Laundry Divers: An Erotic Lesbian LitRPG

Authors note: 

Thank you all so much for sticking with me this far. I’ve been foaming at the mouth with excitement for this chapter since around chapter ten. Here it is. It’s a chapter in a smut story that’s too long, with too much dialogue, and almost no smut. Truly, I have painted your screen with the ramblings of a lunatic. It also just might be my favorite thing that I’ve ever written. I’m overjoyed to share it with you all, my friends.

When Sabrina Medina was five years old, she woke her mother from a nap. She was fearful to do so, but her tummy was loud, and this nap was getting to be a long one— one of mama’s two-day-long scary naps. It was dark, as the window was blacked out with aluminum foil. From the light of the hall, though, she saw roaches in mama’s bed.

When Sabrina Medina’s mother opened her eyes, they were blank for a minute. When her brain booted enough to process the reality that was filtering into it, all Sabrina Medina saw was a deep dread. In that moment, she understood her mama’s terror. It was the realization that whatever peace and comfort she’d cocooned herself in was a lie. The cold truth was that she was forever trapped in the empty place.

Sabrina’s mother had a lot of qualities that would warrant hate. This was the one that planted it in Sabrina, though. Sweet little Sabrina Medina was no more, as her innocence was stripped away and revealed to have been a lie all along. Once the empty place passed from her mother’s eyes to her own, it had infected her forever.

Throughout Sabrina’s life, she let her guard down time and time again. She let herself be happy, and even think that she’d built something up for herself. Without fail, though, her mind would drift. She’d slip away into peace and comfort. She’d then find herself stirred from a daze. She’d wake up to find mold, and decay, and stench closing in on her. She’d then succumb to the terror of knowing that she’d fallen into the empty place again. Nay, she’d been there all along, and the rest was all a lie. You can’t get away from a place that’s inside of you.

In the back of her mind, she feared that death was the empty place— that to die, was to learn that life was a lie all along. Truth, therefore, was the mold, and decay, and stench overtaking you as you rot in a box forever. In death, there could be no comfort or peace, but only emptiness.

What she’d never considered, was that that was the lie all along. The lie was the notion that bitter was more real than sweet, and that cynicism was more true than hope and compassion. The poisonous lie, passed from mother to daughter for untold generations, died with Sabrina Medina. Unlike Sabrina Medina, that lie stayed dead.

“I can make you a deal,” spoke a voice through oblivion. The feminine voice was sultry, yet dangerous. “I can forge a new you. In exchange, all I demand is that you do a task for me from time to time. It will be nothing vile or even objectionable. You will simply need to savor life’s sweetest fruits. Do we have a deal?”

The answer was yes. Sabrina could not say it, for she had no mouth. She could not think it, for she had no brain. Still yet, the answer was yes. That, it seemed, was all that was required.

Time passed, but the awareness that had once been attached to Sabrina Medina could not perceive it. One day, reality simply came into focus. New eyes beheld the face of a beautiful woman looking down at them.

“Rise and shine, little Bean.”

“How… do you know to call me that?” a new mouth found itself asking.

The woman smiled. Her skin was a vibrant salmon color. Her lips were full and glistening. She was enormous, and naked, and beautiful. The air was warm. Sabrina felt the air. She smelled the air. Sabrina existed.

Sabrina jolted upright. “How am I alive?!”

Wait… salmon-colored skin? The woman had ram-like horns and towered at eight-feet-tall. Her eyes looked like swirling nebulae. “Am I dead?! Am I in hell?!”

The woman looked amused and satisfied with this reaction. She finally answered, “I know what you know. Because of me. No, and no.”

“Wha… what?”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t do that bit. Allow me to explain. When a human dies in the dungeon, their soul, and memories, and everything they were is recycled into the dungeon. While your body was beyond repair, I was able to keep your soul and mind and all the bits that make you you intact. I was then able to forge a new body and implant you into it.”

“I have… a new body? I died? I… Jade!” As she recalled her death and Jade’s danger, she tried to get out of bed but the woman held out reassuring hands.

“Jade is alive. Your friends all made it out. You saved them,” the woman assured.

“I did? Did I…?”

“You didn’t kill Blackwall, unfortunately. Like a fool though, he struck you with far more power than he needed to in his anger. The damage that reflected back on him mortally wounded him and forced him to retreat. You bought your friends the time they needed to escape. The fact that you made that rotten fucker piss his pants is half the reason I reincarnated you.”

Sabrina looked down herself. She was naked. Her breasts were large, and perky, and her nipples were pierced and studded. More alarmingly, her skin was a deep red. “Reincarnated… I’m a demon?!”

