Round 1 Day 3 - Eleanor's Date (2/3)

The changing room was a temporary sanctuary, and Eleanor had walked its width more times than dignity should have allowed. The problem had come when she'd had to get undressed. It all felt so much more real when the only armour she had against the world was her purple lipstick, a shade so rich it travelled by private jet, and a soft dressing gown she was going to have to take off. It wasn’t like she was ashamed of her body, or even that she wasn’t used to getting naked for a massage, but when she’d done it before the only other person in the room had been the masseuse.

Her reflection paced alongside her in the massive mirror that spanned one wall, reminding her that despite the fangs, the red eyes, and the pale skin she wasn’t actually a vampire. She was no centuries-old monster. She was a teenage girl. But she couldn’t back out now: this was her idea, and nobody was going to stop it from going the way she decided. Not even herself. She halted her pacing, anchoring her feet to the floor with a substantial amount of effort, and turned towards the mirror.

Little by little, the teenage girl faded away from the reflection. She wasn’t just some kid, she was Eleanor Wells. She was rich, she was powerful, she was pretty, she could do this. She schooled her face into an imperious scowl, which only faltered for a moment when she checked again to make sure that her dressing gown was covering everything, and strutted out of the changing room.

Matt was waiting there already, which startled her even if it shouldn’t have been surprising. The massage parlour was a wide open room with floor-to-ceiling windows, and he was standing by them looking out over a sandy beach and the waves beyond it. The sea was a shining crystal blue, despite the cloudy sky, and the sand gleamed silvery-white. It was a view better than at any of her daddy’s beachfront properties, and Matt had a serene smile on his face as he turned to face Eleanor. She returned it with a haughty sniff, and looked at the twin tables instead. Plush, padded, with a hole to rest their faces in, and they were directly side-by-side. She tightened her grip on the belt of the gown as she pictured the two of them lying there nude apart from a towel, and she didn’t even know when she had taken hold of it.

“I can go first, if you like,” Matt offered in a gentle tone.

Eleanor flinched as she was shaken out of the image in her head and looked at him again. He was also holding the belt of his dressing gown, though he looked ready to undo his rather than holding it closed like she was.

“Well obviously,” she tutted, trying to fight back a blush.

Matt just kept smiling, and raised an eyebrow. “Did you want to turn your back then? I don’t mind either way.”

The wall was suddenly fascinating as Eleanor rapidly presented the back of her head towards her date, which had the added bonus of hiding how red her face was turning. Matt didn’t laugh, which was both better and worse than if he had, and the only sound she heard from him was the sliding of soft fabric followed by the slight creak of the table as he took up position on it. Her mind filled in the gaps without her permission.

“Ready when you are,” his muffled voice came from behind her.

Eleanor very slowly turned around again. Matt was face down on the table, his face through the hole and a towel covering his backside. He looked... not as bad as she had expected. Thin, but not bony as she had thought he might be. There was muscle there. He had quite nice shoulders, actually, and his legs were well toned.

“Everything alright?” he asked when she had been staring at him for an uncomfortable length of time.

“Don't look at me,” she snapped to cover her embarrassment, “I'm getting ready.”

“I won’t look,” he confirmed calmly, face still firmly buried in the table, “Not unless you want me to.”

He was starting to become infuriating. Why didn’t he have the decency to get at least a little flustered? Why couldn’t he just risk a subtle peek as she shed her dressing gown, so she could tell him off properly? She lay down on the massage table, positioned the towel to preserve what modesty she had left, then positioned her face in the gap.

A pair of the Mind Goblin staff entered the room without needing to be signalled, silent as always aside from the padding of their feet. One of them passed by Eleanor’s head, short enough that she could wink at the heiress without stooping, then pulled up a stool and climbed onto the table. There were twin snapping sounds of a bottle being opened by each masseuse, hands rubbing together, then warm and slippery palms pressed into her spine.

Eleanor had tensed as the massage began, but started to relax as the oil was gradually worked into her muscles, and she heard Matt sigh contentedly as the same happened next to her. This was it. No backing out now. Outside the windows the sea gently lapped at the shore, the breeze caught white froth off the tips of the waves, and the dark clouds slowly began to part.

