Becoming Monsters

WARNING: no C&A potions until tomorrow! Use best judgment. -D

The note on the nightstand rang ominous, written in Diane’s blocky scrawl. It looked almost sinister, especially since the Beast strained the harness already and told Honoka not to care.

Knowing my spunk, without those potions, Quinn would get pregnant if I came in her ear. The young hermaphrodite suddenly wondered if it was like this with guys all the time, thinking with their penis and brushing off all common sense to just stick it in the nearest twat and worry about kids sometime later. Abortion remained utterly out: if a child happened, it happened. The choice had been made at that point and killing a baby wasn't an option for Honoka. But there was no problem with the C potion Diane made, it was a full-body spermicide keeping even Honoka’s magic sauce sterile.

Honoka’s problem right now rang as old as time: she really wanted to cum inside her latest wife. All her wives. Lately, more and more, it grew inside her the need to not just orgasm or pleasure a woman, Honoka needed to impregnate them. Swollen, round bellies, bloated with seed and her children…

“Darlin’, what's the note say?”

Honoka shook her head, coming back to the moment. The futanari became naked and sat on the side of the bed, Quinn snuggling up next to her still in pink lingerie. “Out of magic safe-sex potions.” Was there a note of frustration in her voice?

“No big deal, I'm on the Pill.” Quinn pulled the straps of the babydoll down her shoulders and then shimmied both the top and panties along her long body in one practiced motion. Not only was Honoka erect at this point, but a stream of premen dribbled down her twitching shaft as she watched.

“That might not work.” Honoka flopped back onto the bed, her sixteen-inch pole up and proud, thick veins visibly pulsing down the length. “I haven't tested it exactly, but I was warned by a doctor my sperm is extremely potent. I could literally impregnate an entire college swim team if I jizz in their pool. Minor things like mistimed ovulation or the wrong hormones activated might not be enough to stop the Virgin Liberation Army from preggorizing.”

“Is it ok if I find that super hot?” Quinn maneuvered her naked body between Honoka’s legs and lightly licked the clear ooze off her black cock in one slow upward motion. Smacking her lips, she smiled and went back for more. “Condom?”

“Ha! Haha!” Honoka couldn't keep the cackling inside. Despite nearly moaning at this point from needing to put her long sausage in some otter meat, she cackled. “I'm sorry, but even if I found one that fits, you probably won't understand until you see it. Just yesterday I filled two buckets. A few days before, I almost broke Diane's nose with a shot of cum.”

Quinn used her hands on the throbbing member now, but her eyes were lit with insatiable lust. “Alright, I call dibs on the first batch of potions. Are ya sure ‘bout yer baby batter?”

Honoka perspired, her mind clouded by her own lust. The black hermaphrodite closed her eyes and realized if she made the decision, she’d be saying for them to do it. “We will be married today…I want kids with everyone in the future…but…you choose.”

Quinn let go and quieted, then Honoka felt the otter girl climb up the bed and lay her body on top of Honoka’s. Her furry form was warm, and pressed up against Honoka as she did, Quinn strained the hardness of Honoka’s shaft between them like a body/penis sandwich. Honoka was gasping now, hyperventilating, the need to fill her latest fiancé so intense Honoka ached. Distantly, she realized the dark fur of Quinn was silky soft, like the most perfectly conditioned hair and not at all as hard and bristly as it looked, thick locks tickling all along her rod. The sensation of plump, firm breasts covered in that same fur was equally erotic. Every time they moved, it was like embracing a cashmere coat, hard naked nipples rubbing together with Honoka’s own nubs.

While the otter girl kept moving up, she tilted her pelvis forward. Her hot vulva mingled with Honoka’s, labia brushing labia before she continued upward, pressing her warm, wet folds onto the bulging urethra of Honoka’s lightly contracting rod.

Which is where she stopped, tilting her head down and kissing Honoka with all the passion the black woman felt at the moment. “After we save Dolls, I’d like that.” Then she moved back down in reverse, slowly, until she was off the bed and back to licking up and down the turgid shaft.

Unbidden, unfairly, Honoka felt a moment of monstrous rage. She almost roared her frustration and took this tease and filled her until she popped.

How dare this bi— 

Even if it was only a thought, Honoka bit her tongue, bludgeoning her emotions until she felt herself calm down. Quinn either didn't notice or politely kept working, the orgasm building despite what went on inside Honoka’s head. And soon enough, just like clockwork, her physiology triumphed. With worry for her own sense of self and loathing for her own body, Honoka thrust her hips upward and came.

