Becoming Monsters 1: Ch. 13 (Patreon)

Becoming Monsters Chapter 13: First Comes Marriage

     Honoka felt like a boxer preparing for round two, gulping half the water before pouring the rest of it onto her salty face. Diane completed the metaphor by rubbing Honoka’s sore shoulders as she nudged the tired woman across the suite to Banda’s room, the succubus’ horns gently brushing into tangled raven hair.

     “Never thought I'd say it, but this girl might be even shyer than you.” Diane dug her thumbs in now, pushing a moan right out of the black woman. “We agreed to try something. Her breasts are firm yet supple and made to be womanhandled. Also, once I pulled her out of those overalls, well, they are more significant than they appeared. She wants to see if a titjob will be enough to initiate your Class. As a precaution, I'll stay in the room to adjust her arousal levels and caress a wand over her underwear. If it doesn't work, we’ll move to plan B, but I'm curious to see if the experiment is a success for future recruiting. Oh, and no dirty talk using or referring to milk, it's a sensitive subject.” The succubus walked around Honoka, putting her hand on the door and giving the black woman an appreciative glance. “On the plus side, your aura has doubled in size and it looks like you don't need any warming up.”

     “As a certain animated German scientist once said, my penis can only get so erect.” Honoka wiped a bit of drool off her chin and leered at Diane. “I missed what you said after titjob. I have been waiting for this all day.”

     “Wait, are you…?” Diane scrunched her brow and bent forward, studying Honoka’s face. “I know you like big boobs and muscles, but do you find Banda hotter than me?!”

     Honoka smiled, kissing Diane’s puffed face and then patted her on the cheek. “I love you.” Then the half-asian stepped around the succubus and opened the door.

     “That is not an answer!” Diane hissed at Honoka’s back, unbuttoning another button on her straining shirt and following. “I am a literal sex demon, men and women pay thousands of dollars to see me naked!” She rambled on, muttering under her breath.

     Honoka chuckled a bit until the bed came in view and she saw Banda. The minotauress had crawled under the covers and held the blanket over her chest. For all her size, she looked like a mouse facing a hungry cat and pulled the blanket further up when she noticed the two women. The bed was too small for all that anthro bovine, her hooves hanging off the edge. Her white and brown fur glistened, the room smelling of lavender shampoo, even the small white horns curling out of her temples looked polished all the way to their black tips. Her exposed skin - skin not covered in fur or underwear - blushed beet red.

     “Hey,” Honoka said, trying for casual. Banda didn't say anything for a whole minute, forcing a hard breath out of Honoka as she scratched her head. “It isn't too late if you want to back out, no hard feelings.”

     “No!” Banda cried, startling the other two women. “I mean, no, please um…” With a determined huff, Banda closed her eyes and threw the blanket to the floor. “I need this. Please.”

     Honoka drooled again. Propped against some pillows and the headboard, the only clothing the minotauress wore was a small pair of gray boy shorts. Watching that blanket come off was like watching Chris Evanns emerging out of the vita-rays chamber for the lesbian inclined. Bulging and rippling lacked enough meaning to express how absolutely massive her muscles swolled. Her shoulders were almost as broad as the bed, her neck completely engulfed in traps as thick as Honoka’s leg. Her upper arms looked around fifty inches - at least - and the rest of her body was similarly proportioned. Her abdomen wasn't the neat six-pack of a Hollywood starlet, it curved outward as if there wasn't enough space for all the musculature to fit. Those thighs must have registered for their own zip code, the torn side seams of the boy shorts testament enough that even her own underwear had difficulty getting past her tree trunks without splitting.

     Veins as thick as a finger throbbed all over tight skin, her fur short and fine enough it might as well be a coat of paint, none of the details missing. The fur covered her head and shoulders, going partway down the arms and just cover her back before coming back around the thighs and covering most of her legs, growing thicker and longer past the knees. The rest of Banda was a pink (at the moment, red) translucent skin that looked like the softest material in the world.

