Becoming Monsters

Their first stop was a branch of the Gremlin Bank, exchanging some money from one of Diane’s accounts over to a stack of gold coins as well as a handy valise to contain them: a sack of coins hanging off the belt might fit classic stereotypes but it is just asking for a robbery. Seeing the coins for the first time, Honoka was surprised to find an H in a shield - the old Harvard logo - on one side while the other face displayed a detailed, oblong crystal.

“Nobody is sure, but there are theories all dungeon cores were once people, they just received a stranger Race then the rest of us.” Diane took the coin back and stowed it with the rest of her fortune in her purse. “If so, this dungeon was a Harvard alum: the Crimson H is a prominent theme down here. Stories exist of delvers with class rings spared horrible deaths, but those might be baseless rumors.”

Outside again, the pair were reminded Harvardtown was a jungle and it was hot. Whether by magic or AC, the bank was a pleasant retreat from the swelter. Boston was humid most days but not to these extremes. Besides, up top it was late summer and already beginning to cool. If Honoka knew she would sweat this much in an actual rain forest, she wouldn’t have worn white, the thin fabric only a few more minutes in this humid heat from becoming a wet t-shirt finalist. The succubus also unpleasantly discovered wings and tails included sweat glands and her extra purple appendages drooped while they glistened.

“The shop I want is this way, I think,” Diane stated, wiping a handful of perspiration off her brow, the wig more of a problem than either woman thought it would be. The two women hurried, hoping they discovered more AC down the street. “For a monthly fee, we receive a phone connection and Internet in parts of the dungeon, but it takes a bit to integrate with the ‘Di-Fi’ service. Really wish we had that right now.”

The mist permeated everywhere, though it wasn’t too thick on ground level. There were lights and signs regularly spaced to give helpful directions, making it easy to forget mindless monsters manifested at random intervals and attacked the populous. Far above, the mist hid the cavern and combined with some sort of mystical light source because it stayed bright enough to feel like an overcast afternoon. The streets were an odd mix of large, impressive and substantial warehouses next to street kiosks, giving the city a bazaar feel: as the center where delvers came back from their dives and offloaded their various magical prizes, it made sense for the locale to form into a flea market rather than shopping district. People of all types walked the streets and bartered, magical wholesale a booming business. The wives found themselves jostled as they made their way slowly through the throng, a few hands accidental finding their way to Honoka’s partially exposed booty.

Mental note, purchase cattle prod for succubus allocation. Honoka tried arranging her wings to prevent more mishaps, but it wasn’t working. She just grunted and walked faster, pushing people out of the way.

“Yeah, I’m regretting telling the Miners you liked these kinds of clothes. Not because I don’t like them on you - you are some sexy chocolate - but being a succubus comes with harassment as the norm.” Diane pointed them down a less crowded street. Soon, they found themselves in a large warehouse stacked to the ceiling with boxes. The warehouse, to their dismay, did not have AC.

An old man in shorts and tank top came over, smoking a rolled joint of something giving off thick green smoke. It smelled absolutely vile and both women stepped back when he puffed.

“Hello,” Diane said through watering eyes and trying to smile politely, “is this McMillan’s Alchemy Supply?”

The crusty man took a look at both of them and sucked in some more noxious fumes. “Yeah, I’m Mac.”

“Great, I have a list of things I need to—”

“Sorry, out of stock.”

“What?” Maybe it was the smoke, Diane wasn’t sure she heard correctly.

Folding his arms, the man exhaled in Honoka’s direction and gave her a disgusted glare. “Out of stock, don’t have anything to sell to creature lovers.” The conversation over, he turned around and walked away.

“What the actual fu—!”

Honoka put her hand on Diane’s shoulder and squeezed, the incited ginger looking to enact Irish vengeance on the Racist idiot. “Not worth it.”

“Allocate me back, I’m going to suck his worthless soul out through his tiny dick!”

