Spa Day: Part 1

A Short Story by Bo Blackstar

[f/f, implied blowjob, cunnilingus, tentacles, con to non-con, multiple penetration, oviposition, betrayal]]

“An Exotic Bath”

“This is the part they never tell you about,” Frisk huffed, trudging along. The tiefling’s short, black hair was sticking to her pinkish-red skin on her forehead. She was the shortest of the group, the backward-sweeping horns on her head adding only a couple inches to compensate. “You always hear about how dangerous adventuring is. About the traps and evil wizards and scary monsters. But you know what nobody ever talks about?” She turned on the trail, sweeping her arms out wide and causing a flourish of her broad, dark cloak as she indicated the surrounding mountains. “All the goddamn walking!”

“You could use the exercise,” Taela responded. The half-elf was breathing evenly, leading the pack. Her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a tight braid as she hiked. Her short bow and small pack were slung on her back over her deep blue tunic.

“I’m not the one who needs to work off baby weight,” Frisk grumbled.

“Watch it,” Ora warned, her dark eyes flaring with a soft golden light. The heir of dragons wiped her umber brow, pausing for a moment to drink from her canteen. Her tattoo, a celestial dragon that ran the full length of her right side, seemed to shift where

it touched the sunlight above the collar of her comfortable shirt. The wavy shape of the tattoo was vaguely mimicked in the tight styling of her short, dark hair.

Frisk held up her hands and shrugged. “Hey now, I think it’s super cool that you birthed an ancient god of conquest. Shame about the banishing, honestly. Do you think he’ll write?”

Ora took another drink from her canteen. “Such crap that it was just me and Shori. We all got the same treatment for months, so why not you two?”

Shori hissed her answer from the back of the group. “The demon’s cradle is harsh and unwelcoming.” The pale warlock caught up as the others slowed. She showed no signs of exhaustion despite her thicker frame, and seemed to simply prefer hanging back on long trips. Her mess of brown hair was decorated with the odd leaf or twig, but her black sundress and lace-up sandals were relatively pristine, as was her black lipstick.

“Which means?” Ora asked.

Taela sighed. “Frisk’s body is mildly acidic. She melts things down, which is why she never gets food poisoning.”

“I call it the Doom Womb,” the tiefling said with a proud smile.

“And you?” Ora asked the party leader. “Your body acidic too, or is that just your personality?”

Taela halted and turned her stare on the younger woman, her expression flat. The look between them lasted only a few seconds before Ora lowered her gaze to the ground.

“Sorry,” the dragon’s heir said with a subtle bow of her head. “It’s been a long hike, and… Never mind. Sorry.”

Taela nodded. “Everyone refreshed? Good. The so-called resort should be around the next bend.”

“Spa day!” Frisk shouted, throwing her arms up.

Ora looked at her sideways. “It’s run by a succubus, and we’re supposed to be shutting it down.”

The tiefling gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Bah, killjoys. If rich, powerful morons want to sell their souls for eternal pleasures in the Broken Palace of the Abyss, that’s in their right to do so.”

“It’s a job,” Taela asserted. “The temple already gave us a retainer. And it’s dangerous. Keep your wits about you. I don’t want to spend any more time being captured or trying to get the contract for your soul away from some demon bitch in a bad corset. Once we get in, everyone keep an eye out for threats and weaknesses. We’ll decide on the best approach once we have more information. I’d rather not have to improvise, but if all else fails make a lot of noise.”

Frisk looked back at Shori. “Hey Spooks, could the succubus even get your soul? Who owns it these days?”

Shori pulled a small puzzle box of indeterminate material from her bag, holding it in front of her and staring at the uncountable, indecipherable runes etched upon it. “The Slithering Matron’s coils envelop all who are lost.”

“So some kind of snake or worm thing, then. Good to know.”

