52: …Said The Succubus To The F*ta

“Last time you were here, you rushed out before I properly thanked you, Mrs. Jefferson.” Chastity moved so fluidly it didn’t appear real, a graceful and sensual motion, hard to…

“Stop it,” Diane growled, her brow twisted with eyes piercing into the other succubus.

Something happened, like a bubble popping.

Blinking, Honoka shook herself while Miaka reached behind her shoulder and gripped the shotgun. Chastity was still a ten under any metric. However, without hazy glamor mucking the works, clouds lifted in the wives’ minds to think clearly again. Now that she knew it was there, Honoka recognized arousal manipulation coming from a succubus. Only this time it was the touch of a master’s hand instead of an up and down sensation the horny futa was familiar with. It slid inside so smoothly she hadn’t noticed the puppet strings before they tightened into a noose. Gritting her teeth, Honoka wasn’t the weak wallflower she used to be, a boiling rage building inside her chest.

“Forgive me, force of habit.” Chastity put on a winning smile that hid her teeth, casually seating naked cheeks on the glass desk and splaying her legs out, only the thinnest fabric between her damp snatch and the intimate air. “As I was saying, I never thanked you. Or should I thank Mrs. Ibori for pulling the trigger? What do you think she’d like?”

“A new graphics card or a basketball signed by Magic Johnson,” Honoka replied flatly, wanting this all to end and warring with a traitorously inconvenient rising problem within her hakama. “Is that all?”

Peering more critically at the three defensive women in front of her, Chastity deflated. Becoming more irritated than sexy in her posture, the madame crossed her legs and leaning over to depress a button on her keyboard. “Fine. I can get what I want with business as easily as through pleasure.”

The two secretaries entered the room in unison, setting up three chairs and a small end table like they were performing Noh theater. They silently placing four bottles of expensive spring water filled with electrolytes and other essential minerals on the the table and graciously moved to leave without saying anything. They also placed Honoka’s sword and the repaired armor on the desk beside Chastity, both of which Honoka thought lost for good.

Though - and Honoka was eaten with guilt over this - she didn’t notice the sword and armor until they both left. Honoka’s eyes had been glued to the naked, plump, succulent booty of the kitsune the entire time. It was hard for Honoka to think farther than a throbbing eighteen inches (46 cm) until the door closed behind them.

Is it hot in here? Honoka thought, clamping down any wayward thoughts while discretely grabbing one of the waters and gulping cool refreshment.

“You like?” Chastity purred, moving around to sit behind her desk while Diane and Honoka sat in their chairs. “I’m sure Devera would jump at the chance to join your little harem. Don’t have a kitsune, yet, right?”

Fortunately for Honoka, Diane wasn’t playing games. “Sorry, we already have a pair of Ds in the family,” Diane said, the pregnant woman throwing enough shade to block out the sun. “Got any Zeldas? Stop the Chastity Show and get on with it.”

“Patience is something you never learned, Di. I’m trying to make a sale here, and successful sales require good presentation.” The madame pulled out a checkbook and wrote with a looping, flowing script. “I’m about to make two offers to your family and I think you’ll take both of them. Not just because I think the offers are win-wins, but because I have access to excellent sources of information and I know more than you know. So I’m going to hand you this check and then I’m going to tell you a story. I’m pretty sure you’re going to say yes.”

Tearing off the check, Chastity passed it to Diane. Wary, Diane took the paper and critically studied the offer. Her eyes widened and breath caught in her throat before handing it to Honoka.

When Honoka saw the amount, she almost dropped it in surprise and had to use both hands to hold onto the precious money.

There were a lot of zeroes.

“That isn’t a bribe, that is a payment for services rendered and your first shipment.” Chastity was very pleased with herself, sharp teeth poking through her smile. “I went over Solomon’s books and part of that covers all the potions the House had on hand and never paid you for. The rest is an advance on your first shipment of potions; I’ll email you an itemized list of what I need. I’m tired of dealing with Marco, he’s too expensive and one in a hundred of his vials don’t work. My girls are sick and pregnant, and that’s bad for business.”

“I…” Diane tried to say, but Chastity cut her off.

“Let me finish: you might be surprised with my second offer, Di.” Chastity paused, peering down at her templed fingers. “How’s the dating app working for you, Mrs. Jefferson?”

Confused by the question, Honoka hesitated before answering truthfully. “Not good at all. I’m finding dating harder than romcoms make it out to be.”