Honoka held onto the struggling woman and pulled them both outside where they calmed down and looked at the people around them in a different light. While it wasn’t evident because they wore all kinds of clothing and armor and weapons, now that they paid attention, the population of the dungeon sported over ninety percent human and male. Even the tellers at the bank - never mind the name - were human women. The rest of the female population around were either booth babes trying to attract business to a kiosk or walking like they expected any moment to get attacked, eyes darting and body tense. People of other Races were treated much worse, sticking to the edges of the crowd and trying not to draw too much attention to themselves.

“I see why Eve and Banda wanted to team up,” Honoka said with sad understanding, giving an empathic glance towards a currently human Diane. “Someone who is a different Race but passes as human? They must have thought they hit the jackpot.”

“We need information, probably should have brought Minnie and Mighty with us. Might get that Di-Fi connection today if we need to call them.” Her freckled face reddened while she measured her breaths, yet Diane only gave the offending warehouse one last glare before merging into the crowd. “Every city contains a barrio, let's find out where the Races live.”

Harvardtown sported four districts, each ostensibly named by a five-year-old. Shiny was the entrance area near the gates and parking lot. Most of the shops and commerce were handled there so regular folks didn’t need to go too far to pick up their shinies from the dungeon. The Dump was the area on the opposite end of town, next to the entrance to the lower levels and where the delvers spent most of their time. It was both a place to dump their new delving treasures and because it was a dump where all the brothels, bars, drug dens and other forms of entertainment delvers liked gathered. The Grind was the largest district by area and spread out into the jungle, little buildings dotting the entire space like an organized suburb. While those who lived permanently in the dungeon mostly resided there in cramped housing, it was also where crafters ground out their skills in workshops to make all their wondrous, fantastical things. Weirdly enough, the not-so-handy map they provided in Cambridge explained none of this.

“Welcome To Pisshole,” Diane read off the crude graffiti on the cavern wall. Up against the cavern edge of the floor - and, in some places, digging into the wall - the last district was named the Lair, but Pisshole was also used, apparently. The neighborhood butted against the upward slope into the first two levels of the dungeon and was the place where people first set up the town when the dungeon opened up the level almost five years ago. Despite the name and simplicity of design in some of the buildings, Honoka was pleased to discover the streets cleaner and the foot traffic more polite. Of course, when you wanted to avoid getting stepped on by a fifteen-foot ogre, you made sure you were polite.

Where the rest of the dungeon town was human and male, the inverse became more accurate here. Around two-thirds female, Races of every type walking the streets here and worked in shops and lived. There were even children playing under watchful eyes. It looked homely and welcoming, but that was the girls’ reaction to earlier lingering.

The universally delicious aroma of fried chicken drew their attention. By unanimous agreement, the newlyweds hungrily moved to nab some grub while planning their next move. The place they walked into was a small block of rough rock with a saloon-style swinging door leading into a dim room with a low ceiling. Packed with people, a fifties diner theme in subdued lighting pleasantly greeted customers. Beneath all the good-natured noise of people enjoying food, a jukebox played some Elvis.

“Order 69!” Behind the main counter, an otter girl set down a tray of wings and fries. Honoka thought otter because that is what she looked like, an upright and humanoid otter with gray and white fur, her human baby blue eyes a common distinction in anthro Races. Honoka thought girl because she was about as tall as Honoka was now (five and a half feet or 168 cm) and under a greasy white apron were a pair of breasts, furred cleavage poking upward from her v-neck t-shirt but their actual size couldn't be ascertained while she wore her uniform.

“I’d like a 69!” someone shouted from the crowd, which produced a lot of male laughter.

“I swear, every single…” The otter girl’s voice was thick with a Georgian drawl, her words melodious to hear for a Southern girl like Honoka. “Jeff, you can’t cook enough sausage between your legs to serve breakfast, much less a woman. Order 69! Come ‘n get it so the lame jokes can stop!”

Honoka snorted, Diane smiling widely as the female half of the room whooped and clapped, a guy with feathered wings on his back grabbing his order with a smirk. They stepped in line and quickly arrived in front of the sassy Southerner.

“What can I get ya?” she asked with a smile, her whiskers moving side to side when she talked.

The chalkboard behind her just said Chicken Platter with a silver coin drawn under it. “Two platers with a cola and a raw milk.”

