Take Up the Cross – Chapter 106: What Goes Around… ☆

Cracking stones slip from the path, tickling tall ears. The chase that continues even now changes scene for certain, exiting a battlefield to become uneven hallways near their deaths. Instead of a land of rot, history of a kind never witnessed by contemporary Zennians is carved and chiseled by human hands to immortalize imperial majesty.

What should be gray rooms within a villa have transformed into a decaying wreck of a home with dirtied gilding nearly plucked from edges, ruined plaster walls dripping toward the floor, and rugs erupting into thick clouds when disturbed.

Crushed beneath jagged rock with great mass behind it, the old arched columns running up to the high ceiling forestall seemingly impossible weight. Pressures from above meet emptiness below, for every bouncing, zig-zagging hop a cream-colored rabbit woman makes across the patchwork floor unleashes jarring collapses which plummet into the greater darkness revealed.

 

(Where is this!? This accursed place!?)

 

At the edge of a sudden chasm, the plump rabbit leaps out with confidence to drop dozens of feet toward a slanted hallway hanging out below. Long boots plant firmly with no harm manifesting, despite how she totters about and lightly jiggles. Her breathing is shallow as she collects herself.

A wide cut in the earth all around reveals similar passageways, all sheared clean from the dangers opposite the chasm. By the settling evident, some distance beneath the ground is where she’s been thrust into the past; and, into…

 

“And into a dead end, I should think not!?

[All-Seeing]!”

 

Invisible eyes without pupils hover around her naked body. These servants unseen by others swoop toward the collapsed roof blocking her path and also to her aft to spy upon the route she has traversed.

 

Through thin channels in rubble they squeeze forward, searching out a lifeline.

 

(Let me out…!)

 

Where two or three find progress impossible, five more go on, quickening until only one remains.

 

“… hhhhaaaaaaaaHHHHH!”

 

(Mercy, impossible protection gifted to the Sworn of Isard, oh…!)

 

 

 

The escape of Hoime Helestrad is threatened by a predator roaring in the distance, all despite the perfect measures she took to secure absolute victory.

 

This thing lurks in shadow as if born of it.

Covers improbable distances without a sound, despite its enormity!

Blind eyes that see all cannot pierce its truth even as they seek to collide with it if need be to achieve that. From three angles she witnesses in her mind, wondering how it’s possible to remain ignorant of such a large beast as it ever escapes notice!

 

Right up until its wide paw swats all her spies in a streaking flurry.

Each demolishing blow accompanies the ringing of bells and the shattering of glass!

 

(NNAAAAAH!?)

 

Along with the shattering, so too does her mind threaten to split.

Though nothing is on her stomach as the world spins wildly, touching its paw with her mind fills it to the bursting.

“BLUUURGH…!” Hoime clears her mind’s toxic contents via her throat to regain clarity. “… Im… impossible, impossssssible…!”

 

White fur is her only glimpse of its majesty for all her efforts.

 

Gripping her soft body tightly as she nervously hops in place after retching, Hoime then stares at the crumbled barrier when a clicking beyond it sounds.

A resolute piece of her consciousness latches onto the far sight of a clear hallway, realizing swiftly how little distance truly matters as the forbidden knowledge necessary to bridge physical limitations is gifted.

 

“… OOH! [Jaunt]!”

 

 

 

Out of a green cloud of fuming smoke Hoime leaps, humming merrily and arms flightily lifting as she finds freedom closer than ever, letting the stress melt away!

 

(He’ll never get through ten meters of settled obstruction! Never again to be troubled, troubled by him~!)

 

“I’ll get out… out, out of this nightmare, and then… plot your eternal one…!”

 

Her defiant scream dies in the blackness behind, but she has no cares.

 

Only superstitious bumpkins fear the unknown.

Those with the intellect reveal its truths, and thus cannot fear…!

 

 

 

“Plotting his end may have hastened yours, Hoime.”

 

 

 

Ephemeral as the pleasant voice whispers within Hoime’s mind, nothing about its dismissal is short-lived. Despite its mannish, domesticated prose, the reassuring female voice of her closest ally sends the bunny rambling to reject it.

 

“No, no, Miria, his is still forthcoming, worry not! No change in form can save him from me, for the moment he appears he’ll be smote beautifully…~!”

 

(Though, it’s odd how he stays out of sight, just far behind enough to avoid my wrath…?)

 

That unusualness brings her to a rest as she pants anew, leaned against a more intact section of damp hallway plaster.

Raw and wrong is this stalker’s presence, jamming her mind full of the queerest distractions. Her body is hot and cold in unison when she recalls its stark white its fur, just the same as when it rose out of the Pure Revelation she invited from the Realm of Mysteries.

 

Half-starry sky at the time was its face, red eyes staring through what it regarded as only an obstacle to destroy…

 

A pert nose twitches on its own as she sniffs, leaving her quivering from a foreign, enticing smell. It overwhelms the decay all around, winning out over the multitude of scents…

 

 

 

The idea of being chased by a beast… resurfaces a thought, the queerest academic inquiry.

One she’s long put off, because she could never satisfy with the tests she performed…?

She can only lick her nose, sampling with a tongue the scent that…

 

 

 

“But enough about me~! Where are you, Miria!?” Hoime screams both in her mind and out loud, cracking the stillness with her enlivened voice before it reverts to its dreamier tone. “… The Destination Key should still work, right, right? So, why are you whispering from afar instead of hugging me in victory~? Eh!?”

“With a certainty of success being absolute for you, unforeseen… events turned the night a lot livelier for me at the same time.”

“‘Lively’? Yes! Very lively… now why don’t you live it up down here, with me?”

 

(What’s taking you and those foolish tagalongs!? I got in, I can get out; but, so can you!)

 

“… Before worrying about my circumstances, perhaps you might explain your own? Sight has been lapsing more with each change in the struggle. Now, all I see would be you.”

“More, much more, yes, you might see more if you opened your eyes every once in a while, huh, Miria!?”

“… Hmmm…?”

A sudden musing sound sends a shiver through the lagomorph.

 

“Do you so long to see their hue, Hoime?”

 

(Oooooh, that was… a tad…)

 

At Hoime’s strained insult born of completely understandable impatience, the response from across the void is reproachful in the way only [Vivisecting Miria] can use.

 

“How cute you’ve become lately… haah…”

Despite being the fastest of friends, even Hoime is loath to test a woman whose moniker matches her desires. For, she shares her blades with those she is fascinated by…

“I’m not sure why you care so much about me repeating things…? Well, apologies, apologies about the clarity of the divination~; but, it suffices that whatever you saw is accurate and mostly sticks to the designs I devised, except also that none of it makes any sense!”

 

 

 

(WHERE DOES HE GET HIS POWER FROM!? THIS… THIS IMPLAUSIBLE THREAT…!?)

 

 

 

Stalking onward down long paths while she whispers, Hoime, the only Pactkeeper of Isard, [“That Which Sees All that Could and Shall Not Be”], shares her concise recollection of the important night’s occurrences, up to the ill-fated brawl between Super Idiot Peak’s collected Baubles and their chosen champions.

Seen through Hoime’s clear vision, it should be obvious to someone as intelligent as Miria where the fault lies with how it unraveled!

 

“… and Orloss’ refusal to showcase his true abilities is why he got sidelined by that brainless lamia with inordinate luck! I’m sure his equally brainless breeding bitch suffered the opposite Fate of meeting someone with a current of intellect! Falke certainly brought his best pieces, he did!”

 

(The second, unguessable unknown, those…!)

 

“I’ve… never seen golems or homunculi like those, no place, no where, save for the Alchemaster’s own personal maidservants!”

“That would no doubt be because…”

 

(“Why” is obvious, isn’t it!? Think me…!?)

 

“… that I’m just some ditsy, seductive bunny beneath the hat and robe, Miria!? The brat’s power, his power it was, that made them seem almost real, of course! Believe, you do, that I don’t see infinitely more than your misinclined studies would reveal for—!?

Ah…”

Again, Hoime’s shrill voice cracks in mid rant, leaving her reaching up for a hat that isn’t on her head. Because, not only was it stolen days ago, but she’s also currently…

 

(Why are my teats perked!? … It’s so hot…)

 

Naked as can be, damnable insects chewed through her only protection. As a spellcaster, she has never needed more than a robe to gracefully cover…!

 

“Hmmm…?”

“… that is… not to say that, I think, I think of course the best of you… I’m just… it’s very… drafty down here, Miria…”

“To overuse one’s gifts manifests dangerous results in and of itself, Hoime.

Are you sound of mind?”

 

(SHUT UP! I’M IN CONTROL!)

 

All of the power of Isard is with her, even without her rod and tome!

Those two gifts may be recovered at any time. They flow through her, and may be reborn into Hoime’s hands with a simple renewal of her pledge to the Witnesser of All Things…!

 

(I can master everyone… and I’ll prove it… by…!)

 

“Hoime?”

“Yesssss, Miria~?”

 

Halted in her turn to race back toward the monster, the sage taps her fingers together before continuing her escape.

 

“How did this add up to prevailing over Falke, even I wonder now?”

“Repeating myself yet more!? Why not:

There’s no fault with my groundwork, as you well should know! I divined the full capabilities of Falke and Orloss, as well as the rules which would bind them! All of the pieces needed to breach his dimensional wards and reach his inner sanctum, a sanctum without purpose before meeee as I cleaned him up!?”

 

(Others always fail to support me in the end…!)

 

“Though not their full composition, the relationship between the hidden hawker of Castillo goods in Petripolis did link back to the artifact doll that escaped the Grand Collection and to the entity unleashed in the Godless Chapel by it!

Going after the Granescians at first seemed natural as a prize, but the darkness acted for its own sake in protecting them, it seeeeems!?”

 

(“Who else but the Granescians would be responsible?” This was our assumption, but it turned out false, who knew!)

 

To obliterate the Granescian leader, the heart of the tumor, would’ve solved all problems; but, this creature had interfered, thus proving the extent to which it will oppose the Castillo!

With their failure, Hoime could no longer breach the Granescian fortress on the vacant street which reeks of empty perfection.

A dream was crushed, so another must be taken up!

 

“This creature seeks to destroy the Castillo, so how could I not want to nip it quickly with the mansion in such disarray!? It’s impossible how many events it relates to, especially to our embarrassment. And yet none, NONE, will believe us if we were to be clear!?”

