Early Risers

Andromeda

Andromeda jerks with a start as her stand-by mode time completes. Tegan, cutely cuddling her own fox tail, groans slightly, then settles back into sleep. The android (soon to be) arcanist stares into the mirrored canopy of the bed for a few moments, trying to make sense of what happened last night. She feels numb right now; having her sense of touch localized to just a few places gives it such an intensity that she had to shut herself down to prevent frying whatever magical circuits keep her functioning.

She rolls out of bed to wash off the sexual fluids from last night, then change clothes. The shower feels both more and less glorious than yesterday’s. The cascade of water is seen, but mostly unfelt. Where she does feel it, however, it is almost intoxicating. Her nipples and clit harden almost instantly; it takes **** willpower not to get herself off. It would not take much, but she’s afraid of the feedback loop. Andromeda needs to invest in something to make her a little more numb, at least until she can expand enough of her sense of touch to make the contrast less stark.

Since she knows Tegan getting an eyeful will reward her with some points, she doesn’t bother hiding away in the bathroom to get dressed. When the gamer girl opens her wardrobe to get a change of clothes, she notices that all of her bras are gone. Tegan must of stolen them from me last night. I couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing when she came in. Sure enough, Andromeda can make out three different bra straps on the angry archer’s shoulder. The gamer shrugs. Her new breasts don’t exactly need a bra. At least, that’s what she thinks until she slips on a T-shirt; the sensation of her nipples rubbing against it is too much. She takes one of her bras out of Tegan’s wardrobe and then finishes getting dressed.

Exiting the dorm room, Andromeda starts to hum along with Vivaldi’s third movement of the Autumn concerto. The gamer girl is a bit amused by the concept (The Four Seasons being on a continuous loop), but she can imagine it getting tiresome after a while. Then again, how much time should she be spending in the common room of the dorms?

A bit for now, as Tessa is nervously waiting for her.

“Are you okay, Andromeda? I was so worried last night that I could scarcely fall asleep. Or, at least the elven equivalent of it.”

Andromeda explained what happened. Her former teacher, who seems to be a bit more sorted out than yesterday, sighs in relief. “So, we should really take some time to learn about what was done to most of us at some point. If I had known about how sensitive you are, I would have...”

“Maybe the library has an owner’s manual for me or something? Maybe we can drag Daphne from her shop to find it for us.”

“Or,” Caoimhe interjects, “we ask Alex. She said she’d pop into the library when she’s not busy with something else.” The drow woman plops her way onto a couch, wearing the same goth domme outfit she wore during dinner last night.

“Surprised you are not Kevin yet, Caoimhe.”

“Oh, I am planning on switching to my male form when I go level during breakfast and then stay him all day. I want to get some paladin training in today and have some other errands for my male form to pursue.”

Andromeda arches an eyebrow at that. Blushing at some of the implications, she states, “Perhaps the three of us should compare notes.”

The resulting conversation takes a while (all of the Winter concerto). Both the android and the sea elf repeat things for the drow. Caoimhe looks less surprised at the idea that most of the staff is a harem from a former season than Andromeda would think. She seems intrigued by the Summer Room bounties, actually interrupting to see if Tessa had experience with anal sexual stimulation; the drow looks disappointed when the answer was “No.” Their discoveries about how contestants can earn points for stuff done with each other was only mildly interesting to Caoimhe. “That won’t be very relevant to me until we get a cute boi for me to domme.”

Caoimhe then fills the other two in on what she did yesterday afternoon and evening. Andromeda is happy to know how the clothes shop works; she’ll need to go get clothes suitable for a variety of dates. The idea that the drow is serving an actual goddess from her card game is both interesting and very, very disturbing. “Oh, she’s real. In all her naked purple glory. And, if I put two and two together, half of Tyalangan’s harem worships her in some capacity. Maybe even the Host herself, though she wasn’t there last night? Might be good for us to have an in there.”

That is a good point.

“It seems that the three of us are in accord. How about the others? Any progress with them?”

Caoimhe shrugs, “Craig is an asshole. I didn’t see much of him yesterday. Maybe Mona got through to him on their date? I don’t know.”

