Craig Date 1, Part 4: Predators and Plantin'

Gaia

After dinner, Gaia bounds over to this Dungeons for Damsels place. She has enough for a level. The next step to becoming a powerful servant of Malar. The room is strange but Gaia rings the obvious bell. The room reverberates and Daphne, her salvation from those disgusting humans, pops out of the water fountain.

“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?”

“Hi, Daphne! Thank you again for bringing me here. I want my level!”

Daphne gives a big, shark-toothed grin. “Sure, Gaia! Level 1 Druid it is!”

Gaia: Weekly task complete! Achieve Level 1! +25 BP

Mona: Weekly task update! Ensure each contestant successfully achieves Level 1 (1/6)

The dungeon mermaid walks Gaia through the process. Gaia got to assign 4 points to her stats; she’s a little disappointed that she can only assign them as four +1s, but her variable animal girl transformation means her stats will change as her body changes and she’s not allowed to get a +3 starting stat modifier for some reason. She feels sturdier as her “HP” (Whatever that means...) doubles. A new language fills her head called Druidic.

The real excitement is, of course, getting magic! Daphne talks Gaia through her options. She grabs Druidcraft and Thorn Whip as cantrips (though Gaia is a little annoyed to need a “combat cantrip” for some reason). Entangle and Speak with Animals for her leveled spells. She is looking forward to talking with animals! She’ll need to find some tomorrow. She tries to cast Druidcraft, but it fails. Gaia pouts.

“Gaia, you should read how your magic works.”

Gaia pulls up her phone and reads all of the details. “So, to do magic, I gotta be basically naked?”

“When you got enough BP, you will be allowed to enchant your magical girl uniform to let you ignore that nudity requirement.”

Gaia pulls her uniform into her inventory (Oh, that feels a little weird) and tries again. She wills a flower to appear and unfurl; with a bit of effort, it happens. “Wow!”

“Glad to be of assistance, Gaia! Enjoy!”

Gaia, too happy by being able to make life out of nothing to care about her nudity, skips up to her room. She tends to her fly traps, shaking her bare bottom the whole time. She wonders if she’ll be able to talk to plants with magic soon. She also wonders what Tessa is going to want to do now that she’s an attractive non-human instead of an old bitty. Tessa doesn’t return before Gaia tucks herself into bed, so that will be another worry for the morning.

Gaia is soon dreaming, not that she realizes it. She finds herself in a lovely forest, untouched by the plague of humanity. The sunlight shines in beams through the canopy. The earthy smell of tree sap and rotting leaf litter is carried in a gentle breeze. Birdsong twitters in the air, interrupted only by the flapping of wings or leaves from the wind.

Gaia finds herself in her more primal reindeer-girl state, fully bare. She trots through the forest on all four hooves, enjoying the sun, the breeze, the sights and smells surrounding her. She leaps over some fallen logs. She nibbles at some tender shoots. This is what life is supposed to be. No civilization ruining things with rules and standards and expectations. Just souls vibing with nature, fitting in with their surroundings.

So, she doesn’t sense danger until it has sunk its teeth into her flank, snapping bones in a singular crunch. Gaia bellows in pain. She attempts to hobble away, one of her hind legs a ruin.

A deep, rumbling bass reverberates, “Where are you going, PREY?”

Gaia foolishly turns her head around as she continues to attempt to flee. The… creature behind her doesn’t seem to mind. Its fangs drip with the criminal’s blood, intermingled with the blood of countless others. As big as a semi truck, the blood soaked cat seems to absorb the light around it. Gaia is terrified; she turns to try to escape.

“YOU think you are worthy to worship me, PREY?” the creature taunts, shaking the ground with its voice.

Malar? THAT is The Beastlord?

“Flee like the PREY you are, former human! Your pathetic attempt amuses me.”

The voice, the presence is gone. Gaia keeps hobbling. She then feels another stab of pain. Hears the sound of one of her forelimbs being crushed under Malar’s divine jaws. The criminal loses her balance and tumbles to the ground.

Her God looms over her, smiling as the blood from his jaws drips over her. He judges her, spitting out that one word like it is the foulest insult, “You are nothing but PREY, former human. You eat like PREY, you think like PREY. And what does the predator do when it has cornered a delicious bit of PREY? He eats it.”

Her God lunges at her. She brings her antlers to bear, then feels them snap like twigs. The pain is immense. Gaia doesn’t even register her screams.

The cat smiles, “Are you not going to pray for the good fortune of my hunt, PREY? Say the words.”

Gaia quivers in fear. She starts to stammer, only for a burst of silvery light sizzles through the air to interrupt her. Her God grunts in pain? Is that possible? He backs off a few steps, growling.

A streak of silvery light thereupon strikes Him in the nose, reverberating the air with thunderous fury. His nose splits in two and He holds it together with His forepaws. The silvery light lands, in the shape of the Host lady? She lands another blow to the face of Malar; another burst of sound and fury blasts from the wound as His head is knocked back.

“The girl is under my protection, Black-blooded Beast.”

Malar looks amused for a moment, then snarls as His wounds do not seal. “Well, whelp,” He growls, “You think you can kill me, the ultimate predator of these Green Realms?”