     Previously with Eve, trying for professional, Honoka resisted taking it all in. Now, dripping precum onto the carpet, she almost came from the sight alone of naked bovine body. Everything about the huge heifer ticked her fetish boxes, though the main event were those breasts. Not even breasts: juggs. Teardropping to the sides a little, their sheer mass brought them together in a pink cleavage only a single shade lighter than the rest of her skin. Blue veins visibly pumping blood all along the surface, the vascular tempo was hypnotic to Honoka. The nipples were human-shaped but six inches long and so thick Honoka wasn't sure she could wrap around them with only one hand, a bumpy and domed areola the size of a dinner plate framing each. Those sweater stretcher jigglejogglers weighed around a hundred and fifty pounds together, that's how big they were, and Honoka’s hands twitched to grab them.

     If I lost some weight, I might be a boob! Honoka thought, crawling onto the bed and standing between Banda’s spread legs. This put her at the perfect height to step forward and enter Breast World.

     *splirt*

     “Gonna need lots of lube,” Diane said from the side of the bed, reaching up and drizzling it all over the minotauress’ chest, who yelped and tried to squirm away. The succubus now only wore a black bra, thong and garters holding her stockings, and if she thrust her own chest out a bit or squeezed the bottle a bit too hard, maybe Diane seemed a little jealous. Honoka rolled her eyes, making a mental note to give her some special attention later.

     “It's cold!” Banda complained as she glared at the succubus, who glared back. 

     Honoka decided to stop anything from starting and reached out, working her hands into tit-flesh and spreading the oil all around. “Then let me warm that up for you.” The promise of softness was met and exceeded, Honoka’s hands rubbing and kneading and grabbing every part, only occasionally working around the nipple without actually touching it yet. What she wasn’t expecting was the heat. A minotaur’s body must run at a hotter temperature by at least five degrees. Banda’s gentle lowing was enough to let the black woman know she was doing a good job, urging Honoka to dig deeper into the cleavage canyon.

     “Hey!” Banda shouted, jerking her body upward a little, nearly knocking Honoka off the bed. Apparently, without warning and on the highest setting, Diane had dropped the massager on top of Banda’s mound, the boy shorts doing little to dissipate the shock.

     Both Honoka and Banda now glared at Diane, who dipped her wings and lowered her eyes, resetting the massager to a lower setting. “Sorry,” she muttered, not looking up as Honoka kept the glare on. “I'm sorry.”

     Honoka returned to kneading. In only a few more minutes, Banda panted quickly under the more tender ministrations of Diane. Sensing her impending moment, the black woman grabbed both teats in her hands, smashed the mountains together and plunging her cock deep inside. Banda, with jolts running directly from her nipples to her clitoris and both double-teaming her brain, moo-ed into the air and gripped the headboard so tightly it cracked.

     “I wish my penis was bigger!” Honoka shouted, losing her entire shaft and even most of her pelvis into the tits, her gyrations full-body lunges, springing between the bed and back as the small woman flung herself into every part of the paizuri sandwich.

     With a silent scream, her entire body tensing, splitting the headboard in half with her massive thews, Banda came. The display of strength was too much for Honoka. The young woman soon followed, pulling the juggs down by their nipples as she shot her load. Banda’s breasts were large enough to drown in, and while Honoka could break a nose or put out an eye at her worst, between ejaculating less than an hour ago and being trapped in so much tit, it was more a bubbling ooze pooling quickly and sliding along to cover the top of Banda’s chest in cum. Like the La Brea Splooge Pit, Honoka splatted body-first into it, exhausted enough to sleep in her new favorite pillows despite the honey musk and sticky glop.

     “Did you get it?” Diane asked, using a wing to nudge Honoka.

     Thinking a bit and then checking her Status, she rolled out from between the warmth and goo. “Not yet.”

     “Dang it. Ok, Banda…Banda?”

     The minotauress groaned, fluttering her eyes open and pushing the headboard pieces to either side as she tried to arrange herself comfortably.

     “Banda, I need you to lick up some jizz and swallow.”

     “What?” Honoka asked

     “What?!” Banda asked louder, looking down at her chest and recoiling in disgust as if just realizing what she was covered in.

     “There probably needs to be some form of fluid exchange for the Class feature to work,” Diane explained as if she was explaining how to bake a pie. “Its either that or you ride the chocolate train to gravy town.”

     Hyperventilating, Banda’s eyes bugging wide, a flat and pink tongue flicked out and licking the nearest puddle, going back in with instant gagging. A few heaves later, her throat gulped and the blue box appeared.

     “All this time I’ve been thinking in my head you were a minotaur,” Honoka said conversationally, partially to throw Banda’s mind off what she just did. “What’s a holstaur?”

