The Gamer Chapter 1084 – Final Grind of the Year 14 – A lot of stupid (Patreon)


“Do you like that? Huh? You little slut?” John asked, waving the flaccid dick around in his hand. Neither the bark-like texture of the black carapace, nor the acidic spit dripping on his naked feet were particularly pleasurable. It was even painful, but the Perks he had against the negative effects of pain reception, plus the effects of the Court Dust, kept the torment to a minimal level.

The Spoleas Spider pressed against the stone bars of the trap it had fallen into. Repeatedly, it tried to bite John, but the Gamer narrowly escaped each time, only to slap the monster across the head with his cock afterwards. Why he did that, he could not say. He just felt like it.

“Stupid spider that exists only to be killed says what?” he taunted the monster.

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--” the spider screamed – even if the actual sound its body created was highly interpretable. Certain was only that it succeeded in squeezing out a bit further than before. A little bit extra range was all it needed to pierce John’s shaft with one of its teeth.

“OH NO!” John shouted, disabling Master Stud and stepping backwards, his real dick still dangling between his legs. The spider started gnawing at the bars in an attempt to burn through them.

“HOW EVEN DARE YOU?!” shouted Salamander, before incinerating the cage. “Gnome worked like crazy on those bars, you eight-legged bitch!”

“Yo, yo, yo, I’m MG Stone, main girl in this house! I’m…. I’m… I`m so sorry for even trying to make that joke!” Gnome cried and ran into one of the walls, breaking it and creating a breach in their secure parameter. “JANE, I’M NOT MAIN GIRL, FORGIVE ME!”

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“Man, we did a lot in fifteen minutes!” he declared, standing atop a slanted tower whose rim looked remarkably like the tip of a half-consumed candle. Below him was a chaotic maze of corridors, through which spiders skittered in an attempt to get to the centre, where Aclysia and Beatrice were making out. The moment one of them succeeded, the two immediately departed, teamed up to murder the thing,

“It’s been more than fifteen minutes,” Momo told him.

“Right, two hours, forty-five minutes.” John rolled his eyes and sassily wiggled his index finger at the support. “Fifteen minutes since the stuff kicked in, uh-huh.”

“No, I mean it’s been like ten hours.”

“Whaaaaat?” John looked down at the complex again. “Impossible. Gnome is such a cute, adorable, sweet, brilliant little thing. She stomped this all out in fifteen minutes tops.”

“That’s not how that… whatever, you’re not in a state to talk to.” Momo shook her head and leaned against the pillar that extended from the platform. Both hands on the stone, her skirt already moved aside, she said, “Now spank me.”

“Well, if you insist,” the Gamer rolled his wrist and then gave her booty a little tap.

“Harder, please?” Momo asked in a sweet tone she would have only used sarcastically under normal conditions.

“If you beg a little more, maybe,” grinned the Gamer, running his hand over the smooth fullness of her backside.

“Harder, please! I want to be spanked! It turns me on so much!” Momo begged. “I feel like I need to catch up on a whole year of fucking and getting spanked! It’s so much better now… to act submissive because I know it’s just me talking.”

“Act submissive?” John asked and pouted.

“Master, we both know you’re a total dick. Take the bedroom submission you can get, you greedy greedster.” Rather than answer, John raised his hand and gave her backside another jiggle-inducing slap. “Ah, harder!” He obliged, and hit the other side with a full swing. “HMMMMM, HARDER!” Pulling his arm all the way back, he hit her so hard that the clap drowned out the sound of battle for a moment. “HARDER, DADDY!”

“OH, FUCK YOU!” John shouted. “That’s my boner for the next hour!”

Momo grinned widely. “Good, your sexual frustration gives me life.”

“Well, this time I’m leaving you, you fake submissive!” John decided and jumped off the twenty-metre-tall tower.

He landed on his knee and sat crying on the roof for ten minutes.

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“We have a problem,” Gnome reported. She had come in person for no reason, leaving her post to Stirwin. Otherwise, their formation was flawless, the labyrinth of the base in perfect shape, and various new measures against the surprisingly miserable climbing abilities of the Sporeal Spiders.

