Boy Bunks, Boy Breaks

Kevin

Kevin ate in an empty canteen after the information dump he endured from the mermaid. He got himself a hamburger, no cheese, and some fries. Skye gave him a motherly shoulder squeeze as she dropped off his food. His feelings about her are a bit strange. The lilac-skinned elf looks younger than him, but feels way older than Ms. O’Connor-Peters. It’s a little unnerving. It does not help that she’s just as naked as she was this afternoon. He tried his best to review his notes, to parse out another detail in a way that makes sense. Mona is the gamer of the two of them. He is the academic one. Maybe the system will make more sense when it is no longer theoretical supposition, but something I am practically pursuing?

He makes his way upstairs, both longing for sleep and dreading dealing with his roommate. Craig is an asshole, through and through. So, he is pleasantly surprised when the room is empty, save for Winter, idly sweeping the space around the loveseat.

“Good evening, Kevin.” The surly maid greets, then returns to sweeping.

“Winter.” Kevin answers back. He heads to his wardrobe for something appropriate as sleepwear. The student doubts that Craig would appreciate Kevin just sleeping in his underwear, as he usually does. Finding one plain white T-shirt and some loose shorts, Kevin stares at what he assumes is something the others didn’t get in their welcome bag: a pair of powder blue silk hipster panties, in his exact size. Do I wear them? I kind of want to wear them...

“If you are staring at what I am expecting you to be staring at,” Winter notes, deadpan, from across the room, “wearing them for an hour will attune you to them. They will always adjust themselves to be your perfect size, no matter what happens tomorrow. And they can be our little secret.”

Kevin’s cheeks burn. “You know?”

“I was the one to make the welcome bags for you and Craig. Chose the personal touches myself. And, before you stammer and object, we are much less stuffy about kinks here than you are used to. The Hotel is just as much about letting the contestants indulge as it is about the Mistress. Go ahead. Try ‘em on.”

Impulsively, Kevin takes them. He heads to the bathroom to change. The panties he is currently wearing are a little loose at the hips. He needs to buy pairs that can hold this “too big for ladies underwear his size but too small to impress a guy” dick; the looks he got from shopkeepers as he claimed his girlfriend is wide in the hips always unnerved him. They drop to the ground as soon as his jeans do. The steps out of the clothes pile and into the gift. The silk hugs his hips perfectly; it cradles his crotch lovingly. He quickly hides the fact that he put them on with the rest of his sleepwear.

Still, when he exits the bathroom, Winter is smirking at him. “Better, Kevin?”

Kevin blushes and starts to turn away. The maid stops sweeping and sits on the loveseat, knees together, ankles crossed. “You satisfy your desire for answers for now, or would you like to pick my brain?”

“I guess I will get the whole mechanics of how we save the world once we start training. I suppose my other big question is: how do I navigate this whole dating game thing? Mona is not exactly my type and I can’t see how she will ever be.”

Winter looks thoughtful at that. “Well, the choice is up to you, really. Some people in your situation find ways to appeal to the Master without moving to full sexy times, some find a partner and do threesomes with the partner in the middle, some bite the bullet and let the Master use them despite feeling gross about it, some use BP for a sexuality change, some break. We have some seasons you can watch downstairs, if you’d want to see how others handled it. I would again note that you do have XP sources that don’t involve sexy times with a woman.”

Kevin freezes, his brain drilling down to one word in particular, “Master?”

“Usually, the sexes are reversed for this situation. A male Master with an attractive lesbian contestant, instead of a female Mistress with an attractive gay contestant.”

Did Winter just say that I am attractive? Is that why I got sexy underwear? Winter was staring at Craig’s crotch too. Ah...

“Earth to Kevin? Hello?”

Kevin shakes his head to focus. “I am very, very gay.”

Winter just smirks again. The maid scoots forward to stand, strolling to the door. Turning to look at him from over the maid’s shoulder, Winter purrs, “Good night, Kevin.”

The door closes behind the maid. Kevin, confused, tired, and a little intimidated, lays down on the bed. He stares up to see a mirror embedded in the canopy of the poster bed. He watches his reflection squirm until, after a long, strange day, he finally falls asleep.

Mona

By the time Mona got out of her bath and into the very fancy pajamas Ophelia laid out for her, the maid has recovered from whatever it was Vix said to her. The sea elf sits on a couch, a couple of video game controllers in hand.