“Sweet Home AlabamaaaaAAH!” Quinn, busy and obviously not expecting the fountain, tilted her head in slow motion to follow the white geyser as it went up five feet into the air, collapsed on itself, then raining downward. By the time she realized she stood inside ground zero, Quinn stared in horror while showering in slime cream and Honoka received a helpful blue box.

When the first shot finished, Quinn let go and tried to clean herself off when the second crested and crashed down, coating the shrieking otter girl in hot splooge. She didn't even think to scramble out of the way until the fourth was on its way. By then, the stone under her feet was too slick. Pratfalling onto her back, she eventually managed to roll far enough out of the way to prevent death by drowning, her gasping body drenched and leaning against the wall.

Honoka took another minute to finish, gaining enough conscious thought to sit up and chuckle at the glimed fiancé. “I think we need some ponchos in there.”

A giant cum bubble grew in front of Quinn’s mouth, popping with a wet blop. She tried to scrub her fur a little without much effect. “I know this is gonna sound weird - an’ I am never gonna get this out of my fur - but I think I just came, that was so hot.”

Honoka glanced over, a quip on her lips when she studied her fiancé with alarm, noting the fur prevented some spread of the oodles of cum down her body. Some, not all. Most of it gathered on her head, shoulders and breasts, but the spunk pooling on the floor was spreading close to her drooling and twitching snatch. “Hey, look out, unless you want an accidental baby!”

Quinn peered down, coitus clearing her lust. She scrambled to her feet with minimal slippage. Looking all over herself, she licked her fingers and made her way quickly to the bathroom. “Yer a WMD, ya know?”

Honoka chuckled, watching in fascination as her splooge pool sucked into the ground, the dungeon absorbing her excessively magical jizz. She loved not needing to worry so much about clean up if this was the new normal. “Thanks,” she said to the floor, rising and helping the poor otter woman wash sticky semen out of fur.

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

It took an hour, two combs and a whole bottle of shampoo, but the water remained piping hot the entire time. Honoka wondered idly how everything worked down here. It wasn't like there were power lines or water towers: where did the utilities coming from?

“That one is easy, the dungeon provides all those things,” Padmava replied when Honoka asked later, both of them nursing a late morning cup of aam panna in the naga’s bedroom. Honoka enjoyed the drink, tasting tart mango with mint and honey, like a refreshing tropical cooler. “Sort of. It provides the thaumian energy that converts through Transmutation Crystals into something else. About the size of a fist, TCs can be found in the monsters of most levels of a dungeon. Once attuned, they can produce simple effects like electricity, heat, cold, pressured air, clean water and even connect to phone services and the Internet. They are relatively common both down here and up top, used in most ‘magical’ devices.”

Padmava’s bedroom was open in the center, yet piled with thick, plush carpets, making each step in the space like walking over a pile of futons (not an American couch designed by idiots, the traditional Japanese bedding). There were over a dozen large pillows everywhere and folded blankets in one corner. Against one wall sat a king bed, though the design was custom, slanting downward on one end until it met the floor, the slope as long again as the flat mattress. Honoka guessed it was hard to sleep comfortably with so much snake body to account for. The door to the bathroom wasn’t so much a door as a grand entrance, pillars on either side leading to a bath as large as the Big Bath steaming inside.

“So, your utilities are free?” Honoka asked, realizing sadly her drink was empty. Padmava smiled and poured her more from the iced pitcher.

“No, they just cost differently. Every building down here includes a pit in the back where stuff can be dumped. Once a week, throw some things in, the dungeon absorbs it. It isn’t exact, but if you live down here long enough, you get a feel for how much the dungeon ‘eats.’ Food scraps, other garbage, toilet waste - though thankfully that’s taken care of with a septic system,” Padmava shivered and Honoka nodded sympathetically, “it can include really anything so long as it didn’t originate from the dungeon. It loves magic, so every couple of months I add in a potion I order from topside to keep the landlord happy. Also, TCs go out like lightbulbs and need replacing every six months or so. With a place this big, there are hundreds to keep track of. Those, really, are the biggest expense. The total monetary cost is equivalent to a group of domiciles this size topside.”

It didn’t sound complicated. Honoka’s architectural mind already thinking of how to make use of Transmutation Crystals in building design. She might need Padmava to show her a few and how they were installed to comprehend the technical details. It excited her, for the first time in a long time, an architectural puzzle she wanted to solve. However, that was for later.