“We have a whole host of problems,” John responded with a serious hum. Below, Stirwin was fighting on Gnome’s behalf. The rest of the party were also doing their best in their individual roles. “Momo and Sylph are out of mana, we have about sixteen spiders in the maze right now, and we need Beatrice to get out of there because the boss spawn is imminent. Because SOMEONE,” shouting across the battlefield at Salamander, “had to throw an Unleashed reinforced meteor swarm, we have a giant mushroom cloud as well, so that will be an even tougher Paradevi than the first one.”

“No, an even big… well, it might not be as big as that…”

“Get to the point, Gnome,” John told her and sighed. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“No… it’s fine… I really should be more clear… I’m sorry.”

“No, this was absolutely on me, it is my fault.”

“Uhm… Uwuwuwu… we’re both at fault.” Gnome did a double fist-pump. “To get to the point, there is a cavity forming under us. I think the weight of the structure may be slowly rubbing away at the mushroom beneath. The boss deaths don’t restore it either.”

John rubbed his chin and pondered. If what Gnome said was true, and there was no reason to doubt her, then they were sitting on a disaster waiting to happen. If enough mushroom was removed, the fortress would sit directly on a cloud of spores. That could either end relatively harmlessly, with the spores just streaming past the edges whenever pressure got high enough to lift the entire structure, or the gap could grow large enough that the entire fortress dropped into it, like a car into a sinkhole.

“Moving would be too dangerous, we’ll have to plan for the drop. After the next boss is dead, I want you to create a vent that lets us release the spores in a controlled fashion. I’ll send the Mandala Sphere down there to investigate the depth. Once we know the dimensions of our landing, transform our base in the necessary ways.”

“I can do that! Umu!” Gnome declared.

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“If you fall, that’s not my fault!” Salamander shouted, holding John by only one arm as they flew circles above the boss.

“It would be the fault of this damn zipper!” the Gamer screamed back, trying his best to get out of his pants. He had barely succeeded, holding his underwear down with his thumb, when he let out a relieved noise. After something between fifteen minutes and fifteen hours, he was finally having a piss. Urinating on top of a giant red ape, that wasn’t something he had ever done before. Half of the stream drenched his own clothes, but he didn’t care that much.

He had self-cleaning clothes after all.

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“Alright, release the remaining pressure,” Momo commanded and Gnome obeyed, carefully widening the stone tube they used to direct the spores from the cavern underneath them outside their complex of drug-fuelled spontaneity and genius defensive design.

John had no need to comment on the process. The entire structure slowly and carefully sank, while the gas pocket underneath it was drained away. It was like standing on a bouncy castle while the air was let out. By contrast, the small woman riding the Gamer was moving all but slow. Her long, greyish green hair swayed with every bounce of her lean body. Pale skin flush with excitement, nipples poking through the fabric of her black, green-frilled, gothic-lolita outfit Edge was letting out a series of moans and blabbering.

“Fuck, aren’t you a daring little stud?” she asked. “Giant cock, attentive eyes, perfect man-toy. You like man-toy, right? I would call you boytoy, but FUCK ME your cock is HARD!” The Combination of Sylph and Siena stopped her up and down to rub her clit. “Hmm, yeah… oh your rod is so hot inside me!”

“Cum!” John commanded, before unloading inside her.

The Nycto Elemental squirted all over his crotch.

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John sat quietly on his own, in the bowels of the descended fortress, directing everyone’s movements. He had a sober moment, even if he lacked the presence of mind to truly recognize the intensity of his own swings in reason and emotion. For once, his thoughts were completely silent. There were no paranoid doubts, no second and third guessing of his strategy, just crystal clear and acute intuition.

Combining the various streams of information he got from the now three-dimensional labyrinth, John tracked the movements of every Sporeal spider that entered the complex through what little of the fortress was still above ground. At this point, their base had gone from a bunker, to a tower, to a labyrinth, to an ant colony.

‘Siena, left turn, take the green Firefly, then use the buff to kill the spider. Sylph, lighting strike forwards. Salamander, count to five, then use your Unleash to cast a meteor. Beatrice, you will see the explosion. Run towards it, kill any surviving spiders, then make your way aboveground and prepare for the next boss spawn.’

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Bathed in sweat, John suddenly darted up.

“No, you can’t have a beer,” the annoyed voice of his girlfriend reached his ear.