This was a bit of an understatement: in five days, Honoka had been on nine dates. While none reached quite the same levels of disaster as the first one with Julieta, each was bad enough to end with a variation of don’t call me, I’ll call you. One of them, ironically enough, was with Mary Sue from Babcock Architectural, the place Honoka used to work at. That fiasco ended with Honoka and the green tentacled lady thrown out of the bowling rink covered in nacho sauce. Mary had been friendly enough, but no one likes getting covered in hot cheese. Honoka wasn’t expecting any second dates anytime soon.

“I have a sister that might be interested,” Chastity said slowly, still not looking up. “She’s a foster sister. Both of us were in a home together while in the program. We grew close and have stayed close over the years. I moved to Chicago before the Change forced me to…well, it’s how I entangled myself with Solomon. Fred travels a lot for her job, but she owns an apartment downtown. She’s a Legendary, which makes it difficult for her to get close to anyone. Fred’s reaching the end of her rope. I think you can help her, at least enough so she doesn’t cut herself off from everyone entirely.”

Honoka wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The room became quiet as everyone digested the confession. It wasn’t so much what Chastity said, it was the way she said it. It had a vulnerability that no one expected from the powerful and controlling woman. Glancing to Diane, Honoka silently let the succubus know this was her call.

“I…” Diane paused, trying to make the right decision instead of an emotional one. “We will talk this over with the family. Depending on what is decided, you’ll get your potions or a refund next week. I hate you personally and professionally and would rather watch this place burn to the ground than give you a single vial. Maybe you were under a Contract, maybe you were just cruel: I don’t care. You know more about us and our finances than I’m comfortable with and that check smells an awful lot like blood.

“As for the other thing, talk to Honoka while I use your fancy toilet.” Diane got up with a grunt and a wobble, waddling over, slamming the door and turning on the loud fan.

“I’m open to a date, but I don’t want you involved past that,” Honoka replied after a minute of thought. “If I do anything with your sister, it will between me and her, nobody else.”

“I can agree to that, though let me foot the bill for the date at least. For Fred.” Chastity then leaned back and turned her smile towards sinister levels. “Do you realize where my new toilet is located? On the exact spot I found Solomon’s corpse when I woke up. Never thought I’d enjoy taking a crap each day as much as I do now.”

Honoka looked at the door to the bathroom in a new light, wondering if there was time for her to try out the morbid porcelain. Subject matter aside, she joined Chastity in a small grin. The two woman might be of completely different opinions on many things, but at least they could agree on this.

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

“Still not sure why you brought me along,” Miaka complained, rubbing her eyes when they stepped outside into a bright dawn. “I feel like either Chekhov’s Gun or a red herring.” The owl woman played packhorse and opened the side door, dropping off the sword and armor in a heap.

“You can be both,” Diane replied, hitting the button on the key fob and automatically opening the back hatch of the van. “Chastity is a Grade A killer. Used to work for the Outfit in Chicago as a honey trap. I gave it fifty-fifty we’d fight our way out today, and you’re a known entity to deter any planned violence. I’m a bit indisposed, so…here’s your reward.”

Rolls of plastic tarp, a long and thick latex hose, a few other smaller latex hoses, forty buckets and a matching stack of lids. The back of the van was rather well stocked for any home improvement project.

“What’s the game?” Honoka asked, resigning herself to becoming victim to yet another of her wives’ sexual games. Not that she minded, the Beast already throbbing awake at the thought.

“Kegel control.”

Nope. Honoka’s eyes grew wide, her body unconsciously backing away from the two leering women. Games were one thing, this was something else. Panicking, Honoka turned around and ran down the street.

Diane rolled her eyes and flicked her nose towards her fleeing paramour. Miaka chuckled evilly, flapping into the air and tackled Honoka, bringing her back kicking and screaming over one shoulder.

“Please, no! There isn’t enough Strength in the pool to hold back the Beast! I’m going to literally cumsplode all over the car! Blood, guts, jizz all mixed together in a Honoka slurry!”

“Thanks for that visual,” Diane said with a grimace, throwing tarp over the back seat and floor and holding up the long piece of thick latex hose. “And wait for me to finish explaining the rules. First, you plump your cock to 300%. We’re going to strap this hose onto your dick. Miaka is only allowed to use her tits to get you off. When you cum, each bucket is only five gallons. The kegel part is while you dam the sluice gates, Miaka clamps the hose and switches to the next bucket. If Miaka gets this done without spilling anything and filling all the buckets, she wins. If we drown in cum inside a moving vehicle, she loses.”

“Um, bit of a logistics problem,” Miaka said, using her free hand to gesture at her minuscule chest while tossing Honoka into the back and holding her down. “Titjobs don’t work without tits.”

