Day 4 - Nipple Play - Dungeon Meshi

Marcille’s hands closed around the bulbous, purpling fruit and sunk right in. Pulpy, green sap drooled down her fingers and over the back of her hands. She pulled her arms back slowly and stared down at her palms. Thick, jelly-like fluids connected her fingers in thick strands, little deep green seeds floated within.

“Ah-” She mumbled before scurrying back. Looking down at her hands and back up at the smushed remains of the plant, Marcille managed to push back the urge to immediately wipe her hands on her robes. Not until she knew what it was that had gotten on them.

“You okay, Marcille?” Laos had been working with some of the vines not far away and must have heard her muttering and seen her backing away, frozen in fear.

“Th-the plant,” She gestured toward the remains of the fruit. “It… broke.”

“I see,” Laos looked over at the plant, then back at her hands, “Oh. Is that stuff okay to have on you?”

“I don’t know!” Marcille turned to him and held out her hands, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t recognize it,” Laos scratched his chin and looked at the still-oozing fruit for a moment. “It’s not in the manual.”

“You don’t even have to check?” Marcille sputtered.

Senshi came clanking over and looked at the plant for a moment. He pulled a fur-lined pouch out from his pack and wrapped it ever-so-gently around one of the other fruits hanging from the same vine, then pinched the base of the sprout where it bloomed. The fruit dropped without resistance into his grip. Holding it gingerly as a newborn, he brought it over to the two of them to show.

“That’s Mules’ Aid.” He muttered, running his finger along the purple surface gingerly. Even without pushing, the skin split as if he was unzipping it. “Rare to see it this high up.”

“That must be why the guide didn’t mention it,” Laos reached out to touch it, Senshi slapped his hand away.

“It’s completely inedible, no matter how you cook it, but it isn’t poisonous.” As the plant split and revealed its chunky, congealed guts, he dipped just the tip of his finger in. “Tastes like crap, but it’s great medicine.”

“Medicine?” Marcille looked down at her hands, “So it’s safe to wipe off?”

“I wouldn’t use your clothes, it’ll stain.” Senshi rubbed the little dollop on the tip of his nose. “And don’t use water either, at least not yet. Best way to wash it off is to let it dry, then rinse. You’ll never get all of it off if you rinse before it dries.”

“What does it treat?” Laos took a little scoop from Marcille’s palm.

“Marcille, do your hands feel warm?” Senshi wrapped the fruit he had picked and tied the pack gingerly.

“I guess?” She curled and uncurled her fingers, they did feel a bit hot.

“The jelly is a painkiller you can rub on anything sore,” Senshi took a little dab from her hands as well and got the back of his neck. “First it's gonna feel hot, almost too hot, but then it's going to go cold as an ice pack. They call it Mules’ Aid because the pack animals love it. After a day of carrying a party’s baggage, spread some of it where the luggage was the heaviest and it’ll perk right up. Help em sleep and be ready for more the next day. You can’t get far if you don’t treat your gear right, animals just the same as weapons.”

“The sap can do all that?” Marcille kept closing and opening her fists. She wanted the gunk off her hands, but she was marveling at how warm it was starting to make her fingers feel.

“Aye,” Senshi nodded. “The sap’s full of little living bits of pollen. They’re climbing into your body through your skin and trying to root your nervous system.”

“They’re trying to do what?” Marcille yelped.

“The warmth is your immune system trying to drive them out, like a localized, harmless infection.” Senshi took another dab and rubbed it on his shoulder where one of the straps of his pack hung. “Then as your body kills the pollen, they release a bunch of chemicals like endorphins into the sap, making it feel cold, but in a good way.”

Marcille’s hands had gotten warm enough to be unpleasant, but like a switch was flipping, the cold started to come. It was like they were slowly going numb as she held them underwater, but the experience was undeniably pleasant. A nice sort of weightless unfeeling. She only noticed when they started to shrink again that they had swollen slightly.

“It’s kinda nice,” Marcille mused. “I didn’t like the hot part very much.”

“I’ve always liked the warm part more than the cold,” Senshi shrugged.

“Didn’t you say elves have more nerves than we do?” The small amount of sap on Laos’s fingers had dried, and he rinsed them with his waterskin. “Or their nervous system was more intricate?”

“Ah, yeah,” Senshi shrugged again. “Might be a little more intense for you than it is for us.”