A few minutes later the party rounded a mountain bend and saw their destination. It was a sprawling structure, spanning across a broad river just upstream from a grand fall. The architecture was diverse among the various sections of the resort, all held together by a color scheme of rich red, deep purple, and black, with accents in gold. The entrance was a wide, stone staircase that narrowed as it climbed to a dark wood landing, and from there a set of tall, open archways led into the main building.

Two broad, short pillars marked the bottom of each side of the staircase, and upon each pillar roosted a large, fierce-looking gargoyle. One was so still that it was hard to tell whether or not it was actually a statue, but the second watched the group pointedly as they approached. Both wore custom, fashionable vests in the same purple and red as the resort.

At the top of the stairs, a welcoming party was waiting for them. The welcome consisted of a troll dressed in tails, a few chiseled-looking young men holding small baskets full of goodies, and one other.

She was tall, even without the added inches from the two black horns that rose from her forehead. Her skin was the same shade of crimson as the resort’s paint job and staff uniform. Her long, wavy hair, full lips, and long nails were all a deep, shimmering black, as were the eyes that examined the adventuring party with care. She lacked the wings one expected from a succubus, though she possessed the slender tail that swayed gently behind her. The hostess was garbed in a sweeping purple dress that perfectly accented her figure, which was ample with a broader frame to support it, and without a wasted inch to be seen.

“Welcome to the Scarlet Lodge,” the succubus greeted them as they reached the base of the stairs. Her voice was like milk and honey, silky and smooth and leaving one wanting to simply sit and listen. “I am Calyx. Have you arrived by intention, or happy accident?”

“Intention,” Taela answered as she reached the top stair. She stood before the demoness as if she had been there a hundred times and the whole process was old hat. “We’d like to stay for two days.”

“I see,” Calyx smiled. “We are always happy to entertain adventurers. I assume you are registered?”

Taela produced a small tube from her pack and withdrew a scroll from it. “Of course,” she nodded, and handed the scroll over.

The succubus unrolled and examined the document, her gaze scanning it carefully. “The Hydra of…” The corner of her mouth turned up into a faint smirk. “...Humbleton. What a charming moniker.” She returned the scroll to Taela with a smile. “You are welcome within these halls so long as you commit no harm or theft. This is a place of relaxation and indulgence.”

“I have some concerns,” Taela declared.

“Of course you do,” Calyx responded. “I could hardly imagine something which presented as a more obvious trap than a demon encouraging you to let your guard down and enjoy yourself.” She turned to gesture broadly at the vast compound. “I am sustained by the pleasures had here, the joyous bursts of life energy absorbed harmlessly by the very walls themselves. A few others are sustained this way as well, but most are either under contractual obligation or paid for their services with mortal coin.” She flashed a perfect smile at the half-elf. “Much less messy than trafficking in souls, to be honest. Too many players in that game, all violently convinced of their own importance.”

“So you guarantee our safety, then?” Taela asked.

“To an extent,” Calyx clarified. “Make no mistake, there are dangers to be found here. But only if you go looking for them.”

The ranger gave the complex another long, thoughtful look before nodding. “Alright, I guess I’m satisfied. For now.”

Calyx grinned. “I assure you, soon enough there will be no guesswork involved. Now, will you be staying together or in individual suites?”

Taela reached a hand out to Frisk, to passed her a heavy, jingling sack. “How far will this get us?”

The succubus hefted the sack with one hand, bouncing and groping it experimentally. She opened it up and peeked inside, her expression unreadable. Calyx’s gaze lifted, and for just a moment settled on Ora. The heir of dragons froze, eyes locked with the succubus, and the moment seemed to drag on forever. She watched as a smile spread, almost imperceptibly slowly, across the demon’s full, black lips.

“For two days?” Calyx asked, passing the bag to the stately troll behind her. “More than adequate. Welcome. These gentlemen will show you to your rooms. Please, enjoy your stay. And don’t hesitate to call upon me if you have any special requests.” This last addition was said with the demon’s gaze once more squarely upon Ora.