“Yes, technically,” the woman admitted. “It’s okay, though.”

“I think that’s for me to say, isn’t it? I don’t want to be a demon!”

“Thanks to that pussy of yours, the argument could be made that you did want to be a demon, and you better thank fuck that it could! Otherwise you’d be a whisper on the fucking wind right now!” After getting riled up, the woman relaxed. “You’re a demon, but you have a human form. To explain it all, I’ll need to start from the beginning though, okay? There’s a lot of necessary context.”

The woman looked to Sabrina for confirmation, and Sabrina nodded sheepishly. She continued, “Okay, I’ll start from the beginning… well, I’m Oneira. Although, if you prefer, you can call me mommy,” she added with a smirk.

Sabrina grimaced sourly. “Call you what?”

“I’m kidding, damn. I guess your mommy issues are still intact. I just meant that I created you.”

“Wait… are you the Dungeoneer?”

Oneira opened her mouth and paused, verbally constipated. “No?”

“You don’t sound sure about it.”

“Well it’s just a complicated thing to be asked. Are you God?”

Sabrina’s eyes widened as she asked, “What? Is there a god?”

“See? It’s not a question that prompts a straightforward answer. In fact, you know what? This is the perfect place to start.” Oneira then conjured up a chair to sit leaning towards Sabrina. “You are— or, were— the universe experiencing itself, right? I am the dungeon experiencing itself. Although really, both of us are both. You are the dungeon in body and the universe in soul. Right now, you’re physically experiencing the dungeon, but through your memories, you’re experiencing the universe. Through the act of creating you, I experienced your memories, and those experiences became a part of me. Are you following me?”

“I think? You’re sort of rambling, though,” Sabrina answered.

“Until I met you, my concept of a Dungeoneer or god or whatever, was that. The Dungeon had some kind of intelligence, but it was just an abstract kind of intelligence. It isn’t something that you can personify, as much as you can personify a forest or an ant colony. God is a system of processes, the act of creation, and of experience, and the interlocking chaos of changing ecosystems. Sure, it can seem to have desires and grand designs, but that’s an inevitable consequence of siphoning from the dreams and stories of humanity. For instance, the dungeon seems to want to experience the universe— and be experienced by the universe in kind. The challenges, for example, are how the dungeon takes a back seat to humans experiencing interesting aspects of life, and it rewards you for it. Theoretically, the Dungeoneer is just an emergent property of those systems.”

“Alright… and you’re saying you were wrong? Meeting me changed that, somehow?”

With fascination, Oneira was now so close to Sabrina that their noses touched. “Yes!”

“What changed?”

“I had a religious experience. It’s an odd thing for a demon. When you died, I heard a voice, clear as day. It commanded me to preserve your soul and make you a new body. It even specifically commanded that you have a human form.”

“But I don’t have a human form,” Sabrina pointed out dryly.

“Oh, but you do. It was very tricky. I make demons. That’s it. While I’m not the Dungeoneer, I am a sort of god in here. I am one of the original beings from the early days of the dungeon. I oversee the first six floors, and I am responsible for the creation and uptake of demons. Making humans, though? That isn’t in my power. So to start with, I needed to work out a way to make you a demon, that is also a human. Fortunately, you were already part demon. Consent is a cardinal rule to the dungeon, and it can’t turn you into something that you aren’t.

“Now, to make you a demon that’s also human, meant making a very special demon. Demons don’t change forms. We can glamor ourselves, in limited ways, like turning into a cat or a snake. We can’t change forms, though— especially not into a human. Do you know what can? A dragon.”

“Dragons are real? The dungeon has dragons?” Sabrina asked.

“Dragons are real. They’re not native to this dungeon, but they don’t need to be. That’s because this dungeon has a dragon, and that dragon just so happens to be… drumroll please… my wife! It’s really too perfect.”

Oneira looked for a reaction in Sabrina’s face but was disappointed to find her collected and introspective. “Well it is,” Oneira continued. “So, with the generous donation of materials from my beautiful and magnificent wife, I created a wholly unique kind of demon. See for yourself,” she invited, and with the snap of her fingers, Sabrina’s game-like interface returned.

>Congratulations! You have been born!

>Demonic pact has been bound to your soul for the remainder of this lifetime.

