Afternoon Activities

Andromeda

“We were promised a ‘goodie bag,’ Bella? Do you know where mine would be?”

The bunny maid, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, beams as she summons one from nowhere. Andromeda goes through her bag. Cell phone. Coupons. A rulebook thick enough to make a Level 3 Judge pull out their hair. A loose pack of Leylines: Alpha edition with a post-it note merely stating: Feeling Lucky? Andromeda places the bag of coupons and pack of cards in her wardrobe, planning on lugging the rulebook and phone to meet up with some of the others. Understanding the rules is the first step to playing the game.

“Soooooo, Dro, wanna go do something fun?”

“Andromeda.”

The bunny scrunches her nose, then nods, “Oh, you’re a stickler like Mama Aelenetheria. Understood! Still, wanna do something fun? We can go hit the pool, make out, stuff like that!”

“I wanted to figure out the game, maybe strategize with the others. Would you like to help me with that?”

The bunny pouts a little, but bounces back with, “I can bring snacks! And, ooooh, I forgot about the bounty board! I hope new grumpy friend Tegan will forgive me. Ah, here!”

The bunny scrambles to tape up a poster board on the back of the door. The effort is slapdash, the poster askew, the text somewhat hard to read due to the bunny stickers and glitter. Seems simple enough, if perverted, Andromeda thinks as she strains to read:

“Bella’s Things for Her New Friends to Do!

Do These Everyday!!!!:

• 5 BP – Bunny Bounce on a Dildo to Orgasm!!!
• +5 BP – ...While in Public!
• +10 BP – ...And in Front of Your Mistress!

Do These Sometime This Week!!!!:

• 20 BP – Do Good at a Training Thingie for the First Time!
• 25 BP – Get Level 1!
• 50 BP – Get a Standing Ovation (10 person minimum) for Your Bunny Bouncing!!!!”

Publicly masturbating in front of Mona every day? Could I do that while conveying sufficient affection? Could I do that period? And to do that sort of thing for a crowd? Andromeda tries texting the others as she mulls over the bounties. Only Kevin and Ms. O’Connor-Peters answer relatively quickly. The later apologized, but said she needed to find answers. At least Kevin wants to talk. She finds him nibbling on a cookie in the bedroom floor common area.

“Hey,” Kevin greets, “These cookies are pretty good. Want one?”

Andromeda sits down and takes a cookie. She sees Bella beam and wiggle her butt at the two of them enjoying her baking. The cookies ARE pretty good.

The two compare notes. It sounds like the guys’ bounties are a combination of the two normal ones they have and a bunch of things she expects neither of them to do. Andromeda wonders what perversity the final pair and Mona got. The bunny-girl bounces onto the couch and grabs a cookie for herself, shoving the whole thing in her mouth in one big bite.

“Soooo, new friends, what can I do to help you figure out the game? I got an in with the Host! She’s one of my moms!”

“We need answers about the target of the main quest. What is it? How do we fight it? What should we be doing to prepare?”

The bunny-girl looks confused. Summer exits the Summer Room and answers for Bella, “We don’t know what the Lovecraftian horror that is housed in your Earth is. Mom said it was need to know and we didn’t need to know. The library would have information on cosmic horrors, if you want to research that. As far as preparation goes, play the game. Get that XP. Power up. You can talk with Mama Daphne at Dungeons for Damsels if you want more details or find your likely trainers. But, I’d encourage you to make friends right now instead. The horror research can wait.”

“Kevin, you want to talk to this Daphne? I’m going to look for information on the thing I saw.”

As the two of them walk downstairs to start plans to save the world, Bella waves, another cookie in her mouth. Summer sighs and waves as well. Time to hit the library.

Tessa

Tessa understands why some of her former students want to coordinate. From what little information she has on the game so far, they are going to need to work together to survive, even if they are competing for the wish at the end. But, for now, Tessa is not focused on the game; she has higher priorities.

The maid for her room was quite helpful, even if she insisted on calling her Auntie the whole time. Tessa got her “goodie bag” from the girl; she might start tackling reading through the daunting rule book tonight. The phone has the same list of locations available on the kiosk. Summer pointed her to a location in particular if Tessa wanted confirmation of the Host’s claim to be her long-lost brother. And so, after a visit to the teleportation room, Tessa finds herself in a gym.

The receptionist is... strange. She has little tiger ears on top of her head, covered in glowing neon green fur. Her hair is also neon green, with subtle stripes throughout. She smiles with a snaggletooth grin. The stripes go down her skin and into furry neon green forearms, ending in tiger paws, slightly modified to have opposable thumbs. The girl has six breasts, covered in a complicated sports bra, branded with the gym’s name and logo (The Wulf Den).

The girl greets Tessa like someone randomly appearing out of nowhere is an expected occurrence. “Oh, a contestant! Eeeeh, I get to be on Harem Hotel for a moment! Hi, Mom! I’m Gloaria. Boss lady is wrapping up a class and will be with you in a moment. Can I do anything for you in the meantime? Water? Protein shake? Initial health evaluation that will probably be out of date very soon?”