Ora shrugged her pack more tightly into place and gripped her staff harder as they were led into the Scarlet Lodge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The suites were neatly appointed, small enough to be cozy but large enough to stretch out in. As soon as the beefy attendant left her alone, Frisk set to canvassing the room. She went over every inch, testing for hidden passages, compartments, spy holes, or other potential dangers. After a while of searching all she found was a niche in the door that could be used to open it from the outside without a key, if you had the right tool.

Frisk heaved a sigh of relief and flopped onto the thick featherbed with a smile. “Ah, a good day’s work,” she said to herself. “Why, I’m such a good rogue that I think I’ve earned some genuine relaxation.” It was tempting to just stay on the bed and nap, but after being given the rundown of available amenities there was one so absurd that the tiefling just had to try it. She stripped off her gear and clothes, her shapely bottom bare to the air for a few minutes as she examined the fine silk robe available in her wardrobe. She left her room wearing only that and the comfortable sandals provided.

In the hall, Frisk saw one of the hunky attendants just now leaving Shori’s room. The smile on his face was telling, but not as telling as the warlock’s black lipstick, which was currently a smeared mess around her mouth. Shori was working on wiping it off when Frisk stepped up to her.

“Nice,” Frisk nodded, and put her hand up for a high-five.

Shori hunched her shoulders, then lashed out like a striking serpent to the complete the friendly gesture.

“Wanna get a tentacle bath?” Frisk asked.

“The writhing coils call to me,” Shori nodded, and the two walked down the hall arm-in-arm.

After crossing a covered walkway to another building, the pair arrived at the bath house. It was comprised of many small rooms with different accoutrements and atmosphere, some open to the sky while others were set belowground. The one Frisk and Shori were led to was off in a corner, enclosed, and dressed like a simple steam room. The pool in the middle was empty of any water, and lightly cushioned save for a large grate in the center with bars that left three-inch gaps looking down into utter darkness.

“Now, you will need these,” the attendant, Ceri, said, passing them each a small crystal phial filled with a pale blue liquid. She was human, at least in appearance, with short black hair and auburn eyes. She wore a small apron in the resort’s colors, and nothing else. “The masseuse is generally responsive to any resistance, but this will eliminate the need for respiration in order to make the most of the experience.” She waited for them both to drink, and then took the phials back. “Alright. I’ll be back in an hour to check in on you, but of course there’s no rush to leave. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Frisk asked. “Where’d you get this thing? Do we just like… sit in the pool and up it comes?”

“Exactly,” Ceri nodded. “It’s primitive, but smarter than most people assume. As for where it comes from… I’ve been told that I should stop asking, or I’ll ‘find out,’ which sounds fairly threatening.” The attendant’s cheery demeanor was undiminished despite the ominous comment.

“Alright, fuck it,” Frisk shrugged. “Back in an hour?”

Ceri nodded again. “Yes. You can leave your clothes on the-- oh.”

Frisk had dropped her robe already, baring her pinkish-red body in its entirety. She slipped out of the comfortable sandals and took the first steps into the empty, cushioned pool. Shori took a bit more time, first removing her belt and bag, then pulling off her black sundress. Her sandals came off last, and it was all set carefully against the wall in a neat little bundle.

Shori directed her wide-eyed gaze at Ceri, who was still watching the curvy warlock from the door. Shori licked her lips, which were still splotched with half-smeared lipstick. Ceri smirked and left, closing the door behind her.

In the odd pool, Frisk inspected the large grate. She poked at it, then gave it a few hard pulls from different angles. “Well, at least that seems secure.”

“All barriers can be broken,” Shori rasped, appearing right beside her compatriot. “A boiling pot can cause pain, or produce delicious wonders.”

Frisk quirked an eyebrow and leaned back slightly. “Okay… Spooks, you are being particularly fucking cryptic and weird. You good?”

The pale warlock leaned in, dark eyes sparkling. “All will be well soon. The coils call… and are called.”