Diane reached into her purse, collapsing into the driver’s seat and starting the van. “Got you covered.” The vial she tossed the owl woman was smaller than her usual concoctions, less than a teaspoon of blood red liquid inside. “Timing will be tricky, but if we succubus you with that little bit of Hunger Pangs potion, followed by my own orgasm, you’ll have plenty of Hunger stored up to finish Honoka off.”

“Wait, won’t that drain your Hunger as well?” Honoka protested, finally accepting her fate when Miaka closed the doors and systematically undressed the chocolate futa girl in the back. Honoka said a small prayer of thanks their van had tinted windows.

“Technically, I won’t be a succubus, I’ll be human,” Diane said, hiking up her muumuu and inserting an egg vibe past her pastel green panties and into her pussy. “The theory is sound: I don’t drain your Hunger when you aren’t winged and horny. The energy transfer from my body to Miaka’s will make me tired and fill her pool of Hunger. However, if something Systemy transpires, I’m over 90% right now and this will be a good test.”

Honoka was nervous and distracted when Miaka took off her keikogi, then loosing the white wrapping binding A sized breasts. Falling around Miaka’s trim and muscular abdomen, Honoka took in the bright red of Miaka’s plumage, spotted here and there with blinding blue - that same blue of small nipples poking within the down. Small in mammary Miaka might be, but past the feathers they were well formed and pert, sitting atop pectorals swoll enough to thrust them further forward and slightly to the side. Without doing it on purpose, those chest slabs twitched, causing boobage to dance. This hypnotic displacement brought Honoka’s exposed cock from partially cooked pasta to steel girder in seconds.

Nevertheless, as the van pulled out of the parking lot and merged with the congested morning traffic, Honoka snapped out of it. “Hey! Are you planning on driving and orgasming? How is this safe? Or legal?”

“Pssh!” Diane waved it off as she sucked in a sharp breath, tail twitching madly and wings fluttering too much. Regardless, she mostly drove straight. “I’ve been…ummm…driving with a vibe in me since I was fifteen. There are no laws against having a good time, only if I expose myself does the popo get involved.

“Anyway,” Diane said as she took a few moments to pant as she merged onto the highway and pointed her tail up behind her seat, “I forgot to tell you about the rest of the game.” Set up on a mount strapped to the back of the chair and angled towards the two women in the back was Diane’s phone, camera lens glinting ominously. “Currently, the rest of the wives are at home and watching the live show. Based on Miaka’s performance, twenty Harmony points are on the table and they are going to vote where those points go. A good performance means muscles, boobs, hips, a second vagina if that’s something you want. A bad performance could mean a hundred pound beer belly, acne, losing all your feathers…or a second vagina if that is a mood killer.”

“When do you gals meet and think up these ideas?” Honoka asked, allocating the Beast to fifty-four inches (137 cm) long and forty inches (102 cm) around. “Do you have a secret clubhouse and find the most embarrassing thing to inflict upon me each week?”

Everyone screamed and paused for a moment after Honoka adjusted herself. The baby train thrust its throbbing way between the front seats and said hi to Diane, precum splattering against the middle of the windshield. The succubus swerved on the freeway and screamed while slapping the dark shaft with her free hand.

Deciding it would be better if Honoka was farther back, Miaka flattened the back of the seat and shoved Honoka’s back against the rear hatch of the van. The bird then sweat and grunted for ten minutes slipping the latex hose over Honoka’s engorged glans. Eventually in place, the pressure was tight enough to grimace Honoka’s face in pain. A full foot of penis was sheathed in rubber, angry and red from the tugging and constricting Miaka massaged upon the shaft to do to get it wrapped.

“Oh!” Diane screeched, her voice dropping when a deep gasp evacuated the air in her lungs, tail curling around the seat and foot smashing into the accelerator for a stuttering lurch through the vehicle. “Now! Allocate now!”

Honoka complied, her own breathing hot and heavy from the ride. She couldn’t see what was happening to Diane after moving the allocation slider, but Honoka was familiar with the frizzy irish girl Diane humaned into: hair not as shiny and fwooping into a bird’s nest, booty not as thicc, brown eyes instead of vibrant green, shorter by six inches (15 cm), freckled skin more muddy than exotic, boobs shrinking down to Bs - though with her pregnant lactation they were probably as large as Ds at the moment.

Shrinking breasts full of milk caused Diane go from a sexy moan into a full throated yell, gallons of yellowish milk sloshing inside her dress before shrinkage exposed the nipples enough for the spray to sprinkler everywhere else. This shook the van up as they swung between two and a half lanes, cars honking in protest before Diane regained control of herself and the van.