“Who ever asked for beer?” John wanted to know and looked around. All he saw was darkness. Without thinking about it, he touched his own eyeballs. He had taken out his contacts. “Actually, thinking about it, a beer sounds pretty nice.”

“At once, Master!” Aclysia’s eager voice was preceded by an annoyed growl.

‘I don’t remember taking Nathalia along into the Assault,’ the Gamer thought. ‘Or Jane… or beer… I do really want a beer right now.’

“Keep your ass on the chair, or I will kick your shit in, Aclysia!” Rave shouted a warning that sent a thought-killing shiver down John’s spine. Forcefully, he laid back down on whatever he was lying on. His consciousness faded, but didn’t quite go dormant. He felt the flow of time. After what felt like an hour, he sat up again.

“If you open your mouth, I’ll find one of Eliana’s ballgags,” Scarlett whispered into his ear and firmly placed a hand on his chest. Something hard and smooth was put into his hand. “Drink that.”

John hoped for something alcoholic or otherwise exciting, but it was only water. He swished the liquid around in his mouth, only now realizing how dry the inside was. For a moment, he considered spitting the water out afterwards. He didn’t know how he would piss on the head of another boss if he did that though.

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John felt the beginning of a splitting headache and groaned. Although his clothes were clean, his body was not. He felt the itchiness of dried sweat and, much worse, the burning sensation of urine around the inside of his thighs. Somewhere to his right, he smelled vomit. Barely, he recalled a half-awake episode where Lee had held something like a bucket up to him. It was hard to say definitely.

The first attempt to sort his memories failed miserably. Memory loss was not a side effect he had prepared himself for, but even if he had been able to recall everything, his sense of time was completely off. ‘Let’s just try to remember when we left,’ he told himself. He failed to recall the actual leaving of the barrier, but he did know he had burst through the door and screamed for beer first thing upon entering.

Next, he roughly recalled the present haremettes worriedly trying to get them to sit down and getting ignored. After they started wrecking the place in search of alcohol, they had been stopped by Rave and Nathalia. Convinced by his girlfriend, John had entrusted her with his contact lenses. The Mandala Sphere had been encased in a ball of lava.

Then he had been put on the couch.

‘That must have been like two hours ago,’ the Gamer realized. He felt like he had been on that couch for the better part of a day. Even now his perception was skewed.  Moving his arm to grab the edge of the backrest, he wasn’t sure if he was just slow or his perception accelerated. “Jane?”

“Yeah?” the feline Lightbearer’s voice came from somewhere to his left. She sounded considerably less pissed than she had during his last semi-coherent memory. Worry was more accurate at this point.

“The effects have worn off.”

“Ya got any proof of that?”

John spared himself the question of why he needed proof to show he was sober. From the murky depths of his recovering mind, a whole set of memories surfaced. All contained an attempt to trick Rave in bringing him a beer. “Jesus Christ, why did I want to put even more drugs into my system?” he mumbled to himself, while sending the latest status message flying in the general direction of his girlfriend’s voice.

A couple seconds later, he heard, “Oh thank fuck that’s over.”

“Not sure if ‘over’ is accurate.” The Gamer used his hand to search for the bucket. Before he could find it, Rave was by his side and handed him his contact lenses. With them back in, he saw the whole measure of destruction.

The window had been broken, half of the open kitchen had been hacked apart, the floor bore some marks of recent scrubbing at a select few spots, and Sylph lay sleeping over the backrest of an armchair, like a very cute trophy piece. While John fixed the bucket between his legs and torso, Rave explained.

“We got Magoi to make us a replacement apartment and a set of cells so the others can sober up,” Rave softly spoke to him, stroking his back while he spat into the bucker. It was only saliva for now.

“Guess this is too much of a mess to clean up?” The Gamer tried to make it sound like a joke, but then he was reminded of the burning sensation around his crotch. “Did I piss myself?”

“Ye-p,” Rave answered with an unblemished pop.

“Well, it was nice knowing you,” John croaked, feeling the inside of his stomach rumble from both shame and the genuine aftereffects. “I’ll go crawl into a ditch and die… after I’ve vomited the soul out of my body.”

He kept the soul and his life, after all.