Honoka finished her drink because it was delicious, but set the glass aside as she put on her Business Face. Not to be confused with her Game Face, Business Face was for serious matters and making sure things got done. It was a determined face with a kind of enduring look that said I come here to work.

Padmava picked up on the Business Face and set her drink on the little table they sat next to, stretching all four of her arms up while she opened her mouth wide in a yawn and tasted the air. It was intimidating, seeing a mouth that looked like it might eat Honoka completely whole in one bite - fangs the size of her forearm folding downward then collapsing back - as the naga smiled and scratched an itchy bit of scales on one arm. It looked so ordinary after seeing something so outrageous that Honoka chuffed a small giggle, unable to keep the Business Face up.

“I know I already asked or implied, but are you sure about this?” Honoka inquired, suddenly remembering there was a little girl that may or may not intrude on them at any moment, surreptitiously examining if the door was locked. Padmava picked up on the noticeable motion.

“Jaya is at a friend’s house for the rest of the day and…I don’t know where Aruna is.” The naga appeared to deflate, a mother’s worry impossible to dispel. “He should be fine, he’s a level nine Rajput: a Class that specializes in solo fighting instead of with groups. It might take some time - he is as stubborn as his father - but he will see. I hope.”

Then, with a flick of one wrist, most of the complicated garment fell off her shoulder and pooled down her long snake body. Honoka didn’t know this, but the sari outfit was three parts. The wrap looked like yards of cloth, held up through complex tucks in the right places and going over the shoulders. The top - Honoka later found out was called a choli, though Padmava insisted it was correctly a ravike - was like a sports bra with short sleeves on both sets of arms and a lot of white and gold lines intricately patterned around silk. The bottom resembled a short skirt - once again, known as a parkar, though Padmava lamented it was not a proper one because the length had been abbreviated to accommodate her snake body - that matched the top.

With that simple motion, Padmava went from being a woman who resembled a snake into a Hindi goddess of reptile sex and fertility. What was enticed behind the elegant wrap she had worn was now on display and the woman showed some dance training with her sensual and erotic motions. Her breasts didn’t appear large under the cloth, fitting on a frame of a woman nine feet tall if she possessed legs. The actual amount of boob flesh under her yellow silk was impressive, like two bowling balls hanging heavy off her scaled chest. Her waist narrowed in a classical hourglass figure before hips flared out and seamlessly transitioned into her snake tail.

“As for your actual question,” Padmava said, reaching behind her with one set of arms and in front with another, unhooking something and pulling the entire top off in a smooth motion. “Sudden it might be, and I miss my husband dreadfully, but a woman has needs. I don’t mean sexually…ok, not only sexually…but rather companionship, stability, safety. Your interesting family brings all of that to me.”

Honoka missed some or all of those words at the end. When the ravike came off, Padmava’s breasts flopped down in two perfect, naturally hanging teardrop breasts. It looked odd because the scales on her body appeared like the long underbelly scales of a snake, but everything moved as if it was natural skin. There were also no visible nipples, though the center of each breast boasted a little bump where the nips would be located. It was all in slow motion, the gentle sound of boobflesh hitting her chest as they came free more a clink than plop, but Honoka’s hands twitched to find out how good it would feel to grab those keratin-coated melons.

Padmava quietly coiled herself around Honoka, the woman oblivious until those coils circled around her legs and rose higher. Once again, Honoka was amazed at the warmth the scales radiated, making Honoka think nagas were warm-blooded. She just gulped as the snaked under her light blue skirt and slowly made its way up her thighs. Honoka wasn’t wearing underwear or the harness - honestly, the futa-girl was thinking of burning the painful thing, she didn’t use it much anymore - and while her dick had gone back down to its standard soft seven inches long and eight inches girth, naked boobs and a tail less than an inch away got the blood flowing.

“Diane texted me to inform she ran out of her sex potions, which is a shame.” Padmava leaned forward, almost pressing her hanging fruit into Honoka’s face as one set of hands unhooked her short parkar and the other unhooked Honoka’s skirt. Padmava wasn’t wearing underwear either, though the fetish part of Honoka’s brain hoped for a sticky white triangle with a pink bow on it (ミーアが大好き!). The pale yellow scales formed down into a human pelvic shape that aligned with a woman pressing her legs tightly together, only they smoothly transitioned from the hips into the tail. Between them, crevassed into a V was an upturned vagina, the scaled mons opening to a dark purple flesh, labia parted and puffy, her purple clit already peeking out.