Honoka sat on her butt in the back, getting a little tossed around but otherwise fine. Miaka, crouched in the center, was thrown into the side of the van, cracking plastic paneling with her shoulder. As the transforming woman rubbed her shoulder and tried to think again, both she and Honoka stared at progressing sexual transformation.

Status effects were not hard science. Magic took intent and melded it into variables beyond human understanding because they lacked consistency. What happened to one person was sometimes the same as another's, sometimes wildly different. One mage’s fireball would be a sphere of burning napalm splashing when it hits the floor. Another mage with the same Class Features creates a pocket of intense, invisible heat contained inside invisible barriers. Without rhyme or reason, most people learned to shrug and accept Status shenanigans.

Which is why it was weird but not unprecedented for Miaka’s feathers up and down her arms - the dense wings allowing the kikiyaon personal flight - to fall off. Red bat wings sprouted in their place. Spinning around, Miaka’s tail feathers also fell out and were replaced with the same bat styled flap, like a paper fan made out of crimson flesh, twice as long as her tail feathers were normally. Red horns grew past her blue hair - matching Diane’s horns in shape and size - but then Miaka’s beak sunk into a mouth and she was left with luscious blue lips.

“What the…?” Miaka exclaimed, bringing a hand up to her mouth and feeling lips, her dark blue tongue spilling out and licking tentatively, then extending out further than a human tongue and licking all over her face as other subtle features made her more like a human covered in feathers instead of an owl that resembled human. Tasting a new face reminded her of certain important needs, popping the cork of the vial in her hand and downing the bit of potion, her eyes regaining clarity she didn’t realize lost. Other parts of her were changing more subtly, her height stretching up to nearly six feet (183 cm), the knot holding her hakama unraveling as hips and glutes thickened with plushness and extra muscle, her abdomen bulging with more eight pack as the muscles fought for space while her waist narrowed from the Charisma boost. Almost forgotten in all the strangeness were those fluffy, red breasts rising and filling up to their HH size, blue nipples hard enough to put out someone’s eye.

“I need bigger hands!” Honoka suddenly shouted, both hands frantically rubbing up and down as much of her shaft as possible, which wasn’t very much. Because while Miaka’s new chest fruit might not be the largest Honoka had ever seen, they looked the most firm. Something about bird ligaments or maybe just living as an MMA fighter, her boobs didn’t only defy gravity, they appeared filled with helium instead of fatty tissues. As the final changes settled onto the kikubus woman, Honoka was finding herself panting with a need to sink into those balloon animals!

“Got it!” Diane said from the front, one of her hands smashing into a breast and clamping onto a nipple as she drifted across another lane and almost into the divider, but swerved back as she slumped into her seat. Honoka couldn’t see anything, yet Miaka arched her back and dug her talons into the carpet on the floor, likely getting a rush of energy to feed her Hunger.

Glancing at the phone and remembering there were points at stake, Miaka climbed over the seat and silently shuffled herself underneath the large black rod, placing the slight curve directly between her breasts. She stumbled a bit, her hakama falling off and leaving her only wearing a white fundoshi straining to hold on, all the size changes and thickening wedging it tightly between her leaking snatch. However, only with a bit of moaning, Miaka got it together and settled into position. Without lubrication and without the size needed to smosh her newly acquired assets completely around the pipe, Miaka took another approach and gently squeezed her orbs against the penile undercarriage, urethra softly receiving a warm feather dusting instead of a typical pounding.

Slowly, smoothly, Miaka worked the shaft and Honoka ceased her own ministrations, light touches driving the futanari absolutely batty (ironic, as Miaka had bat wings at the moment). The demonic owl wasn’t covering the whole shaft, her position only allowing access to two and a half feet (76 cm).

It was enough, though, for Honoka to seriously consider grabbing all the inches of breast in the family and stuffing them onto Miaka, sensations new to the woman blowing her mind. Not only feathers tickling sensitive skin: Eve tried feather play on Honoka before. This was different. Feathery down coating Miaka’s breasts were not large feathers, rather thousands of tiny tufts with only soft wisps attached to each spine. Not like a feather running along a lover’s body either. It was a million angels dancing along every part of Honoka’s skin, only whispering the tiniest pleasures with each strand, a cacophony of touches running up and down her length.

Miaka felt the tension and hard throbbing first, like the hush upon the ark when the clouds darkened. Honoka’s breath stopping as she strained to push through the final point and bring the rain. Gyrated her hips back and forth, both knew this was it, this was the Final Countdown. Miaka scrambled to nab the hose in these crucial seconds, praying she didn’t get stuck with a double pussy option (or maybe praying to get it, because it sounded hot).