“Ooh, sorry, milk is too expensive to export down here, which is drivin’ all the giants bonkers since Bethany Sweeny lost her cows to some slimes last month.” The otter girl - Honoka just noticed a small name tag reading Quinn - sounded absolutely put out and set down two paper cups as Diane pulled out two silver coins. “Hope coke is fine for y’all.”

Diane looked about to question the soda but Honoka waved her off, understanding coke was a Southern term for all pop, not just the brand. They picked their drinks and managed to snag a booth in one corner.

“I think we need to move down here,” Diane said without preamble, sipping from her straw some orange soda.

“I’m thinking it is a bad idea and we can’t afford it,” Honoka replied, stirring her rootbeer pensively.

“You married three wives and we won’t all fit in your girl cave. Moving is happening. No marriage survives separate housing.”

“You made that up,” Honoka accused, pressing her lips together and pointing her straw. “Military servicemen leave home for months or years at a time.”

“And then they come home.” Diane paused for another drink and gave her wife a soft glance. “Look, let's step back from the current living situation and try to see it from a practical viewpoint. Our guild will make money proportional to how much time we spend delving. If we live in the dungeon, that cuts our commute each day by somewhere between two to four hours. It isn’t practical.”

“I…” Honoka folded her arms and put her head down on the table, her purple horns clunking into the wood. “I hate change.”

“Ha! Girl, did you ever get stuck with the wrong Class,” Diane laughed, finishing her drink.

“I couldn’t help overhearin’ you girls are lookin’ for a place ta live.”

Diane jumped a little as she spun around, but Honoka was so surprised she screamed and fell out of the booth, her wings flapping out of control and bruising against the bench. Quinn, the otter girl, stood a little behind Diane’s seat holding a tray filled with crispy chicken and fries. No longer wearing an apron, it was clear she dressed for the muggy heat in a pair of daisy dukes and a red t-shirt tied in a knot under her breasts, the taut fabric pushing her boobs together. Boobs that clearly brought all the girls to the yard because her natural, succulent milkshakes gave country singers a run for their silicon moneymakers. Quinn’s body remained humanoid-shaped, but not proportioned that way. Her slim abdomen was twice as long as human average, narrowing to hips and legs that returned to womanly proportion while still being very short before ending in clawed paws. Her hands looked more human but they also boasted claws and a little bit of webbing between the fingers. Behind her trailed a thick, furred tail. Quinn leaned forward eagerly, setting the tray down in the middle of their table and sliding into the seat next to Diane, the otter girl’s sitting posture prone to slouching as she rested her tits on the table.

“It's the ears, all Beastkin got some mix of super senses,” Quinn said, whiskering back and forth between the two. Diane, after the initial shock, looked calm and friendly but Honoka fidgeted and reclined far back in her booth when she crawled back in. “Prob’ly six or seven others in the room that heard, though most of them are reasonable people and will keep their traps shut.”

“Don’t you, um, aren’t you working?” Honoka asked lamely, her anxiety flaring up a little and hoping to politely get it over with.

“Naw, Bruno’s got it,” she said, thumbing towards the register, a large man with an elephant head behind the counter. “I’m off and was ‘bout to head home, reckoned you girls might want to check out a place lookin’ for renters.”

Diane munched some fries, pausing because Honoka didn’t know what to do. Nudging one of the baskets of chicken to her wife, Diane bobbed her head when she spoke. “We’d only be looking, no commitment, but it might fix a lot of problems.”

Frowning, Honoka grabbed a breast and took a bite. She did not like this, but all of Diane’s points were correct, and there was no harm in looking. Nodding, Honoka quickly ate and secretly hoped she wouldn’t need to move out of her apartment.

********************

Quinn was an unstoppable chatterbox, and it annoyed Honoka. Diane found Honoka’s annoyance amusing, which also irritated Honoka. They walked through the Lair’s narrow streets along one of the cave walls and with a mischievous glint in her eye, Honoka glared at the aura around Diane, slowly feeding that fire.

It took three blocks before Diane realized what was happening, her hot and sweaty body now hot, sweaty and horny. Glaring at the devilish grin on the black succubus’ face, Diane decided to fight back by casually reaching down and grabbing Honoka’s tail, massaging the tip between her fingers, the whole thing looking like someone casually twirling their hair as they walked down the streets. Diane knew where all the erogenous zones of a succubus body were located, though, and the tail tip was very sensitive. Honoka choked down a moan it felt so good.