She is way too excited about this. “None of that, dear. Though, if I may be so bold as to ask, why are you so excited to be on this vile program?”

“Vile program? You sound a bit like a fancier version of the Boss lady. Harem Hotel is prime time television viewing here. Watching all those humans bone is soooo satisfying. You didn’t watch it where you’re from?”

The “Boss lady” strides up, both recognizable and not at the same time. Josephine Wulf. Francis’s friend that disappeared the same time he did, last seen entering the showers in the gym they both belonged to. She looks like she hasn’t aged a day from the last recorded pictures Tessa’s investigations found. Sure, she gained some more muscle. The wolf ears, teeth, and tail are all new. But, it is her.

“Gloaria, go take over for my next class. And you, old lady, are either someone I wasn’t expecting or your parents were very cruel to you by naming you Craig.”

The tiger-girl bounding up from behind the desk distracts Tessa for a moment. A tiger-tail, neon green and striped, sticks out above a thong bikini bottom clad bubble butt. More stripes and fuzzy calves, ending in tiger paws, complete the look.

Focusing on the missing muscle-bound beauty before her, Tessa asks, “And why would you be expecting Mr. Dougie?”

“I would be his primary class trainer, in addition to serving as a personal trainer for you lot. I get that my old lady wants us all involved with the show, but I only want to deal with the absolute minimum that I have to. So, what can I do for you, ma’am?”

I know it’s been years and I have barely interacted with her, but... “Do you not recognize me, Josie?”

That earns Tessa an arched eyebrow and a growled question, “Should I, old lady?”

Tessa offers a hand. “Tessa O’Connor-Peters. Tyalangan’s younger sister, if she told me correctly. May I ask you some questions?”

Josie deflates, a glint of recognition in her eyes. “Of course my old lady would use the show to save you. It’s what I get for skipping all the preproduction meetings. Come to my office and we’ll talk.”

Finally, some answers.

Kevin

Kevin finds himself down in this Dungeons for Damsels store. Andromeda wanted to hit the library, dreading yet demanding to find out as much as she can about the cosmic horror they will presumably all be facing at the end of the show. So, the duty of finding out how they will be stopping it fell to the lanky young man.

The store isn’t much of a store, when all is said and done. There aren’t any shelves full of goods or anything like that. A long countertop divides the room in half. Behind the counter is a pool of water, lightly circulating. The slow churn of water gives the room a briny smell, a humid feeling. The fairy fountain theme from Zelda plays in the background. The walls have stained glass depictions of battle scenes featuring the Host, of all things. Tyalangan fighting round-bodied penguins armed with knives, a couple of Abrams tanks, a weird yellow oozing tree thing with some sort of spider robot, a giant face-burnt redhead with a pack of wolves at her beck and call, a horde of viking zombies. Kevin contemplates the tableau. How does any of this make sense?

Seeing a singular antique countertop bell, brassy and elegant in design, sitting on the desk as the only thing to do here, Kevin dings it. The bell resonates deeply, way too deeply than what it looks like it should. The water behind the desk vibrates, then a monster with fake coral glasses jumps out, a big, shark-toothed grin on its mouth.

The monster introduces itself with a pre-rehearsed greeting, “Hello, adventures! I am your fun-loving and super sexy Dungeon Mermaid, Daphne! Welcome to Dungeons for Damsels! I sell a bunch of fun transformations and items to help you explore the depths of playfulness and perversity we have designed for you all to enjoy! Prizes await, waiting to be found: XP, BP, and even the super rare PP! How can I get you started today?”

“Uh, hi, Daphne? We have questions.”

The mermaid(?) Daphne pauses, blinks. “Wait, you aren’t Andromeda. I was expecting Andromeda. You’re supposed to be looking for Alex and/or Nyadia.”

Confused, Kevin asks the first question that came to mind, which was not one he came in to ask. “You mean Nadia?”

“No, Nyadia. Lazzorkat naming conventions always involve a cat noise pun.”

That wasn’t helpful. What’s a lazzorkat? Kevin tries to focus on a more productive line of inquiry. “Why are you expecting Andromeda? She wanted to hit the library. I can let her know that you are looking for her, if it’ll help.”

“Oh, assuming the tentacle thing doesn’t win, I am the wizard trainer. So, we’d be spending a bunch of time together. We’d probably spend a bunch of time together even if the tentacle thing wins; I doubt Andromeda wants to take magic lessons from Tina. Still, gotta wait for the vote to complete. What can I do for you, Kevin?”

What followed was a long conversation about statistics, XP level curves, and spell preparations. Kevin follows along as best he can, taking notes. The team will need it in a digestible form. Hopefully, we can get everyone together in time.

Gaia

Ah, the sun!

