Random Encounters: Abyssal

"Are you coming on to me?" she asked, blushing and resting a hand on her cleavage.

"What?"

She laughed. "You're too serious. Look, I understand you have your suspicions, but I doubt this town is any, for lack of a better word, hornier than any other. I'm defending Madam Catherine because I would do that for anyone here. You don't become a healer without a healthy sense of empathy, you know? And no, I don't have trysts with just anyone that walks into my shop, just the cute sweet ones."

"Yes, the viscount seems very sweet. Now listen," he said, moving close to her, "I have a reputation to uphold. If I say there's an abyssal here, then there's an abyssal here. You don't understand the danger a succubus possesses. You think you're chasing romantic love, but it's lust. It's a powerful desire that dresses in love's garb and leads to ruin if left unchecked."

Akrasia looked at him with pity. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Clearly, your travels and your profession have left you bitter and jaded. Again, I won't brew these potions for you, but I'll do whatever I can to help clear Madam Catherine's name."

Pycha snatched his scrolls from her. "Useless."

She gave him a wry smile. "Maybe a trip to the brothel is just what you need."

He scowled at her as he rolled his formulas back up and put them in a pack under his cloak.

She tapped on her lips. "I still want to help you, especially if it means saving someone else from your attitude. I won't make anything that will cause harm, but," she paused and checked that no one was approaching the door, "what about something like a potion of truthfulness."

Pycha stopped. "Highly illegal. I doubt you even have the reagents needed to-"

"You worry too much. I think it's fair to say I have some pull with the nobility here," she said with a playful smile.

"Not interested. I do this my way. I don't need some illicit decoction to get the truth out of an abyssal."

Akrasia sighed. "Not everyone here will find your sour attitude as amusing as me, so try not to get yourself in too much trouble. I'm closing soon, but if you change your mind about my help, knock on the door five times." She smiled, "Regardless, I'd like to see more of you."

"You're very clearly lovesick. You know that, right?"

"I was like this long before I got here. Good luck sir serious abyssal hunter."

He turned away from her, ensuring his cloak gave a dramatic billow as he left the shop. He strode out of the shop and into the streets, taking a moment to mentally collect himself. He drew a deep breath of fresh air and looked around, trying to figure out which way led to the brothel.

"Many hells, is that Pycha!?" came a voice from down the street.

"Fuck," grumbled Pycha realizing he'd forgotten to pull up the hood on his cloak.

"It is him! The abyssal hunter is in our town!" came another voice.

Several groups of people began converging on him. Before he could pull his hood up, someone grabbed his arm. A dozen or so people surrounded him like a swarm. They all spoke over one another, asking questions about his exploits. This kind of thing wasn't unusual for him, though he preferred to avoid it. What was unusual, however, was that several of the people were subconsciously grinding on him. He deeply looked into the eyes of one of the more enthusiastic women. They were glassy and seemed somehow empty.

"A little space, if you please, my good folk," he said while forcing an awkward smile. "I'm just passing through and I've had a long journey." The cheeriness with which he spoke felt like sour whiskey in his mouth. "Perhaps I could share a tale or two over drinks once I've had some rest."

The small crowd was thrilled at the idea. While free drinks were a big perk of being a renowned abyssal hunter, he had no intention of visiting the bar. He knew that if Madam Catherine wasn't the succubus, then whoever it was would know he was here. The element of surprise was quickly vanishing, and the next time glassy-eyed thralls swarmed him it may not be out of adoration. He dashed out of the crowd and between several houses, ensuring that his admirers wouldn't be able to keep pace.

He didn't need to walk far to find the brothel. It was one of the tallest buildings in the town and by far the best constructed. The outside was beautifully decorated with potted plants and vine designs carved into the exterior molding. Upon closer inspection, the vines were performing lewd acts on tangled up humanoid forms.

He made his way through the entrance and into a dimly lit lobby. It was lavishly decorated with a red and gold motif, though most of the 'gold' was dyed wood. There were several cushioned benches around stained oak tables with a few patrons eating some kind of snack. In front of a set of stairs, at the center of the room, was a reception desk staffed by a scantily clad canidian female.

Her floppy ears perked up upon seeing Pycha enter the room. "Hello, handsome stranger! Welcome to the Gilded Alraune. Come come!" Her tail could be heard hitting the chair she was sitting on as Pycha approached. "Have a think about what you'd like, and I'll get you started with some tiramisu."

"Where's Madam Catherine?"

"Uh, is she expecting you?"

"No, but it's important. I'm a good friend of Viscount Baois."

"Oh, well, I'll take you to her office, but I can't promise anything."

"Where is it?"

"Second floor, first door on the left, but-"

"Thanks, got it."

"But-"

Pycha made haste up the stairs before the receptionist could protest any further. He came to the second-floor hallway and pressed his ear against the hard first wooden door on the left. It was quiet save for the sound of a quill scratching at parchment. He pushed open the door and flung it shut as he entered.

The office was decorated in finery and trinkets. Madam Catherine sat at a large oak writing desk; stacks of papers and ledgers surrounded her on both sides. She didn't look up from the parchment she was writing on. She had long flowing blond hair that stood in stark contrast with her shoulderless black dress and purple shawl. Her face was slender, youthful, and notably more pointed around the nose, chin, and ears.

"A half-elf, not what I was expecting. A rare sight, especially this far west."

