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Rise and Shine

NotoriousTBD Nov 1st, 2017 (edited) 980 Never
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  1.     The camp was quiet. Not a peep dared disturb the pre-dawn stillness of the tents, save for that of the new guy. The Rookie. The Swordsman. Fresh Meat. So inevitably, as the first light of dawn crept over the camp, a peculiar figure crept through the flap of his tent. Sliding along the floor, an amorphous blob of deep purple came to a halt in front of his shirtless, sleeping form. Tendrils began to emerge from the blob, twisting and waving about, soon taking the form of a beautiful woman. Long hair and shapely arms, her body had a nearly translucent quality such that a small orb could clearly be seen floating within her ample bosom. Her core, matching her magenta eyes, seemed to pulse as her expression changed to a mischievous smirk. The ends of her hair quickly morphed into long tendrils and began to seep about the sleeping Swordsman.
  3.     "Here's Nurse Deidra, ready to give you your morning check-up," she whispered.
  5.     When the Swordsman first arrived at the camp--stained in blood and barely breathing on Death's doorstep--she was responsible for mending his broken body. By the time he finally awoke--she, sadly, wasn't personally present for the occasion--she had already fallen in love with the visage of this strong, stoic warrior. Now, she took it upon herself to ensure that her work was holding up, and insisted on these morning examinations, whether or not her charge was fully aware. She placed the palm of her hand against his chest, feeling its movements through her gelatinous form, and smiled with the knowledge that her patient's breathing was strong and un-restrained. Then, with a sudden shudder, she began to slip into a gentle, almost trance-like state as she picked-up on his heartbeat.
  6.     Deidra was a Dark Slime, a type of monster of the slime family, boasting high intelligence and magical power to go along with the bizarre morphology typical of her kin. Having no internal structure of her own, save for her core--another feature unique to her species--she was absolutely fascinated by the physiology of other beings. Perhaps because she was a monster infused with the power of a succubus, she was particularly intrigued--enamored even--with the simple palpitations of the heart. In her eyes, there was no perceptible feature that better encapsulated the health, vitality, and emotion of a human male than that repetitive sound: lubdub, lubdub, lubdub. She bent down closer to the Swordsman, laying her chest atop his so that she could more closely feel those pulsations against her core. Her eyes closed as she envisioned him waking up and greeting her with kind words and a smiling face.
  7.     A sudden shift in the almost-hypnotic beat awoke Deidra from her stupor. She took a moment to reconfirm her patient was still fast asleep. She smiled, surmising that the interruption was caused by something unrelated to her actions; she was free to continue. Several more tendrils emerged from her form, one of which quickly retrieved a small glass bottle from a nearby crate. Through a dexterous process of tightening and twisting, she easily broke the seal on the vessel. A subtle, milky aroma began wafting through the tent as she wrapped herself further around the dark-haired man. Slipping another tendril beneath him, she eased him up and brought the bottle to his lips.
  9.     "Time for your breakfast."
  11.     The Swordsman's eyes snapped open as the cool liquid flowed over his lips. Some went down his throat the wrong way, causing him to spasm and bringing on a violent fit of coughing. The rest spilt on his chest, resulting in an unpleasant, sticky sensation.
  12.     "Dammit, Dee!" he said through a cough. "I told you to cut that out."
  13.     "Aww. Would you prefer a more natural approach?" She gave a willfully innocent smile as her tendril engulfed the bottle, siphoning the milk up through her body where it began to accumulate in her rapidly expanding chest.
  14.     "I said no! Now let me--argh!"
  15.     In spite of his protests, the Slime quickly placed one arm on the struggling man's chest and forced him back to the ground. She brought her other arm up to his face--placing a single finger across his lips as her body began flowing all around him.
  16.     "Doctor's orders! You need more rest. But don't worry..." Her misty eyes betrayed the innocence of her voice.
  18.     "I can help you relax."
  20.     Her feminine form straddled his chest while the amorphous base continued to flow around him. It enveloped his exposed backside and began to worm its way into his underclothes, a soothing coolness emanating from wherever it touched his skin. He found it difficult to continue his struggles against such an alien--but not entirely unpleasant--sensation. Hardening and softening, the strange substance started kneading his shoulders. The magenta orb pulsed again as Deidra let out a giggle, and a feeling of calm began to overtake the Swordsman's mind. His thoughts grew dim and his movements grew sluggish. Tension slipped out and his eyelids slipped closed.    Something cool brushed against his cheek, and he felt a slight, cool, pressure on part of his chest.
  21.     "Breath in...and out"
  22.     The Swordsman found himself listening to the voice, inhaling and exhaling as it commanded. The coolness on his chest shifted to another spot.
  23.     "Breath in...and out""
  24.     Again, this Swordsman followed the voice's directions, and again the coolness changed location.
  25.     "Breath in...and out"
  26.     The rhythm was soothing, and aided by the gentle caresses he could feel all over.
  27.     "In...and out."
