Morning of Dread

Francis

Mmm, Francis drowsily moans as he finally comes to, Beckie pulled the old ‘transform me, then **** me to sleep it off in the Master Suite’ trick again. She’s certainly living up to that bitch moniker the staff gave her.

Perhaps the game is already warping his expectations, for it takes a bit for him to realize that he is sharing his bed again, this time unexpectedly. And this time, whoever it is, is heavy. And wet. And strong. And suckling on his nipple?

Francis opens his eyes to see a pile of hair, black with streaks of blue and indigo. He turns to see a pair of fake coral glasses beside his own on the night stand. Daphne. It had to be Daphne.

He sighs as he lays in bed. He gently stokes her hair as she sucks on his chest. Once again, he feels love well inside him; once again, he feels guilty about it. Why couldn’t Josie or somebody else sneak in to do this? That way, I’d be working towards something to save them. Not wallow in feelings that I shouldn’t express.

He doesn’t notice that the sucking stopped, nor a pair of big puppy dogfish eyes staring at him. She scoots herself to get to his eye-level in the clam shell bed and gives him a peck on the cheek as she wraps her arms around his chest. “You normally this moody in the morning? Or was the challenge as bad as Dr. Hornblower thought?”

“You weren’t there? I was kind of isolated on the balcony, so I didn’t get a good look at every staff member in the room, but...”

“Oh, I was sleeping here after I did all I could to make up for my dungeon mistake. I apologized to the whole group and gave everyone an apology present. I rebuilt the recovery room; that was a pain, especially after I drained out the water. I put in a request for a contestant location tracking app with our IT mermaid Irene so no one gets stuck in there without everyone having a way to see where they are. But, staying up for basically 30 hours straight was exhausting.”

“How they’d take your apology?”

“As well as it could have gone. Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday in the challenge?”

Francis sighs. “Maybe over breakfast.”

Daphne sighs too. It seems like she hesitates as she lets him go. The both of them head to the dining area. Francis needs to move his usual away from his throne. Where his date’s breakfast would normally be placed, he sees a small aquarium (about the size one would get as a starter tank in a pet store) with a couple of decently-sized live fish. Daphne drools a little at the tank and scoots her way towards it as quickly as she can. She sits herself up high enough to reach into the tank, snags a live fish, and starts to devour it messily. Francis, like any sensible person that wants to keep a meal down, looks away. Once the noise stops, Francis looks up from his finished meal to see that the bottom half of Daphne’s face is covered in fish gore. She gives him a look, asking, “What?”

“Um...”

“You know mermaids need to eat too, right?”

“Yeah, but...”

“Fish is best fresh.”

“Did it need to be that fresh?”

“Just drink your not salty enough black water and tell me what happened yesterday. I’m worried.”

And tell her he does. He describes how his initial conversation with Beckie went so poorly that she used her magic to knock him out. He notes the rules of the perverted doll dress-up game. How wrong he felt watching the girl’s demean themselves to please the perverts in the audience. The rage he felt when Beckie was about to eliminate Skye (as far as he could ascertain); the short-lived catharsis he felt as he kicked Beckie off the balcony. The strangeness of watching a whole slew of himselves serving as judges. His worries about the next batch of transformations. He regrets not getting that upgrade practice when he had the chance.

Dinah focuses down on a couple of key concerns. “First, good job kicking that bitch Beckie’s butt. She deserves it. And, yes, the punishment is going to suck. But she wouldn’t ruin proving her precious grand theory correct just to spite you for a momentary affliction. It won’t be debilitating. I’d guess it’s something to help you get with the program a little better? And, if your girls are smart, they will see that you are willing to do what it takes; I mean, you did defend the small egg-sac girl. That’s gotta be worth something in their eyes, right?”

When she shimmies close to him, Francis offers Daphne a napkin. Taking the hint, a quick casting of prestidigitation on her part removes the fish gunk. “I got a question before my other bit of encouragement. Did Beckie look surprised at the redacted transformation?”

“I suppose so. Yes.”