     “Subrace,” Banda replied with her sweet soprano voice, accepting a glass of water from Diane and gargling. “Both minotaurs and holstaurs are a part of the Taurine group, like elves and pixies are Fey and goblins and orcs are Gormor. Holstaurs are typically shorter and not as muscled as minotaurs, with smaller horns and less fur, statistically more prone to be female and well known for their…” Giving her tits a heft, she regretted it immediately when cooling spunk sloshed onto her hands. “…tracts of land.”

     “Sounds like that punched the ticket,” Diane announced, hopping up and unplugging her massager. “We need to hurry and scrub this cum out of fur and hair because our appointment with the Justice is in less than an hour. You two stay in here while I move Eve along.” The succubus picked up her clothing and walked out the door, both Honoka and Banda appreciating the view.

     “Take the shower, I’ll make do with a washcloth birdbath,” Honoka said, rolling out of bed with a moan. “And thank you for saying yes. My life might be spiraling out of control, but at least I’ll have company I can love along for the ride.” With that, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the sink.

     Banda lay there for another minute, her heart saying she might have found someone who saw her as a person, not as a failure. It felt good, and she smiled when she stepped into the shower.

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     The cleanup and repairs fee wasn’t as much as it might have been. Nevertheless, Diane only shrugged when they left while Honoka’s eyes bugged wide from the amount.

     Banda and Eve were suitably impressed at the lengths Honoka took to keep Diane’s memorable profile from being spotted in the streets. First, Honoka went to the van, stripped in the back of the tinted-windowed vehicle, allocated into a succubus, waited for human Diane to enter the van wearing the black wig and glasses, strip, allocate back, then Honoka dressed and got in the driver’s seat while Diane remained naked in the back, crouched to avoid anyone seeing through dark glass. When Banda and Eve entered (the suburban vehicle dropping very low and probably exceeding its weight limit), Banda kept her gaze forward as the goblin traded raunchy banter with the naked succubus. When they arrived to the City Offices, they did the whole thing again, using a Changed restroom before hustling to a cramped office with a desk and some chairs and told to wait for the Justice.

     “So cool!” Eve said, swinging her feet in the air as her distraction-prone gaze traveled all around the empty room. “Like a pair of super thieves pulling off a heist!”

     “Yes yes, it's awesome a controlling pimp is trying to track down his missing ho,” Diane said with too much venom, pulling out her phone. “Hono-chan, can you read off your Status? I downloaded an app that I want to use to track everything; I might as well get some work done.”

     Honoka did as asked, warming pleasantly being called by her family nickname.

     “Rad.” Eve stood up in her chair, leaning over Diane’s shoulder as the succubus furiously typed everything. “Tell me if I’m wrong, all you need to do is move a little slider and I am back to not needing step ladders?”

     “We can play later.” Finishing the screen, Diane swiped it and flicked her tail towards the black woman. “Now pull up mine, its easier to type without the blue boxes in the way.

     Honoka shrugged, focusing on Diane in the Class section and feeling only a twinge of a headache.

     “Tsk.” Diane regrettably typed in 200 lbs (90.7 kg) and became only a little mollified at the wonderful 34J (86J) she put in further down.

     “Didn’t you schedule this? Why are we waiting?” Banda pulled out her own phone - as large as a datapad to account for her thick fingers, reading some texts. “My family keeps asking where I am and why I’m not back at work yet.”

     “Oh, crap!” Eve pulled out her own phone and flicked through a pile of texts. “Man, my boss is piiiiissed.

     “Might as well keep going until the Justice arrives,” Diane said as she began the next entry.

     The headache knocked louder, but Honoka powered through and focused on Eve’s slot.

     “What’s a Brawler?” Diane asked as she tapped.

     “Martial artist without the fancy moves.” The goblin frantically texted her boss and wondered if she was still employed. “There’s one guy in Austria who got Brawler over level thirty, his Tube-U-R channel is the bomb! It is like watching a one-man hurricane. Right now, I’m more a wet cat you throw at creditors.”

     “Last one,” Honoka said after Diane finished, gritting her teeth as a screw slowly twisted between her eyes. Only after Honoka pulled up the Status did Diane notice the young woman’s pain and tried to stop her.

     The room grew quiet while three women looked at Banda. Banda ignored the stares and read her texts over and over, agitated but trying to play it off casually.