“Yes, that link seemed the most dubious of them all,” Miria clears her throat before continuing, leaving Hoime confused by the seriousness she uses. “Yet, we should certainly stress this revelation…”

 

(To who!? Needing to convince me, do you!?)

 

All of the pieces were in place to the grand puzzle, no matter how many tumbled out of the wooden tub to add to the loose pile!

Hoime was assembling them one by one, uncovering the grand, if chaotic, design!

And if only she had, as a final pawn, in her moment of victory…

 

“If Cathar had been here, that mad queen of black, darkest shadows and swords would’ve…!”

“… Cathar is no longer within our little circle, Hoime.”

“I know! Stolen from me he was, by that vindictive little maid princess…!”

“Hoime!”

 

Hoime swallows her words, unwilling to speak any blasphemy in the stillness after.

 

(… I…

… I find myself…)

 

Were he here, the brutish goat thug with his thick arms and broad chest, Hoime might deign to hug him despite the constant odor that he cultivates…

 

“Hoime, only we can see our task to completion…” Softly spoken, Miria’s resolute words are only half heard as Hoime comes to a crossway set of halls.

 

(How delicious it would’ve been, how purely wondrous, if that boy were watching when I lined his fawning harem up to obey a more manly treat! I’d be pleased as pie to watch Cathar rut them…)

 

If they were brutalized in front of this miscreant boy, how deliriously would he break~?

 

Hoime taps a nearby corner as she snickers to herself at the thought of recording their fates. Habits learned in the Wondrous Works are ones she will never abandon, because they aid her in comprehending the mad world that others are content to merely steal from without also taking the knowledge to use what they plunder!

 

 

 

(There’s time, so much time. I will never end up like that woman… But, if they do, I might understand…?)

 

That experiment sticks around, refusing to be forgotten with the potential pieces appearing now…

 

 

 

(Nevermind, nevermind! Now that I understand the unspoken dangers, I can appropriate more “helpers” to overcome…!)

 

“… because only we stand to gain…”

 

(… That undead thing that invited him to her side of the equation, that apprentice of a lost Granny, is who I’ll save for Cathar to especially bully as…!)

 

A hand pats her mouth, a bit of drool wiped clean as she starts down the correct path.

Ahead in the darkness, the eye she left outside gleams like a lighthouse toward safety.

 

(You cannot trap one in shadows, so thick as they are, one who can see through them! Hehehehe!)

 

 

 

“… from opposing failure.”

 

 

 

Barely understood as Hoime’s thoughts leave her laughing drunkenly, Miria’s last words connect back to earlier stresses when examined. The Glorious Servant of Revelation’s mind is fast, piecing together the hazard.

The oddly important words cut through dark humor, staking into her heart.

 

“OH…!? … Opposing failures… is it…?

… Mmm… success is important…”

 

Though her path is obvious, Hoime is left rigid as feet refuse to move.

For Miria refuses to respond to her jittery quip.

 

 

 

(… WHO BETRAYED US!?)

 

 

 

Agreed upon long ago, keywords uttered in their conversation reveal Miria’s reluctance to share more information.

Why she is so concerned about Hoime’s disposition!

Why she cannot rescue Hoime!?

 

 

 

“Which scummy little gilded speck betrayed us, Miria!?”

“… Hoime… you… haaah…”

“I’ll bring out every squiggling length to scoop them inside out…!”

As Hoime screams at the top of her lungs, Miria sounds almost depressed.

 

(I FAILED BECAUSE SOMEONE SQUEALED, THEY DID!?)

 

Hopping as fast as she can, the exit comes nearer as Hoime jumps through broken windows across dark gaps to adjoining hallways.

She bounds down stairways that have half their steps, eager to see the night sky and share her incensed affections.

 

“… First the Pillars show their disloyalty to the Mistress, then the Works are proved involved by that Bloodstained Ghoul’s aid to the evil child, and now, now of all things our own brethren would betray the Mistress by backing a forthcoming foe!?”

 

(It’s not my fault! None of this is my fault!

Someone else is to blame, to blaaaame!)

 

 

 

Sconces ahead burn low, but with the welcoming blue of Castillo gas lamps. The rejection of the darkness which has plagued Hoime, despite her ability to see through it to some degree, aids in her upward mental swing.

 

(I’ll get out and deal with them, too.

Orloss, Falke, Ghoul, traitors, traitors all to the Mistress.)

 

A grand open room is ahead, proving that her beacon in the distance was true!

 

The atrium of Falke’s manse is the one static point that cannot be altered, for if center is boat, then atrium must prove anchor for the real world to accept an isolated extradimensional plane to connect to it…!

 

 

 

(BUT WHAT IS THAT SMELL!?)

 

Raunchy and violent are the scents that bring her to noisily coughing.

They shouldn’t be felt so suddenly, be so overpowering that a quarter-beast like Hoime couldn’t notice from many halls back!

 

At the boundary of this last area, Hoime quivers with refusal of the musk filling it.

Its taste is of unbridled sexual dominance.

A putrid masculinity taps at her heart as her stomach growls.

 

“This.. this isn’t the end…! Or the beginning!?”

 

Tip-toeing into the grand hall, as though her feet could think of nothing better to do in her shock, brings the mystic into…

 

(Windows facing the moons on high?)

 

 

 

Great arched, glass portals at the back stretch up many stories, unleashing the rays of the many moons of Zennia upon Hoime.

With sky dark and clear of the ever-present clouds which should still be there, she’s briefly mesmerized by how they each stand out.

 

 

 

Violet of Traveler, shining with an alien nobility.

Red of Pilgrim, condemning all that is inhuman.

And the errant blackness where stars vanish, signaling the position of hidden Pothos which welcomes monsters into its conspiracies.

 

 

 

“The… the stars are wrong, though.”

 

Her whisper to Miria is an admission that something has become tragic with her escape, for there is no exit. Windows have no cut door in them, no way through apparent or means of opening these grand pieces.

No doors lie at the sides, either, proving the room a tomb.

 

“… They set me up.

I’ve been set up?”

 

A beacon that whispered of freedom has instead led her to a viewing room of constellations that resemble the distant past, so distant that Hoime cannot calculate their shift at the moment.

 

A room which holds an enormous bedding beneath the windows.

Furry and of many faded colors: brown, pink, ruddish, and gray, Hoime can’t intuit how many thousands of rabbit pelts were used in the creation of this animal’s sleeping spot that stretches from one side of the hallway to the other.

 

No other furniture is to be found, and especially no humanoid charms.

The solid run of the hallway showcases only gouges and chips where sharpness has been tested against its thick walls.

Without regard for the builder’s love of this now destroyed domicile, some entity that reeks of rape and slaughter permits no detritus to linger, bizarrely enough.

Only the scars of its rage are ornamentation in this immaculately clean place.

 

“Miria… this isn’t right…

I’ll… I’ll scoop them out, the ones that did this…

… FILL THEM FULL, SCOOP THEM OUT AGAIN, SHOW THEM WHAT IT MEANS TO FEEL, TO REALLY FEEL, IMPOSSIBLE, PAINFUL PLEASURE, UNTIL THERE’S…!”

 

(NOBODY MAKES A FOOL OF HOIME HELSTRAD, [VICE-SEEKER] OF THE WONDROUS WORKS, AND—!)

 

 

 

“Until there’s ‘what’, loaner?”

 

 

 

Something more horrendous than her arrived at destination booms out from the darkness.

 

A voice filled with enormous patience, so vast that it has mutated into an ugly condescension toward those who would bear its frustrations, questions within Hoime’s mind as it begins to scramble under duress.

Her telepathic connection via magic, one securely made for only Hoime and Miria, buckles until it threatens to snap, then thickens dramatically when a third entity joins in and asserts its unfathomable mind to entangle the mystic’s!

 

“… until there’s an understanding of who is in complete charge, which of course, of course would be you, most noble Maidwright, oh absolute speaker for the Almighty Alchemaster, Eternal Mistress of the Gran Castillo~!”

 

Adopting a perfect servant’s bow despite being defrocked, Hoime’s ears flop downward as she starts to shake uncontrollably.

She can only address this empty room reeking of carnage with absolute politeness; for, on the off chance that, like Miria, this foremost member of the Alchemaster’s inner circle can now see her, impoliteness would prove fatal to her future.

 

Especially since this bitch is so terribly, quietly spiteful.

 

“Indeed? Ignore decorum and state your current location.”

“… That… that would be… I am… currently in…”

 

(A PLACE I CAN’T ADM—!)

 

“You are lost inside Falke Kestner’s villa, despite your duty assignment clearly placing you within [Memories Eternal] on the first tier of the Castillo…”

A succinct finality lies in this rote statement, one Hoime has always found unwomanly frustrating about the Alchemaster’s favored dog.

 

(Always “patient”, but never having the time for tea or pleasantries.)

 

“… where, I duly remind you, the dimensional anchors, ones that function quite similarly to the place you’ve intruded upon, require maintenance.”

A brief interlude after this matter-of-fact assessment turns mildly poisonous at the end.

“Or, did, rather, until I dispatched Septimus to complete the work you abandoned.”

“That sounds right, ma’am~!”

 

(… I just told this snake everything I did after skipping out, didn’t I, Miria? It’s fine, I don’t blame you, not at all, at all…)

 

Her previous mania fades like a wilting rose, as Hoime comprehends the huntress’ dedication to voicing the mystic’s own justifications.

The Maidwright required Hoime’s self-condemnation to understand matters. If she’d not been so distracted, Hoime would’ve caught on to the fact that…

 

(Mmm, the Maidwright knows we’ve been doing things one the side, does this cow? For how long…?)

 

Shaking no longer, Hoime instead notices that she’s covering up her large bosom. The act makes her skin burn hotter, because her nipples are so sensitive.

In fact, being within this room is casting a red shade across her vision.

Everything seems so… floaty…

 

 

 

And the world is growing more violent.

More beastly.

As Hoime’s ears perk back up, she gleans movement down the hallways. Distant yet, but ever closing.

 

“Maidwright, if… I might inquire, do you know something about this…?”

“The [Demesne] of the creature which ‘rules in dark’?”

Using a phrase Hoime has never heard, the Maidwright takes up the inquiry with vibrancy that’s unusual to her peculiar personality.

 

“No, not the creature that ‘rules’? Something else, but similar? Answer these questions then: what is the metallic composition of the sconces on the wall; what was notable about the plaster you passed by; and where is the star Distant Dreamer located in the night’s sky?”

 

(What… what use are those things?)