Padmava kept talking, but Honoka missed it. Shaking her head, the embarrassed woman presented a shy smile. “Sorry, I got distracted. Could you repeat that?”

“Don’t worry, my husband was the same way. I think anyone attracted to women would be: I am very aware of what I look like.” The tail attacked and proved very dexterous, wrapping smoothly around Honoka’s growing hardness and slowly milking it. “I said we might try something Arun liked a lot. I call it a tailjob.”

Honoka leered but didn’t have much time to respond before her body was wrapped entirely in snake. The thinner, dexterous tip twisted round and round, constricting in a modulating fashion around her penis. It was as if each time the tail wrapped around her cock, it formed a tier, five tiers in total. The first tier would squeeze, then four, then five, then two. On and on, one quickly after the other, a chaotic force of pleasure running all up and down the entirety. When Honoka felt the cold splash of lube being poured over her, now each tier added a slick rubbing motion, the young black woman found herself lost entirely to this new and exciting way to get jobbed.

“I’m starting to tire. You possess much, much more penis than my husband ever sported.” When Honoka heard the echoey nature of the voice hissing in her ear, feeling forked tongue down the side of her face, she realized Padmava had moved them both into the bathroom. Made sense to Honoka, wouldn’t want to ruin that carpet. Padmava turned a valve on the wall and steam came out of vents in the wall. “I’m going to need to visit that gym Diane is setting up downstairs if I’m doing this regularly.”

The naga coiled her entire body around Honoka. From big black cock to down between the legs, then starting at the feet Padmava tightly wrapped herself around the nearly insensate girl up to her abdomen before curling around and down, giving the scaled woman enough space to press her naked body up against Honoka’s back. Padmava reached her hands under Honoka’s spaghetti top, four hands teasing and massaging nipples while they rubbed all over what little breasts Honoka owned. The entire sensation was like being held all over and Honoka realized the scales covering Padmava were soft and flexible. It was less like snakeskin and more like iguana skin if iguanas felt like smooth velvet. Also, while Honoka had been pleasantly focused on her dick, she only began to realize the tail tip that flowed from around her shaft and down between her legs was also at work, rubbing up and down into her labia and massaging the entire area.

“I think…you are…going to regret…saying that…” Honoka retained the presence of mind to give a girl a reach around, questing with her hands behind her until she felt hot slickness and heard Padmava gasp, leaning her pelvis upward to provide Honoka with easier access. “I’ve seen her…workout schedule…We are all…going to die…”

With all the food Honoka ate now, she was becoming a bit of a one-pump chump. However, while a snake tail worked her female bits over the course of twenty minutes, the buildup grew longer and the black futa girl worried how this would end. Her pelvic floor contracted rhythmically, only the tail keeping her from bending in on herself. It was as if her penis went through the motions of orgasming but wasn’t allowed to. It continued on like this for another fifteen minutes, only a regular flow of precum keeping her lubed. Padmava was short of breath, her mouth open and tongue hanging out, probably the naga’s way of cooling off without sweat glands. Honoka noticed the other woman had slowed down, though the insistent way she moved her hips up and down into Honoka’s cramping hand and the absolute flood of fluids on her scales said she was close. So was Honoka, hopefully.

Six times…Honoka thought, unsure how long they were at this anymore. The steam grew so thick it was like they were in a vent next to a volcano. Padmava slumped now on the floor, only one pair of hands holding limply onto Honoka as the others helped Honoka’s hand reach her climax. Honoka counted, and she ‘dry orgasmed’ six times so far. Her vagina was black cherry red and raw, the coils opening enough to let Honoka worm her other hand in and worked inside Padmava’s hole. Padmava no longer employed the complicated tail squeezing pattern, just a simple uniform twisting at this point. They were both about ready to pass out.

Moments or hours later, Honoka finally felt it, her pussy flooding with juices and her entire body locking up as if struck by lightning. A wordless cry Honoka barely registered, the futa girl experienced all the coiled snake around her tightened to the point of Honoka’s bones creaking, Padmava joining her in release.

*bu bum*

Honoka’s heart, as if knowing what happens next, gave her a loud warning. It was like the black woman stood on a Greek shore with waves crashing upon tall cliffs. Zeus, a voice of thunder from heaven, announced with might and furor, RELEASE THE KRAKEN.