Max had felt better about herself after showering that morning. It was still weird to rinse off underneath a waterfall then step out onto grass while surrounded by walls that gave the impression of a dense forest, but it was strangely peaceful in the faux glade. It let her gather her thoughts and settle into the day.

Yesterday had gone well, overall. The hunger had been satiated: both the one from her transformation and the horniness from her dry spell. She’d let Matt get to know her a little without getting so friendly it would cause problems, and she’d got to know him a bit in return. She hadn’t expected that he didn’t like golf, but that hadn’t been too much of a disaster in the end, and now she’d be on the look out for the difference between the things he was good at and the things he enjoyed. Sex was definitely both - she’d seen the look of sadistic glee in his eyes as he’d made her cum until she couldn’t think straight. She’d lucked out, ending up in his harem. Now if only she could get him to really commit to hurting her, and to stop pushing for anything more than just sex, the arrangement would be perfect.

The morning had gone less well, but it wasn’t that bad really. Sure, there had been the argument with Matt’s wife, but that shouldn’t have been surprising. People didn’t usually like Max anyway, and it wasn’t like she’d done anything to change anyone’s minds. It wasn’t like she even could. She would definitely put up with occasional arguments if it meant getting regular sex like that.

With her thoughts settled and her clothes changed, Max had swung by the buffet room long enough to grab a coffee and some kind of pastry, then got on with her day. The Hotel held endless distractions, even ignoring the books she hadn’t wanted to resort to yet, and she was taking advantage of as many of them as caught her interest. An arcade kept her entertained for most of the morning: a shooter where she gave facials to bimbo zombies with a dick-shaped gun made her laugh, a fighting game with a singular suspiciously-familiar male character had a rather intense focus on him grappling its scantily-clad roster that got her worked up again, at which point she switched over to a motorbike racing simulator that had a very vigorous emulation of the motor vibrations. She played on the easiest difficulty and came in last place (and then finished the race once she’d recovered).

Lunch had been pizza from one of the many tiny food places dotted around the castle, during which Scarlet had ambushed Max with a request to write a letter to someone. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one fighting an uphill battle to try and have sex on the sex-based gameshow, and she cheerfully passed on her commiserations for the other Contestant’s failed attempt. Some people out there just didn’t get it.

The afternoon was when things started to go downhill. Max wandered back through the arcade but didn’t end up playing any of the games for more than a few minutes each, then quickly gave up and left. She returned to the axe throwing range, but it had lost its appeal without anyone to compete against. A museum of sex toys made her chuckle but it ultimately only took half an hour to skim through all the exhibits. She was bored again, and reduced to opening doors at random in hopes they might contain something to fill the bottomless hole inside her.

The server room was dark, only illuminated by the glow of hundreds of blinking indicator lights and the singular screen on the desk at the far side - a green background and a single box for entering a password. Max stood in the doorway, silhouetted from behind, and chewed thoughtfully on one of her lip piercings as she considered it. All the pieces were in place, theoretically, but she’d been hesitant to pull the trigger. Once she started this there would be no going back, even if it went badly, but she stood to gain a lot if she was successful. And what the hell, at least it was something to do.

Max closed the door behind her, shrouding herself in shadow. The only part of her left visible was the reflection in her glasses. She took a breath and approached the desk, settling into the ergonomic chair and holding her fingers over the laptop’s keyboard like a pianist preparing for a concerto. Her hands were shaking, so she allowed herself a moment for them to settle. With one final inhale, she hit the enter key and set everything in motion.

The blinking lights around the room went into overdrive as Max’s trojan horse program attacked the mainframe, looking for a way inside. She watched the screen intently, tracking line after line of code as it scrolled across it. Everything was going okay so far, but the moment something went wrong...

“Shit, the firewall is tracing the IP address!” she swore to herself, hammering on the keys as he rewrote her program on the fly to try and compensate. “The UNIX can’t cope, I’m gonna lose the LAN if I can’t tunnel through in time.”

