Battle Royale w. Cheese! Turn 2.3 - Bulma and 18 (Wetshirt Waterpark) (Patreon)

> USE THE CHANGING ROOMS!

Bulma and 18’s feet slapped against the slabs as they strolled through the labyrinth of gurgling pipes and hissing tanks.

“What kind of waterpark is this?” said 18, looking around as they walked. “It's more like a chemical plant than a waterpark.”

“Who cares about the park?” said Bulma. “They’re making us visit the changing rooms! Doesn’t that bother you?”

18 shrugged. “Maybe they’ll have a change of outfits for us.” She tugged at her sodden t-shirt and released it with a splotch.

“That’s what I’m worried about!” said Bulma. “First bikinis, then wet t-shirts. What’s next on the list?” She shuddered.

Rounding the corner, they found their destination: a squat concrete building with a drab wooden door. ‘CHANGING ROOMS!’ read the sign above the entrance. ‘WARNING: HAZARDOUS MATERIALS’ read the sign on the door.

The two of them stopped. “Do we have to go in there?” said Bulma.

Experimentally, 18 turned and tried to walk away. She made it two steps before her Collar beeped and she found herself turned around, forced three steps back again. “...Yes.”

The door opened with a creak, revealing little more than darkness. 18 thought she heard scuttling somewhere in its depths.

“Is there a light switch?” asked Bulma.

18 fumbled at the wall until– CLICK! Lights flickered on, revealing a harsh metal chamber lined with rusted lockers on one side and poorly-assembled cubicles on the other. At the far end of the room, a sign pointed them to the showers. The air stank of chlorine and despair.

“Great,” said Bulma. “Isn’t this place lovely?” Sighing, she looked around. “What now?” she asked. “What do they want us to do here?”

“We could check the lockers for weapons,” said 18, wrenching one open to find a single moldy shoe. “Or maybe there’s something in the showers?” She marched to the end of the room and poked her head around the corner.

The showers didn’t look much nicer than the rest of the changing rooms. Dull metal showerheads sprouted from the walls like artificial mushrooms, their pipes bent at eerie angles. Liquid dripped from their holes–not water, 18 noticed. No, water didn’t come in quite so many colors. One seeped red, one blue, and one green.

As the two stepped inside and looked around, 18 heard a sound like a thousand leathery wings flapping, followed by footsteps.

“Oh,” said someone, in the kind of tone one normally reserves for vermin and the lower classes. “Nyou’re in here.”

18 and Bulma whirled to find themselves staring at a pale, red-eyed catgirl in a black and crimson bikini.

She sighed. “I wanted to avoid an awkward meeting like this. I’m not allowed to hunt nyou yet, so…” She groaned. “Ugh, dealing with people is such a pain… Maybe I should just end nyou.” Her pupils tightened into slits.

As 18 raised her hands to fight, her Collar beeped.