With that, Shori tackled Frisk to her back in the cushioned pool, wrapping her arms around the tiefling’s thighs and grabbing at her plump backside.

“Gah! Dammit Spooks, what is with you!? Oh! Mmn…” Frisk settled back on her elbows, closing her eyes and swishing her tail off to one side as Shori’s mouth lowered over her slit and went to work. “Ah… Fuck you are weird, but fuck you are good at that.”

Frisk spread her legs and pushed her hips toward Shori’s eager, expert tongue. While the warlock worked, the pool’s other occupant made their appearance. Long, smooth tentacles slid out of the grate in the center. They were rich purple in color, two inches thick for most of their length but tapering near the tips, which were pointed and bore small, angled slits.

When the first of the dozen or so grazed Frisk’s foot and began to coil around her ankle, the tiefling gasped. “Aha, there you are. Nice to meet you, uh… Purp.”

One of the tentacles coiled and swayed in the air in Frisk’s direction, though she couldn’t tell if it was an attempt at waving or just something weird that a tentacle monster would do.

The slow, firm strokes of Shori’s tongue in the tiefling’s folds transitioned into a steady sucking on Frisk’s clit as the tentacles wrapped around them. Shori’s thick thighs

were encircled and pulled apart, the tip of a tentacle teasing around her slit. Finding her already wet, the thick tendril pushed in with ease, filling her out in a single stroke before it began a rhythmic pumping. More of the tentacles slid around Shori’s curves, grasping and massaging the warlock while she continued to eat out her adventuring companion. Shori’s heavy breasts were gripped, the nipples teased to full erection with gentle circles. Then, the little slits in the tips of two of the tentacles opened and clasped around the warlock’s stiff buds, suckling and twisting at them while she was further embraced by the beast below.

With Shori fully in the grasp of the creature, Frisk’s legs were captured soon after. While some of the muscular appendages climbed higher to continue enveloping the tiefling, one began to vie for position between her legs. The tip of a tentacle prodded around Shori’s chin, trying to get access, but the warlock was adamantly locked in place. She did finally pull back after a minute, but quickly slurped the eager tentacle into her mouth before it could reach its destination. She sucked on it hungrily, slathering the tendril with saliva before taking a firm grasp of it. With a wide grin, Shori guided the slick tentacle to the puckered entrance of Frisk’s ass and pushed it in.

“Oh, fuck!” Frisk gasped, her whole body tensing at the intrusion. The tentacle slid into her backside swiftly, dragging a strained moan from the rogue. The initial discomfort passed quickly, since it certainly wasn’t the biggest thing she’d taken back there, and Shori was already devouring her mound again.

Soon every limb was wrapped up by the strong tentacles, which undulated and massaged the women while they were steadily, deeply penetrated. A tentacle claimed Shori’s ass. Frisk’s modest bust was given the same groping, suckling treatment as her friend’s. Eventually the writhing mass managed to wrench Shori from Frisk’s pussy, lifting her without difficulty and then pulling Frisk closer so that the two were face to face. A tentacle pushed into the tiefling’s channel and began thrusting away with impatient energy.

“God damn, Spooks,” Frisk panted. “You been wanting at me for a while, or what? Could have just asked.”

There was a sparkle in Shori’s wide, bloodshot eyes. “The sizzling soil must be made ready for the sowing,” she rasped.

Frisk rolled her eyes. “Why do I let you talk?” she asked, then pressed into a deep kiss with the warlock, tasting herself on Shori’s tongue. The pair kissed and ground against one another in the shared embrace of the tentacle creature, its rhythmic undulations soothing the strain of the road at the same time it was fucking them. It allowed them to move, but their movements grew increasingly restricted as the minutes flew by. The grip of the tentacles steadily tightened, while their throbbing and thrusting escalated in intensity. Shori bit Frisk’s lower lip as she came, her soft frame shuddering in the tentacles’ binding hold.