>Pact conditions: Sabrina “Bean” Medina (hereto-forth referred to as ‘party A’) has contracted Oneira, Mother of Demons (hereto-forth referred to as ‘party B’) in undergoing the rebirth of party A. In exchange for the sufficient tendering of services, party A shall periodically complete tasks requested by party B. Quote from negotiation: “It will be nothing vile or even objectionable. You will simply need to savor life’s sweetest fruits.” As an ongoing supplemental task required, party A is required to maintain the bespoke ‘Infernal Succubus’ form crafted at the hands of party B through periodic acts of sexual congress. Intellectual property rights to bespoke ‘Infernal Succubus’ form reserved by party A in perpetuity throughout the known universe, as well as all subdimensional domains and the imaginations of hypothetical observers in speculative realities in which the existences of party A, party B, and all relevant materials would be considered fiction. Do not panic. Do not have an existential crisis. Do not think about who is reading the readers. Disregard if this contract was glazed over because the paragraph is too long.

-Consented to by Oneira, Mother of Demons.

-Consented to by Sabrina “Bean” Medina (posthumously).

>You are a monster. Class and subclass are forfeit. In their place, you have gained a species.

>Species: Form-shifter Demon(lvl4). You may shift between acquired forms with their own unique abilities. Bonded items shift with your form. If HP is fully depleted in one form, a form-shift is immediately initiated. A dead form remains unavailable until a recovery period is completed.

>(2) forms available. Additional demonic forms may be developed.

>Forms:

-Infernal Succubus (in use). Spells and attacks are primarily aligned with fire and hellfire types. Immune to fire damage. Resistant to hellfire damage. Passive aura: Seductress. Within your immediate vicinity, arousal is enhanced for eligible sapient beings. Passive ability: Kinky. Sense the arousal and sexual desires of those in your vicinity.

-Enhanced human. Modeled from the likeness of Bean Classic. The effects of perks applied in your previous life have been recreated as faithfully as possible. Nonhuman enhancements applied in your previous life have been reversed on your human form. Non-specialized abilities.

>Universal to all forms— passive effect: Jaded. Intrinsically linked to Jade Walker. Jade must be loved and protected at all costs.

“What the fuck,” Sabrina choked out. “Okay… first of all, the contract… I’m not even gonna touch that weird shit at the end.”

“I think you’d be in breech of contract if you did,” Oneira reminded her.

“Right. I don’t remember agreeing to anything posthumously.”

“How would you? You didn’t have a brain to record memories with.”

“Right, but if the brain I have now isn’t even… fucking whatever. Okay. I’ll take your word for it. I mean, if I have any problems with the contract, I’m just fucked, right? My existence is a condition of the contract itself.”

Oneira shrugged. “My words specifying that your tasks aren’t objectionable seem to have been put in writing. If you find any of the tasks objectionable, then we can meet for arbitration. I’m really not trying to fuck you— although I’d be open to it if you are. I made this agreement immediately learning that I have a god, and that my god is clearly gay as fuck and considers you her favorite.”

“Your god… is gay.” While there was no inflection to indicate that it was a question, Sabrina meant it as one.

“The kinkiest lesbian to ever not exist, yes.”

“Oh… kay. Moving past that. How do I develop new demonic forms?”

Oneira put her hands on Sabrina’s cheeks to convey just how thrilled she was with the question. “I have no idea! We’re in uncharted waters! You’re something brand new. I created something to start with, but you’ll be able to grow in ways that I could never predict! Isn’t it amazing?”

“I guess? Hmm… okay…” Sabrina trailed off, processing everything. “So going back a bit— I died, and a voice from some god of the dungeon came to you and gave you instructions to save me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So I was saved by a Dues Ex fucking Machina?”

Oneira pursed her lips and turned her eyes up and to the right to think about it. With a chuckle, she answered, “Yes. That’s exactly what happened. Just be glad god didn’t ask me to cut off your foreskin.”

Sabrina looked down at her bare vulva. “I don’t… have one?”

Oneira scoffed. “First of all, yes you do. So do I. See?” She put one foot up on her chair and spread her pussy lips, pointing at her clitoral hood.

“Pedantic point taken,” Sabrina conceded.

“Second of all,” Oneira began, pulling a wooden box from under the bed Sabrina sat on. From it, she pulled a disembodied red dick. It was huge, and bumpy, with an inexplicable medial ring. It looked like one of those monster dildos Sabrina had seen online.

“What did you do to it?!” Sabrina wailed.

“I perfected her. The Living Dildo is bound to your soul. When you died, it died, too. I had to remake it along with the rest of you. Don’t worry, this is just its variant for your Infernal Succubus form. In your human form, it will be much the same as the original. I did the same for your other bonded items. Your sword,” she alluded, while pulling a variant of her sword from the box. This version was more aggressively shaped and had a fire opal appearance. “—and your armor.” She pulled out variations of Sabrina’s bodysuit and thigh-high socks. Except, they were both sheer and black, so the socks were more like stockings in this form.