 

“B-B-Brass with silver turnkey slot, some sort of colored murals that have been destroyed, and it’s fifteen degrees adjacent to Waking Sun instead of…?”

Unable to follow the importance, Hoime quickly sums up and blurts out a sentence that lacks her usual wit.

Her tingling back speaks of a creature’s heavy breathing…

 

“Truly bizarre. And the creature chasing you?”

Its nature is most important, but Hoime has yet to truly grasp it…

“White… white fur…? With… I think…?”

 

Searching the last moments of her distant eyes, Hoime recalls pointed spears.

 

“Stag horns and red eyes…?”

“… How very tragic and also coincidentally entertaining, if it is who I think it is.”

 

Though the identity of the monster comes to the Maidwright, she…

 

 

 

“Why did you think you could defeat this foe born of the Chapel?”

 

(TELL ME WHAT’S CHASING MEEEEE, YOU EVIL BITCH!)

 

“Why!? Why is simple, even for you…!” Something necessary breaks within Hoime, despite the difference in station and strength between her and this upper crust alchemist’s apprentice. A mindset long crushed rears back up, one born of a decade of service to the mighty Wondrous Works! “Divine a hypothesis and test it! ‘Why did this thing of such magnificent power that it could unsettle the Golden Heart simply turn from facing the Great Mistress and depart!?’”

 

(The answer is that it is actually weak! A hypothesis that I will fail to disprove when I crush—!)

 

“So, in believing it weak, face it you will? For glory’s sake? To regain standing lost — yes?”

“… And why not? Even servants have their own designs, huhuhu!”

Hoime’s laughter resounds far and wide, liberating her from the petrification of fear.

“The knight captain of Petripolis, after all, knew so much, so much about a creature others ever fail to divine!”

 

(Others like you!? Perhaps I know more than an aristocratic, emotionless half-wit!?)

 

“‘He travels with weaklings, keeps council with downtrodden wretches cast out by distant powers, and lurks ever in shadows when not preening over his appearances.’ If that idiot knight can learn so much, then surely I can know all!”

There was no lie when the man spoke these words, for his mind was laid bare by Hoime’s patron’s whispers!

“After hearing such a description that must be absolutely accurate, and seeing how small he was while defending that loathsome Cuinn bastard, how~

could~?

I~?

NOOOOOT~ TRY~!”

 

(TO GET MY REVENGE!)

 

“… to destroy him?”

“Understandable. Hmmph.”

 

Without reproaching her, the Maidwright simply sighs once before continuing over Hoime’s turn to speak.

“‘Destroy the Granescians to win a place back; failing that, destroy the incarnation of chaos that escaped the Castillo’, an entity that saved a Granescian and thus proves inimical to us. Also, one that you posit must be related to both Works traitors, and the eccentric Elder Peak and his attaches?”

“Correct! You see, you see you do, my logic?”

 

(Maybe you’re not so stupid after all~?)

 

“An entity that also unleashed the dragon within [Dining Hell]…?”

“Undoubtedly! You follow perfectly the events~!”

Growing bolder, Hoime’s voice exults the logic the Maidwright seems to favor, coming around to Hoime’s!

“And has been witnessed by you, personally, consorting amiably with the Chosen at their fell encampment, if I am to believe Miria’s words?”

“Yes, he has allied himself with these fools as well.”

 

(This is the most damning part…! WE MUST DESTROY HIM, NOW!)

 

The Chosen, the only threat to the Alchemaster on Zennia…

 

They cannot be allowed to propagate!

 

“A Mad Descendant of Luna is identified as his associate, as well as some unknown lamia with the protection of an underworld goddess? Adding onto this, a mutated kobold that reeks of fearsome malignancy stands as his shield; and, at his side, an ancient undead once in thrall to a Granny of Malice is the prime suspect for his advent unto this world…?

… am I following what you’ve witnessed?”

“YES! PERFECTLY! You see with the wisdom of unbidden eyes, my lady…!”

 

A crash against the subterranean structure jolts Hoime with the tremors.

She totters about, before lifting her hands up, grasped together.

 

“Thus, I gathered what could obviously defeat such a weak foe! Orloss played into my hand by his needs, do you see!? Even now, it should be easy for the Servants to descend upon this one from hiding, send them for me to command oh mighty lady, and we shall bring justice, sweet justice, at—!

HII!?”

 

 

 

Tapping sounds from behind break Hoime’s rapture, bringing a slow turning of her head to face it.

 

“And you truly believed you could defeat such an illogical, unknowable, and unbeckoned entity through your own merits?”

 

(Y-Y-Yes…? Why… wouldn’t I…?)

 

 

 

That entity’s furred hand, stark white and rough, grips tightly on the doorway as it rounds the entrance.

Taller than the quarter-beast Hoime by a foot, the composed demi-human man, absent a shred of clothing save for a tied purple cloth strip with black glyphs around its left forearm, strides in like the lord of all creation.

 

Nothing is lacking about what shows without the man’s care for covering, for in Hoime’s opinion, it has nothing to hide.

Though Hoime favors a certain kind of gentleman, this thing easily squeaks into the sweet spot that makes her cough softly to mask the words of praise she might speak as the victor standing over it, ready to claim her desires.

Slightly tanned skin with a foreign tone leaves the white of its arm and leg fur proud, while the black horns curling from its forehead around the top of its crown suggest regality matching its stature.

 

Like a man and woman formed from clay, set out by the divines to meet, Hoime succumbs to that alluring image of a shaped Adonis only briefly.

Whereas its composure draws her in…

 

(No human, nothing human… just a monster…!)

 

… its blood red eyes and deep frown, and, more importantly, the shadow it casts, compels her to beg for mercy right now.

 

While it simply squares up at her and curls its hands closed, allowing its tight muscles flex, the black god painted on the wall around and behind it rages.

An enormous presence made from the truth lying within, this great rabid rabbit of fearsome, almost lion-like, predatory bent lifts its head and protruding stag horns in order to silently roar.

 

(… Umm… Umm…

help… help me… Mistress…!

Maidwright!?)

 

Before she realizes it, Hoime has been stalked halfway into the hall, only waking up to jolt at the crunching below her foot.

Looking down, daring to take her eyes off of this evil force that becomes the room’s champion and owner, Hoime spies a crushed old bone under her boot.

 

(No… it was spotless…?)

 

 

 

The spotless room is now riddled with remnants of meals.

But, rather than a rabbit’s grazings on fresh cuttings of grasses, these are shards of bone loosened by enormous pressures levied upon them.

 

Rather than a random creature’s living space, this fresh hell of a room belongs solely to…

 

 

 

(Why did my divination lead me here to his lair!? OF ALL PLACES!?)

 

 

 

“Your first, and only truest, mistake was believing that you could prevail by your own machinations. So as to avoid ensnaring us in further misgivings, I shall remove your mystery: ‘a lifeline which loses its external star will necessarily lead instead to the heart of the nightmare’.”

 

(… YOU BITCH!? YOU TRAPPED MEEEEEEEE!?)

 

“WHY!? Why lock me in!?”

Hoime’s feet surrender space, leaving the naked man with a throbbing, wobbling mace, thick enough for her to follow with eager fascination, advancing on her with evil grace.

 

“The knight captain is capable of only two tasks: applying makeup to enhance his ‘beauty’ and lusting for the Mayor of Petripolis, despite his ignorance of her inhumanity.”

“… W-W-What?”

Sounding almost disbelieving, the Maidwright’s question now cuts to the matter’s heart.

“Hoime, why in the name of the Mistress would you entrust yourself to that idiot’s judgment of another’s abilities and danger?”

“The truth, the truth he was telling, only the truth!? I made… I forced him reveal it… so whatever he said…!?”

“… ‘Had to be believed, because it was true?’”

“YES! YES, EXACT—!”

 

 

 

“How did he acquire this information, despite being a ponce?”

“… —ly?”

 

 

 

(Hmmm?

HMMMM?)

 

Sconces on the wall cut out with raspy gasps as this tyrant passes between them.

Where Hoime entered, only a black void remains.

 

(Why… was I… was I perhaps… simply agreeing with him…?)

 

“It… it was… true… though…?”

Unable to defend such an insipid rationalization, Hoime finds that all of her certainty is fading fast.

Almost as quickly as the available light and space to retreat into.

 

“… I feared your incompetence innate; yet, it is somehow another’s plot? Then, let us skip to my assignment and spare wasteful verbal abuse.”

“‘Another’s plot’? … Assignment?”

 

The absolute beast towering over Hoime by a foot is drowning her rationality, pulling it under with strong hands.

 

(Orloss agreed, though… he thought that the knight captain’s words were accurate? He said that… his own investigation showed…? Why were we both…?)

 

As he draws near, her heart and loins feel as if they’re soaring.

His unblinking red eyes regard her like vermin, nakedly widening to inspect each part of her. Each flick brings a rough gasp as she squirms to avoid his eyes landing upon what he might want.

 

(HHMMM!? I… am not some fearful, ignorant child…? Why should I be shy about what he sees…?)

 

Like all of the Castillo, Hoime has sated desires without limits or “morality”.

All that she can conquer has been hers to experience.

And she is… quite a woman…

 

But, the thought of attraction developing between them is trampled upon by its own inclinations.

The atmosphere is tortured by the hate radiating, burning so brightly with the researcher nearby. As if it’s a tortured animal from her lab that’s escaped to seek a perfect vengeance, it corners her with its sight!

 

“As one from the Works originally, you still ill understand our creed, Hoime. To disobey orders and seek your own fortunes is never a crime, nor the reason you are being punished.”

“… What?”

Rather than reproaching her, the Maidwright sounds whimsical, even conspiratorial, as she perhaps seeks to teach a lesson to Hoime and the beast?

“Ambition is the only rule of [Golden Luster], the Mistress’ only order. As your superior, I am not angry that you sought to eliminate the Granescians or this impudent usurper that offends the Alchemaster. Rather, I now relieved with our Mistress’ personal decision enlist you.”

“… She what…

… she chose…?”

“Are you a fool, truly? The Mistress would not ask for you by name if she did not have high aspirations for you.”

“… Ahhck, guh…!?”

 

(…

… The …

… Great Mistress… knows my name…!?)

 

The conquering god before her hesitates for a moment as her face burns hot at this overwhelming revelation.

Before it resumes its advance, dragging with its white fur more thickly the carnivorous shadow glued to it.

