Lewd Futanari Succubus Ch. 44

Synopsis: An old man dies, torn by regret. Due to his high karma, he has "near-limitless possibilities for reincarnation". He chooses to reincarnate in a fantasy world as a voluptuous futanari succubus with big tits and an irresistible smile.

Erotic fiction that contains: Futanari/Dickgirls, Genderbending, Futa on Female, BDSM, Nymphos, Masochistic characters, Threesomes, Orgies, Facefuck, Deepthroat, Dom/Sub, Taken by Monsters, Corruption, Game elements, Lots of Depravity, etc.

"What are you doing?" Ember asked Beatrice when she saw the succubus just standing behind her. "Didn't Samantha give you a mask?"

"Oh, right," Beatrice had almost forgotten about the mask she received from Samantha in her hurry outside, along with the other items. Beatrice pulled out the so-called mask and took another look at it.

Beatrice had already examined the mask when she received it and was hesitant to wear it. It added no combat stats and clashed with the "slutty student" outfit she had going under her cloak. Quite frankly, it looked like something golden-age comic superheroes would wear. Black, narrower than the simplest of carnival masks, it barely covered the area around Beatrice's eyes. The idea that it would somehow conceal Beatrice's identity seemed preposterous, had it not been for the reassuring item description.

Item: Mask of Concealment

Item Class: Rare

Effects: As long as the mask is worn, conceals the wearer's identity from anyone that did not witness the wearer put on the mask unless the wearer reveals their identity.

The handle on the door that Ember knocked on moved and Beatrice put on the mask before the door fully opened and an old, dirty, beggar-like figure appeared from the shadows within.

"Go away, I have already found my faith!" the old man hissed, revealing his misaligned, rotting teeth.

"I offer crimson fruit to the hungry rats," Ember answered.

The old man looked at Ember, then at Beatrice, studying the succubus top to bottom, and said, "The blind cats multiply."

"Only to be devoured by the rats," Ember replied.

"You're late, the Games are about to begin," the old man said with a changed voice and tone, bowed and stepped aside, gesturing the guests inside.

"We're right on time, then," Ember smiled and went inside, nodding for Beatrice to follow her.

Once inside, Ember lit up a flame in her hand and guided Beatrice down a rocky path that seemed to lead underground.

"Is there any actual relevance to mice?" Beatrice asked about the secret password Ember exchanged with the doorman.

"Only if you believe that that's how she views the low-class citizens," Ember chuckled.

"'She'?"

"One of the main organizers of the Forge of Champions," Ember said as they both went deeper down a steadily declining, narrow tunnel carved through some kind of hard, colored rocks that Beatrice could not name even if she recognized the types. The tunnel was not dissimilar to the one through which Beatrice and Ember left Princess Mary's room.

"Long ago, this city had its beginnings as a prosperous mining town, which obviously was conquered by the toughest brutes around that were eager to get their hands on the wealth," Ember said. "After exchanging hands a few times, it became a base for what soon turned into the fledgling Kingdom of Larpsus. Fitting, that the Kingdom is on the brink of ending where it began."

As Ember and Beatrice went down, Beatrice heard distant noise coming from the deep. Even as more paths connected along the way down, and increased in height and width, nobody bothered to light the paths that led there, so Beatrice found it convenient to have her personal human torch with her at all time. Along with the increasing noise from the deep, Beatrice also heard distant conversations echoing in front of them and behind, coming from within various tunnels that connected and intersected.

"Of course, the mines have been mined dry long ago, but they still remain useful for these sorts of things," Ember added.

"How many entrances are there spread throughout the city?" Beatrice asked, realizing the true scope of these underground games.

"Dozens, at least," Ember said. "The organizers have several Earth Mages that collapse some tunnels and free others, changing up the entrances if needed. It's not like anyone doesn't know that these games take place, but still, appearances have to be kept, so they use all the different entrances into the mines to avoid forming literal mobs in a single place before the start of the games."

"Might as well have and made it official and got the hiding over with," Beatrice said. When she considered all the other fucked up things that took place in this city, the addition of some gladiatorial games seemed a trifling matter.