Blue and red lights flashed behind the van, followed with a single sharp cry of a siren ping.

“Oh crap,” all three women said together, Diane turning to the side of the highway with only a little jerkiness, riding a second orgasm wave.

Officer Cruz enjoyed his job. Writing speeding tickets to irritable drivers coming home from a night of debauchery didn’t come across as the dream career, but Officer Cruz liked a challenge. He also felt fulfilled making the world a little safer along his stretch of road. And not every day was filled with endless breathalizings. A portion of highway patrol dealt with accidents, first responding to crimes happening on the larger roads of Norfolk and Suffolk counties, sometimes coordinating roadblocks or watching for amber alerts.

Officer Cruz liked his job and performed many duties as a patrolman. However, mild irritation stewed while pulling over a black minivan with tinted windows. He had followed this nearly reckless driver for the last few miles as it weaved between every lane, finally feeling justified to flip the lights. He wasn’t irritated because he was about to arrest a drunk driver, he was irritated because drunk drivers puked in the back of his shop (what he called his patrol vehicle). The smell would linger for the rest of the day no matter how many scented car trees he hung on the rear view mirror.

Closing his door, Officer Cruz adjusted his sunglasses in the bright morning sun. The van shook violently, yet Cruz couldn’t see past the tint in the windows and had no idea what was going on. Not liking the unexpected, he casually flipped the snap off his holster and put one hand on his gun as he approached the vehicle.

“[…can you two, I don’t know, finish up?! It’s not like I can flash the cop my…]”

Knocking on the window, Cruz discovered an unexpected sight and unexpected stench when it rolled down. The girl - who must have been a teenager or the middle aged man would eat his hat - was as pregnant as a whole Lamaze class, wearing a dress that wasn’t doing a good job of covering anything up top. While she appeared flushed and breathed like she ran a mile, the girl was alert and twitchy. The dash and windshield were covered in opaque drying liquid, the spills all over her dress evidence where the liquid came from.

“Ma’am, can you step out of the vehicle?” Cruz said, though he did hesitate to do anything, this whole affair not covered in standard operating procedures.

“Of course,” said the girl, kicking off her shoes and opening the door. She wasn’t very steady, her legs shaking badly and her pale skin flushed to the color of a tomato, but eventually she stumbled out. Once outside, the woman hadn’t stood for longer than a moment before her jaw locked up and her whole body quaked. If Cruz didn’t know better, the girl just got magically tased. This went on for only a couple of seconds before she slumped to the ground, actual smoke wafting out of her hair.

“Are you alright?” Cruz asked, stepping forward but not offering assistance just yet. He hated not acting immediately, being a gentleman, but the Change and all that came after forced police officers to hesitate instead of immediately jumping into a situation they were ignorant of. As many people died trying to help in the early days before the hard lessons and deaths sunk in.

“Yeah, sorry. The baby is Racial and every kick feels like I stuck a fork in a toaster.” The girl climbed to her feet, moaning a little as she bit her lip. “It’ll…mmm…be fine.”

Cruz gave the girl a hard look, something about this all didn’t seem right, but he had just seen her buzzed like a fly on a zapper, so it checked out. The fact she looked like she was enjoying the sensation was none of his business. She was coming out of Norwood, after all. That place had all kinds coming and going.

“[Slow down, this isn’t…I don’t know, hold it!]”

Curious more than anything, Cruz peered towards the side window of the van. The tint remained impenetrable and the mystery of the van had escalated to a possible threat. “I’m going to have to ask you to open this door so I can see inside the vehicle.”

“That isn’t a good idea,” the girl said, grimacing. Glancing upward, her eyes widened in understanding when she caught the officer’s meaning. “No, I mean…my wife is having a Change issue and…”

“I am going to have to insist.” Regulations were regulations, and right now Officer Cruz thought he had probable cause for suspicious activity.

Defeated, the girl hung her head and walked around the vehicles other side. “If you have to look, at least come over here so passing cars can’t see.”

That was reasonable, the Change brought a lot of disturbing things, though Cruz kept his hand casually on his gun because this could just as likely be an ambush. Walking around the van, the older patrolman nodded and with tense shoulders, the woman opened the sliding door.

“…I’ve only got two hands, it’s not like this is easy! Diane, good, do you have a Wonka in your purse? We’re almost out of buckets and I might have to pussy the rest of this spunk until we get in the dungeon.”

Calmly, Cruz shut the sliding door, letting the three girls off with a warning. After his shift, Officer Cruz went home and made love to his wife with more fervor and passion than ever before in their twenty-five years of marriage. It was a turning point in Officer Cruz’s life and one which he told no one about for the rest of his days.