 

“No, there are only two crimes you have committed Hoime, which will now become instrumental moments for demonstrating Greed’s demands:

 

‘When you seek to own others, you must not fail’.”

 

“… I… I haven’t failed, though, Maidwright…!”

 

(THIS FEAR OF HIS… ISN’T ENOUGH TO STOP ME FROM SHOWING THIS SUCK UP WHAT I CAN REALLY DO!)

 

 

 

Hoime’s hands snap back behind her as she leans forward.

A grin madder than a march hare’s must be scrunching her face, because it’s hard to think she’s not happy with how much knowledge she begs from her patron and promptly receives.

It pours into her mind, droning on of the means to overcome all of existence!

 

“… TOME AND ROD? I DON’T NEED EITHER, EITHER TO PREVAIL OVER THIS SPOILED CHILD!”

 

Crackling currents jump from open palms, starting green fires upon the covered floor that liven up the hall.

 

“Come for me, you half-wrought failure, and let your wimpy thoughts feast on the infinite knowledge of Beyond!”

 

The shadow of the beast, its true self, hackles its hairs and leers at her growing display.

Cackling laughter and slimy whispers slip from every fire she lights!

Arcing electricity flows between the walls and herself, before cascading down the hallway. It longs to join her mind with this beast’s and make it her sibling!

 

(If I can’t win, you can’t not be a part of me!?)

 

“‘From nothing our minds conceive, and to nothing we find true freedom; for, we all shall become one, together, and then none!”

 

Hoime’s doubts crack and peel away, leaving only the means of overwriting another’s mind with her own goals.

Fear flees, finding no purchase in a brain turned into cheese nibbled holey by mice!

 

“[Me, Myself, and I]!

HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

 

The monster’s long left arm slowly raises, interposing between its savage face and Hoime, and letting only its red eyes glint through opened fingers.

 

Green fire and lightning burst as they’re dragged forward!

The air crisps and laughs, the torrent humming, deafening, and blinding as it drills into the open palm of the creature!

 

It paints the room in exuberant shadows, all clear lines and corners blurring as reality submits to what could be~!

 

 

 

(SEE THE WORLD AS I DO, AND REJOICE IN—!)

 

 

 

As Pure Revelation strikes, it spools wildly before the palm, refusing settle against it as the energies swirl and rave. Instead of invading its noggin’, the Elder Flames Hoime calls forth fold in on themselves rather than be near the rabbitkin tyrant!

With a noisy sucking like a whirlpool, Hoime’s vitality drains away with the fleeing glory of her patron as it escapes back to outside the world.

All of the powers outside of creation cannot digest this evil boy, either; and so, it departs with a miffed displeasure.

 

 

 

“… the coming oblivion?

Huh…?”

 

Only the ringing of bells, distant and ominous, continues as the fireworks display uselessly vanishes, darkening the hall once more.

The purple sash around the enemy’s forearm flaps freely, revealing a devilish black cross of gleaming obsidian strapped to him.

 

“… Um… fair, not fair, oh never fair… is that tool…”

 

(Mmm, that’s not possible. I can’t lose, losing for me? It’s not even an option…)

 

 

 

“Your assignment is thus,”

Ignoring Hoime’s complete defeat, the Maidwright readopts her no-nonsense tone as Hoime continually whispers “Impossible!” to herself.

“‘Become a jewel in this creature’s bloody eyes, one that it will covet and never shatter; learn what sugars and spices satiate and motivate its pursuit of dominance; and make certain that its tastes grow toward ‘wilder treats’, so that we may subvert them as [Golden Luster] ever longs to do.’”

 

(Huh? Babbling, what babblings this bitch makes…?)

 

Hoime can no longer follow the Maidwright’s thoughts as the world shakes.

Something is even knocking against her knees!

 

A white king, crowned by antlers, looms while looking down.

Peerless is he as he finally deigns to speak to what should be a threat, but the eyes set behind his obsidian mask don’t seem to recognize as such.

 

 

 

“Rabbit… one of two things…”

 

Growling as if sentient speech is a bother, the untamed creature is low and level.

Imperious and uncaring as his emotions settle.

 

“… cunt for breeding…”

 

Thoroughly chauvinist to its very core, he chooses a word that Hoime has never, ever liked to hear hissed by the males of the Castillo.

 

(… C-C-Cunt…? You…!)

 

Such an abominable word, so intolerable it is to be called as such for any woman, brings Hoime’s world to stop shaking long enough for her to buck up and glare back, her pink eyes glowing green as her will reasserts.

She forces past the outward guise of this would-be tyrant, to see within, to discover the truth that she can learn and break!

 

What stares back is not what she’d hoped to find.

 

 

---

 

 

All is black.

The only thing filling the black space, aside from a cream-colored, quaking cunt of a woman, is…

 

(SavemeMiria!)

 

… a tremendous [Beast of Conquest].

By its noble, haunting, gory appearance, it must be one if the shitty ghoul with a less fearsome title was.

 

White fur of purest snow, streaked by the blood dried into it, is worn as a coat against the chilling freeze of its heart.

It hunches on stout legs, staring venomously at the indignant bug which dares to willingly “see” it.

Lacking a tail, only a stub lingers where it was chopped free, a mental scar which drives it crazier when her eyes linger on it.

 

Its mighty neck strains against a shackle around it, with metal of pure adamantium comprising the snare and its broken chain that it cannot shed.

 

 

 

The most horrible part, though, is the blood wake behind it, the trail of which is fed from above its head.

Blood patters onto Hoime’s face, with her twitching eyelids mercilously clearing it from sight. Like the great conquerer, these kin of it, though smaller, cannot flee its horns. As if they are trophies, they stare down into Hoime’s soul.

 

 

 

Their eyes full of unending pain beg, plead for mercy from her.

The mercy of finally being allowed to die.

 

No screams are possible, though, except to whistle through the gored holes in their lungs; but, they must never stop trying…

… to howl for forgiveness…

… a [forgiveness] that the white tyrant,

 

opening his mouth wide on a weathered face while leaning in and revealing a cavern of jagged white swords,

 

will never gift to any rabbit.

 

 

---

 

 

Hoime catches herself from falling over backwards, listening absentmindedly to the rushing sound of something running down her leg and into a now warm left boot. The rabbit king finishes his proclamation as the chattering of teeth begins.

 

“… or… cutlet for devouring.”

 

An astute observer at all times, Hoime notices that this king seems to barely be in control of his own actions. When he parts his lips, sharp teeth, veeeeery similar to an existential nightmare’s even if smaller, glisten with saliva as his thick white breath momentarily blocks her view.

 

There’s two kinds of hunger in his body, and only Hoime can decide which to sate, if she’s really lucky!

 

(I… will not… supp-suppli—

Allow… myself… to be…

… rutted…?)

 

Despite immediate revulsion at the very thought, an upright cream-colored tail is slowly turned toward the creature.

Its owner languishes and exults in oppression as she ponders what she’s doing?

 

(I am…

… an esteemed member of…!

… Mother herself… trusts me with impossible secrets…)

 

Bending over ever so gingerly so as to not trigger some chase response, despite finding herself gulping at the thought of being pursued, Hoime discovers that she’s…

to her horror…!

 

(I am Hoime Helestrad! I am not… some simple sleeve for others to… “release” themselves… into…?)

 

 

 

Pulling wide her plump cheeks, begging him to inspect a prize.

More than just chill sweat, the thick syrup that’s oozing down Hoime’s legs will soon be joining with the fresh urine pooled in a boot.

 

As the lovely, matured kitten she faithfully nourishes parts its lips to let the air brush against the pinkish insides, Hoime can only wonder why she’s swallowing in such eager anticipation of something, something she can’t define, only wanting to encourage without seeming to be encouraging?

 

 

 

“How fortuitous for you its reciprocation seems to be, and such a rational decision you’ve made.” The Maidwright sounds amused, if only for a moment. “Rather than become its meal, you will become its dish.”

 

(… I don’t… want to be… eaten, though… right?)

 

“As its dish, endeavor then to become its tastiest, Hoime Helestrad. Your punishment is to ingrain him into your body and discover the wisdom to not repeat mistakes.”

Hoime is almost passing out with excitement brewing through her, understanding without comprehending the intent of the Maidwright’s order.

“As for your mission…?”

 

(How can I accomplish a mission when I’m about to…

 

D-D-Die…?)

 

 

 

There’s no way she can convince him to forgive her, even with such naked overtures she never agreed to offer! No, she doesn’t even want to bother with forgiveness, because he should be apologizing to her, instead!

Instead of apologizing, though, this sub-par intellect’s unseen eyes are tasting her bare, sweaty flesh. His impossibly hard gaze is responsible for the nervousness that unsettles an unshakable heart!

 

In place of being the winner, this absolute wretch who…

… surpasses her capabilities in all ways…

… should be whimpering like he was in the Castillo’s water reservoir!

 

Instead of dread rendering him speechless, she’s choking on her own tongue…!

Instead of his tears falling, how can Hoime find that her own cheeks are…?

 

(Not crying! I’d… never cry…!)

 

 

 

Will he show mercy? Forgiveness?

Or cruelty?

 

(I have to know!)

 

Will his punishment be something rational… or something…?

Carnal?

 

(Free meeeee…!)

 

These questions paralyze her like no poison or evil eye possibly could.

 

 

 

“According to your race’s characteristics and his apparent compatibility, who and what this dark thing is should be more apparent within two seasons, even without your added contribution to the mission’s success.”

Without so much as a hint of malice or care, the woman condemns Hoime to a spiritually revolting task. Hoime can only obediently obey her voice, forgetting this woman’s name as she demands acceptance of this male’s noxious organ…!

 

“Good fortune.”

 

The connection between them snaps, with one voice desperately rushing across the last fraying thread to make itself heard.

“… Hoime—!

— NOT FORGOTTEN—!”

 

 

 

A voice like a friend’s goes dead, leaving Hoime all alone.

Without a single ally or stooge to stand for her, all that’s left for her is the comfort of the long boots she stands in.

 

Like some little girl, she’s being thrown to a starved lion which creeps ever closer.

 

(… He called me… a “cunt”…?)

 

The word is still a knife in her throat, but, it’s also… tingly.

A heat between her thighs betrays her the most. It singes each time the word repeats from the memory.

 

 

 

So narcotic is the haze all around as something latches on!

The floor comes into view, almost hitting her as she’s swung up by such strong hands gripping her thighs!

 

(HELP!?)