     “Banda…” Honoka said, rubbing a knuckle into her forehead to try and distract from her throbbing brain.

     “I’m broken, ok!” The holstaur’s characteristically cute voice cut with anger as she nearly crushed her phone, stopping herself at the last moment. “Four hundred and sixty-one holstaur women in my family’s farm and I’m the only dry set of boobs!” Dropping her phone to the carpet, the distraught woman bent over and put her bovine face into her large hands. “I just want to become normal. There’s a healer in Russia advertising a Class able to fix me but he costs millions of dollars. I took up delving as a side job to save the money.”

     Honoka stood up, walked over and gave the suffering girl a hug. “I know how easy it is to blame yourself, and I know you might not believe me right now, but I don’t think you’re broken. None of us do.”

     “Get used to it, cow lips,” Eve walked on top of the chairs to hug part of a huge, furred shoulder. “Families are all about the love.”

     “And families help each other.” Diane joined in as well, but she returned her attention to her phone and typed into it with her thumb. “Honoka, do you mind if we focus on Banda until she harmonizes? I’m putting together a schedule that should level her this week. Let's see how many points it will take to fix this problem.”

     “There, see?” Honoka said, reaching under the overalls and giving the holstaur a quick titty twister, forcing Banda to moo in surprise. “You’ll get your milk and I’ll get lots of cowgirl sex: everyone’s happy!”

     “I won’t be happy, I want sex too!” Eve piped in, her face pouting.

     “Guess I’ll take one for the team,” Diane lamented dramatically, typing up more schedules. “Tell me, greenie, how do you feel about whips?”

     From her wide red eyes and childish grin, Eve wanted very much to feel those whips, but they all broke off when an old man in a suit walked into the room and hurried behind the desk.

     “Sorry, sorry, got tied up making phone calls and lost track of time.” Pulling out round glasses and opening a manila folder, he sat down and clicked a pen. “Ms. Jefferson and Ms. Lonnegan? Still planning on getting married?”

     “Yes, and we gained some additions to the docket, as well,” Honoka said, gesturing to Eve and Banda.

     The old Justice looked tired and a bit distracted, noticing for the first time the other women in the room. Peering at each one a little bug-eyed, he finally shrugged and made some adjustments to his form. “Mazel tov, more the merrier. If you’d all hand me your IDs, let’s make it official.”

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

     “And all I’m saying is we need our own van,” Diane replied, exasperated as she stepped inside and stripped to allocate back. “One with custom suspension if we’re gonna be carting Banda from Norwell to Cambridge. She could only borrow her sister’s truck today.”

     “It's your money,” Honoka replied with trepidation and acquiescence. They’d been going back and forth while Diane registered as a delver and they filled out even more paperwork to register the guild. In fact, after going back to the hotel to drop Banda and Eve off at a truck the size of a small house, buying a vehicle remained the only thing on Diane’s mind. This conversation was not one Honoka wanted while she pulled out of the FDR parking lot and headed into Harvardtown proper. Of course, she didn’t want the other conversation arguing about the name of their guild, which they left blank with only a week to reach a decision.

     “Our money, and a business investment. It doesn’t make sense to keep renting something we’ll use all the time anyway.” Diane paused, the back of the van quiet for a minute. “Are you ok?”

     “…yeah.” The Ymirian newlywed massaged her head, the Status headache lingering. “I just don’t like to spend money. Even when I ordered the bathroom, I knew I needed it. I could afford the loan, but it still took me over a year staring at the quote before I finally said yes. I developed literal ulcers over the whole affair.” Chuckling a little, Honoka drove behind the line of cars waiting to pass through the gates. “It physically causes me pain to spend more than twenty dollars on anything.”

     “At least you’re not the opposite, some big spender who drops too much time and coin at Atlantic City. Rather be married to a thrift!” Diane then ducked behind the back seat and hid like they had discussed.

     Honoka inched forward, the line moving quickly from the multiple cues through the gate. When her turn came, she talked with a man in a breastplate and an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder, handing over her delving ID and receiving it back with a few pamphlets and simple directions. Honoka nodded and drove inside, tossing the leaflets back to Diane.

     “Can you read those? I’m gonna navigate us through the entrance and see if we can find that shop you wanted to look at.”