“Oh. Thank you, then. How do I turn into a human?”

“It’s an inborn ability, so it should be instinctive. Wait a second, though. I worked really hard making this form, so at least get a good look at yourself before you change,” Oneira insisted, standing and walking to a full-length mirror. She waved Sabrina over to join her.

Sabrina stood and approached the mirror. Her demonic form wasn’t unpleasant, even if Sabrina preferred being human. She was a few inches taller, with a more athletic frame. Her boobs were bigger, with pierced nipples. She had more of an hourglass-shape that wasn’t fair to compare with a natural human. Her face was similar to her old one, but not completely identical. Her lips were fuller, and her eyes were like those of a goat. Sabrina supposed the eyes matched her new horns.

“The eyes are weird,” Sabrina complained.

“When did you become such a Daria? I’ve seen your memories, you’re not usually this dry.”

“I guess when I died,” Sabrina answered sarcastically, proving Oneida’s point.

Oneira locked eyes with Sabrina, inspecting her with grim intensity. “You know I was joking, right? About the ‘mommy’ thing? I feel like I’m talking to my teenage daughter, and that’s really not what you are.

Sabrina gave her that sour look again. “Stop fucking…”

“Hey! Don’t fucking try it. I’m still coming down from the experience of being you, remember? The mother of the human called Sabrina Medina fucking sucked and put a lot of issues into her. But guess what? You literally don’t have to carry that with you because you’re not her. That woman’s daughter is dead. You’re the same soul that occupied that human, and you even have her memories, but you’re a new person. Hell, you’re free to use her name and walk around with her face, but her trauma is just a story to you— as much as it is to me.”

Sabrina was stunned. Her mouth hung open, still waiting for a response to formulate in her head. “I’m contractually forbidden to have an existential crisis, so maybe this isn’t a safe topic,” is what she went with.

“Fair enough. I’m hoping that only refers to existential crises relating to the contract itself, but now we’re talking about the contract so we’re still on dangerous ground.” She briefly stared blankly into the distance. “How ‘bout we check out your human form, huh?”

“Wait, you didn’t write it?”

“Unsafe topic!” Oneira reiterated. “I don’t know who writes them. I never cared. I’ve never seen one like yours, though, and now I’m trying very hard to go back to not caring.”

Sabrina shut that thought out of her mind and looked in the mirror. She looked inward, and tried to find whatever imaginary button or switch would trigger her form-shift. Something worked, because she levitated into the air, was converted into a silhouette of pure light, surrounded by stars. This half-existent form twirled into the air, and the silhouette was changed when the twirl was finished. The only way Sabrina would be able to describe the sensation would be ‘a low-grade full-body orgasm at the atomic level.’

When Sabrina lowered to her feet and the light gave way to her human form, the first words out of her mouth were, “holy shit I have a magical girl transformation!”

Oneira chuckled, happy with the change of attitude. “Yeah you do! Custom-made for you, Sweet Bean. Whadya think of the new body, anyway?”

Sabrina studied her reflection. She was shorter than her other form, and thicker. Her boobs shrank to the size she was naturally blessed with, while her rear grew to its perk-enhanced glory. She looked like herself, but… sort of perfect. Photoshopped, even. Her face was symmetrical, and her skin was radiant. She got back her pubes that she lost to make a point to Jade. Except, they were strictly in their tidy lawn above her slit, and softer than a golden-doodle.

“I… like it,” she decided with reservations. “My stretch marks and acne scars are gone, yeah? So then why did you keep my belly-bump and love handles?”

Oneira looked at her absolutely baffled, like it was the dumbest thing she’d ever been asked. “Are you kidding? Because they’re without question the sexiest thing about you. If I left those off, Jade would march right down here and make me put them back on. Then she’d kill me just to make sure it never happened again!”

Sabrina gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

She turned around to give her ass one last look before walking away. Whatever she might think about the rest, that ass brought it all together. She’d gladly plaster photos of it on every wall of her home. God, she missed home.

“How long have I been dead?” She asked, hoping it wasn’t too long.

“Out there? Three days,” Oneira told her.

“Three days? Jade must be devastated! It took you six days to pull this off?”

“Ha!” Oneira sharply cackled. “It took me months! This was hands-down the most complicated build I’ve done in my very long life. You’re lucky it didn’t take decades.”