“Well, that means that transformation isn’t anything to worry about. It’s probably Ariel forcing a solution to the ‘eventually you can’t feed us yummy cummie wummies’ problem. Somebody other than me was bound to figure it out sooner or later. Beckie can’t complain if she doesn’t know about it. And, hopefully, the audience wasn’t so scummy that you feel the need to change three of the transformations with vetoes. So, let’s get you ready for the day and you’ll be great. ‘K?”

Surprisingly, her words do help him feel better. The shower blow job certainly helps him feel better too. As does the one he receives while getting his make-up on (that’s a weird thought). He starts to notice some diminishing returns on his mood improvement from the one he gets while brushing and fixing his hair, but he doesn’t want to complain. He did weirdly like the look of the maiden twist and celtic knot braid Scarlet gave the doll during the challenge; he idly wonders about asking Scarlet to teach him how to do the trickier braid as he got the front hair tied up in a quick maiden twist. All the while, the maelstrom of affection towards and guilt about the cum-happy mermaid kept pounding him in the back of his mind. Soon enough, he’s ready for the day and heading towards the doors.

“Hey, Francis, I got a weird request. Can you carry me down the stairs?” Daphne asks, suddenly demure.

It is totally not fair how cute she looks right now.

Sensing his hesitancy (as far as he can tell), she lays it on a bit thicker, “I just want to spend a little more time with you. Is that okay?”

She giggles and squees the entire way down.

Skye

Skye wakes up slowly this morning. Ugh... too much to drink last night. Shouldn’t have finished my glass of wine. She is surprised to see Ms. Josie in her bed. She is so much more comely than me. I can see why our future lady love fell for her. Did Indigo not come back to the dorms again?

Josie awakes with a sudden jolt. “Hey, kid, you doing okay?”

“Head hurts a little, Ms. Josie,” Skye replies, “You?”

“I’m well enough,” Josie groans as she stretches, “I’m still heading to the nightclubs often enough to handle a night of moderate drinking. Nothing some coffee, electrolytes, and stretching can’t fix.” She gingerly touches her lower lips. “Huh, you were the first person I slept with that didn’t activate my fucking abs. How did...”

“As much as I desperately want to rub my face against them, I made a promise to The Lady that I wouldn’t do those kinds of things until I’m married.”

Josie snorts.

“Sorry, was that too forward?” Skye hopes she didn’t offend the gym girl.

“Nope. Gotta get ready before we face the metaphorical firing squad. Need anything or see you at breakfast?”

“Could always use more prayer.”

“Seeing you at breakfast it is.” Ms. Josie walks out, grabbing her indecent clothes from off of the floor. She at least had the courtesy to not put them on.

Tina

Why does the bed keep spinning?

Scarlet brushes a lock of hair out of Tina’s face and gives her a kiss on the forehead. “I know I overdid it last night and you drank more than me. The one good thing about all that fried carny food is that eating like a garbage person really helps with the hangover.”

“Me and food are not on speaking terms right now.”

“C’mon, you big baby. Let’s get you upright.”

Tina is lurched up to an upright position. Even with her half-focused vision, she sees a naked Josie cross the view through the doorless entrance to the room. That springs a thought.

“Hey, Scarlet, I haven’t been on a date that wasn’t **** upon me by inter-dimensional perverts since like high school. Do you think...”

“Tina, are you asking me out?” Scarlet interrupts, looking amused.

“Sure, cutie, but I was thinking more about Josie at the moment. The way she held my hair back in the tavern bathroom...”

At least Scarlet doesn’t look offended. “Hey, if you want to, go for it. Worst thing that happens is some awkwardness at the next harem orgy. And, on a personal note, I wouldn’t mind a girlfriend experience or two with you.”

The two walk to breakfast, hand in hand, partially to keep the world from spinning so fast. Yup. Totally not crushing on 2 different gals right now.

Dinah

I can’t believe I’m going to wear this out in public.