Two progress bars appeared at the top of the screen, one for ‘Access’ and one for ‘Trace’. The trace was going up faster. A lot faster. Max kept watching from the corner of her eye as her fingers flew, only pausing for a fraction of a second to adjust her glasses. Sweat began to bead on her brow.

“It’s not going to make it,” she hissed, desperately searching for a solution, “Not unless I can get some more RAM from somewhere.” She blinked. Her head whipped around, taking in her surroundings. A grin spread across her face, and she resumed typing at double speed. “Of course! The mainframe! If I can reverse the trace, I can hijack its own CPUs to overclock the hack. It just might work...”

Line after line of new code flashed across the lenses of her glasses as she redirected her efforts. The trace was at 50% now. Then 60%. It kept climbing, faster and faster. 80%. She licked her lips nervously and typed even faster. 90%. 95%. She hit enter. The new program compiled. 98%. 99%. It paused, hanging on the verge of completion. Then everything went black, plunging Max into darkness.

A single indicator light turned on. Then two. Then an entire server rack came online, and another, and another, then finally the screen flickered into life.

ACCESS GRANTED

“Fuck yeah!”

Max punched the air and kicked back from the desk, spinning around in the chair. She collapsed backward into it, grinning at the ceiling, laughing with relief as she caught her breath. Her laughter faded, then so did the grin. She blinked. She frowned. She sat up and looked back at the screen.

“Wait a second,” she said angrily to absolutely nobody, “None of that made any fucking sense.”

• Trope Completed (Hack the Mainframe): +5BP, database access level 1

When absolutely nobody responded to explain what had just happened, Max wheeled herself back over to the laptop to examine what was on the screen, then noticed the glasses she was wearing and flung them to the floor in disgust. With the unnecessary lenses out of the way she glanced over what the laptop was displaying. It was some kind of database program, that much was clear. Most of the data was still encrypted into an unreadable hash, but there were a lot of numbers she could see. Some kind of matrix of values, with each line in the database having some of them checked off, and then a total of all the marked values combined.

The totals looked familiar. Right at the top of the list was a total of 55. The same number as her own VP. She clicked into that entry and looked at it in more detail. There was her BP as well, showing a recent addition of +5BP that confirmed her suspicion that she’d just triggered a trope. The bigger matrix must have been things that were worth VP, though with the titles of the entries still encrypted and the number of different things she’d managed to check off last night she couldn’t identify anything in particular. Out of curiosity she tried changing one of the values, but she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t work. She’d probably need admin access to be able to edit it directly. There was also some kind of blank sub-entry under her own, with only some empty basic data fields and no tie to the scoring system. Weird.

Backing out of her own entry, she looked at the bottom of the list. Entry 9 at -24VP had to be Chrissy. Her brow furrowed in momentary confusion, but then she burst out laughing as she realised why she was listed in ninth place out of eight contestants. There was an extra entry with zeroes across the board, probably a blank template or maybe Matt himself, and Chrissy’s negative VP score had put her below even a theoretical contestant who had done nothing whatsoever.

That was about all the useful information she could gather for now. Maybe she’d be able to decrypt some of the hidden data with a bit of time and effort, or identify the specific things that scored points if she talked it through with the other Contestants, but that was probably a job for later - the former for when she was bored again, and the latter when the others had some time to forget how much they disliked her.

“Do I get to keep the laptop?” she asked out loud, pushing the chair back again and standing up, “If nobody says anything then I’m keeping the laptop.”

Nobody said anything, so Max shut the laptop’s lid and took it with her as she left, crushing the glasses beneath her boot on her way out of the door.

The first sign was the heat that spread through Eleanor’s body, even the parts that the warm massage oil hadn’t touched yet. She had been expecting it. She had been dreading it. She had been looking forward to it. She tried to relax into the massage as the feeling grew, closing her eyes and focusing on her sense of touch.

“So do you do this kind of thing often?” Matt asked from his position face down beside her.

“Hmm? You mean going to the spa?” Eleanor replied, her words coming out with a slight gasp, “Of course. Every month. I deserve to be pampered.”