 

Those hands dig in without delicacy, and all she can take in, all she can see, is the same thick, rigid pole whose head is slick with shining fluid!

 

 

 

“In the end…”

Her butt is warm with his breath!

She chokes on her own, folded up with her tail pointed toward the ceiling as her flailing legs hook under something and deny further struggle!

 

(I WANNA RUN, HELP, HEEEELP…!?)

 

“… just a meal.”

 

“NO! NOOO! NOT FOOD,

NOR EATING,

PLEASE, PLEAAASE RECONSIDER…!”

 

Screaming with an aim to shatter glass, the standout talent of the Wondrous Works faces mortality declared painfully short, confronting a [death] which is rarely as gory as soon to be experienced.

Chewing through her plump butt…!?

 

(WHAT IS WRONG, WHY IS IT LIKE THIS!?

I DON’T WANT…!)

 

Desperate to prove herself worthwhile, she tries to reach, to grab on, maybe with her hands she can…!

 

Anything she can do to stop him is a goal, but she can’t even move…!

 

 

 

(I’M NOT FOOOOOOoooo—!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

AHHHH!?!? ★)

 

 

 

Her back cracks when the unholy touch surpasses her fear of the unknown!

Right into the peach of her butt, a slurping tongue and mouth mash into her mound while a nose sniffs where it’s truly embarrassing to permit!

 

Just as he promised, he absolutely consumes his meal with a zeal Hoime has never seen even in a starving wretch! Her spine is like lightning, the horror threading with surprise to spin into lust’s unanticipated fulfillment.

 

“HNNGH!?

ROUGH, OOOH, SLOW DOOOWN!?” A useless scream doesn’t slow him, only speed him on. “Pleeeease, women can’t…! OH ★! TOO MUCH!?”

He sucks up her protestations with every lick, declaring who makes the rules in her stead!

Drooling up her own nose, Hoime Helestrad’s cheeks grow messier from the thick tool rubbing pointedly against them, smothering its fluids and battering her up for a future meal!

 

Every second flashes like an explosion of fire powder, for every lick is the ignition!

A stooge shouldn’t be doing this…!?

A useless kid’s tongue shouldn’t lay claim to a holy passage…!?

 

(A DISGUSTING… GOOD… FEEELING!? HIII!?)

 

“HAGHU!?

NOOOO—!

UNGH!?”

Living fire can’t take the form of a pink tongue, can it, easily depriving her of intelligent speech!?

It’s hotter than the fever afflicting her stomach, this plundering snake is. Though it would intrude further one moment, daring to scoop along her walls, it rejects the taste to instead pluck on her hood.

As if he could feel the moment her will slipped, wondering how long his tongue actually is and the possibilities…!?

 

(OH, OHOHOH, STOP TUGGING ON IT!?)

 

It’s so painful and miserable his lips are, yet equally endearing!?

Cruel and indifferent, too, since he won’t grant her time to adjust!?

 

She wants to wrestle with him, to resist, but…

 

(UGHH, DON’T DO THIS TO SOMEONE LIKE MEEEE!?)

 

… what person can defeat a beast once it tastes first blood, the flavor of defeat!?

 

As the sucking sounds of his thirst only grow sloppier, shouldn’t Hoime tell him off!?

Yet, no moment with another has the same vicious sense of being claimed as now. If she could reproduce the formula that compels a man to lick her flower with such reverence, why, she could feel this every…!?

 

(NONONO, I’M NOT GOING TO… ENJOY…!)

 

Like he can read her thoughts, he pulls away, leaving Hoime crying softly in frustration while still folded upside down. The fear of the shadow which surrounds her now, enveloping her in its hate as its vessel makes a throaty growl…

 

“… Mmm…

… meat… fatty…”

 

An insult like this while he smacks his lips…!?

 

(Hnnngh!?)

 

All she can do is shake at the indignity, feeling the moisture he steals grow plentiful…?

One final slurp leaves her twitching toward a precipice which shame teeters along…!

 

“… but, tasty.”

 

While rationality slips, her ears perk with a comment that sounds… favorable.

 

(… He likes me…?)

 

“… T-T-Tha… that’s good…” Adopting her singsong voice, Hoime gently calls up while going limp, “I am… not… disappointed…?”

 

(Then… then I can… shape him…!)

 

“Instead of… this…

… perhaps, mayhaps, can we substitute…~?”

She runs her fingertips over a firm stomach, suggesting more inviting actions that equalize them…

 

“… trying toooOOOOOOOOOO!?”

 

 

 

A piercing scream echoes as Hoime sails through the air, flung sideways by awesome strength.

Like a castaway doll, loosed toward the wall, she…!

 

“UGUH!?”

She wrenches her back against the soft bedding she flops onto, her legs folded over her head in a painful contortion. Only able to shiver, she’s lost that gentle smile designed to hoodwink with, replaced by a horrified frown.

 

(WHY!?)

 

She stares out between her legs and butt to witness the nightmarish invader land before her, so quick!

“Wh-What!?”

The brute spares no words for her shock, only a heartless smirk as he closes.

“Why… are you…!?”

Quickly rolling over, Hoime’s hands latch onto the bedding and pull!

 

(IF I STAND, THEN HEAD FIRST, FIRST TO LAND ON MY HEAD NEXT TIME WILL I!?)

 

Desperately they drag, leaving salvation at the other side, surely…!?

 

He mercilessly pursues, slow, springy steps bringing paws to latch onto her thighs once more. Twisting a poor victim onto her back, Hoime is left staring up in numb shock as the thick taste of the worn bedding assaults her lungs before it does.

 

“YAH!?”

Brutally he forces his thick member against her squishy hole without so much as a request.

Lets it lubricate with the juices that aren’t her fault for being there, and certainly aren’t an invitation!

It slides over sopping lips, lips that should surely refuse entry…

“NNGH!? No, please not so… fast!”

 

(Wide is a challenge!)

 

Though it could never reach as far as Cathar’s, the cock this one is bragging about, lewdly sliding between her thighs, is certainly a contender for sheer girth. Capable of lodging inside, a horrifying fate for Hoime if he’s permitted to try!

 

(Time! Time, please, give meeee! My heart…! If not that, then my pussy, prepare…!)

 

 

 

But that beating organ of hers is ignored, his boredom with demonstrations bringing the second choice harm…

 

Against her entry it goes, probing with the angry red head.

 

Slotting into where he hooks an opening!

 

(… He—!)

 

Her head drags the bed when he yanks up!

So uncomfortable it is, Hoime’s hands try to fight backwards, against this inconceivable Fate…!

 

(… This… I’m… I can’t be, about to be…!?)

 

… the sudden fullness spreads further in…!

… towards the tingling, abruptly—!

 

 

 

“HOH!?”

Hoime rips at the bedding, shuddering from…

 

“… OH!?”

A foreign object, a metal ingot blazing inside her oven, makes a squelch.

 

“… ahhhh?”

There’s no time devoted to discovery for this beast!

Only the depths to conquer…!

 

(… It’s… so hot…?)

 

Left with her mouth frozen open, yet without sound, Hoime lets her head fall back.

And just stares up at him.

 

“Good.” The beast grunts, staring into her eyes as his own flush face softens with satisfaction. “No whining. Rabbits… squeal.”

 

“Geeh!?

Hoh!?”

The brutal spear inside of her pulls out, letting the space it pierced return to its former shape. Hoime turns her head as she starts to involuntarily pant, for the brutal weapon stabs again, bringing horrendous delight!

 

(… He’s a… big and… strong…)

 

This close and intrusive, this…

 

(… Man…?)

 

Beast is no longer just an academic fear…!?

 

 

 

A shadow of rage exults as her delicate bottom is plunged into.

No joy exists with a position that leaves her hips in the air, perfectly elevated to be his outlet!

 

Despite losses, oh so many in the past, a dire Recompense where humiliation like this is the goal…!

 

It’s impossible to conceive of, a hateful fiend’s thickness can only be an experience…!

 

(This is… loss… my first…?)

 

Someone as mighty as Hoime has never bet all and turned up broke for it, not even in a decade.

As she listens blankly to the sound of someone slapping against skin, a crisis of imagination joins with a departing of anything but rapturous sensation from her groin, stomach, and floating body…!

 

(Am I… being raped?)

 

Instead of winning a ride as the victor, she is being thrust neck-first against a bed.

 

 

 

(I’m being raped…!?)

 

He purposefully inflicts this, he does, when he angles his upward-curving cock to drag against the top of her passage! Like the savage he is, pressuring her with unwelcome sensations while pressing her with defeat!

 

(How… ah, odd!? I’m… being…?)

 

“NUUUOOOH!?

… S-SENSITIVE!?”

A secretive spot of great satisfaction is claimed by another, a sneering rabbit man wearing a black mask.

It’s no longer her private joy, but his public stake!

 

(If I’d… won… I would’ve… taken him, instead…!?)

 

Pain and pleasure, these aren’t two things to mix in her without permission!

Sloppy wet now, his dick only has as much friction as he wishes to inflict!

 

Lightning thrusts, indifferent gouges, or thick gyrations!

Each delivers another kind of loss as Hoime’s most tender place is explored, even reshaped by a brute!

 

(Why… do I have to give—mmm, in to this…!? I should…!)

 

Her insides bend to his will, hollowing her out with one-sided satisfaction.

This monster then briefly stops, surprising her with the halt as he stares at her chest.

 

His furred hand menacingly closes in, and…!

 

“NAAAAH!?”

Teasing and hurting, a fatty orb is crushed by him!

“PLEASEEEE!? STOP!?”

Pulls upward by this abuse, trying to yank her up oh-so-gently-and-harshly until she can only cry out in her shrill voice, he then releases.

Gifting a cruel grin with halting demands…!

“Good! Work… tightness!”

“Huh…!? … Y-Y-Yes…?”

When she begins to constrict, almost unconsciously, he sighs in satisfaction, then takes her waist up in a vice-like clutch.

After drinking in the submission…

 

“OH,

OH,

OH!?”

Hoime can only hoot with the abuse as this man launches himself into his work of hammering open the place he seemingly longs to visit.

Raw tension can only grow between them, for Hoime’s desperate need for this to make sense is purposefully ignored by the man’s admiration for the sensations her velvety passage provide.

 

(Why am… I losing… everything…!?)

 

He samples her like a tray at a banquet with his shifting rhythms, before settling into his favorite choice!

Long pistons leave Hoime burning as she becomes a whetting stone for his growing pleasure.