Yet sometimes, when the aging man stood naked in front of the mirror after taking his morning shower, he would look down and sigh.

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

The video stream was a huge success. Voting among the wives grew heated, and giving Miaka a second vagina became a legitimate option the women wanted to explore as Miaka’s reward. Quinn took the buckets of cum and explained she was baking cookies tonight. Honoka announced that was the most embarrassing thing ever and she may never recover.

Lunch was goat masala and rice with naan bread. The recipe was from Padmava’s grandmother and it was amazing. Four giant pots of tomato based stew simmered on the stove and eight rice cookers prepared basmati rice in the hosting area the family gathered in for meals. The smell alone salivated those gathered, everyone making unbecoming noises from their stomachs as thirteen hungry people waited for Quinn to finish already!

Dipping a wooden spoon into one of the pots, the pregnant otter daintily sipped and smiled as she slowly smacked furry lips. At this point her daisy dukes and string bikini top were trademarked, black apron spelling out in white across her tummy keep calm and harmonize. It was obvious to everyone the cruel girl was teasing the crowd, putting the spoon back in to stir a few more turns and adding the tiniest pinch of salt.

“I say we take her back to my room and tie her down,” Eve said with a menacing voice, eyeing the room and remembering children were present, “then we tickle her until she’s unconscious. Maybe then she’ll cook faster. All in favor, say aye.”

“Aye!” It was unanimous, causing Quinn to flinch. She’d been tied to Eve’s straps before and knew what tortures awaited.

“We know you’re talking about sex,” Aruna mumbled, accompanied with synchronized nods from Jaya and Miu and an eyeroll from Ken.

“Grub’s ready!” Quinn announced, careful not to spin her extra weight around and lose balance.

The crowd cheered, Honoka said grace and the whole family jostled in line for food (except for Eve on account that she couldn’t get up, but Dolly held two bowls). The meal was a celebration for the first real time in what felt like forever. Money had been getting tighter and tighter, meals simpler and simpler and there had been no end in sight. But with Banda growing pregnant and selling so much milk that they had to ship some of it topside to Aunt Cholena’s dairy, then Diane’s phat check, things were looking up. The plan was back on track with Eve estimating a banger fiscal year.

Almost. Now that five of the wives were supernaturally pregnant with a total of eleven Legendary babies between them, the amount of food they consumed equaled five times what they had eaten the week before. This wasn’t only a pregnancy thing, it was also a Status thing: magical energy came from somewhere, so growing magical babies required abnormal amounts of food to convert into energy. Those five were also all taking special prenatal vitamins that had to be prescribed by their Uncle Aki and didn’t come over the counter or cheap.

There was also a bit of a letdown when Diane explained the check she received included the money she would need to spend on ingredients, only 35% of the total amount the eventual net, though they could save a bit depending on what the delving groups harvested out of the dungeon for the alchemist instead of relying on Marco for supplies.

“What time does the plane land?” Banda asked, her pile of rice and goaty sauce piled high into a salad bowl, using a large cooking spoon to shovel it in. Her breasts were so large she sat a few feet away from the table, a bed sheet held together with safety pins her only viable option for clothing.

“Tomorrow morning, early,” Akisame replied, much more refined in his eating habits, picking out measured bites with his chopsticks. The picturesque elegance of the Japanese man was ruined as his wife practically inhaled her food next to him and his daughter showed just as much lack of manners on the other side.

“Eaten by a grue!” Honoka shouted, totally forgetting her incipient home invasion by all the families. Groaning, she shoved her empty bowl aside and boinked her forehead on the table. Diane had finally bought Honoka loose breakaway pants, which she wore because they were comfortable and convenient, not because they were such a bright pink many of the wives carried cheap sunglasses with them now just to put them on when Honoka entered a room. Her top was a simple white tank but at least this one fit her new size. Clothing might cost the family more than food in the coming months if this kept up.

“Is it just me, or do you all feel like Hono-chan’s geek references are becoming more obscure?” Padmava asked, grabbing one of the pitchers of holstaur milk and refilling Jaya’s glass. The naga might be large enough to slither around in spandex and yell Nothing moves the Blob!, but she handled pregnancy better than the other wives. No woman was sure if this was because she was a naga or because she was already a mother.

“Zork’s easy mode, references to grues are practically mainstream,” Eve said, her bowl balanced on her massive stomach and within easy slurping distance to lick at the delicious Indian sauce remnants. Bikini tops and spandex shorts were her only clothing options and she wore them well. “Yesterday after some hot…cuddling, she said something or other about someone named Littlepip. I had to look it up. My Little Pony not only has fan fiction, it has slash crossover with the Fallout game series and Honoka must have read it.”