“How… the fuck…”

“Time folds in half with every floor you descend! We’re on the sixth floor! You do the math. You know the fable about the grains of rice on a checked board? Let me tell you, things get weird at the lower levels,” Oneira explained.

Sabrina watched her thoughts snowball away from her at the implications. “Holy shit. How deep does it go?”

Oneira gave a snort and a shrug. “Fuck if I know. Fucking… deep.”

“Okay… wow. Wait! That means that motherfucker had time to recover! I need to get to my friends!” Sabrina insisted, stirring into action.

Oneira savored the very most self-satisfied grin she had in her collection. “No you don’t. I took care of that,” she bragged.

“You… what, you killed him?” Sabrina asked, trying to recover from her dying adrenaline rush.

“In my position, I’m not allowed to be so direct. It’s not very sportsmanlike. The dungeon is supposed to offer a somewhat fair game, in exchange for the less-than-ideal odds of divers dying and being harvested for a taste of human experience. I did, however, push right up against the bounds of my authority, though. You see, the dungeon likes you, and so do I. I offered you a great deal in exchange for saving you. Douglas fucking Blackwall, though? Every breath he takes under my watch is the most unconscionable sin I can commit. I cannot begin to express what a loathsome little shit he is.”

Oneira paused, realizing something that humored her. “Oh wait— you’re human. He’s a landlord.”

Sabrina laughed at this, raising her eyebrows in agreement. Oneira continued, “At his level, being mortally wounded is no small thing. He was desperate. So, I came to him with an offer. He was mostly a monster, so I simply offered to heal him by finishing his transformation. In exchange, he would simply need to take my place.”

“You did what?!”

Oneira’s grin widened. “While I have always delegated the role to my children, it is technically my job to be the boss of this floor. Or, it was. Until such time that you and your friends kill that sniveling little bitch once-and-for-all, it’s his job. I can’t just let my replacement shirk his duties, so he’s permanently bound to the boss room for the rest of his days. I bought you all the time you need.”

Sabrina let out a boisterous laugh of relief. “Whew. Holy shit. Thank you. He said I was his tenant. How can he be my landlord, anyway? I don’t have a landlord. My apartment is managed by some company.”

“Presumably that company is a subsidiary of a subsidiary of some arm of Blackpaper Investments. This American psycho comes from a long line of American psychos going all the way back to when they were… I guess French psychos? His great grandfather made a fortune by founding Blackwall Shipping. His company packed humans into ships like sardines in a can and shipped them to be sold in America. After centuries of callous profiteering off of human suffering, a merger turned Blackwall into Blackpaper, one of the largest conglomerates on earth. They own around a fifth of all of the land in the United States, even more in the global south. Back in the early nineties, little Douglas followed some poor soul down here. He’s a psychopath— a real psychopath. He was already a serial killer when he came to the dungeon. So, take a psychopath, born at the peak of a system that rewards exploitation with political power, and drop him into a system that rewards violence with magical power.”

“Holy shit,” Sabrina commented.

“Yeah, exactly. It’s the perfect storm. This dungeon tries to avoid even letting men down here. It’s got its perks, but like I said: it rewards killing with magical fucking powers. If you let in a few too many dudes, shit goes south fast. A full-on dark triad man? There was no stopping him. So, when Douglas resurfaced on Earth, fresh from his bloodbath, he made sure that the land Blackpaper owned included every single place that held a door to the dungeon. As far as he’s concerned, that means he owns the dungeon itself.”

Sabrina took a step back to take that all in. “Wow. Just… wow. The Mulligan Principle strikes again.”

“Oh?” Oneira prodded, as if there was anything Sabrina knew that she didn’t.

“Yeah, you know. Brennan Lee Mulligan. He’s a dungeon master and comedian. It’s kind of a joke that in all of his campaigns, at some level, the villain is always capitalism. It goes beyond him, though. Intentionally or not, the villain of most narratives is capitalism in one way or another,” Sabrina happily explained.

“Funny how that works,” Oneira joked. “Better to just leave that unexamined and get back to work, then.”

Sabrina chuckled. “So what now?”

“Now, sadly, is the part where I lead you home. Come,” Oneira prompted, leading Sabrina to the door out of the room. A long hall awaited, clad on both sides with innate tapestries.

“Oh, wait,” Oneira blurted, pausing at the door. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to try.” Oneira put a hand straight up, and snapped her fingers.

>Now playing: Vampire Empire (demo version) — Big Thief

 The music soundtracked reality from the ether. Sabrina took a deep breath. For the umpteenth time in the longest week of her life, Sabrina walked through a door and into the rest of her life.