As the cold grew more intense, Marcille liked the feeling more. The pleasant, painless endorphin flood was sticking around, but now as her hands cooled down and the swelling completely passed, the numbness turned into sort of a shimmering. Like her hands were tingling and little sparks were shooting from the heels of her palms up to the tip of her fingers and might come out as tiny bolts. She reached out to scrape a little from her hands and apply it to her nose or the tips of her ears, but she found it had hardened enough it could only be picked off with her fingernails. It couldn’t just be put back on when it was off, either.

“I wish it lasted longer,” Marcille held out her hands for Laos to rinse, but as soon as the water had cleaned her hands, she yanked them back. It couldn’t have been any warmer than room temperature, but it felt like sticking them in a frozen lake.

“Oh the feeling will last for quite a while, it takes some time for the body to filter out all the pollen and its chemicals.” Senshi bagged another few plants.

Without the sap on them, Marcille could feel the slight breeze passing through the hall like a cold gust against her hands. She pushed them down into her pockets, but as soon as she did she had to pull them out again. The feeling of her skin rubbing against the fabric was almost ticklishly sensitive, and her hands hadn’t felt any warmer.

***

Marcille waited half-asleep until she heard even Chilchuck stop moving, then slowly pushed herself up out of her bedroll.

“Where are you going?”

Chilchuck’s eyes hadn’t moved, and he still looked for all the world like he was breathing deeply and dozing, but his head had turned to her as he asked. It was frightening.

“Bathroom,” She responded, doing her best to make her voice sound groggy.

“Whever,” He mumbled back. She probably didn’t need to bother.

She slipped out of their makeshift camp in a stone and hide lean-to they had assembled in the ruins of some old moss-eaten structure. There had been a river nearby that they’d checked and rechecked several times to make sure it was safe and which ran cool (none of the water in the dungeon ran truly cold). Marcille had taken a quick rinse in it before they’d eaten and figured the bushes about the sides would make for good enough cover.

Her hands were still tingling slightly even a few hours later. The cold feeling had gone away and the hot one hadn’t come back, but the little electrical bits like a weak, pleasant version of numbness remained. She wondered how much of that was because of her nervous system actually being more complicated (she had no idea if that was true) versus how much had gotten on her.

The stream still ran in the dark, eerily quiet but for the flow of water. They had reached one of the little pauses in the dungeon’s monster population. A gap where things grew a little too well and it looked a little too sunny for most of the nasty stuff to creep in. But that didn’t mean there were going to be normal animals. No bats or owls cried overhead, nothing went wriggling through the underbrush. Those were sounds she would have associated for a long time with the high nerves of sneaking around, but she realized their absence was far more unsettling.

Walking a little further downstream, she found a patch of Mules’ aid. She looked along the wall for a particularly plump and purple fruit, then when she found one she slipped out of her shawl and used it to cradle the fruit like she’d seen Senshi do before pinching the bud and weight of it filledher hand. It was almost shockingly light. Nothing more than a paper-thin skin wrapped around a bulging mass of jelly-like goop.

Fruit cradled in her hands like a piece of fine glassware, she made her way back to the stream and set it down on the ground as gingerly as she could manage. Then Marcille stepped back and pulled her dress up over her head, shedding out of it and her underclothes until she stood lithe and naked in the facsimile moonlight. Of course, there was a chance that one of her friends would stumble on her at this point, but at this point it would also have been more embarrassing for them than her.

Folding her clothes neatly on the ground, she set the shawl and fruit on top of them to give it even a bit more cushioning, then quickly rinsed herself in the stream. She came back out and sat down in the grass on the shore for a moment, then reached out and lightly picked up the shawl. Rubbing her finger along the skin of the fruit, she felt it part under her touch, opening like it was being dissected by her pressureless touch.

Marcille dabbed the tip of her finger in just a bit of the jelly and touched it on her ankle where the strap of her sandal had a tendency to bite uncomfortably when she was walking all day. Then she sat back and kept letting herself dry. Her pale skin shining almost pure white, her hair having darkened just a touch to something more like straw than gold.

The skin of her ankle started to tingle and then burn ever so slightly. She still wasn’t a big fan of this part of it. It wasn’t painful, but it was intense. It made her want to scratch and claw at the spot, or dunk it in water and try to rinse it off. But she waited it out until the burning passed, watching the little red mark of its application rise into a bump, then settle back down. As it did, the relief added onto the rush of pleasant feeling. By the time her skin was back to normal, that little red spot on her ankle, and the one on her fingertip, both felt like they were glowing.

She took a deep breath. This was a tremendously bad idea.