Gaia is outdoors for the first time since her conviction. And it is a glorious sunny afternoon. The sensation of the sun, warming her skin, and a slight ocean breeze from the coastline she can make out from the gardens from over the castle wall makes her feel alive for the first time in months. Her now bare feet wiggle into the dirt; she hates wearing shoes (barely tolerating the V-alpha toe shoes she would wear to meet civilization’s cruel rule of “No shoes, no service.”). And now, she doesn’t have to, the terribly constraining cheap tennis shoes the prison **** upon her tossed away, already forgotten.

A bunny-girl staff member gave her directions to the botanical garden and Gaia strides towards it. She notices the monstrosity of the pool and keeps going; it looks like someone crammed an entire, impossible water park’s worth of slides and other attractions into a singular Olympics sized swimming pool. At least she can’t smell the vile chemical tang of chlorine from the churning pool water. She hopes the pool is cleaned using natural, environmentally friendly means, but at least appreciates the lack of poison in the air.

There, she sees the entrance to the botanical gardens. A statue made of jade and red granite stands on a plinth. It depicts a woman with green skin and red hair, naked, with absolutely ridiculous proportions. The kind of breasts that happen from poisoning oneself with gallons of silicon, placed in bags to defile oneself under the skin. Huge and unnaturally perky. The woman holds a living cactus, captured in a coffee mug shaped vessel with a tiger motif. Gaia considers the statue for a few moments. An impossible figure, rendered well. The stonework is nice. Would still prefer the garden untainted by the blight of humanity. The tropical flowers growing around the statue is much more appreciated. I thought some of these plants went extinct? Has this world avoided calamity or are they preserving these flowers in this garden?

As Gaia walks through the garden, misters spraying water to simulate a tropical climate’s humidity, she starts to unzip her jumpsuit, trying the top part around her waist. The tank top the prison gave her to wear underneath is thin, almost threadbare. Her braless breasts start to pebble with the dampness of her shirt. She doesn’t particularly care; she is too busy just absorbing the sunshine and wondering about the plant life in the garden to worry about modesty on a smut show.

Some of these plants don’t even look real to me. Gaia stares at this impossible giant fly-trap, large enough to capture a small mammal. In fact, one trap seems to be digesting some sort of animal currently the size of her head. That’s amazing. I wonder how big the traps could get. Fascinated, Gaia grabs a little stick to activate the trap hairs. She watches the trap slowly start to close around the stick, only to stop once it feels the stick is too large; the deadly leaves begin to unfurl again.

She continues to stroll, soaking up the sun. I really like it here.

Tegan

Tegan saw a practice range on the kiosk list and used the fast travel door to get there. The range is very cheesy. A lashed together arch of wooden beams frames the entrance, a sign declaring it “The Anne Oakley Women’s Empowerment (Through Shootin’ Stuff!) Center” hanging overhead. A song straight out of a spaghetti western plays overhead as Tegan steps in, startling the angry archer. There appears to be an armory, fashioned like an old west sheriff’s office, and a range with targets set up at a variety of distances. Of course, the targets are mostly the kind of showboating objects Anne Oakley would have used in her act: cigars, playing cards, apples, a stuffed prairie dog. Such wasteful frivolity.

A dinner bell, attached to the porch of the armory, looks to be the only thing to really interact with, outside of the armory door itself. Tegan tries the door first, just to see it spark blue, arcing electricity through her hand. Tegan expected pain, maybe ****, but got hit with an almost cataclysmic climax instead. The Olympian nearly collapses in a heap.

“You didn’t think to try the bell, sugar?” The voice on the other side of the door has a Deep South accent, laying it on extra thick.

Still reeling with the sudden flood of arousal, Tegan merely grunts through gritted teeth, “The fuck was that?”

“Security, the Harem Hotel way. Hi, Tiny Tits, I am Mattie, your amazing range mistress for the season, amongst my many, many other fun roles. What can I do for you? Wasn’t expecting visitors ‘til tomorrow.”

Tiny Tits? TINY TITS!?!? “I have you know that my breasts are the perfect size for archery and only fools would want them bigger.”

“Don’t let Shar hear you say stuff like that. She has a way of making sure the boobies... expand.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry your little head about it. What can I do for you?”

“For one, stop talking to me through the door. For two, I am here to practice. I refuse to let my skills slip after such humiliation I suffered from this morning. I need to kill that haughty whore of a Host!”

The door opens, and the woman on the other side is strange. She wears a catsuit made of black leather and basically transparent latex, putting her entire torso on display. Great. Yet another exhibitionist slut with cow tits. Smaller cow tits than those bunny bimbos, but still cow tits. Her eyes are disturbing: glowing chocolate brown 4-pointed stars on black sclera. No pupils. Annoyed looking eyebrows. And a smirk on her lips.

“Yeah, Tiny Tits, I am not goin’ let you embarrass yourself by tryin’ to kill my wife. But, if you wanna practice savin’ the world, I can oblige.”

This Mattie slut presents a competition compound bow and a small quiver full of practice arrows. Tegan snags them and marches herself down to the line. She glares at the big-tittied cow, waiting for the call to shoot.

The strange woman drawls, “Fire when ready!”

And Tegan starts to let the arrows fly.