  28.     "In...and out."
  29.     "In...and out."
  30.     "In...and out."
  31.     "Are you enjoying this?"
  32.     "Yes."
  33.     The Swordsman had no way of telling how long he lay there, enveloped by the Dark Slime. Not that he honestly cared. He could hardly remember a time he had been so at peace. He had only lived amongst these monsters for a few days, but each moment seemed to be a struggle against their bottomless lust and rampant nymphomania. And if that woman were to continue to pursue her goals...he felt the need to treasure any moment of respite he was granted, all but certain his future would be filled with more hardship than his past had ever been. Just thinking about it brought him dread. Uncertainty began to swirl once more through his mind, and his heart began to harden.
  34.     "If you...wanted," Deidra's voice chimed in softly, interrupting the growing storm.
  35.     "We could..."
  36.     A ripple passed through her form, and the Swordsman felt tingles against his skin.
  37.     "Uhhh...uuuhh...I...I need."
  38.     The ripples continued to grow. Opening his eyes, the Swordsman noticed an odd texture developing in Deidra's form. Something seemed to be bubbling up as anxiety returned anew to gnaw away at the Swordsman's peace of mind.
  39.     "You...to me..."
  40.     There was a growing change in her movements. Her body began to pulse and prod, jabbing at his sensitive spots. His chest and his sides; the nape of his neck and his inner thighs. Placing her slime on each side of his head, she whispered directly into his ears now:
  41.     "Give it to me."
  42.     The Swordsman gasped and shuddered as Deidra clamped down on his member, painfully hard now that he noticed it. Her entire body began moving to stroke, tease, and kiss his flesh wherever it could. He began to struggle, trying desperately to escape this honey trap before he was completely consumed, but it was no use. Her gyrations grew in speed and her ministrations multiplied in intensity. This wasn't just lust, the Swordsman understood, this was hunger. The monsters of the current age fed on the life force of humans, and the most reliable source of that energy stood towering between his thighs, recently liberated from his underpants.
  43.     "Whaaah! What is!? This is!?"
  44.     Her movements grew more and more frantic. Her slime twisted and swirled about the Swordsman's rod.
  45.     "Ah! Ah! Ah!"
  46.     Her expression dripped with euphoria and ecstasy beyond her control.
  47.     "Too much! It's too much! I'm! I'm! AAAAHHH!!"
  48.     For a moment, the Swordsman wondered if something was wrong. And then it ended. The Dark Slime's form suddenly collapsed into a pool of gel, the slime core floating at the top. Somehow, the Swordsman had held out. He stood up and promptly tucked his still-hard shaft back into his underpants. Looking over the sorry state of his tent, his bed, his underclothes, and his own body, he decided to begin his day with a quick bath in a nearby stream.
  50. ===
  52. As usual, the large canvas from his first meeting was again spread out in the center of the table. In spite of a few inaccuracies here and there, the Swordsman had easily recognized it as a map of the Frontier and other surrounding areas. From the Aquila Peaks eastward to the tributaries of the mighty Aulrein River, then south through Dammerung, over the southern borderline and all the way to the port of Calico, the map was dotted with the names of countless small towns and villages. Hatches marked the railways across the great plains, where locomotives raced between the Keep and St. Alder, often called the gateway to--and from--the Frontier. East of Dammerung were the forests separating the Frontier into East and West. The map didn't really show very much past that.
  54. According to Morgan, the Harpies and other scouts who worked on the map didn't much care for that place. The swordsman understood their sentiment.
  56. Just beyond the forest, traced in glossy black ink that easily caught one's eye, was the path the Lilim's band had traveled thus far. Making landfall further along the coast from Calico, they marched North following the eastern perimeter of the forest, avoiding the heavily traversed trade routes and checkpoints between Calico and the Frontier proper.
  58. The guard captain back at the Keep once said this was an old smugglers' route, used to avoid the port town long lampooned for its associated tariffs, fees, and inspections. Evidently, the route was mostly abandoned after gaining a reputation for bandit attacks, and a regime change in both Calico and the Keep led to revised trade policies. The flipside of this was that the borderline became an Order checkpoint. Tariffs were diminished, to the satisfaction of many a merchant, but the heavily patrolled border still remained a point of consternation to diehard Frontiersmen and dovish Order officials--albeit for slightly different reasons.
  60. Crossing the border head-on would mean engaging the Order at their strongest point, so naturally the Lilim's band decided to forgo such risks for the comparatively mild threat of bandit attacks. With only one exception, the bandits were a now show--much to the displeasure of some of the succubi who were looking for "bad boys," as they say. Cutting through the forest at Hastert's Pass, they crossed into the Western Frontier and set up camp some distance from Dammerung. With enough wilderness between them and any routine Order activity, they've been free to scout out the area, trying to gather as much information as possible before their next, critical move.