It would not have been polite to call herself a chronic masturbator. It would have been true, but it wouldn’t have been polite. In her defense, it was a really good way to quickly recharge at least a little mana (sex was better, but you needed help and it often took longer). Though if she’d learned that before or after the chronic part of it had started was up to interpretation.

The tip of her finger took a scoop of jelly, a more generous one than before, and Marcille started to rub it on one nipple. She bit her lip and circled the pink bud of it for long enough to make it stiffen, then a little more for good measure. Taking a second scoop, she did the same to the other. Her finger hovered over the jelly for just a moment and she spread the lips of her pussy with her other hand, then she thought better of it and pulled back. Not there, not at least until she understood how rough this was potentially going to be.

Moment after moment dragged by without anything, Marcille wasn’t holding her breath but her heart was racing. She could feel warmth starting to pool between her legs, her clit starting to swell. She chewed her lip harder.

Then it started to come on, slowly but with far greater intensity than it had elsewhere. Marcille opened her mouth to blow a long, ragged breath out as her nipples started to itch and burn. She could physically see them swelling. The little pink peaks of her small breasts turning red and steadily puffing up. The areolas grew more rounded like little domes while the tips thickened and lengthened. The bigger they got, the more they started to burn. She had to bite the heel of her hand to keep from crying out, but also to keep from touching them.

She reached down - with her clean hand - and started to play with her cunt. The feeling, which still wasn’t good, and somewhere as sensitive as it was nearly made her unable to think straight, was making her wet enough to matt her pubic hair. As she pulled her lips apart and stroked her clit furiously, Marcille kept whimpering and chewing on her other hand. Now, if somebody were to come and see her, it would be embarrassing. Maybe they’d think the sounds she was making were her under attack.

As the burning started to subside and the tingling to come in, Marcille squeezed her eyes shut and moaned into her hand, tilting her head back. This was exactly what she’d hoped for. The feeling of her nipples tingling and full of that little electricity, light enough to be weightless and something like numb, was driving her absolutely crazy. The buildup had been a little worse than she’d expected it to be, and she’d nearly chickened out, but the payoff felt even better than she’d hoped.

Marcille’s thighs closed around her hand and she fell back, laying down on the grass as she felt her clit throbbing. Her breathing came ragged and her hips started to buck. Her back arched as the increasingly glow of tingles in her nipples pushed her over the edge, wet sounds slipping from between her legs lewdly through the night. Her eyes opened and rolled back, and she bit her hand hard enough for the pain of it to punch through the feeling between her legs and the one in her nipples.

As she was coming down, the feeling on her nipples was only growing more intense. Marcille realized she definitely wasn’t going to be happy with just one, and probably wouldn’t be happy with three or four. Normally, she’d have been much more regular in her habits. But dungeon-crawling made her much more binge and purge. Several unbearable nights of nothing, one night of five or six, sometimes more than a dozen. It wouldn’t have been polite to call it chronic…

Without even hesitating, Marcille let her hand go from her mouth and opened her legs. Taking a hefty, probably unwise glob of jelly from the plant, she started to rub it on her pussy. Tracing her fingers along the lips, making sure to really pay attention to her clit, even dipping just the smallest amount inside with one finger. She was going to regret it, she just knew, but only for a short while. She started to masturbate, using the jelly almost as lube. Rubbing it in deeper and deeper.

As she looked down, Marcille realized that even as her nipples were being overcome by the middle-stage feeling of numb, tingling coolness, they hadn’t shrunken back down. That was an unfortunate side-effect, but hopefully a short-lived one.

Her pussy started to burn. Marcille parted her lips to exhale shakily and nearly screamed instead. It was so beyond the intensity of either of the previous two experiences. This was too much, but this was also exactly what she’d signed on for.

She kept rubbing herself furiously as the feeling kept coming on. Her clit throbbing, swelling. Her lips raw red, oozing wetness but burning like she was being tortured. On the inside, she could feel it gnawing at her, making her stomach churn like she’d eaten something bad. She gripped the ground with her free hand hard enough to dig furrows in the grass. Her panting had a high-pitched whine to it.

Dripping trails of her wetness were leaking from between her legs like her cunt was being wrung dry. Down her thighs, down her buttocks, pooling on the grass beneath her. The pain killed any sense of pleasure from stroking her swollen red clit, but the pain was a high in and of itself. A prolonged, squeezing, pounding thing between her legs that had her pussy clenching and throbbing. She could feel herself sweating but she just kept rubbing. It felt like if she stopped, she was going to start crying.