“Oh…! Oh…! Ahhh!?” Multiple smells cling to her, but the thickness of his sweat is winning the war of scents. “Hiii…!?”

His ears sway back and forth with his efforts, eyes closed while basking in absolute authority. Watching him at work is like a dance Hoime cannot lead in, only submit to the steps or find they become more painful…

 

As the only joinder for their intimacy grows hotter, breathing overlapping with Hoime’s eyes clouding with tears…!

She is desperate to find the power to lift up!

 

To bury her nose against his chest and huff!

To feel his white fur brushing as he rumbles, her clit smashing against his body as they bump!

To surrender space as a male’s weight demands it, perhaps adding her own voice to his grunts…!?

 

(… Nooo!? No… I don’t… want…!)

 

As these thoughts broil, she nervously shifts her waist, trying to add something to the encounter.

His red eyes full of anger focus, then flick about with this willing change.

 

“Uhhh… worthless… cunt…!”

“HIIII!?”

 

Its ears twitch like hers as this alpha predator grows more stilted, even incensed at her work!

Hoime wonders if the horrifying, blissful feeling of expansion within is related?

 

(Thicker… hotter…?)

 

The heat grows without end, connecting the efforts of female and male!

 

(That means… that means… he’s… about to…!?)

 

In response to her insides clenching on their own, the creature drops her hips and settles onto her. He jabs her insides out of place, demanding room to play as he stares into her face with a cold, yet heated, certainty of purpose.

Breathing on her, stealing her air…!

 

(… He’s… going to…?)

 

Words are failing her with how his thrusts jolt her brain!

But if it feels like the end, then males at the end, they will…!?

 

(… Cum…? Climax!? Inside…!? MEEEEE!?)

 

Her arms push up into this beast’s chest, resisting the urge to wrap around his back, instead of…!

 

“N-No…? Not…! I don’t want… a stupid, cruel monster’s—!”

 

A furry hand firmly plants on Hoime’s face…!

“UGHYA!? GHACK!?”

This impossible presence forces her head into the bed, aggressively, but not enough to bestow real pain.

Talking, screaming, any sort of refusal has just revealed his solution!

“‘Want’?”

 

He slams his weight onto her, parting her legs wide for his glorious body to impose, prepare her for…!?

 

“NO, PURPOSE…”

As her head swims in the rapturous dominance, the woman herself is collapsing into the floor!

Melting…!

Losing all sense of…!

 

“ALL… ARE… MOTHERS…!”

“HMMMPH!?”

 

That big head sidles up next to her raised womb, unwilling to part as this creature starts to shake!

He grunts, his eyes twitching, his skin flush…!

 

“… RECEIVE THE KITS… OF…

OF A LIVING GOD!”

“MMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHH!?”

 

This decree demands satisfaction and submission she never agreed to surrender!

Her eyes rolling back, her sight pure white! A bladder cleared earlier feels out of control again when the real volcano erupts!

 

(MIRRRIIIIIAAAAA!? OOOOOH!?)

 

A sludge of pure fire begins to cook her inside as she screams for help over a dead magical link, with the overly-sensitive lagomorph’s muscles spasming at the smoothly filling pressure.

Moisture coats her thighs, from… from somewhere…!?

Everywhere, it seems, is being basted by thick…!?

 

(I’M… CUM-CUMMING!? … WHYY!?)

 

“GUUUUUHHH!”

“MMMMMMGGGHIIIIIII…!?”

The evil creature, with his beautiful fur and dark voice that shuts down thinking, cries out himself as he muffles someone howling in an ugly, shrill voice that only passingly resembles Hoime’s.

Each electrifying thrust that lifts her chin while curling her toes is yet another addition to the lava stuck inside of her.

Her own treasonous, milking pussy seems to be requesting more…!?

 

(… Mi… Mir… Miria… I…?)

 

Light and dark keep passing through Hoime as the hand eventually frees itself from her sticky mouth.

Panting is all she can manage after breathing is permitted, a sudden exhaustion spreading that turns her into molasses…

Something spreads its weight on top of her soul, securing without leaving her feeling secure…

 

 

 

Arms and legs spread out, Hoime, treasured academic and ambassador Servant, blankly stares upwards while panting when reality returns.

Only the mildest whimper proves her existence when he finally withdraws from her hollowed-out tunnel.

 

(… He… did it…?)

 

Though impossible, totally inconceivable, and altogether unlikely…

 

Hoime is at a loss for words while watching the…

 

 

 

Victor who kneels over her massages the length of his cock once, letting a thick rope of white shoot from its tip..

By feel, it disgustingly lands on her stomach and mons.

 

Thick and oddly needy, drawing her quivering hand down…

The patch of cream hair above her pussy is where she feels its warmth like the surface of the sun.

 

It blends with the tickling feeling…

 

(I… he…?)

 

Just as it stains her skin even with such feeble quantities from the last shot, surely the stream flowing from within, where the lava is cooling, proves that she can never escape from the marking he’s made?

 

(I…?)

 

 

 

A proud woman who was planning a great victory celebration, ready to spectate for events very similar to what just transpired…

To holler as they unfolded on others, is…

—no long…

—er…?

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…

…

Was… that…? Is this, truly all, though?”

 

Along with the spicy smell of the ejaculate she’s been coated with, Hoime notes that her own scent has deeply altered.

 

She samples its qualities, gathering her sweat before licking it off.

Feeling how it rejuvenates her brain and redirects her inclinations.

 

“The specimen… is identical, yes? The situation is… the same?”

 

To her flush lips, flowered and glistening, she swirls a finger while moaning lightly.

Then, draws up the tip to plant on her tongue.

 

The ceiling is seemingly in reach as the white treat’s particulars are analyzed.

Like so many samples before, she picks out the essential characteristics that stimulate her pleasure centers.

 

“… mmmmmm…!

… That has to be… impossible for it not to be… the same flavor that addicted her…?”

 

Lifting her head out of some fell curiosity overtaking her, Hoime Helestrad, Vice-Seeker, studies the sight of a conquering male as the creature blinks its eyes in turn.

The wonderfully handsome-in-style, devilish creature is frozen with its hand on her squishy thigh.

 

“… Did sheeeee face the same reality after…?”

 

A long-submerged speculation lifts her hand toward him.

An inquiry that brings a smile to her face.

The most pleasant kind of smile earns attention from men, even if Hoime never had luck with women as a child, right?

 

“HMM?”

A broad-chested beast awakens from his torpor as she invitingly grins.

 

“Is this what… she felt, back then, I wonder, do you wonder, dearest specimen…?” Her dreamy question causes his mouth to drop open slightly, a hunter confused by its prey’s reaction. “… That single, rapturous copulation isn’t all, riiiiiight~?”

 

Whatever frays and snaps allow new cogitations to take up the tension. Hoime slowly rises when she decides how to proceed.

As her male partner lifts his clawed paws, threatening some unknown foe behind Hoime, the shaky woman with delectable animal byproducts spilling from her eagerly begins her conversation.

 

“Oh, sorry, sorry! This is the first time… I’ll be testing things from the ‘sub’ side? Please… forgive… my indiscretions now and earlier…?”

“NNNN!?”

Carefree as always, Hoime is astounded by the suspicion in her partner’s eyes.

“Why so unsettled, dearest one?”

“‘DEAR’? WHO… DEAR!?”

“… Hoh, the essential piece, is it not you, dearest you…~?”

 

As he closes in, Hoime is interested by the pinkish orb reflecting off of his red eyes!

So mysterious, just like a mirror’s reflection of herself…!

 

“One time, though, is that enough for a stud like you, impossible!? Huhuhu!” Lifting her hand to her lips, Hoime dreamily waves with the other. “I don’t comprehend, not at all, the etiquette for this test, but I endeavor to discover our… truths…!”

The tyrant’s hair hackles as he leans in, her conversation perhaps lost on him?

“Ahhh, I am the ‘meat’ for this evening, of course~!” Running a hand over his hard chest, Hoime chuckles darkly. “A nightmare Castillo is a suitable place for mindless lust and sadism to intermingle, dearest guest…!”

“NIGHTMARE? YOURS…”

 

Sharp teeth open for her!

An invitation presents…!

 

“NNNGH? Slchp…!”

 

Those teeth grow wet when she tastes them!

“Hghi!?”

A brutal pleasure is so new!?

 

But also stolen away so fast, replaced by a paw oppressing her face again…!

 

“What is wrooong~!? Hoh!?”

 

Falling backwards, Hoime rubs her wet lips, discovering a trace of weak gold upon them.

She stares at it while grinning, before lifting her fingers up for her superior!

 

“… My, my, my, am I not expected… to be a proper researcher! If this is what I should study… and be studied, in turn, then…

Why noooot~?”

“You… are…”

“Hoime Helestrad, Herald for Isard, Unveiler of All Wisdom, of course!?

… BAH!?”

Again he oppresses, cracking her hand with his when she nears to rub his face!?

 

“Uuuhh… the Works has always been a private playground… any and every play could be experienced with the scores of unwilling subjects dropping in…~?”

The beast stands to leer down on her, brimming with such naked disgust.

She tepidly reaches for what hangs thick at attention to distract him…!

 

Growing stiffer as it recovers, still slick with what it drilled out…!

“Men? Demi-humans? Beasts like your mighty self!? If they all end up there to be understood, then why not…?”

 

Toward it she extends her wet tongue, almost touching before he cups his strong hand around her head, grabbing by silky hair!

 

“AHH!? You are all… suitable subjects! So… if I fall in with you lot…!?”

 

Her body is so very hot.

Despite something important being plundered, curiosity fills in all the gaps that are left.

 

“All I want to do is understand, can’t I understand, pleaaaase~?”

“…”

“UGH~?”

 

Lips are finally assaulted by him, oh so terribly!

That thick, pungent, vindictive smell and cream is laced onto them like a poison by his brush!

Inviting her to be repulsed, perhaps, he screws the head between her lips and past her teeth!? Then yanks it back out with a meaty pop…

 

“Fugha!?

… Hehehe!”

She offers a genteel smile toward her brutal specimen at the gift she received and then had taken away, earning a strange flinch from him in turn?

“My, I don’t understand a creature like you, so help me, unless…

… once is all, all that can be afforded…?”

 

Hotter than the sludge draining out of her is how his cock firms!

Before he pounces down, smothering her!

 

“ONCE!? No…”

“Oh…!?”

The carnivorous king of rabbits is more tiger than bunny, though also hazy?