  62. In short, they've been busy doing nothing.
  64. The man in gauze must have had that fact racing in his mind as he looked over the other faces gathered in the tent. His exposed eye gave a slight twitch. He and the Swordsman had arrived early, as usual. Morgan--the so-called Demon Beast Baphomet--was resting on a comfortable-looking couch she had summoned. She shifted about before grabbing a throw pillow with her furred arms and pulling it into a tight hug. Her peaceful form almost calmed him down. Almost. Keith, that was his name, reached into the pockets of the heavy coat at the heart of his ragged attire, and pulled out a small, unmarked box. Cigarettes. Only one left. His eye gave another twitch as he placed the coveted possession in his mouth. Reaching back into his pockets, he fished around before realizing he left his matches back in his tent. His eye began twitching incessantly now, and the vein above it seemed like it would pop right out of his forehead at a moment’s notice. He shifted his attention to the candles in the middle of the table.
  66. "Need a light?" A black-furred paw cupped his cheek from behind before thrusting a pair of digits between his lips. Hot breath greeted his ears as a second paw began feeling up his chest. The paw began moving lower, and lower, and lower still as Keith struggled to fend off the intrusion in his gums. It was over in an instant. The owner of the paws let out a small laugh as she plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the grass. Amber, that was her name, was a Hellhound, a beast-like monster with wild black hair, furred appendages--dark red ending in black paws in her case--and skin the color of soot. As the name suggests, they possessed many features reminiscent of dogs, but twisted into something more fitting a creature that crawled out from the depths of Hades. They were a race known for their strong, sturdy bodies--though no less alluring than most succubi--as well as their violent and obstinate dispositions. Of course, she seemed almost pleasant side by side with the simmering Keith.
  68. "Dammit Goldie! That was my last one!"
  70. She growled a bit at the mention of the nickname--a bit more groan inducing than her given name, both derived from her amber eyes set in black irises. She gritted her teeth and exposed her fangs. A sudden surge of magical energy enraged her flame-tipped eyebrows. Dark red claws, wickedly sharp, emerged from her furred digits before seeming to recede into a more benign and manageable form.
  72. "Come on, Keith. Didn't I tell you before? Stress is bad, but cigarettes are so much worse." She cupped Keith's face with both paws now and started rubbing her check against his. "If you're feeling stressed," she whispered, "just come to me."  She released his face and then delivered here next words so that everyone could hear. "We wouldn't want you light your bandages on fire...again!"
  74. "Ha Ha Ha!" A boisterous laugh echoed from the armored figure seated on a makeshift throne of supplies.
  76. "Shut it, fatty!" Keith grumbled.
  78. "Fathi!" the armor boomed, before starting to rise with the clinking of metal plates and chain mail. "See to it that you remember my name or I will...Oh!" He halted as if gripped by something unseen, then sat back down on the supply crates. "Almost lost my temper."
  80. Amber's ears perked up just as a duo of new arrivals entered the tent.
  82. Or rather a trio.
  84. "Sorry we're a bit late," Kate said, moving up her tail to display the slimy purple growth wrapped around it partway to the tip. "Seems Dee here had a bit of a nasty spill this morning." She held her tail out over the table, letting the growth collect into a droplet before falling down with a plop.  As the blob spread itself out, it grew more translucent and a small magenta orb came into view. Kate flashed a toothy grin as she took a seat, almost begging the others to ask for more details. With no one taking the bait, she trained her gaze on the Swordsman. She always did this when the two were in any close situation, waiting for him to notice and then looking away as soon as he started staring back. Coming in behind her was another of the more predatory girls. Admittedly, the Swordsman wasn't sure of the name of the Mantis girl. Even though she had on consecutive days gifted him various pieces of hand-fashioned leather armor, she always departed after a brief "Thank you...Ms...?", albeit never before. Silent as always, she made no perceptible gestures nor gave any salutations as she made her way to an open spot on the table. Perhaps on account of her abdomen, she remained standing rather than taking a chair.
  86. This left Her.
  88. At the Swordsman's first meeting, the Lilim had made a rather extravagant entrance, emerging as if from a portal formed out of the shadows gathering in the corners of the room. She even made a show of flourishing her blade to call the meeting to order. According to Keith, however, she did the same thing when he joined. It was just a show for any new--male--recruits. Now, she entered through the humble tent flap, just like everyone else. Even so, the others rose from their seats out of respect for their leader--save for Morgan, who merely opened her eyes and repositioned herself on the couch. As she approached the head of the table, an inky black substance began to flow from her robe, gliding along the ground before pooling at her apparent destination. The bizarre material began to shape and solidify into a throne, on which she promptly took her seat. The entire process was so seamless she never broke her stride, almost as if the throne had been there right from the start.
  90. "Now then."
  92. She crossed her legs and leaned to the side in regal posture, bringing a set of porcelain fingers to rest under her chin.
  94. "Shall we begin?"
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