“So, you still got about an hour before I would recommend you head to bed. Wanna play some MUGEN? We got the Harem Hotel mod edition.”

She doesn’t want to talk about whatever that was, huh? Mona listens back to what she was asked. “Harem Hotel mod edition?”

“Uh, yeah. Clothing damage, erotic attacks, and all of the characters are reskinned as Hosts.”

Mona shrugs and sits down, grabbing the offered controller. Ophelia instantly selects Tyalangan, noting, “I am a The Queen main.”

Mona is staggered by just how many options there are. Most of them are bombshells in evening wear. There are sooooo many redheads; way more than one would expect. A few look like they can handle a fight. She recognizes Shar (Tall vampire lady!) from their gooning session, even in what looks like medieval Celtic armor. She also recognizes the redhead from that Levi guy’s season (Azure is a bad name for a redhead). Ruby is a good name for a redhead, but she looks like she is just a piece of eye candy and her character is a dyad with some fat bastard named Al. Arabella is another redhead in an evening gown. As is Vanessa. And Ava. Titania is a redhead in a ringmistress outfit. Reyna is a redhead in a zoot suit. Sassafras a redhead in a maid’s outfit (Mona feels sad that Sassafras’s outfit is less revealing than Ophelia’s). There are two pink haired leprechauns (Pink is a kind of red). Sooo many choices.

Mona looks for the most ridiculous character she can find. She almost selects this weird looking old lady in an ill-fitting seersucker suit, just for Ophelia to say, “Don’t be boring; audience already saw that fight.”

“Fine?” Mona picks the little girl in the BDSM dress with the crown of thorns. Ophelia gives Mona some time to figure out the controls in the practice arena. Apparently, this “Ora” character attacks by ordering penguins and a pink-haired maid around (She has the penguin fetish!). The dancing penguin musical ultimate attack is funny, at least.

Ophelia is a monster with Tyalangan and Mona is not a fighting game player. The maid scores a perfect match. Then Ophelia proceeds to tear through Mona’s Ora character with Shar, Nymeera (Foxes are hot!), Alison (Super cute blue-haired maid!), even Tina (Bunny-girl can spam Fireballs?!?!). It’s mildly humbling.

“You know, as I am the Mistress, shouldn’t you let me win once?”

“I mean, you did pick a joke character. Here, let me match your meme level selection.”

Ophelia selects this pink-haired leprechaun named Nola. This fight is a lot closer. Nola’s attack is apparently talking without stopping. She annoys her opponents into surrendering. The prattle is kind of funny, as Nola just narrates the fight between other random observations. The penguin attack spam overcomes and Nola is left naked (save the leprechaun hat) and humiliated.

“Good game?” Ophelia offers her hand. The webbing between her fingers feel weird. Mona shakes anyways.

“Good game.”

Craig

Craig’s knee brace for work gives him more support. It lets him walk farther, climb power lines, almost function as a complete person and not a broken thing. He’ll be glad to be rid of it.

His afternoon was mildly pleasant, more than a little frustrating, mostly strange. He walked out of the Hotel and found himself in a castle proper. Nobles, maids, guards, other servants moving around, doing what he supposed were their regular routines. So much eye candy in the castle. The nobles, mostly women, had tight dresses with ample cleavage and thigh on display; most of those boobs and asses were a little small for his taste, but he appreciated them looking like they were all about to pop out regardless. The maids were mostly bunny-girls like that dyke assistant, dressed just as provocatively in their little maid outfits; they flashed their panties (or their lack of panties in many cases) without a care as they cleaned. The guards looked like knights from medieval times, with armor that shimmers in the light and halberds at the ready; even then, the female guards looked boneable. Craig has not seen an ugly woman among the natives of this place the entire time, once you got past the animal bits or knife-ears.

But what got to Craig the most was the looks they gave him. There was this hunger for him that he hasn’t seen since high school: universal among the women, nearly universal from the guys (which grossed Craig out), nearly all-consuming for those that wanted a piece. It was as if only a sense of propriety stopped them from hopping on his dick right then and there. And even then, he did see these people having sex out in the open, more or less, as he wandered the castle halls. He even sat down to watch a bunny-girl maid take it up the ass by a wolf-guy guard when his knee acted up enough to demand a break; the maid looked like she wanted to at least suck him off while she was getting reamed from behind.

