Becoming Monsters 1: Ch. 32

A minute later, it all stopped, allowing Honoka to take in a shuddered breath. The pain was still there, a haze she wouldn’t even be able to understand except she could, her Intelligence informing her no human or Racial body was ever capable of containing so much magic or Status effects. But she could Endure the pain, for now, though she didn’t have very long. In fact, Honoka pulled up her Status to find out just that.

While she watched, her MP ticked down to 27%. Even with all that Wisdom and Intelligence boosting her mana, time became her enemy as much as a certain pimp. Regardless, she did take up a few seconds to understand what she became.

No matter how angry she grew, her eyes drifted down to her breasts first. She was hunched over to keep her two sets of horns from catching in the ceiling or destroying the light, so she was already mostly buried in her bazoongas. From her perspective, they looked like glorious L-cups, pert and sloshing full of milk. But as she looked around the room and appreciated how large she had expanded, she understood 130ZZJ meant sixty-two inches (157 cm) cup size.

Her four arms burgeoned with tree trunks of muscles, each a different Race. Clawed otter, three-fingered holstaur, an outstretched hand with a massive forearm clawed goblin, then a feathered upper arm cut off at the elbow. Looking down at the legs, she discovered another feathered leg cut off at the knee. Illumination came to her, this was how the Status translated Miaka’s current missing limbs, giving Honoka half. The other three legs were a cheetaur’s paw, a holstaur’s hoof and a goblin’s clawed foot.

Honoka’s entire body above the waist was colossal, her bones thickened and reinforced just to hold all the musculature. Her skin was a mix of dark green scales speckled with tiny spots of neon green, but poking out between each scale was an alternating mix of black fur, gold fur, bright red feather and bright blue feathers. She shimmered as she moved and imagined with her collection of four writhing snake tails and massive wings she must look like a Quetzalcoatl of Mesoamerican myth or a Lovecraftian horror.

With a resounding crack, the concrete under her main body crushed under her weight. It took her a moment, but the math was simple once she understood it. If Padmava was a nine-foot (2.75 m) woman with forty-five feet (13.7 m) of tail and weighed 1881 pounds (853 kg), Honoka would be over sixteen feet (4.9 m) tall and sport around eighty feet (24.4 m) of tail. The Cube Squared law meant her bodyweight was 6.8 times as much, while the rest of the mass came from the increased muscle density of Bullish Strength and the 2000 pounds (90/7 kg) of milk filled titflesh.

Under normal circumstances, Honoka would love to explore herself longer, but her anger flared up hotter than before. Her capacity to hate increased with all her other attributes, and she didn’t even try to fit out the door, just crashing through the wall and slithering up the stairs at the speed of a freight train. With all her senses enhanced beyond reason, it didn’t take much effort to focus on a room in the far corner of the building tasting of male sex and brimstone and how this stench marked every girl in the building.

“CHURCH!!” Honoka bellowed, her voice a hissing metallic rumbling through the whole building.

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

Yesterday, Solomon Church was supremely confident today would be a good day. The glutton in the dungeon would eat the pesky Jap and kill off most of her annoying harem, then all the incubus needed to do was swoop in and collect his wayward Diane. It was elegant.

His people couldn’t nab the bonus - young naga girls sell for a premium overseas - but Diane had always been the goal, the mercenaries leaving with his prize. Solomon tried not to be disappointed. Once Diane entered his office and spat in his face, it was all worth it.

A Binding Contract only worked if it is signed through a conscious effort of the signer, but there were ways around that. Solomon owned high-level people with particular Class Features. In only a few hours, the prodigal succubus smiled up at him like it was old times, sucking his cock. Her time away had been good for her, but now she was back, and he would begin achieving his efforts of control beyond Boston.

Yesterday was full of opportunities. Today was a disaster.

It began innocently enough, the Internet stopped working. Solomon Church may not trust technology, yet who in their right minds lived without the Internet? He was about to call in Chastity to get it fixed when the greater succubus rushed into the room to announce the cell reception suddenly went down. Solomon grew concerned, things happening too fast for coincidence. It wasn’t ten seconds later the front door of his home was blown inward with a cacophony and the whole building shook to its core.

Turning to his computer, Solomon pulled up the closed-circuit cameras just in time to see Cleo Tate - nicknamed in the delving community Mother Of Thunder - booming her calling card all around them. With a surprise he rarely showed, the incubus’ eyes widened when he recognized the black-skinned and armored form of Honoka Jefferson walking through the parking lot.

“Chastity, go into the other room and prevent anyone from entering,” Solomon said in a measured tone, studying all the other cameras of the complex and frowning at the destruction. “You are allowed to feed on them as much as you want.”