Then as the fever broke her mouth shot open, her eyes rolling back. The tingling, numb coldness came first as a distant suggestion of an end to the burning, then started to creep from the corners. It gnawed at her senses until it broke through the unpleasantness layer by layer. Her nipples were still wrapped in the icy grip, but as it pushed downward it felt a pair of fangs stabbing her in the most sensitive parts of her body. The electricity was like a thunderstorm, punching daggers instead of little crackles.

Her hand jerked away from her sex and clenched into a fist as she pounded the ground. Her back arched so hard that her legs stiffened and lifted her butt off of the air, balancing on the tips of her toes and her shoulders. Marcille’s mouth opened forward but only a creaking, breathless gasp came out. Her pussy clenched almost audibly, like her whole body contracted all at once. A powerful stream of wetness came from between her legs, drizzling down the shoreline toward the river. All she could do was gasp and shudder, pumping her hips with each jet from her cunt. This wasn’t any sort of orgasm that she had a reference point for. No brain; human, elf, or otherwise, likely had the proper wiring to make sense of it. Agony and ecstasy were not hand-in-hand. They weren’t close. They were the same fucking thing.

As her butt dropped back to the dirt she could feel warm tingling along the inside of her thighs and down her butt where her wetness had trailed. The squeezing and flexing of the orgasm wouldn’t end, it was just about how the pleasure interplayed with the pain. They swapped sides at a moment’s notice. Marcille’s hands went back between her legs, the effect was barely noticeable.

“H-help!” She croaked in a ****, hoarse whisper. This was ongoing. The end wasn’t in sight. Her nipples still tingled at the peak of their coldness, still swollen and overlarge. If her hands had still tingled when she woke up…

Holy shit, she was probably going to die.

Marcille tried to pull herself toward the water. She needed to rinse it off. As she tried she kept collapsing, her pussy clenching like crazy and squirting new little streams of tainted wetness that caused the burning wherever it touched. She was so covered with the Mules’ Aid pollen that it was probably flowing through her veins. It didn’t matter how bad it was, it didn’t matter how long it took, she needed to get to the stream

She collapsed three more times before her head was close enough to get her hair wet, and Marcille managed to drag and flop her way in. She curled herself, shivering under the water for a moment. It was like being stabbed with a spike of ice in both her pussy and her nipples, but she could physically see the little seeds and bits of pollen washing off of her.

There was no metric to go by for when she was clean. She kept waiting for the throbbing in her pussy to stop, but the cleaner it got, the more the water felt like ice around it and the more it made her throb. Her nipples still hadn’t unswollen and felt just as icy. But, when Marcille felt like she’d finally gone a few seconds without some kind of uncontrollable orgasm, she did her best to heave herself ashore. When she was up on the grass, she waited a few moments to see if it would start up again, but it didn’t.

Then she got up and tried to take a step. Her thighs rubbing together as she walked brought her down on her hands and knees, cunt throbbing and dripping onto the ground as she gasped for air.

She crawled back to camp, gear balanced on her back. She slipped into her nightclothes when she was close enough, then nearly gave the game away as the fabric rubbing against her reduced her to a leaking, quivering mess only inches from her bedspread.

***

Marcille hobbled behind the rest of the party, bent over her staff like she was sick. Her walk was bow-legged, her clothes weren’t fully buttoned or tied up and hung around her like sheets. She was pouring sweat.

Laos and Senshi kept looking back at her pityingly. It didn’t help that they had to stop every few seconds so they didn’t leave her behind. Chilchuck walked on up ahead, unbothered.

“Are you… sure we don’t need to take a day off?” Laos finally asked.

“Yeah I’m-” Marcille took a too-quick step and her knees wobbled, nearly buckling. She hunched a little more over her staff and she took a deep breath. Poor girl, she must have been really sick. “We can’t… waste time.”

“You’re in no condition to go on,” Senshi shook his head, “It wasn’t something you ate, was it?”

“I don’t… think so,” Marcille shook her head and wobbled in place, “Just… something that got around.”

“Are you hurting?” Laos stepped toward her, “I can take a look at you-”

“No!” Marcille waved her staff at him feebly, “I know how to treat myself… Don’t you… even think about touching me…”

“We have some Mules’ Aid if there’s any localized pain,” Senshi unwrapped one of the fruits.

Marcille looked at his outstretched hand for a moment, eye twitching. Then the smell of it hit her nostrils and she collapsed.

The party lost one day’s travel, during which Marcille refused to be looked at by anybody. She spent most of the day laying perfectly still with her legs spread open and her knees up on her pillow. Her appetite and thirst were both normal, so the party concluded that Senshi’ was not at fault. Chilchuck complained about the delay.

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