Dinah is staring at her biggest, baggiest sweatshirt. It’s hideous, featuring 3 kittens showing off their kitty butt holes, but it may be the only thing that’ll fit her after the morning meeting, with it’s promised transformation options. She got it from Mitten’s vet after she delivered the animal doctor’s human child a few years ago. Dinah swore she would never wear it where people could see her. She’ll even change out of it to check the mail at her apartment. And now she’s going to wear in on interdimensional television.

Dinah’s not the only one thinking about transformation-based wardrobe needs. Josie is slipping on a thong bikini bottom and tying a sarong around it like a skirt. She then puts on a fresh sports bra and turns around.

“You know, you are just asking for the cat girl thing with that.”

“Well, if I get the cat girl thing, this may be the only way I have to cover them all up. And it’s not like me wearing this will create that many last-minute votes. Gonna wear your collar?”

“Nah. Doesn’t seem like good beachwear. Look, sorry if I overreacted about the whole Francis transformation thing on your date night. Most of us were distracted and didn’t even see the message until yesterday morning. And sorry about the bet. I didn’t want to embarrass you like that.”

“Apologies accepted. Breakfast?”

Francis

After escorting Daphne back to her shop, Francis walks to the bathhouse. He sees Vix exit a room with a Kang-oo’s shopping cart full of junk food. And we have our meeting in 10 minutes.

“Vix, where are you going?”

“No es tu preocupacion, Glorious Master!”

Indigo: -1 VP (Insulting the Master)

Francis sighs, concerned about the sudden change in tone and language. The noise seems to cause Vix to cringe. Then she starts cursing up a storm in Spanish at her phone.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Not going to repeat myself,” Vix declares through gritted teeth.

Okay, then.

He turns around and enters the bathhouse. The other 5 women in his life are entering from their side of the bathhouse. He gives them a wave. They beckon him to seat with them. Feeling at least somewhat welcome, he joins them on one of the massage table / marble benches.

“Hey, we only have a few minutes. Any concerns about what’s coming up, beyond the obvious ones?”

The crone appears, hovering over the waters, just to say, “Now, Master, you should know that the veto decisions are yours and yours alone. The **** sluts’ opinions don’t matter one bit.”

“They matter to me and they should matter to you.”

“Whatever, let’s get the show on the road. We have transformations to apply.”

“A point of order,” Francis shouts, then continuing with a more normal tone, “Surely you already know the results of the audience poll. Any even semi-competent Host would have made her decisions about what to veto before presenting the results to the contestants. Why have I not been given the same courtesy? Would your theory not receive better support if I am allowed to make my decisions with complete information?”

The hag sputters, then gives quite the scowl.

“Fine. A little timey-wimey displacement is a hallmark of Harem Hotel. Take the time you need.”

Suddenly, Francis finds himself in a plain white room. In the middle of the room is a single high school style desk with a stack of paper on it. The bean counting mermaid, striped like a zebra fish, from yesterday sits in a kiddie pool beside it.

“Hello, human. My name is Sibyl. I am the Data Analysis department representative on the set. When I first heard Beckie was being ‘promoted’ to Host, I was so glad. Then she took over my frenzy’s set.”

“Wait, frenzy?”

“A group of mermaids is called a frenzy on our home dimension. It based on what we do when a ship full of delicious testicle bearing sailors sinks.”

Francis cringes at that, but also acknowledges, “Fair enough. These the results?”

“For your slaves, yes, exactly as the paperwork would be presented to a host. Time is frozen in the hotel while you are here, so peruse and plan as you wish. The bitch Beckie will just watch whatever dumb old people show is on in her quarters while you work. I am here to answer any questions you have. I have two questions for you, if you wish to indulge me. One, may I extract semen from you while you work? Your **** was not very generous with her Fashion Francis. Two, how did it feel to use your weird human legs to send Beckie over that bannister?”

“Don’t call them slaves. As far as kicking Beckie off the balcony, it felt good in the moment. We’ll see how much I regret it by this afternoon.” Francis sits and opens his legs wide enough to let Sibyl fit between them. Then, he starts to pour over the data as the zebrafish mermaid starts giving him a handjob. He has decisions to make. Decisions that will have dire consequences for some, he is sure.