“Of course,” he sounded almost amused, but she couldn’t bring herself to care enough to interrupt, “I can’t say I’ve been more than a handful of times over the years. Usually while travelling, if I’m at a resort that has its own spa.”

“You travel too?” The heat was swelling, pooling in her chest and between her legs. “What, like, Skegness or something?”

He let out a sharp laugh. “A bit further afield than that, usually. Even aside from work trips, Sarah and I go abroad at least once a year. Usually more.”

“Oh!” A particularly hot spark shot straight to Eleanor’s clit. She could feel herself getting wet. Her hips started to wriggle, subtly grinding into the table without any conscious input. The goblin masseuse continued her work uninterrupted, kneading the muscles in her upper arms.

“Hey, it’s not that surprising,” Matt chuckled, misinterpreting the exclamation, “I know we're not as rich as you or your friends, but we do alright for ourselves. We have a four-bed detached house in London, and that’s more than most people will be able to afford in their entire life. We almost outright own it, actually.” He chuckled again, softer this time. “Sarah doesn’t know yet, but I’ll have fully paid off the mortgage with my next annual bonus.”

“Mhmm,” she groaned. She was burning up now. Her panting breaths felt like they were coming out as steam. A sticky pool was starting to form beneath the towel as her grinding motion lost any amount of subtlety and she began to fully hump the tabletop.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring her up,” Matt apologised, “But the point is I get my fair share of luxury, even if it’s not as much as you’re used to.”

Eleanor didn’t reply that time. Her body was on fire, and her mind was blazing with images. It wouldn’t be long now. He’d lose control like she was about to, and she’d get what she wanted. What she needed to get ahead in this competition. Grinding into the table wasn’t enough anymore. She lifted her hips and slid a hand underneath, plunging two of her fingers into her dripping channel with a wet squish and a low moan.

“Eleanor?” Matt sounded surprised. Disbelieving. “What are you... oh shit.”

She worked her fingers in and out of herself at a frantic pace. Oh fuck. It was happening now. He got up, and she heard a goblin tumble to the floor as he hurriedly climbed to his feet. He was coming over to her. He was grabbing her. He was... pulling her upright?

Daylight momentarily blinded her as her red eyes blinked open. The dark clouds from earlier had vanished, and everywhere the afternoon sun hit the vampire’s skin sent solar-powered arousal straight to her core. Matt had grabbed her by the arm, the one that had been underneath her, pulling her hand away from her pussy as he hauled her off the table. His grip was harsh, it should have been painful, but it only amplified the fire inside her as she imagined what he’d be able to do to her.

Eleanor whimpered in desperate need, stumbled, and then Matt was towing her out of the room. The whole time, his eyes were facing away from her naked body. No. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

“What are you doing to me?” she demanded in a breathless moan, then they burst through the changing room doors, and the shadows felt like ice on her feverish skin. The fire still burned, she was more turned on than she had ever been in her life, but it was no longer growing with every passing second.

“Sorry,” Matt gasped, releasing her like he could feel the fire too, “The windows, your transformation. I should have realised. I didn’t know it would be that strong.” He let out an awkward laugh, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the wall. “Are you alright?”

“I... what?” Eleanor panted for breath, staring at the back of his head. His bare shoulders. His naked back. Lower down.

“Is it going to pass on its own, or do you need me to give you some privacy?” he said, every bit as calm as he had been the whole time, and still not looking at her.

She didn’t understand for a moment, and then she suddenly did. “You want me to do... that?” she spat, doing her best to sound disgusted at the idea even though she had been doing it of her own accord only minutes ago. Even though the thought of touching herself again still sounded very, very tempting.

“I want to know what you want, Eleanor,” he replied gently, “I remember what your first transformation does, but I don’t know what it feels like or how you’re dealing with it. It was obviously pretty intense. Do you want me to find somewhere else to be for a while, or do you want me to stay with you?”

Eleanor seethed, baring her fangs behind his back, multiple different kinds of frustration roiling in her chest. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she snapped, “Take advantage of me while I’m naked and vulnerable and... and...”