“You are not that much stronger than me, Beast. Especially once you throw in the Host magic into the mix. Back off. Too early in the campaign to kill a god. But, then again, I am in the post-game of my campaign.”

Her God retreats into the dark. The silvery light around Tyalangan fades. The Host kneels down, starts to tend to Gaia’s wounds. The reindeer-girl starts to feel her broken bones and antlers mend themselves.

“You made The Beastlord retreat?”

“For now. It will be back, if you let it. Perhaps you should pick a different nature deity to worship? One willing to protect you, instead of eat your soul?”

“How? None are as strong as...”

“Don’t say its name. Names have power, attract attention. I will admit I was hitting above my weight class. But I can kill its avatar if I need to. I still would prefer not to. I’m not quite a deity; killing a god, even an evil one, is cosmically messy. And, yes, dear perverts, I am aware of the irony.”

Huh?

“Anyways,” the Host says as she dusts herself off, “Enjoy the rest of your dream. You’re unlikely to remember much of this, but try to hold onto the fact that the Black-blooded Beast tried to eat your soul, partially because you’re a vegan.”

With that, Tyalangan is gone.

What?

Craig

The fuck?

One minute, he was about a third of the way into Mona’s chubby Asian snatch (as that was all he could fit in), the next he is wrapped up in those weird tentacles he saw in the front room. He feels them probing him, trying to get in every orifice they can. He clenches his jaw and butt cheeks, knowing that, if he relaxes for even a second, he will be penetrated. The tentacles tease him mercilessly, rubbing against his neck, his nipples, his abs, his cock (now caged again), his thighs, his tail. He is closer to orgasm now than he was plowing the fatty. The sensation of hovering over the edge but unable to cum is maddening. A low, rumbling growl flows past clenched teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, Craig?”

The blue bitch is standing in front of him, just out of reach. He lunges regardless, only for the tentacles to squeeze him tighter, **** him back.

“Let us talk, you and I. Or, rather, I talk, you listen, if you are smart. You might be able to get a word in before you spend the rest of your time tonight being mouth-fucked by a statue. Exactly one word in.”

The glare he gives the Host would bore holes into most people. The bitch, however, isn’t most people. She merely smirks. A snap of her fingers, and they are both in the Suite living room. He is still entangled in the slimy, purple statue, facing the plain white wall.

“What am I to do with you, Craig? You certainly need an intervention. This is twice in two days I have to deal with your bad behavior. At this rate...”

Craig growls through his teeth again. This bitch think she can treat me like this?

“Oh, I certainly can, Craig,” she answers the thought out loud, “I can treat you like this. I can treat you worse. The traditional job of the Host is to mold the contestants into a harem of the Mistress’s desires, whether a given contestant is happy about it or not. I am trying to be kind about it, believe it or not. Mona wants a big dicked stud to lovingly stuff her and you are the only clay I can currently mold for that purpose, without violating Kevin’s agency more than I already have. And, between your impatience and your selfishness, you spectacularly failed to be that tonight. So, what should I do with you, Craig?”

Fuck you bitch, for reading my thoughts. You can fix your fucking mistakes from this morning.

The Host snorts, smirking still. Her eyes don’t shine with any amusement. “Oh, I did not make a mistake. If you got the transformation you wanted and acted as you did tonight, we’d still be in this same mess. You would have plowed her too hard, too fast and she’d still would have begged you to stop. You still would have continued, ignoring her pleas; the difference that you may have cummed before I stopped you isn’t really relevant. In fact, if your vote went differently, I would have probably used my veto to give you Empathy Training anyways. You NEED to learn how to care for your partner, Craig.”

Craig growls. I am going to rip out your throat first chance I get.

The projector powers up, displaying a scene of the blue bitch, the lilac bitch from the canteen, and a different bitch on a battlefield, fighting creatures that look a lot like him. With a wave of her sword arm as she dances, the blue bitch causes a massive explosion of silvery light, wiping out so fucking many of them. When the light clears, the horde is replaced by a circular crater that could just about fit an entire hockey rink. No bodies, just a deep hole in the ground. She leans in, whispering just loud enough to hear, “And I have gotten stronger since then.”

Craig, to his shame, pisses himself. The tentacles around his cage greedily absorbs the flow. They writhe more vigorously, as if they feed on humanoid fluids and want more.

The bitch continues, “So, consider this a final kindness, Craig, though it certainly won’t feel like it. The rules do not truly convey the horror of elimination. Watching an elimination in real time does the trick, usually, but I am not sacrificing a contestant just to scare you straight. So, a middle ground. An elimination from another season for you to watch. I could do the John Booker cliche, but he doesn’t fit your situation. I have prepared a bit of a supercut of an eliminated contestant’s time on his show just... for... you. I didn’t expect to have to use it so soon, but it’s good to be prepared for every eventuality. After it plays, the livestream for the eliminated contestant will play for an hour to really let the lesson sink in. Let me introduce you to one Austin White.”

The video starts to play as the blue bitch disappears. When Austin is turned into some kind of plant monster thing, Craig screams. That was a big mistake.

Craig: -2 XP (Did not sleep in Mistress’s Bed)

Craig: +1 Level of Exhaustion (Did not sleep period)