This means war. Honoka tried attacking different parts of Diane’s navy blue aura, seeing what that would do, and she may have triggered something because before she let go, the bright blue tripled in size and Diane nearly stumbled to her knees.

“So’s I says to Mabel, I says that’s not a banana, and…” Quinn stopped talking for a moment as she turned to Diane and helped her back up. “Hey, you doin’ ok?”

“Five by five,” Diane replied, her breaths coming in pants as they started walking again. “Just the…heat getting to me.” The Irish ginger reciprocated by moving her thumb rapidly along the very tip of the tail like the joystick of a video game. Honoka bit her lip and felt her thong soak in something other than humidity.

“Well, no problems then, this is the place.” Quinn walked a few feet more and opened a large gate in what the other two women thought was some long wall. Although distracted by their little fight, they pushed their lust aside and walked into a large, walled courtyard with buildings lining the sides. The size of it all was impressive, the central courtyard easily a hundred square yards and the buildings were scaled appropriately to fit. The main house, directly across the open stone court, was three stories and built with multiple sloping roofs and looked cut straight out of the cavern rock behind it. Everything was beautifully crafted and built, or was once.

“Looks a little run down,” Diane commented, wiping sweating palms on her leggings and stepping further in, noticing that everything did look a little beat up, broken or in simple disrepair.

Honoka didn’t see it that way, her eyes shining at the architecture. The young woman originally got into designing buildings because she became impressed at a young age by her mother’s clan home in Nagasaki, an ancient feudal castle she used to explore as a child. She went to college and dreamed of one day designing her own homes in the traditional Asian styles, combining Buddhist and Shinto ideas into a way to introduce them to modern western sensibilities. Instead, she filled in the details for banks and offices until she quit. But this, these buildings in front of her in a quadrangle formation, was everything she never got to design.

“Yeah, it was constructed in the first year by the husband of the landlady. Is supposedly some Asian thing, but he got killed an’ now the landlady leases out rooms.” Quinn scratched the back of her head, looking apologetic. “Being in a dungeon is hard on buildings, it’s why all the other stuff looks plain and blocky - tougher to break. The guy who built it was determined ta bring something from his homeland down here. Shame, the old snake is a darling an’ her kids are the cutest, but only so much one woman can do to keep this much space livable.”

“Its a siheyuan,” Honoka whispered, walking forward while she looked all around, taking in all the little details of each wall, how it flowed like a circle of seasons in its subtle patterns.

“Technically, it is a nālukettu, but my husband would have enjoyed arguing the finer points.”

The trio turned to the voice and found a large snake woman slithering down the steps of one of the side buildings. Proportionally large, if the woman stood on two legs, she would have stood over nine feet tall (274 cm) and been very slender. Instead, over forty feet (12.2 m) of snake body quickly and silently spread out and coiled around her as she eased back onto herself. Her outer scales - most of what was visible of her long body and back - were a dark, dark violet with vivid yellow chevrons spaced throughout. The scales on her underside - including most of the anterior body she presented - were a lighter yellow coloring. She flourished four arms attached to an hourglass figure with impressive breasts before her human body became the snake at her hips, though it was difficult to tell under the orange sari she wore. Her head was an anthroed snake: a large, wide mouth framed on either side by a dark hood. Her eyes were large and human, yellow in color that matched her scales.

“Heya, Pad!” Quinn said excitedly, presenting the pair of women. “Got two prospective tenants here lookin’ to rent and they might be bringin’ more with ‘em.”

“Oh?” The snake woman’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air before she smiled and moved forward, extending one of her arms. “I thought you brought some friends over after your last boyfriend dumped you.” Honoka took the offered arm and shook hands, surprised at the heat she felt under the scales. “After all, I’ve heard once you go succ, all you’ll want to do is…”

“Leave that stupid Jeff out of this! These here might be payin’ renters, I know you’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Quinn blushed while she protested (it was visible on the skin around her nose), but she gave Honoka a sly side-eye while her green aura stoked a little higher. Honoka couldn't help noticing the otter girl’s lack of bra as her tight red shirt began to tent from stiffening nipples.