"Organizing fights to the death is still supposed to be not only forbidden but also punishable by death," Ember reminded with a smile. "The King and the others in charge like to keep up the appearance that rules and order still exist. And they do, for some things, for some people. Besides, this place is probably one of the best to host the Forge of Champions anyway."

The noise of the crowd in the deep grew louder with each step, the tunnels grew larger and brighter as they linked up and widened to dozens of feet in width and height. Beatrice and Ember were no longer alone in the converging tunnels as more men, women, and beastkin joined them.

The tunnels were hotter and brighter as they were lit by flames, burning in the narrow trenches at the corners of the tunnels. The flames that were at first only a couple of inches high, grew to several feet high, spreading from a giant, arch-like fiery opening in the rocky wall.

Despite the flames and heat that emanated from the twenty-foot-high opening, it already gathered a considerable crowd, and more approached. Excited citizens of Klapsus, smiling and laughing, all heading to the fiery opening that to Beatrice might as well have been the gates of Hell itself.

_

Beatrice and Ember went through the increasing crowd of multi-raced citizens of Klapsus and approached the twenty-foot-high opening. Pillars of flame shot high up on both sides of the opening as if powered by industrial-grade flamethrowers, radiating immense heat on all that passed them. But the waves of heat from the flame pillars only prepared for the heat coming from within. Beatrice's jaw dropped as she looked at what awaited all the viewers and participants.

A dizzying maze of narrow paths and multi-leveled platforms of rocks and stone stood upon pillars or were carved in sheer rock formations with no clear edge or sign of where man-made creations ended and the natural formations began or how they were constructed over the bottomless pits they overlooked. And out of those pits, countless flames shot up one after another in spectacular balls of fire that lit up the twisted mines. Each ball of fire sent a new wave of heat into the crowds. And the waves of heat reached Beatrice even from the most distant fireballs.

Beatrice no longer had to wonder why Samantha saw no reason to provide her with proper armor. The succubus was already sweating under her cloak and took it off. Anyone stupid enough to come here in full metal armor would pass out from the heat and eventually die from countless fourth-degree burns.

Beatrice looked at Ember with amazement at how her bodyguard could remain in her blue robes in these conditions. The freckled redhead seemed completely unfazed by the heat, and Beatrice could only assume that skilled fire mages had ways to mitigate heat not only from their spells but also from other sources.

But despite all the light that illuminated these underground mines, Beatrice could not see the bottom of the chasms from which the pillars and walls of razor-sharp rocks rose out. Many paths and pillars connected dozens and hundreds of feet below, but even those connections disappeared in the bottomless darkness below.

However, despite the perils of falling to their deaths, nobody seemed concerned that nearly none of the many paths, bridges, and platforms had any railings or other visible safety measures to speak of, even as many people walked across them and leisurely took position at the very edges to get a better view. Select few platforms had some metal railings installed, but even those would not pass a single safety inspection in modern society.

"You are the last-minute participant, are you not?" a masked man asked Beatrice with an official tone after suddenly appearing from the crowd. The man wore nothing but a black skirt that reached to his knees and a black mask that had a red flame painted across it. His build was above average muscle-wise, with barely any fat on him. The sweat that poured down his body indicated that he had already spent many hours here while remaining well-hydrated.

Beatrice paused for a second, reminding herself why she came here, took a deep breath, breathed out, and said, "That is correct."

"Follow me," the masked man said and turned his sweaty back toward Beatrice.

"Keep your eyes open," Ember said. "Don't hesitate and show no mercy! Because you'll receive none."

"I'd expect nothing less in a place like this," Beatrice said, handed Ember her cloak, and followed the sweaty masked man through the semi-naked crowd.

"Woah, look at that one!" one of the men exclaimed as his eyes got glued to Beatrice's underboob.

"By the Gods! Who is that sexy bimbo!?" another man went googly-eyed.

"She's got to be from the S.E.C.R.E.T. Guild! B-rank, at least!"

"Don't tell me she's also participating!?"

"Hey, sweetie! Don't go there! Stay with us! We'll treat you well!"