     Harvardtown was little more than a couple of miles of what used to be Harvard University, a circular area with one gate in and out, unbroken walls a hundred feet high and thirty feet thick, the top of those walls lined with enough guns and explosives pointed down to turn the entire area into a crater. Inside, there were several barracks housing high-powered suppression units and armories. In the center of all this potential death and destruction, the entrance to the Harvard Dungeon waited like the mouth of Hades. At least, that is how corny webfiction authors described it. Honoka found it rather underwhelming, a dull tunnel sloping downward, four lanes passing in and four lanes going out, plenty of sterile white halogens on the ceiling and walls to not even warrant turning on her lights. Traffic was sparse at this time so hardly a few minutes went by before they drove into the dungeon.

     “Blah blah blah…the Harvard Dungeon was discovered on the day of the Change…blah blah blah…third largest dungeon in the US, seventh in the world, but only one of two where the core room isn’t discovered…hmm…” The tunnel stretched for miles, so Diane sat her naked self in the passenger seat and flipped on the dash light, folding her wings awkwardly to get comfortable. “There are four hundred and twenty-three known levels in this dungeon with an estimated depth of over thirty miles? What? I’m calling mischief, the earth’s crust isn’t that thick.”

     “Magic?” Honoka supplied, shrugging.

     “Magic doesn’t just break physics, it has rules as well.” Diane kept reading while Honoka kept driving, looping around a turn like a switchback. “Oh, it seems there are pocket dimensions, thirty miles is an estimate of the total level depth, not the physical depth of the dungeon: all is right again in the world!”

     “Don’t need the tourist stuff, just what should we expect in the first levels and where is that store you wanted?”

     “Looking…” Diane flipped to another pamphlet and folded it out to reveal a map. “Coming up on the first level, the real Harvardtown - seems the walled-off part above us is called the Base - in a little bit. Actually, technically it is the third floor. There is a smaller entrance in the basement of the old Harvard Science Center. That leads to two smaller floors. The population fluctuates as people come and go and die, but the town is better labeled a city with a population of twenty thousand and covering fourteen miles. Also, while the floor is regularly purged and monitored, there are still random instances of low-level monster spawning and trap creation, so be careful.”

     Thinking back on the professional delvers - the team named Carnival - Honoka frowned when she remembered a lot of swords, spears, shields and plate mail. “Maybe we should buy some weapons and armor.”

     “They say all the good shops are down here; everything in Cambridge is overpriced.” The slope of the tunnel ended with an immense space opening up. Diane collapsed the map, turned off the light and went in back, shaking her bum as she wiggled past. “We should check some out.”

     “Driving here,” Honoka mocked indignantly, slapping the jiggling flesh and slowing down, another gate and checkpoint coming up.

     The guard at this gate was similarly armed and armored, but he appeared far more relaxed and bored. After answering some rote questions, Honoka was directed to a massive parking structure built into the the side of a wall that appeared more cavern than tunnel. The dungeon didn’t care for cars much inside its levels proper and was known to eat them with giant gaping mouths opening underneath foolish motorists. Parking for a few hours was worse than Manhattan. Parking longterm cost less but required coins instead of debit cards, so a money changer would be their first stop.

     “Still think a van is what we need?” Honoka asked when they stepped out of the vehicle. At the moment, Honoka was a succubus and wearing a short white clubbing skirt, a white tube top that pinched but was elastic enough to act as a semi-bra, a high riding red thong and red sandals with her trusty pink bag on her shoulder. The black succubus adjusted the top for what felt like the hundredth time, the only clothing fitting her in this form from the slut collection provided by the Miners, which meant almost fitting.

     Mental note, she thought, get a succubus wardrobe…and goblin…and holstaur… Honoka felt a pain in her stomach as she dreaded all the money this would cost. I became my cousin Chanise, Queen Of Outfits.

     “Not a new one, just something we can commute with.” Diane was much more comfortably dressed, stretchy yoga capris made to look like jeans and a green blouse with draped sleeves, white sneakers and small black purse, the black wig and glasses finishing her disguise.

     They walked in silence, feeling the atmosphere and temperature change radically every few feet, trees and foliage sprouting up more and more as the dungeon asserted control of the area. The couple joined the crowd of people walking down a broad dirt path towards buildings amid trees, the noise of a rural city mingled with the sounds of a jungle-covered in a sinister layer of mist.