“Fallout: Equestria is a work of literary art and I will fight anyone who says otherwise!” Honoka yelled into the table, holding up a fist and getting a round of laughs for her troubles.

“Don’t worry about all the people coming, I’ve been talking with your mom constantly and coordinating everything,” Diane said, rubbing Honoka’s back lovingly. The succubus had on a new muumuu, this one checkered black and teal. “You just be you and let the rest of us take care of the details.”

While the words were meant to reassure Honoka, they instead sunk her further into depression. Once again, Honoka felt as if she wasn’t needed for anything outside of her penis. It didn’t help it really was a relief not to deal with all the people and making sure they were taken care of and all the little details. Honoka couldn’t wish for more capable women, and she loved them for stepping up when the shy black girl from Florida just wanted to run and hide.

What can I do? Honoka asked herself.

Before the emotional young woman dug deeper into the depression hole, a knock came to the double doors leading out of the hosting room, followed by a hesitant crack opening and the golden mask of Gwyneth peeked inside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…I’ll, I’ll come back. I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” Honoka yelled, scrambling out of the cushions away from the low table, jogging over to the door and snagging the retreating lich before she escaped. “I was going to hunt you down after lunch, but this works even better.”

Yelping in such a high pitch her echoy voice cracked, Gwyneth was dragged into the room and placed in front of the table of family while Honoka gathered some bags sitting next to the door. Returning, she presented them to the lich with a smile, happy to do something.

“What…?” Gwyneth’s voice faded as she held up a pair of brushes, the rest of the bag filled with cheap fans, lines, filberts, ovals and knives. The other bags held dozens of oils, small canvases and an easel that sat on a desk. None of it was top shelf, but it was enough to get anyone started.

Which is why it was so surprising for Gwyneth to drop all the bags and spin away, tearing off her mask and flinging it across the floor as she growled and clutched her face. Unsure what to do, Honoka stepped forward and put her hand on Gwyneth’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” the lich screamed, black flames dancing past the hood that blocked the back of her head, jerking her body away from Honoka.

Let me go! I want to be clean! I want to be normal!

Vividly, Honoka was brought back to that night on her apartment floor not so long ago, Diane struggling to keep her suicidal wife from doing anything with the knives in the kitchen. Older memories came to Honoka’s mind, waking up in a hospital surrounded by her brothers and parents, bandages hiding the deep cuts in her arms, the only time she ever saw her mother cry. Honoka knew the pain of loneliness and what it did to a person.

Reaching out again, Honoka wrapped her arms around Gwyneth’s back, gently holding her. At first the lich flinched away, but then she gave up and leaned back, making a hollow coughing noise as they stayed together.

“If you want to talk about it, we’re here,” Honoka whispered, letting go and standing.

“Everyone I touch dies,” Gwyneth croaked, her voice sounding odd. Odder: undead voices were not normal.

Honoka didn’t reply with words, instead stepping around and crouching low, using her hands to lift the hem of the lich’s hood and push it back, revealing Gwyneth for the first time.

Lich was a rare Race and everyone who Changed became reclusive. There were very few photos, but it was known that they were one of the skeletal undead Races. So it wasn’t a complete surprise to see the demonically shaped skull of white bone look up, eye sockets containing two tiny candle flames of black fire burning inside her head. The shape was mostly human skull in form, if longer and narrower, yet the shape had too many sharp edges. The teeth were interlocking fangs instead of molars and bicuspids, her brow poking two small horns above the eyes. Also, not truly bone, features of her skull moving and flexing like changing facial features, partially softening the sinister slant of her eye sockets and creepy demonic smile.

“Come on, sit down,” Honoka said, her smile easy as she carefully led the unresisting woman to the table, motioning for Gwyneth to take her seat while Honoka went and grabbed more cushions for herself.

“Would ya like lunch?” Quinn asked, her Southern showing as she already had a heaping bowl ready and slid it across the table.

“I don’t need to eat,” Gwyneth muttered, peering down at the bowl then spread confused looks around the table. “Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“Do we look human to you?” Eve asked sarcastically, waving a spoon at Akisame and Miu across from her. “Most of us anyway.”

“I’m gonna marry a dragon when I grow up,” Miu announced with pride, tipping her bowl and using her chopsticks to scoop the last masala into her mouth.