"You wish! As if a high-class babe like that would care for your puny cock!"

Beatrice heard similar drivel coming from all directions. However, as none of the men or women dared to touch her or get in her or the masked man's way, Beatrice paid little mind to their comments while she and the masked man approached one of the narrow paths that descended to a large, circular platform that stood upon a massive pillar, where several dozen men and women already gathered.

"But that outfit... I've seen it somewhere..."

"Isn't it what those spoiled brats in that magic academy used to wear?"

"I never heard anything about no masks."

"Obviously, she doesn't want to reveal her identity to a degenerate like you!"

"Whatever happened to that place?"

"I heard they were the first to be destroyed."

"That's what they want you to think! They just shut their gates and turned their backs on the rest of us!"

"You think she could be one of the students from that place?"

"No way!"

"Who cares!? Better tell me what do I have to do to fuck this 'student'!"

"Try your luck and join the action!"

"E-eh... I would, but I sprained my ankle!"

"Bwahaha! Yeah, right! Was that before or after got banned from entering the S.E.C.R.E.T. District for masturbating while peeping through the windows?"

"Nah, it was when me and my buddies ran a train on your momma!"

"My mother's dead, asshole!"

"I know!"

"... Not funny man. Not funny!"

Beatrice rolled her eyes and was happy to get out of range of that particular crowd as she followed the masked man across the first bridge down the path that led to the center area with the other participants of the Games.

_

The rock platform that Beatrice and the shirtless masked man approached was approximately three hundred feet in diameter. Many smokeless flames, big and small, shot up one after another around the platform, creating a spectacular and at the same time terrifying, blazing hot light show.

The platform was leveled, but the surface was uneven. Of course, not a single safety measure was set up along the edges that overlooked the dark abyss. Six narrow bridges connected the platform to various other paths and platforms that spread out around it like a circular maze. The whole scene gave off an aura of a hellish gladiatorial arena with various spectator stands set up at different levels around it.

The masked man took only a couple of steps onto the arena before stepping aside to let Beatrice pass. As soon as Beatrice stepped off the narrow bridge, the masked man said to her, "Stay with the others and await instructions."

Without another word, the man walked back the same way that he came, leaving Beatrice with the other participants that were spread out on the arena.

Now that Beatrice was closer, she counted no less than fifty other participants. It really looked like anyone was welcome. Men and women, young and old. A few men looked barely any better than the old doorman back on the surface--shriveled husks that looked barely alive compared to some other participants whose builds resembled walking double refrigerators.

One teenage girl caught Beatrice's attention by virtue of not looking like she belonged amongst the pathetic, desperate, or stupid. With dark shoulder-length hair, crimson eyes, pale skin, slender figure, and a fancy dark blue outfit that showed off her long legs, the girl looked like one of those fantasy vampires or some dark magician that should have been mingling with the elite, not slumming it in illegal underground fights.

Beatrice blinked twice and rubbed her eyes when she thought she saw the pale girl pop a bubblegum bubble, but she did not see another bubble emerge from her colorless lips, nor did the girl seem to be chewing anything.

Beatrice also saw that very few people had visible weapons in their possession. A few daggers, a couple of clubs, one long steel spear. While Beatrice could not discount the possibility that the others might have simply concealed their weapons, it looked like many came here weaponless, like Beatrice. Yet, if the weapons were not permitted, nobody seemed to have bothered to confiscate those weapons that were brought.

Beatrice had a feeling that fair fights were not something that she should expect nor what all the people had gathered here for. The succubus was mentally prepared for some arbitrary rules that would leave some participants fighting barehanded against fully armed goliaths. Still, Beatrice wondered how many of those gathered here had some form of magic abilities like she had.

Beatrice saw no reason to engage in conversation with any of the other participants since most of them would probably be dead before the night was over. And it seemed that Beatrice's train of thought was followed by most of the participants, as very few of them casually chatted with one another. Most of the participants even avoided eye contact.