Even though the night has been filled with nothing but his terrors, Hoime feels more “interest” than “fear” at the moment…!

 

“HIII!?”

He rips her up off her knees, bringing her face inches from his!

“OH!? My…”

“FOUR… MOCKED… CHAMPION OF BOOTS…”

Their height difference is what he uses to mock her, sliding her slimy stomach against his rapidly engorging dick. Hoime is like a child compared to this full adult specimen…!

“HMM!? In the Cistern!? … Yes, this lady recalls… Was I too coy, or too forward~?”

Pressing into her through elastic skin, bringing a misbegotten sigh of wonder from Hoime as she remembers its feel from minutes earlier, the beast only seems to misinterpret her intent when he yanks her hair!?

“Cathar… is hardly the only pleasurable company, you see!? Despite how small you were then, I admit… slight desperation for wanting… to try you~?”

 

Despite being a lesser being…!

Despite how she hates him, Hoime is starting to discover things worth examining…!

 

“… It had nice measurements inside~!”

“IF ONLY ONE, REACHED, ONE, PUNISHED FOR FOUR.”

Here compliment earns a roar of disapproval!

A dire prophecy is about to be fulfilled, Hoime thinks, but she finds a flaw with its logic?

 

“… Oh, oh, oh…? But… if it’s… ‘sexually inflicted torment’ to be given, then it would be a poor punishment for Ferthia, I think~?” Hoime’s candidness screws the man’s face up in dismay once more, though she’s all smiles as she goes on. “That flying disease slut desires little more than to choke upon Cathar’s cock, when her small frame isn’t being expanded up one hole or the other…”

Her dreamy voice seems to upset him, for some reason, despite her being absolutely serious and supportive.

“Do you still intend to count hers as mine, despite it being pointless…? Also…!” A free hand moves to her pussy, using her fingers to widen the hole that is failing to contain his deposit. “… It’s amateurish, mildly so at best, to not use a stopper~! You won’t have as much success in breeding me, none at all I should say, if you let so much escape oo—

OooooOOOOUUUUUT!?”

 

 

 

The pressure strains her neck!

“UURK!?”

It’s not the bed that bends her this time, though, as he turns her face from sight!?

 

“SUCH—! STRONG… MUSCULATURE~!?”

 

Before she can respond, she’s been grabbed up and lifted!

Toward the moons outside, becoming witnesses to her forthcoming fate, Hoime is presented for execution as she stares down.

A hard organ slides along her slit, testing the fruit’s flesh as she sighs.

 

“Did… she… face this!?

… I want to know… need to know how she felt!?”

“YOU…?”

 

Despite obviously desiring only her frightful respect, Hoime’s neediness freezes the owner of her body!

With his hands gripping her thighs so hard that Vigor beads where his claws dig, the female specimen he’s stuck with is sighing in wonder instead of screaming.

 

“‘The noble intellect which seeks truth’ and ‘the deepest desires of the body which defy reasoning’, have you ever considered these!? Such furiously erotic unknowns, sought by the Works and yet STILL we cannot answer them when placed opposite to each other in an equation!?”

Rambling like this earns only a grunt and grinding teeth, but Hoime cannot repress this need to understand!

Whispers like those that haunted her long nights with books…! They’re always calling out to her with questions, especially when so much is on the line.

 

“TALK… WORTHLESS…”

“IS IT!? Is it so!? WHY!?

OH!?”

A thick fist placed to her is why, Hoime decides as she stares down at it!

Her nose flares like she’s breathless, left painfully contrite before an enemy that she despises with all her heart, unaware of how far he’ll truly go and now longing to discover it!?

“In again…!? Like this…?

Held… in your arms!?”

Lubricating the end once more with her passage that has been proved by his semen to be a quality instrument, Hoime once again…!

“MMMM!? Then, can we discover… more about… each…!?

Hiiii!”

Hissing as he forces his jolly head back into the warmth of her depths, slowly and with intent to harm her soul as he grinds in…!

“OTHERRR!?”

“GRAAAH!”

 

Dismissive and purposefully vindictive!

So punctual and predictable this creature is as it starts its work!

Without the same length as another monster’s, he instead contorts her supple body and slams home with abandon to make up for it!

 

“WONDERFUL!?

L-Length… seven…!

Seven and t-t-three-quarters…!?”

 

Something is knocked loose in Hoime’s brain by this exact measurement.

The girth she can’t find the breath to put to words is the better part, but the desired scenario shines on its pedestal of importance!

 

“MMM!? Used… used by you…!?

Am I… BEING USED!?”

“YOU ARE… JUST… TOOL!”

Though this wonderful tyrant considers it denigration, and it definitely feels like it as Hoime’s heart explodes, she can only cry out in satisfaction.

“OOOH!? WHOSE… WHOSE TOOL!?

Nghya!?”

 

Necessary questions earn unnecessary pricks through her flesh, as Hoime’s thighs feel itchy and pained!

The pain he delivers might quieten another, lesser researcher, but Hoime needs to know!

“Who am I, ooh, tool that I am… for!?”

Bouncing upon him, Hoime’s sloppy words finally earn a pause.

One leg drops as the man’s grip lodges on her neck and constricts her trachea!

“Ghck!?”

“My tool — alone.”

 

Angled forward, Hoime’s fire inside is poked at, unsettled, stoked to a blaze!

Squishy slaps join her choking breath as the man moans.

“NO ONE ELSE WILL… DARE TOUCH…”

A roar deafens her as it exterminates whatever pride remained!

 

“… WHEN… FINISHED!”

 

 

 

Being held sandwiched before a man, drooling onto herself and the floor as he hollows her out, isn’t how she ever envisioned this night concluding.

Even if only a quarter lagomorph, Hoime can’t escape the bestial conditioning rearranging her obsessions and needs!

Hearing something like this after being sauced in his smell, any woman would keep talking, right!?

 

“PER-

FECT, KAH!”

Daintily placed, her struggling hand rubs his on her neck so gently.

Something about it relaxes his anger, though his furious rod maintains its pace of rearranging the folds plunged past!

“Ahhn, textually accurate, such a wonderful MALE…!?”

“GUH!?”

Though it’s beneath her, she kisses the head of his cock to signal interest, just as she’s read she should to prove receptance!

“You are listed in my manuals… an [alpha] to a ‘T’!”

“… Nrnn! SHUT…!”

 

 

 

Under both legs his arms go, lifting the soppy woman higher. Stinking of sweat and semen, the hole filled by his terrorizing mace stays accessible as the man with limitless strength begins rearranging Hoime!

 

“‘Arms hooked under knees, legs folded up’!?”

 

Obsessed with details, Hoime’s boisterous commentary continues. Once he’s sure of her perch, his conquering appendages shoot up past her shoulders!

 

“GRK!? ‘H-H-Hands behind the head’, is… are…!?”

“TALKING… BOTHER…!

FEMALE… ANNOYING!”

“ANNOYING!? OHHH…?

But…But THIS IS…!?”

 

The unquenchable brute’s choice, a pose which is one of the Chosen’s legends of the Works!?

One that leaves a female perfectly exposed to the world, as another claims her eternally…!

 

“This is… a… very rare… position, isn’t it!?”

 

It’s all so endearing, so novel!

Hoime’s heart and moist hole burn with a truly special fulfillment to have this neatly demonstrated on her!

 

“Did… she… get to try this… gaah, this, I wonder!? I want… I MUST KNOW!”

“WHO, SHE!?”

 

Hoime succumbs to the terror and lust while enjoying her predicament. She ponders the distinctions between these two sensual concepts, and how she might merge them if she surrenders to this man about to demonstrate a grandiose pose of total submission!

 

“[The Full Nelson]!?

★ KYAAAAAH~!? ★

This is… guh, your affection for meeee~!?”

“UHHH!

AAAHH!!!”

Yelling loudly enough to deafen Hoime, the creature’s muscles draw her ever closer to him! Bones creaking are proof of how much he covets her!

“… Show me… what you think… of meee!?”

“HOH!”

“UGHI!”

 

Taking advantage of others is what she’s always done…

But…!

 

BUT!

 

“GHHH! I’M THE… ‘MEAT’, NOW…!?”

 

A living sleeve as she transforms into, Hoime is pumped upward in the air while compressed back by her neck! A couple’s dance is played out on this great fur bed made of her fellow vermin, leaving her easy steps to follow as she suffers roving pleasure!

 

“UNDERSTAND…!

PAIN!”

While pushing up her diaphragm and stealing oxygen, the worst male Hoime has ever encountered dedicates his love with sloppy kisses inside.

A woodpecker hollows out its target, leaving only mush behind.

“Guheee…!

Undershtand…!?”

Abandoned arms splay out, with Hoime trying to reach up to stroke his fine horns, to desperately do something to prove she can aid in the experiment!

 

“Help meeee…!

Understhand…!”

“GIVE IN!”

 

Hoime is giving in, as that’s all she can do, give in and feel like the foreigner plowing through her insides can become a part of her. That it will never have to leave!

Never leave her feeling empty, delivering to her…!

 

“S-S-She never…! GUH!?

… wanted a… beastly… child…!

Like… meeeeeeee~!”

 

With no barrier left between the specimens, nothing to cover them up, the female starts to cry tears of joy while her thoughts unleash.

“GHHH!?”

His arms cease to lock in so roughly, mysteriously!?

The only object still moving… is the living cock sleeve that can suddenly spill forth from its mouth as much as it leaks from its bottom…

 

“GAHH…

… Childhood, so strange!? Now, I finally get… though not born then…!?

Like meee, she met… a pure man, absolute conqueror…!?

… I am the same, you see!? Don’t you, of course!?”

Simmering joy bubbles up as she longs for her wisdom to be graded by him!

The experiment she’s forestalled for fear of ruining her professional esteem is playing out, finally, the knowledge she’s long sought within reach!

 

At least, some of it!

 

To this receptive lull, Hoime continues in stride!

“Father!? Male, just like you!

… Not…!? … As mighty as you, of course, you see!?”

Finally able to stroke one of his curling horns with a shaky hand, desperate to restrain his anger, Hoime’s touch produces a choking grunt.

“She left me alone with books…!? Ahhh! But, books don’t feel as good as dicks…!”

 

Finally, ultimately, words are bonding them!?

As she sighs and shares, he rewards her with strangely well-timed, gentle thrusts.

Big tits are stuck between her legs, trapped and jiggling without him being able to watch. Not always so big, years of not tending to her fitness would leave any woman a bit thicker!