Needless to say that Craig was rock hard by the time he left the castle. The guards let him go, with only a brief reminder of his “curfew” as he walked. Directly outside the castle looked like something from a medieval period piece, if it was filmed by perverts. Craig approved. Cobblestone streets, with people milling about, wearing even less clothes (on average) than what was worn inside. Seriously, the most prudish of the women were dressed in a fashion that Craig associated more with street walkers than with high class dames.

Across the street from the castle was a park. He saw in the distance a section cordoned off for children, but he walked to the entrance before him. He didn’t feel the need to look like a creep watching children play. More people having public sex awaited him in the park. As he walked, he noticed just how many of those exhibitionists would stop and give him those hungry bedroom eyes.

People would come to chat him up, intending to proposition him. He’d growl away the guys, but flirt back with the girls. Again, not an ugly chick in sight. It felt amazing to be desired so much. Then, the disappointment set in. At first, they’d apologize and lose interest as soon as he mentioned (when asked) how he got here by being kidnapped for the smut show. When he started lying, they’d eventually pull out a phone and scan him; they’d huff away in a hurry after that. Craig soon learned to hate cell phones. He asked some chick with cow ears and some massive milky tits hanging out of her top what she was doing as she pulled out her phone; she said it was an STI and ID check. When he asked why she started to walk away, she replied, “It’s illegal to sleep with a Harem Hotel contestant without the Mistress’s express written permission.”

Needless to say, Craig was annoyed with the situation as he rested his knee again, this time at a park bench by a giant fucking rabbit-person orgy. He contemplated whipping it out to jerk himself off, like a surprising number of other people at the park was doing, but decided against it.

He exited the park and tried to distract himself with a little bit of window shopping, mostly to calm down after so much people watching. The mural of the naked purple lady in the first place (some sort of spa?) didn’t help. The coffee shop barista cow-chick squeezing her tit-milk into a pitcher next door certainly didn’t help. There was a pink-haired cat girl hanging up a sign next to the coffee shop advertising dildoes in the shape of Craig’s cock for sale, with an upcharge for various magical effects, such as an enhancement to make it update as his dick changes, starting at 5 gold pieces. That thought almost calmed down his raging erection, then he pictured the cat girl riding one and got hard again. In this crazy, sexed up world, it was hard to get soft, as it were.

So, Craig finds himself at a bar, nursing a beer and eating some dinner, feeling frustrated. The bunny-barkeeper’s tits are out, as she is only wearing a thin thong (with the light buzzing of the vibrator shoved inside it audible if you strained to listen for it). The bunny-barkeep leans forward, trying to catch his attention. 90% of the bar patrons are giving him the same hungry eyes he felt all day. If only I can find a slut dumb enough not to check my ID with their phone. Maybe if I get a chick drunk enough?

He finds a couple of bunny-girls, drinking girlie cocktails and giggling. Bingo. He saunters over with his beer, sits down beside them, and nods. “Hey, ladies. Looking to feel a real man inside you?”

They giggle so hard. One of the girls nibbles on the ear of the other, whispering something in what sounds like Welsh? They giggle some more.

“I don’t know,” one of the sluts slurs, “We haven’t seen the goods.”

“Yeah,” the other adds, “and we’re supposed to be resting tonight. Boss will be mad with we fuck on our night off. It’s gotta be worth it.”

Craig bites, “And where do you two ladies work, that your boss cares about how you spend your night off?”

“At the Carrot Patch,” they tipsily recite simultaneously, expecting him to know it.

“And what is that?”

“Only the best brothel on Hippity Hoppity Way!” one slurs in exclamation.

“Sooo much fun when a guy picks us up. Sooo much fun when a girl does too. And sooo much fun bouncing on a carrot toy while we wait for the next client. You should check it out.”

“Maybe I will. You said something about checking out the goods.” Craig unzips his pants and fishes out his cock. His manhood twitches in the bar air, relieved to finally be set free after an afternoon of straining against his pants. Both bunny girls drool, then the opening riffs of some strange metal tune distracts them.

“Eeeeeeeeeh! Nobody said Stormbringer was playing the bar tonight. C’mon, stud, time to dance!”

Craig is yanked up to his feet. The bunnies drag him to a clear space in the bar and the three of them dance, two drunk enough to not have a lot of coordination, one with a knee screaming at him to stop but **** to keep going.