Tessa at least sounds a little more hopeful, “Gaia is not as simple-minded at she appears. I don’t know if she will be gung-ho about saving humanity, but she’s at least shown me that she can care. Give her time?”

“I think, if Tegan can ever get over her anger, she may want to help. The question is how? I’m not good with socializing.”

So, the trio head down to breakfast to mull over the situation (and to let the elves eat). We need everyone to be working on the goal. How do we get the others to see that?

Mona

Mona is once again woken up with toe beans to the face. She feels bruised, sore, and a little bit ashamed of herself. She leans over to check her phone for the time. At least it’s early enough for me to get ready to be seen in public this time.

She has a bit of difficulty walking to the bathroom. She showers, washing the stink of last night off her. When she’s done, she wraps a towel around her and heads back to the bedroom to throw on some casual clothes.

Ophelia waits for her, holding a scroll in hand, dripping sarcasm when referring to her mother. “How you feeling this morning? The Queen make you feel guilty for trying to enjoy your gentleman caller?”

“I hurt down there, but so-so otherwise. Your mom didn’t guilt trip me that bad. What’s with the scroll? Tyalangan had one last night, too.”

Ophelia pops the seal as she lays a hand on Mona’s bare shoulder; the gamer suddenly feels better. “In my case, I did not inherit the Queen’s affinity for magic. Spell scrolls let me cast spells; in this case, I just cast Cure Wounds to mend your bruising from last night. While the Queen could use Host magic to cast whatever she wants, she prefers to do things with her own power when possible. Lesser Restoration is not a spell she can cast. So, she used a scroll instead of tapping into Host magic.”

“Wait,” Mona commands, needing a moment. So, she is not all-powerful? She’s super scary strong, but she has a limit? I wonder... Mona finally asks, “So how much of what she has done has been with her own power and how much was Host-ness?”

Ophelia shrugs, then gives a measured answer, “The Queen’s natural power is on the scarier side of the first time Host spectrum, I guess? You would not believe how many Hosts are just normal people that look good in an evening gown, once you separate them from the powers granted to them. The Queen has done things as a Mistress that some lesser Hosts would not be able to do even with the extra power.”

Mona shivers as she gets dressed. “If she is so powerful, why tell me?”

“You asked.”

Mona dresses the rest of the way in silence. Disappointing her parents is one thing; disappointing someone that could empower this show is quite another. She finds herself dressed in a nice T-shirt and some jeans. Ophelia has a set of proper workout clothes ready for her as well. Mona pulls them into her inventory and, just as her hand touches the doorknob to the living room, Ophelia interjects, “One more thing, Mona. Craig is out there and is not in the best condition right now. The Queen punished him thoroughly last night. Do you want to see the full extent of it or what? One of my moms can carry him to bed downstairs, if you aren’t feeling up to facing him right now.”

Mona freezes up, uncertain. Should I face him this morning? Can I, even?

“I don’t know.”

“The Queen would be pressing you to see, but I won’t. If you are not willing, I will get him out of here.”

Mona sighs, deflating like a balloon. She opens the door and sees what has been wroth. The visage is both terrifying and incredibly hot. Craig is captured in a tentacle statue, eyes filled with terror and exhaustion. A tentacle is face-fucking him. Others writhe all over his body, one probing at his clenched butt cheeks, trying to penetrate inside of him. Mona can’t help but stare.

Ophelia tugs Craig out of the statue trap. The man collapses on hands and knees, scurrying away from the wiggling thing. He’s whimpering something incomprehensible, “Please don’t let her turn me into a semen flower. Please, I beg you. Protect me from her! She has to listen to you; you’re the Master! Please!”

“You hurt me last night, Craig. You lied to me, got me drunk, then you didn’t stop when I asked.”

The fear in Craig’s eyes are overwhelming. He begs, pawing at the hem of her T-shirt, “I will do anything! Just protect me from her!”

Anything? Mona knows she shouldn’t smile, shouldn’t take advantage of his obvious distress. She can’t help it though, “You will promise that you will never try to trick me or disobey me ever again. And you’ll buy that size change transformation as soon as you can afford it.”