“I’m thinking I missed the boat, humans are too mainstream,” Aruna said as he got up, gathering half a dozen empty bowls and utensils while sharing a fistbump with Kenneth. “We’re going to patrol the area, if that’s ok, mom?”

“That’s fine,” half a dozen women said at the same time, causing snorted laughter as the atmosphere relaxed and family got back to eating the delicious lunch. Aruna and Kenneth walked out after depositing dirty dishes in the sink.

Gwyneth slowly placed a spoon into her food, bringing a steaming scoop to her mouth and placing it past pointy fangs. When the spoon exited, it was empty and nothing spilled out. Her cruel smile slanted farther up the sides of her jaw as she attacked the bowl and appeared as if she wanted another spoon just so she could get more masala inside faster.

“I haven’t eaten anything in years,” Gwyneth said between bites, scraping the bottom even as Quinn helpfully slid another bowl next to her. “I’ve forgotten how food tastes! Would it be permissible if I bought a meal from you once in a while? I can pay, I have a little over a hundred dollars now.”

Honoka, realizing a Widow’s Mite when it slapped her in the face, reached over and put her hand on the lich’s bony shoulder. “Your money is no good here, but maybe we can find some other way for you to help out, if you like?”

Pausing, looking down at her bowl, Gwyneth made that hollow coughing noise again as her facial bones relaxed into a neutral state. “Do you know undead Races can’t feel or express emotions like normal people? We’re numb and fake normalcy using memories we remember before the Change. I know I have sounded emotional in the past - even only a few seconds ago - but it is a clever act. Do you know how frustrating it is to not feel frustrated? I’m so happy now I could burst, yet I don’t feel elated. I sometimes get depressed and down while feeling nothing, lacking an outlet for emotions I no longer possess. When I felt Enoch die and the Contract’s hold on me disappear, I stood on the bridge, empty. I built the Castle in those early days after the Change, thinking I would embrace solitude rather than live through an existence of unfulfillment. With a thought, I wanted myself to end. I was the one who collapsed my home and prison. I was determined to stop feeling nothing each and every day.

“Then one of the dead grabbed me and threw me off the bridge before it collapsed into molten iron. This isn’t supposed to happen, it couldn’t happen; all those minions were controlled by me and can’t do anything without orders. I gave up caring about anyone when the Change turned me into this. I gave up when I lost my baby in a miscarriage. Who cares about the living! The dead can’t feel, can’t hurt, can’t…can’t anything, like me.” Using her spoon, she idling drew in the remains of her food. “The dead who saved me was the leader of Vedic Starlight when he was alive and my highest level necron.” Looking up, Gwyneth found Padmava and stared into her eyes with resolution. “It took me a week searching dungeon forums. Arun Nair was a famous delver and popular in the dungeon. I didn’t kill him, but I’m sorry about your husband.”

“I should have done this days ago, but I was too weighed down with guilt,” Padmava announced purposefully, pushing away from the table and slithered behind Gwyneth. “Since I learned you raised my Starlight and used him down in Bone Castle, I hated you. I kept hating you after learning you were under Contract. When you came here and Honoka took you in, I wanted to hate you still. Then you saved my little girl.” Padmava choked up, eyes brimming with tears. Without preamble, the naga reached with four arms and took a startled lich into her embrace. “Monsters would have killed my Jaya. And without a single kindness from me you kept her safe; I’m sorry my stubborn pride prevented me from seeing karma unfold. You are welcome in my home, you are welcome to eat whenever you like, you are even welcome to join this family as far as I am concerned.” Padmava ended this with a tender snaky kiss, a bit of forked tongue licking the stunned skeletal woman before the naga set Gwyneth down.

Shell shocked, the undead woman sat and glanced around the room with her black fires, contemplative over everything happening. “I suspect there’s more than just girlfriends with benefits going on here, but would you explain what it means to be apart of this family?”

Just as Honoka was about to launch into the spiel, the door opened and Kenneth poked his head in, motioning silently for Honoka. “I’m going to let the girls go into more detail, but I’ll leave you with an important question: how would you like to be human again for a short time?” The futa-girl stood and walked to the door, speaking to the wives in general. “Keep it PG rated, back in a bit.”

“Aruna says there’s a problem but not an emergency,” Kenneth said after Honoka closed the door and walked with her nephew through the hallway. “Said to get you.”

“Hmm,” Honoka replied, wondering what else can happen today. “I’m thinking of changing my superhero name to Trouble Magnet, Mistress Of Random Catastrophes.”

“No joke,” Ken said with a sarcastic half smile, bat ears twitching as they stepped into the courtyard.

By the looks of it, Honoka really was a trouble magnet. She very much wished she wasn’t.