The “band” seems to consist of one woman, dark hair braided, with a strategic shave on one side of her hair and several streaks of shining blonde hair as a contrast. Her makeup is dark and intense. Her guitar looks like a giant battle axe as it wails. She has a black T-shirt and a tartan midi skirt on, with fishnet stockings and some combat boots to complete the look. The other instruments are floating behind her, playing themselves. Her **** metal screams chill Craig to the bone.

Time becomes a blur. Craig keeps trying to sit, to rest, but the sluts just want to keep dancing. His knee nearly buckles by the time the singer finishes her set. He struggles to sit, to catch his breath. He downs his beer, puts another round on his tab. The girls gladly glug and gush over the weird music.

The second set is much like the first. A rush of pain and terror, followed by a struggle to catch his breath with another beer. The barkeep pushes her breasts into his back as she whispers, “Between dinner, three beers, and 4 peachy keens with arousal suppressants, your total so far comes to 7 gold.”

Craig checks for his wallet. It’s still there. “What’s that in Canadian dollars?”

“What is a Canadian dollar?”

Uh oh.

The singer takes the stage again. She rolls her shoulders, holding the battle axe guitar as if she’s going to use it for more violent acts shortly. Then, with a distinctly Californian accent, she says, “Well, everybody, it’s 10:05, which means somebody is late for curfew. Do me a big favor and offer Craig over there some well wishes. It’s past time for him to be in bed.”

UH OH!

Craig knocks over the barkeep as he hobbles away as fast as his tired knee can take him. Out of the bar and into the night air. He hears, “And do tune in to Harem Hotel: Woo the Girl, Save the World on the Mithril Coast Entertainment Network!” coming out from the bar. And then, the sound of a screech from above. He turns into an alley, just to see a parrot girl slam into the ground right where he would have been walking.

“Come on, Craig, you’re going the wrong way.” the parrot girl taunts. He keeps hobbling deeper into the alley. The bird draws a cutlass and saunters in after him, looking like she isn’t in any hurry. She squawks something in that Welsh sounding language again.

Craig bursts out of the alley and turns, still trying to run. “Bad move, Craig!” he hears from the alley.

He turns back, expecting the bird girl to give chase. Instead, there is a rock girl, running faster than most male Olympian sprinters, heading directly towards him. She leaves little chunks of molten rock behind her. Craig keeps hobbling away, terrified.

Then, suddenly, he creams his pants. The world goes white as he falls ****.

Behind the Scenes

After knocking Craig out with a well delivered punch of erotic damage to the temple, Scarlet pumps a Pulse of Pleasure into the wayward contestant to restore some of his HP, then leaves Airika to get him into the Hotel Brig for the night. The former pirate queen mutters some complaints, but a quick promise to invite her along for Scarlet’s next date night with Tyalangan solves that problem; she likes the bratty birdie, so it’s not even that much trouble.

He’ll have a massive crotch ache in the morning, but he’ll be fine.

Scarlet then saunters over to the bar Craig was at to deal with the fallout. One of her wives happened to have gotten herself a gig there to supervise the Canadian, so she had much of the problem resolved. The barkeep took more injury to her pride than anything else. Scarlet gives her a Pulse of Pleasure anyways; the barkeep appreciates both the healed bruise and the jolt of arousal. The oread thereupon pays the tab Craig skipped out on, noting the amount the man now owes the royal treasury.

The Carrot Patch girls he was trying to score with feel super embarrassed and apologize profusely. Scarlet assures them that they are not in trouble. Alex would have intervened if he was actually violating the tacit rules of being in a harem (instead of just attempting to violate them). Soon enough, the punk girl is jamming out some of her heavy bardcore tunes as she plays one more set for the bar crowd. Scarlet sips on an espresso martini as she listens to her wife play.

Set complete, backup musical instruments pocketed in her inventory, Alex sashays over and sits in Scarlet’s lap. The punk girl purrs, “How annoyed is our wife going to be about little Mr. Dougie?” as she nibbles a few pebbles of obsidian by Scarlet’s ear.

“Of the things Craig did today, missing curfew wasn’t even the worst of it. And you know how she gets when she slips into justice mode.”

“He’s not going to be happy in the morning, then. Threesome with Daph tonight?”

Scarlet feels Alex get out of her lap and hold her hand up as the oread stands. Alex turns down her gig fee for the trouble Craig caused; Scarlet pays for her drink with a big tip. The two former humans walk back to the castle, hand in hand. It’s getting late if they want to bang a mermaid before bed.