On an intellectual level, Honoka knew her biological body didn’t store her semen inside herself, she lacked the space. She had deduced what she ate became converted into energy and that energy accessed someplace else, opening and retrieving her spunk from some kind of Jizzverse whenever she came. Intellectually, it was an energy conversion, so simple. But her reality was that wherever it came from, the portal to her girlchowder opened somewhere inside her abdomen and then traveled down a broad but still human urethra. Usually, Honoka orgasmed and the white frosting went down the tube. Sometimes it hurt, but that was when she got pent up.

This time…this time, thick hot cum butter rocketed out of Honoka’s dick and plastered them both. What Honoka worried about was her lack of dick orgasm. Never mind what was shooting out, the pressure still grew inside her: this was just overflow. She felt bloated, and with some sense of horror, her hand atop her abdomen felt her stomach swelling and churning with impending doom. Still in the throws of her female orgasm, she tried to warn Padmava, to do anything, but it was too late. All she could do was pray.

Something tore inside her, a muscle or ligament as she roared, her dick actually bending from the pressure, red blood mingled with the geyser of pregnog as the pain and pleasure in her brain turned up to eleven and she came, the immense force pushing both women hard into the floor like a rocket.

…

…

*dong*

…

…

Honoka drifted, reminding her of the time she tried a sensory deprivation chamber in college. Then she wondered why she was able to think, her past experiences here were disorientation. She must be used to the loss of self in the White, so her thoughts moved to wonder if she would need to see a doctor after that last orgasm. Blood in the semen was not a good sign. Honoka wasn’t worried, there was no worry in the White, but it was more like the thought one had about remembering to buy bread from the store. After that, she glanced around, remembering the last time she was here and inquisitive if she was alone.

There were no bodies, no defined shapes, but Honoka felt five entities attached to herself. There radiated an energy between them, a mingling of selves that bound them together more like magnets than strings, pulling into one another. Honoka wasn’t yet able to tell who was who, but they were likely her wives and betrothed.

This was poorly timed. Diane’s thoughts sounded flat and hollow. Honoka knew the succubus and understanding what she was probably in the middle of. Diane likely didn’t appreciate being pulled out of an orgy. Is everyone safe?

The others did not answer, still coming to terms with something so foreign. Honoka took the time to look further out, trying to push past the usual whiteness and see if there was something else. Surprisingly - or not, more of an acknowledgment of something new - Honoka found six pillars around her, the columns blending into the White with their own light coloring.

I was…I was getting in my sister’s truck. My aunt is there, I should be fine. It was good to hear Banda’s high pitched, girly thoughts. Worrisome, too, that if this happened five minutes later, Banda might have been in an accident. Good and worrisome, of course, in an abstract fashion.

Finished hooking my rig up, was looking at online colleges. Eve’s thoughts lacked the harshness and metallic quality to it, making her sound younger.

On the couch watchin’ NitFlix. I spilled my popcorn. Quinn actually managed to sound disappointed about losing her popcorn. Even the White only suppressed so much, apparently.

With Honoka, in my room. What is this place? How long will we be here? Padmava, understandably, wondered about her children.

I call it the White, for reasons, Honoka thought, focusing harder and harder on those pillars. It was like they formed a circle, each edifice equidistant around a center point. If Honoka took that to imply she was one of those pillars, that meant there were seven in total. Don’t know how long we’ll be here. The first time was only a few minutes. The second time it might have been longer, but Diane and I also blacked out, so maybe only a few minutes then as well.

Everyone went quiet, the silence pervasive. Honoka saw more details about those columns, how they reached upward and downward into infinity, and there were forms inside each. No, not each. Three of them appeared empty or void like they previously held something, yet now they didn’t. The other three, though, turned to look at her and her family.

A new one, how quaint.

The closest form to them, a female voice, announced itself, violence emanating from every thought. The largeness of the power behind it was panic-inducing, even through the desensitization of the White.

The last one. We will need to get ready.

This one existed across from them, sounding uncaring and robotic. Androgynous, it didn’t seem to care one way or another about Honoka.

Who are you? Honoka thought, trying to understand. New one? Get ready?

This one is mine, you both got greedy and didn’t share.

The voice that spoke came from the last occupied pillar, old and masculine. It sounded hungry. Ravenous. Realizing this might be more dangerous than Honoka supposed, she gathered around her family and tried to…she didn’t know, will herself out of the White.

Your thoughts sound delicious. I am going to enjoy my meal…

A cloud passed over them, but Honoka’s efforts worked, she experienced the White fading to a black combined with a feeling of rushing away. The last thought she heard, though, sent ice into her non-existent veins.

…Honoka.