Frisk felt herself quickly approaching the same precipice as both women were effortlessly lifted from the cushioned pool and brought close to the grate. It seemed to try to pull them down, but gave up quickly. It was enough to get Frisk to take notice, however. Looking down, she saw that most of the spaces between the bars of the grate were full of the tentacles. It was impossible to see much deeper in, so she couldn’t tell where the dozens of appendages came from. She did notice one thing, however. A few of the tentacles, just below the grate, were bulging. Distinct ovals distended the tendrils, pressing up against the grate but unable to pass through the available space.

While she was staring, Frisk’s stiff little button was captured by the gently suckling tip of one of the tentacles, and her attention was taken away from the ominous sight below. After another minute of this new stimulation, and with Shori now scraping her teeth along the tiefling’s neck, Frisk was thrown hard into her climax. Her lip quivered, body quaking while a low moan stuttered out of her throat and her head spun. In the middle of her bliss, Frisk felt something new. A rush of something warm and tingling in her depths, and a few seconds later a dull, painless pressure and discomfort. It took her a minute to realize what had happened. The tentacle in her ass continued pleasantly thrusting away, but the one in her pussy had stopped moving and now simply throbbed. Frisk’s head spun again as she realized it had somehow managed to open her up and push into her womb.

“Ho… holy fuck…” Frisk panted. “Oh wow, okay that’s new. Oh, shit… What is… Spooks?”

Shori was chanting softly and a green, fluid-like light appeared in her hand. With a soft cackle, she threw the conjured mass at the grate, where it splashed and sizzled, the bars of the grate thinning and bubbling away.

“Spooks!” Frisk cried. “What the shit!? Don’t hurt the thing, also dangerous!?”

Shori looked back at her and shook her head. “The coils do not fear acid,” she whispered, then leaned in closer. “Nor do their eggs.”

Frisk’s eyes shot wide. “You crazy bi-mmhph!” Her curse was cut off as a tentacle forced its way down her throat.

The creature went into a frenzy as the safety grate between them dissolved, freeing the monster to fulfill its urgent purpose. Shori’s raspy laugher ceased when another tentacle pushed its way past her lips and bulged out her throat as it dove deeper. No longer blocked by the intervening grate, those oval swells in the tendrils moved down the length of the lithe limbs in concert with their continuing undulations, soon nearing the writhing women.

Frisk watched their approach in horror, but soon found it difficult to focus on the fear. The firm, possessive massage of the tentacles all over her body, the thrusting in her throat and ass, even the frightening throbs of the tendril that had invaded her innermost depths… It all felt so good. Glancing over to her treacherous cohort, Frisk saw Shori’s hand held in a strange sign, surrounded with a swirling pink energy. Staring directly at the spell made the rogue’s head spin, and for a moment she forgot her predicament and arched into the all-encompassing violation with joyous surrender. A second orgasm ripped through her, prolonged by the sinister tentacles and Shori’s spell. While she shook and thrashed in her living bindings, the first of the creature’s eggs was carried down the tendril in her pussy, straining her limits as it went, and was then pushed into her prepared womb. With it came a rush of induced euphoria, and the tiefling’s eyes fluttered. Next came the pressure at the ring of her anus as an egg slowly stretched her wider than before and popped in, carried further by the deep-reaching tentacle before it was deposited.

Those were only the first. Shori’s pleasure spell wavered as she was similarly stuffed with the tentacles’ eggs, the warlock changing roles from the monster's assistant to its seedbed. The flow of her rapturous bliss made long runnels down the violating tentacles. Frisk lost count of how many eggs she had taken after the first handful, her ability to form a coherent thought stolen by Shori’s magic and the creature’s mind-numbing secretions. Bulge after bulge was worked into them from every angle, the shape of the eggs just noticeable in the growing swell of their bellies as they were stuffed full, and then some.

Some time later, the door opened. Ceri made it halfway to the pool before she realized what was wrong, and gasped in alarm.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…