The level twenty-three valkyrie smirked with her shark-toothed smile and quivered as she orgasmed from just the thought of being let off the chain. Greater succubi, unlike their lesser but more common Racial cousins, only needed to remain nearby to feed on a person’s energy - any energy - killing a man or woman by just standing in the same room. One of the worst mass killings in recent history took place at a soccer game in Brussels when another greater succubus killed over five hundred people in ten minutes before a fire mage got in a lucky shot. Turning on her clawed foot and wiggling her bare butt in excitement - her throbbing pussy leaking past her red thong - Chastity closed the doors behind her, leaving Solomon alone.

The incubus followed Honoka and her troll thug as they went into one of the hosting rooms, down some stairs, entering where he knew Diane currently waited for her next set of orders. There were no cameras inside, even the mighty Solomon Church would be hung out to dry if he broke that particular rule of the government prostitution regulations.

“Good luck, Jap. Diane is mine.” Solomon smiled to himself while he shifted his thoughts towards whom to contact to make this entire situation disappear.

He should have paid closer attention.

When the wall exploded outside the room, the dust it created obscuring the view from the camera, something moved. Solomon tried to follow it, but it proved too fast: by the time he brought up the right camera, all he perceived was a blurry shape.

*THK-BMM!!*

When it happened, Solomon Church didn’t even have the chance to get out of his chair. In the space of a pair of seconds, the double doors of his office splintered from a monster of epic proportion pushing Chastity through them faster than the bits of solid mahogany could fly forward. The abomination held the succubus with two hands as it rocketed into the room. It then bodily slammed his secretary into and through his precious ghost oak desk, splitting that solid wooden masterwork piece of furniture in half with a magical crackle, the shock of the impact mingling with the broken enchantments of the precious white wood. The only reaction he showed was to push his seat back in time to watch, still sitting, as Chastity was ground into the floor, leaking blood out of her mouth and her eyes glazing over, though her immense Health kept her breathing despite her wounds.

“How—!”

Solomon stood, his hands crackling with power and ready to unleash his own substantial might when faster than he could reacted, a green and clawed hand on the monster shot out, grabbed his significantly sized manhood in its palm and tore it off, shaft and balls and all, taking most of his slacks with it.

“AAARRGH!!” Solomon cried in shock and agony, falling back onto his chair and holding his legs together as he depowered his hands and tried to stop the bleeding with one while reaching with the other to grasp at one of Diane’s healing potions he kept on a shelf. The creature put a stop to that and swatted his arm, breaking it, then using another to grab his neck and hold his eight-foot frame up in the air while the hand holding his dick and balls thrust the bloody mass of meat under his face.

“If you don’t want to bleed out, show me Diane’s Contract.”

That voice sounded like half a dozen shades whispering death all at once. It was when he looked into Honoka Jefferson’s large and crazed cobalt blue eyes that Solomon Church felt fear for the first time in his life. The incubus, even before the Change, never experienced being the weaker party, at another’s mercy. He didn’t know how to adjust. In his panic, Solomon made a mistake.

He couldn’t speak, his breath blocked by a crushing webbed and clawed hand, but he nodded and pointed to a safe in the corner. In a moment, he was thrust in front of it and with bloody fingers, he input the code on the keypad, opening the safe. The entire thing was filled with Contracts, but Diane’s was near the top and with a shaking hand and spots in his eyes from being out of air, he tapped on the thick stack that belonged to his succubus.

Solomon was thrown to the ground. The large man bounced from the impact, but he greedily sucked a breath in as he tried to roll onto his back. Before he regained his bearings, he witnessed Honoka open her mouth impossibly wide, a long fang on the right and the broken stub of another dripping black tar when he felt his world end. She emptied her supply of venom onto every Contract in that safe, destroying them all with little puffs of smoke and flashes of light, essentially ending the source of his political power.

That was it, Solomon was finished. Yesterday those Contracts kept him safe for years and would allow him to stretch across the entire East Coast. Today, a lot of people were going to wake up confused and then very, very angry.

“I will kill you,” Solomon promised, his face a fury while he crawled into a sitting position and gathered his power. “You insignificant worm, I will burn everything you love to the ground.” The air vibrated with energy as the incubus tapped into the roaring ocean he built upon for years and got ready to hit this thing in front of him with the same meteoric force that killed the dinosaurs.

*BANG!*

Solomon Church, pimp and undisputed ruler of the Boston criminal scene, slumped to the ground, a bullet hole in his forehead leaking blood and brains. Honoka spun around, looking at a tall black woman holding a smoking gun, a familiar human ginger woman with lots of freckles close behind her, appearing to remember who she was.

“Just as Miaka trained us,” Eve said, putting her gun away and stepping into the room, looking around calmly at the destruction, “Classes and Attributes don’t matter, winning matters.”

“Honoka?” Diane whimpered, her steps faltering when she came into the room, looking at the monster that was her wife. “Hono-chan?”

Sliding back all the allocations, Honoka fell into Diane’s arms a minute later, both too tired to do anything more than cry and promising to never let each other go. It was only the practical advice of a goblin that got them out of the brothel. The three left to return home, alive and happy to be together.