“Whatever you say.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Mona feels the cord with Craig’s key disappear from around her neck. She’s about to voice a complaint, but seeing Craig scurry back gives her pause.

A melodic voice from behind greets, “Good morning, Mona, Ophie, Vix, Craig. Did everyone have a good night?”

Of the assembled people, only the fox familiar offers an enthusiastic reply. The Host snaps her fingers, and Vix is perched on her shoulders, happily munching on some junk food from the sea elf’s hand.

“Where’s my key to my Doggie Dougie?”

“Not the best opening question, Mona, but fair enough. Theatrics are more Tina’s thing, but I can manage.”

The words summoned in mid-air are neater, less flowery in design than what the bunny-girl would have done, but conveys the effects of Mona’s rash decisions well:

Saving One’s Hide – Craig wishes to avoid elimination? He has his wish; now he must live with the consequences. Every time he disobeys a direct order from Mona, he permanently loses an inch off of his cock (to a minimum of one inch). He wants to stay large, he better stop being a bad puppy (Selfish – Punishment)

Craig’s Week 1 Quest – Purchase the Size Queen Trainer transformation from his own funds (40 BP)

Reward: 2d4 XP, Key returned to Mona

Mona absorbs the information. When the Host next speaks, she asks an unexpected question, “Mona, do you wish to excuse Craig from attending the morning meeting? He was busy the whole night and hasn’t had a chance to sleep. This is a offer rarely given.”

Craig does look like the only thing keeping him awake right now is adrenaline. “Yeah, Craig can sleep through the meeting.”

With a wave of the Host’s hand and a wish for pleasant dreams, Craig disappears. Mona turns around and snaps, “The fuck, Tyalangan? What the hell was all of that? He looked out of his mind scared! And you took my key away! And what the hell is a semen flower?”

The Host smiles. She actually smiles. The fuck? “Good, Mona. That is the attitude you should be taking. You should want to protect them. As I said last night, I gave him a more visceral lesson in eliminations than I gave you. I will spare you the details, other than to say that you won’t have to worry about the semen flower thing. It would not do to repeat an elimination like that.”

“So, your lesson scared the shit out of him. You don’t think you took it too far? Still doesn’t explain the punishment. Or the quest.”

“I had a chance to discipline Vix before it got too far. Her first transformation gave me the tools to do so, if I so chose. I was too soft-hearted. I live every day with the result. I gave you a tool to use to discipline Craig now. Up to you how you use it. You can choose to let it sit idle and hope my lesson stuck. Or, you can choose to wield it. Do it well, and all of your harem will respect you more; do it poorly, and they won’t stand for it.”

The Host pauses, letting her words sink in. Mona squirms. I have to remember that being the Mistress is not all fun and games. The responsibility of it...

“As far as the quest goes, you are able to assign minor quests. One quest per player per round. I assign rewards based on difficulty. Normally, the quest is optional, but Craig needed the motivation. He will still get his 10 BP a day as if you have his key. I highly doubt you would want to try sex with him again before he has that transformation anyways.”

That is a pretty safe assumption. Mona wants to argue, but she ultimately can’t. Ophelia has more weird diet breakfast out. The Host sits down beside a plate. Mona, kind of hungry, sits across from her and mulls over her thoughts while shoveling scrambled egg whites into her mouth. Ophelia mopes as she sits beside her Mom, who gives the younger elf a side hug.

The Host breaks the silence with a strange question, “Did you see any fan mail sessions during your little masturbation marathon?”

Fan mail? People write fan mail?

“No.”

“Well, a friend of mine is a Master on another season. We’re pen pals. His Host has sent out requests for fan mail; it’s the first call from her since I have officially assumed the role of a Host. The correspondence we have exchanged means a lot to me. If you want to, please write him a letter before you come downstairs to the meeting. His advice may be helpful, should you ask for it. No more than one paragraph of being a horny little gremlin, please.”

The Host gives her snarky daughter one more hug and a kiss to the temple. Ophelia makes a face that somehow conveys both disgust at and longing for her mother’s affection at the same time. A snap of the elder elf’s fingers and a brief super cut of this HH season plays through Mona’s mind. Tyalangan disappears into mist. And Mona gets to writing.