The forked tongue flicked out again, causing the large snake woman to give a meaningful glance at Honoka’s skirt. The telltale glisten of female fluids on her dark thighs was visually no different than the sweat covering her body, but the chocolate succubus suspected that tongue tasted something in the air and she felt herself heat up from more than jungle atmosphere.

The snake woman laughed, retreating back onto herself and folded one set of arms. “Of course. My name is Padmava Nair. If you like, I can show you around my home and see if the accommodations would be suitable for you.” With her unfolded set of arms, the woman motioned to the building behind her, the second one from the end on the left. Now that Honoka calmed down, she heard an Indian accent behind the hissing quality of Padmava’s voice. Honoka and Diane followed Quinn while the otter woman talked again like a Texan auctioneer but they stopped paying attention when they walked into the building and felt a blessed cool breeze.

“What’s a She Hey You On?” Diane whispered to Honoka while they followed the rambling otter.

“Chinese traditional house design with buildings surrounding an open area in the center. Shows up in anime a lot because Japanese style imitates the Chinese.” Honoka’s whispered reply came off distracted as she studied the walls and ceilings. “Nālukettu is a similar concept, but it comes from India. I actually know a lot about both styles, it was the reason I became an architect.”

“An’ this is the Big Bath!” Quinn really got into it when they entered a massive tiled room, but there was a good reason. Done in grand roman style, a steaming swimming pool waited in the center of the room with six separate showers lining three walls and multiple sinks and vanities along the other. It was heavenly, and after walking around the muggy heat everyone felt a bath would be perfect. Quinn continued on as if she retained everyone’s attention. “I say Big Bath ‘cause there are three other bath rooms, but they’re all smaller sized. Rooms for people ta live in are grouped by threes, an’ they all have a small washroom with toilets, but nothin’ beats a bath like this!”

“How many rooms are there, total?” Honoka asked.

“Um…” The otter girl floundered, looking at Padmava.

“There are sixty rental rooms, grouped in threes like Quinn said with a private restroom attached to each room and a common area with a small kitchen,” the snake woman replied, slithering into the Big Bath with them. “As she said, there are also four large mineral baths but they’re communal. There are two hosting rooms with larger kitchen areas for parties. The building on the outer wall facing the street is designed as a storefront that can be converted easily for businesses and shops. Finally, underground four very large spaces are dug out for storage and can be used however tenants would like.”

“What Pad said,” Quinn put in, smiling timidly as they walked out and found one of the communal rooms.

“I don’t see any carpet anywhere,” Diane commented, looking at the various details. “Or wood. Everything seems made out of stone.”

“My husband was a Geomancer,” the woman said, her eyes growing distant. “The entire place was built by him in a couple of days, all the stone has a higher tensile strength than reinforced concrete. Installing the furnishings, doors, electrical, plumbing and little details took years and millions of dollars.”

“It really sounds perfect,” Honoka said, taking everything in and trying think practically. “So why isn’t this place rocking with people fighting in the streets to live here?”

Quinn froze in place when Padmava sighed, her tongue flicking out as she did. “Politics. When the Change happened, my husband and son stayed human while myself and my youngest daughter turned into nagas. I looked more monstrous than typical Races and my husband wanted me to feel like a person, so he used his fortune to build a place down in the dungeon where Races could remember how to feel human again. It was all still fresh, but there was plenty of room for things to work.

“Then, the guilds started to gain power. Lots of power. In dungeons, guilds possess the final say in everything, and there aren’t enough controlling guilds with Race influence to do anything. My husband, a level thirty-two geomancer, tried fighting the oncoming mob rule and while I can’t prove anything, I think he died because of it. A year later, anyone who tries to live here gets blacklisted by the guilds.”

Padmava finished, her monotone story layered in the resignation of knowing she just lost two more customers. Diane glanced over to Honoka, a question in her eyes, but Honoka already made up her mind.

“When can we move in?” the dark succubus asked, smiling at the surprised snake and otter looking back at her.