“If… mmm, every time a child smiles, it earns a hateful frown… then.. then, how could such a smile not turn just a bit sinister!?”

 

A deep satisfaction is building within, for Hoime’s beast part is marking something vital!

Like in the story, a…

 

“Hating my fur, but leaving for town at every opportunity…!?

HAHAHAHA!?”

“Kuh?”

 

The beast seems offended by such joyful laughter, who knew!?

Hoime is cleansing herself for the experiment, though!

Even if it’s wrong to poison it with the objective for the testing, she desperately wants to feel the same, to merge her story with that woman’s…!

 

“THE PUNGENT SMELL OF AN ANIMAL, HOW, OH HOOOW, COULD YOU HIDE THAT FROM ME IF IT’S LEAKING FROM YOUR SNATCH!?

… HII!?”

Excitement is contagious!

To her shrill question, the beast behind her pants faster, plunging up into its favorite toy.

Its heart is beating as fast as hers, she’s sure…

“… Ugyah! M-M-More…! H-Ha-rd… er!

Just… just like her, I’ll be bred!?

But… I’M NOT REVEALED AS A FRAUD!?”

There’s no lie in what’s happening, only the truth that both of them find about each other!

“I… was, unngh, always destined for the Works! The moment my first heat came, when I used the charms to escape that house…! Ahhh!”

She slurps her lips, remembering a flavor from so long ago that always seems a bit different with every gentleman!

“A boy my age…! A try so… sloppy for me…!”

“… UGH, YOU…!”

“UGHI!?”

 

For some reason, a reason she can’t comprehend, he rouses in fury!?

 

“AHEHE! PUNGENT, JUST LIKE YOURS!? MAAAH!?”

Plapping into her, the rage growing!?

The ultimate predator lets her fall forward, scarily, almost horizontal as he drills her box harder!

“ARE YOU ANGRY!? NOoooo, but, but…!

OOH, I had to taste him!? I couldn’t… stop!

Just… like her…!? I could only learn to… laugh once I gave in!?

Ahahahaha!”

“EVIL, NEEDY, CUNT!”

“YESSS…! T-THANK YOU…!?

UGGH!?”

 

Hoime’s neck is throbbing with his loving grip on its back, but the pleasure of watching a male’s organ slip-slide into her soaked pussy…

Just barely visible past her hanging bosom, watching upside down while she’s rutted steals her arms!

 

“UNNN, YES! USING ME!?

Like… ahahaha!? I used him…!?”

Candidness should always bring joy, but Hoime’s is only bringing rage!?

Rage that squeezes harder over her body crushes her, just like both of Hoime’s hands crush the pleasurable bean that the monster ignores.

Swirling over it, mashing as her consciousness starts to lift, Hoime is inviting all sorts of new experiences!?

 

“ITSH NOT MUH FAHLT~!

SHEEE WOULDN’T… LET M-M-ME…!”

She cries out without being able to feel her fingers or toes, wishing that this man could replace her sensations with his own, somehow!?

That he could…!

“AHAHAHA! MATING WITH… you in charge!?

SOOOO… MUCH… easier than me running things!?”

“GUUUUH!

EVERYTHING… YOU ARE…

ROTTEN!”

Yelling out provokes a hugely negative response, as Hoime mentally notes!

 

Even though she was only being honest, he crunches Hoime’s thick body and shows her what he thinks of that claim, with a delicious…!

 

“WON~

DER~

FUL~!”

 

She has time for only syllables when being jackhammered, because she might bite her tongue.

Just like an animal being rutted…

 

No, like a tool being utilized…!

 

Plap!

Plap!

Plap, Hoime makes delicious sounds that only a lady’s gentle flower can cause!

 

Listening to them go, her eyes turn upward for heaven…!

 

“OOH…!

HAV… ING…!

NO… CHOICE!?”

“GRAAAH!”

“ISH THE BESHT!”

 

Beneath beautiful moons and in a truly horrible place, Hoime is finally realizing a magic spell that will help her escape!

Already, as she gasps while exulting in his touch, she’s flying free…!

 

“FLY!

I’m…! Flying…!”

While Hoime is airborne, the man who has brought her to this rising height grunts in annoyance!?

Even though their experiment together, born of mutual love and respect, is paying off so well with her devising a new magic spell to showcase to the Mistress with his aid, her ugly, beautiful white [mate] is pissed!?

 

When pissed, he shudders inside of her while growing larger!

Oppressing like an avalanche, this gargantuan rabbit king hulks and closes in on her fragile body!

Sealing up her passage completely!

 

“SUFFERRRRR!”

Though bones crack, Hoime can only interpret that as love!

A love like his is a siren call, announcing that she can…

 

“GUHM…!

KAK!

‘UMMING!

I’m… CUMMINGGGGG!”

Delirious in her white, rosey flight as she rockets off, Hoime finally realizes the fuel powering it!

The beast’s ballsack overflows into Hoime!

“NNNAAAAAAAH~!”

 

The world quakes without vibrations as she howls!

Hoime can’t believe how eager she was for this ongoing lightshow in her brain, one which steals what’s left of her vaunted wisdom and revelations from her.

 

Though, one tidbit left screams out: “A female beastkin, liberated and fertile, who succumbs to a male will, when irrigated by his seed”…

 

“CUM…!

OOOH…!

HAAAAH!”

“Ahhh… hahhh…!”

 

Their breaths merge as she fills with lava again.

This time, it might never drain out…

 

And it doesn’t stop there.

As he yanks her off, what’s unshared before spurts out, coating her with his liquid miracle!

Smothering her breathing and choking her with love…!

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the lights stop twinkling and dancing around,

Hoime manages to pull up to her side…

 

“Hu… huhuhu… stupid mother…

How could you… possibly not… accept the truth…?”

 

Of course, she has a plan!

 

Towards her new [mate] she crawls, desperate to be near his ears.

To whisper [their true relationship] into being with the aid of her patron.

Into ears just like hers, if a little whiter, [eternal affection on his part] will be realized…

 

“… Cute…

… Dreamy…

… Soft…

… Smart~?”

Listing accomplishments, as Hoime knows they are, she doesn’t mind that she trails the whiteness behind her tush.

Its warmth is locked deep within!

 

“… Dearest… specimen… I am…

Vice-Seeker Hoime, is… all of these things…!

… And much, much more…~!”

 

 

 

A chill clings to her, despite how covered she is in his insulating fluids.

 

… Even if she despises this man with all her heart… this coward boy who transforms to savage defenseless rabbit maidens…

Now, it’s too late to back out.

For either of them.

 

“You… claimed me… and so…

… I can…!

… Share my wisdom, secrets that… mother never deserved…!”

 

No longer squealing, the mystic hopes she’s properly accepted her punishment while also fulfilling her…

Mission…?

 

(… Whatever that was~!)

 

Mentally accepting his seed was the same as accepting her Fate.

But, it no longer feels like that’s…?

 

Having the cold-to-the-touch ghoul bitch’s slit pollute Hoime’s mouth, with the taste lingering forever no matter how she brushed, had been the worst experience the researcher could imagine. Being defeated by that absolute whore, a child predator no less, couldn’t be accepted…!

 

But…!

But this is…!

 

“[Who cares if they’re human or beast…?

When being bred feels this good, isn’t it fine to enjoy it~?]

 

This lesson… and so many others… we will learn as dedicants… to Isard, together…”

 

 

 

Her hand finally finds his in the darkness and mist.

Strangely, it is dark, though there was blue light from the Castillo sconces before?

 

And, his hand, that furry hand of his, is awwwwwwfully full now…?

 

“… Hmm… Hmmm?”

 

A smell so…

 

THICK…

 

… one tarnishing her, now reverberates so awesomely strong from every direction.

It matches the smell ingrained in the bed, perfectly!

 

(… Why is that? There was… something about him that once mattered…?)

 

 

 

“LOWLY…”

A deep groan from above jolts Hoime from her pleasant fugue.

“… THING…”

“Huh?”

 

For reassurance, Hoime pats, pats, pats the hand she found.

But, it’s just… a little unforgiving and firm… and overly large…

And also going up to the sky…

 

In her mania, a mania that wasn’t her fault, Hoime feels like, she might have forgotten an incredibly important point about…

the [mate] she was trying to whisper “encouragement” to…?

 

 

 

(Oh, right~? How could I forget that he’s…?)

 

 

 

Above the diminutive, cute Servant of the Alchemaster, revealed slowly by the mists that part before it and its glowing blood-ruby eyes, looms a representative of a higher tier of Her favor.

A creature without equal.

An executioner of the Great Mistress.

 

Covered in snowy white…

… fur…

 

(MIRIA…!)

 

And… red…!

 

(… HELP…!)

 

… blood!

 

A dark voice, like a true god’s…

 

“NOT… A MATE… LIKE YOU… HOPE…”

 

Beneath its back haunches, as it spreads its legs, swings a…

 

“Why…? Not…?”

 

Swollen… red… battering ram…!

 

“BECAUSE… YOU…

… TRULY FEAR…

… THAT IT ALL IS…

 

[YOUR FAULT]…”

 

A wanton, behemothian rabbit killer with impaling horns shares its murderous rationalization, then sets forward, rumbling the bed.

 

It slowly corners a rabbit woman who barely finds the strength to try to crawl away from a beast many times her size, seeking to lower itself into a shaking ass turned toward it.

One with an upturned, cream-colored tail.

 

“… Let’s… let’s… please…

not find out…

 

… if it can fit!? Please!?”

 

No longer interested in continuing research, Hoime gives up on measuring for the night.

Or rediscovering what she was before she accepted pleasure!

With only two punishments dealt out, and the third about to stretch beyond all prior limits, Hoime idly wonders what the fourth could possibly entail…

 

 

 

“WHY, NOT?

ARE WE…?

NOT…?”

 

(SAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!)

 

“MATES!?”

 

… before the next round begins when reality finally surrenders, despite a researcher’s “sanity” holding out so long against the terrible Fate she invited.

 

The story ends, of course, with her being [DEVOURED].

 

 

 

 

 

 

“… Or, should it not, Adris?”

 

 

 

A monster more truly horrible than the one the boy watches,

acting amid the blood-curdling screaming, squicky sounds, and slapping skin,

reaches out to drag his hand.

 

Clad in purple this one is, instead of pure white.

 

 

 

 

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Characters:

 

Glossary:

Chapter 105         Table of Contents          Chapter 107