What Beatrice did not expect, was to see a familiar figure amidst the participants, sitting on a rock, hugging one knee. Beatrice did not recognize the girl at first, as she considerably increased the amount of skin her outfit showed off by reducing her outfit to the bare, modest minimum. However, her bleached hairstyle was unmistakable.

"Olivia?" Beatrice quietly called out to the girl as she approached her from the side.

"Huh? Who are you?" Olivia asked.

"What do you--oh, right!" Beatrice remembered her own item's description. It's that effective? Beatrice was amazed. The succubus looked around to make sure nobody was too close to hear, leaned forward, and whispered to Olivia, "It's me--Beatrice!"

Olivia's eyes went wide in surprise as if a veil had been lifted. She let go of her leg while her gaze involuntarily fell to Beatrice's giant bosom that was right in her face and she stuttered, "I-it is! How... How did I not realize it?"

"A little trick, but that doesn't matter right now," Beatrice said, deciding not to reveal the secret of her mask for now.

"After all your big talk, I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up!" Olivia said.

"As if! But what are you doing here?" Beatrice asked.

"Same thing as you, I guess," Olivia shrugged. She then looked away and quietly added, "I need to prove something."

"To who?"

"To myself."

"Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen!" a loud, high-pitched female voice echoed through the mines.

Beatrice would not have had any idea where to even look for the source of the voice, however, she saw several participants, as well as most of the spectators all, look up at one particular spot. And--looking in the same direction as the others--Beatrice spotted another familiar face. Or rather, Beatrice saw a familiar, five-foot-tall white hairball approach the railings of the highest located platform, high above the arena.

The hairball moved aside her absurdly long and fluffy hair that reached all the way to her feet, revealing that her face was also covered by a black mask. However, this mask had a blue flame painted across it instead of the red one that Beatrice's guide had.

"My name is Thelicia Fundershnauf!" the pint-sized girl announced as she spread her skinny arms to the side while her disproportionally large fluffy ears twitched with excitement. "It is with the greatest pleasure that I welcome you all to the Forge of Champions!"

_

Thelicia? Beatrice grimaced when she heard the beastkin's overt attempt at hiding her identity. Beatrice recalled the eccentric girl parading her S.E.C.R.E.T. guild badge, announcing her full name and title in public. There was no possible way for anyone who met the hairball in person to not know that she was the same person as this masked announcer. Which left Beatrice wondering about just what game "Thelicia" was playing at.

"The Games will begin shortly," Thelicia continued, speaking in a loud, somehow augmented voice. At least, it had to be augmented, because it otherwise would make no sense how the little pipsqueak could manage to be heard, seemingly effortlessly overcoming the sound of a crowd of thousands of citizens of Klapsus.

"But before they begin, do not forget to place your bets on one of our lovely participants before the start of each new round. You will have many options for bets: Who will be eliminated first; who will survive the round; how many participants will die in the round...

"Most importantly, to enter the lottery for the grand prize, do not forget to bet on who you think will be the new champion before the Games begin! Will it be just one? Maybe two like that one time last year? You will not get another chance, so do not miss out!

"While you consider your choice by using any arbitrary metric you see fit, our staff will distribute numbers to the participants, to make it easier for everyone to follow the action."

As Thelicia said that, Beatrice saw eighteen masked men, shirtless and in kilt walk onto the arena. The masked men were split up into six groups of three. Each group used a different bridge to get to the arena, which resulted in them appearing from all sides at once. In each of the six groups, two men were muscular and carried a giant chest by the handles, while their scrawny leaders carried nothing and walked with an aura of self-importance and hands behind their backs.

The masked men put the large heavy chests down just by the bridges and opened them for their respective leaders. The scrawny, dirty leaders reach into the chests, pulled out a small woven bag, and proceeded to the participants. It quickly turned out that the masked men had pieces of weathered, black cloth in those bags. Each piece of the blood-stained cloths had a different red number on it. One by one, the masked men tied one of those cloth pieces around the right arm of every participant while Thelicia continued to address the crowd.

"While you ponder your choices, please remember to drink plenty of liquids!" Thelicia reminded the spectators. "Our lovely sponsors have once again provided plenty of barrels of your favorite beverages, so stay hydrated!"