Matt let out a weary sigh, his gaze shifted from the wall to the ceiling as he let his head fall backward for a moment. “Right, I’m going then,” he announced, “Give me a shout when you’re ready to carry on with the date.” He stepped away, pivoting around her while keeping his back turned, and set off in the direction of the other changing room.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere,” she ordered, snapping her fingers at him before he could leave her sight. He stopped, and waited, and... he still wasn’t looking.

“What do you want, Eleanor?” he asked in a neutral voice.

“I want you to look at me!” she all but shrieked.

• Showed body: +6VP

Matt turned around at the piercing command, and the force of his gaze stripped away her anger in an instant. He took a step forward. She took half a step away without meaning to. Another step, another half. Her back hit the wall. He closed the gap. She closed her eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked again, much quieter, but so close she could feel his breath even though she couldn’t see him.

She stayed silent, eyes still firmly closed, and turned her head away. Matt sighed. She heard him moving, she squeaked when she felt his hand on her arm again, near her chest. Near her breasts. Then something soft and fluffy pressed into them. Her eyes snapped open.

“Is that better?” Matt asked, pressing her arm into the towel he had held up in front of her to pin it in place. It was short, it covered her lower half but only barely. It didn’t cover the damp trails down the insides of her thighs.

“Am I not good enough for you or something?” she tried to say angrily, only for it to trail off into something little more than a whimper. She pressed her legs together. The fire wasn’t being stoked by the sun anymore, but something else about the situation was still feeding it fuel.

He shook his head, looking intently into her monstrous red eyes. “It’s nothing to do with being good enough, but we barely know each other and I have no idea what you want from me.” He took a deep breath and stood up straight. “You’re giving me some seriously mixed signals right now. If you want me to do anything then you need to look me in the eye and tell me.” He raised his eyebrows, and waited.

“I want...” she started, then realised at some point over the course of those two words she had looked away, so she wrestled her eyes back onto his and tried again. “I want you to... touch me.”

Matt stared, and stared, and stared, then sighed again. “No,” he said simply.

Eleanor blinked. That didn’t make sense. Nobody ever said no to her. Certainly not about something like that.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” she demanded, some of her usual indignation coming back, “You said you would!”

“I did, but you didn’t mean it when you asked.” He tapped the side of his head. “I got a transformation too, remember? Right now, that transformation is telling me you’re terrified. You don’t actually want me to touch you.”

“I’m not terrified!” she lied, to herself and to Matt.

“It’s okay, Eleanor, really,” he said soothingly, “It’s alright to not know. We’ve only spent a few hours together, we’re still working things out, and that’s as normal as it can get with this whole situation.” He waved his arms about, gesturing at the spa, the Hotel, the abstract concept of the forced date, then lay a hand gently on her shoulder. “Just take a few minutes to cool off, then maybe we can check out the sauna, okay?”

Her heart was pounding. His hand was a searing heat against her pale and sensitive skin. She eyed his forearm. She licked her lips. Plan A had failed. Time for plan B. She opened her mouth.

“What are you doing?” Matt pulled his hand away from her shoulder. His forearm went out of reach.

“I...” she gasped, now flushed from embarrassment as well as arousal. She was physically incapable of answering the question, for some reason. It didn’t matter anyway, because he already knew.

“Were you going to bite me?” he took a step away, keeping a cautious eye on her fangs.

“I...” she said again, and made it no further than last time.

“Eleanor,” Matt said sternly - not mad, just disappointed - and shook his head, “You know me being turned on is not the issue, right?” He gestured downwards, a little self-consciously. He was still naked, and erect. Very erect. Eleanor’s lips, still painted a purple so rich it didn’t pay taxes, quivered as she stared at the first hard penis she had ever seen in person. “There’s no amount of arousal that would ever make me do something to you that I can tell you don’t really want,” he insisted.

She whimpered. He was right. She didn’t really want this. But she needed this, and nobody was going to stop it from going the way she had decided. Not even herself. She closed her eyes again. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, behind her fangs.

“Eleanor?” Matt said cautiously, “Are you alright? I’m not mad. We can work this out.”

She bit down.