed up cleavage somewhere in the F cup range. Black wings rose behind her in a more demonic fashion that Diane’s, sharper, with enough spread for twice the wingspan. Her black horns and tail, though, were about the same size and shape as other succubi. The last defining features were feet and lower legs shaped into massive claws, like the monstrous limbs of a gargoyle. The woman didn’t try to hide anything, presenting herself as a temptress of the Inferno.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter her, Honoka thought, paraphrasing Dante. The warning remained applicable as the greater succubus grinned far too widely for a human mouth, teeth the serrated triangles of a shark.