"Unfortunately," she said, still focused on her parchment, "rudeness is universal." She finished the line she was writing and gave Pycha her full attention. Her face had an otherworldly beauty to it, though that was common for those of elven blood. Unlike her elven half, she'd inherited full lips and a bust so large as to look awkward on her slender frame. She raised an eyebrow as she looked Pycha up and down. "Hmm, you're not what I expected either. We don't have many of the tall, dark, and brooding types in this town. What can I do for you?"

"You're going to answer some questions for me, Madam Catherine."

"Oh, is that all? A rather mundane request from someone so mysterious."

Pycha pulled his hand crossbow from under his cloak and loaded a bolt.

Madam Catherine giggled. "So serious. I used to love men like you." She folded her hands together and leaned forward, pushing up her ample cleavage in the process.

"That so? Not working the beds anymore?"

"I leave that to the younger ones. I do a lot more good behind a desk now, though," she paused, looking at Pycha's mid-region and biting her lip, "Though I'm sure I could be persuaded out of retirement" She moved to her feet.

Pycha raised his crossbow and motioned her to sit back down.

She obliged, her smile never faltering. "You're a mean tease," she said mockingly.

"Is this a joke to you?"

"No, I'm taking this very seriously. I told you, I love men like you. Especially when you are so woefully in over your head, as your kind so often are."

Pycha shook off his confused expression and firmed up his grip on the crossbow. "I suspect you're not who you say you are. And-"

"I'm Madam Catherine. I'm 243 years old. I run a brothel and have gained the respect of the townsfolk in the short time I've been here."

"Respect? You run a brothel."

"Yes, and guess what establishment raised funds for the new school being constructed? Or the public garden near the viscount's estate?" She tapped her quill on the parchment she was writing on, "or the road restorations for the town."

"You expect me to believe-"

"Yes, people are quite fond of my establishment. And of those who work within it. Could you imagine the wrath one would incur if they were to damage such a positive force in the community?"

A drop of sweat ran down Pycha's forehead. He steadied his hand.

Madam Catherine stood again, ignoring the crossbow trained on her as she moved around the desk. She sat on the desk and crossed her legs before leaning back, putting her full curvaceous body on display. Pycha kept the crossbow aimed steady, no more than a couple feet between them.

"Now," she began, "here's what I make of this situation. You're grizzled, which I love by the by, and you're well fitted. Which means you've been doing this for quite some time, and you're at least decent enough at it to afford such nice custom-tailored gear." She put a finger on the top of the crossbow and pushed it down. "A decent assassin or bounty hunter would have laid in wait to strike, or come in through a window, not barged through the front entrance where several people could identify them."

Pycha's eyes narrowed on her.

"And you're not stupid. I'm guessing you're rushed and desperate. You wouldn't put yourself in this situation if you had any kind of leverage." She giggled, "Your types are so cute when you're flustered."

"You think you've got this all figured out, do you?"

"I've been doing this longer than you, handsome. But maybe we can help one another." She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. She smelled of vanilla and cherries. "You do have one thing I want."

Pycha stumbled back and raised his crossbow at her again.

She smirked at him. "You won't do it. If you were sure you would have by now, and you know the price is too high if you're wrong."

"Fuck."

"We can, for starters."

"Stay back!"

She sat back down on her desk, a taunting smile on her lips. Pycha reached behind him and felt around until he found the door handle, never taking his eyes or aim off of her.

"Go if you must," she said wistfully, "but you may not get this opportunity again."

Pycha slipped out the door and rushed down the hallway. He swore with every step down the staircase and exited the brothel.

He pulled his hood tight and mumbled to himself, "Even if it's her, she's got most of the town charmed at this point." He slipped through the alleyways and made his way to the front gates without being noticed by anyone.

"This town is lost," he grumbled, "I'll need support from Bodcathitch to launch a full inquisition. Might be too late by then."

"PYCHA!"

The two gate guards abandoned their post and ran towards him.

"You got the abyssal already?! I told you those ballads about him were spot on!" said Righty, shaking his friend.

"Tell us! Tell us! Who what happened?"

"I-" Pycha couldn't finish his sentence. The two guards looked at one another, concerned. He felt a rage boiling inside him.

"You- you got 'em, right?"

"Yeah, you always catch your prey... right?"

"Oh gods, he can't find it. We're gonna die."

"What? We thought you were the best!"

"How could you let one of those things outsmart you?!"

"You running away? You fucking coward! I knew those ballads were all lies!"

"Yeah! Until that abyssal rip us to shreds, we're gonna make sure everyone knows the truth about you!"

Pycha gritted his teeth. He clenched his fist and looked back at the town. "Just retracing my steps." The two guards exchanged open mouth expressions of excitement as Pycha turned on his heel and headed back down the street. "It won't elude me."

"See! I told you he's the best!"

The streets were dark when he knocked five times on the rickety wooden door of Akrasia's apothecary. He heard the sound of feet rushing down stairs, followed by the click of the door's lock. Akrasia flung open the door and beckoned him inside.

"A gentleman entering my abode at such a late hour. The gossip that will follow."

Pycha took off his cloak and unburdened most of his equipment. "Considering you and half this town is infected with lovesickness, I doubt they'll notice. I passed two different couples fucking in the streets on the way here. Brew the truth potion."

"Are you sure?"

He handed over a pouch of gold to Akrasia. "I'll have one chance to make the succubus confess. Since you have an in with the viscount we can have him witness the confession. I'm sure he'll bend on the legality of truth potions once he knows that he allowed an abyssal to flourish under his nose."

"Oh my," said Akrasia looking at the large sum of money. "Alright, I'll put on some tea. We're in for a long night."

"No, thank you," said Pycha as he checked the shutters on all the store's windows.

"So you do have manners," jested Akrasia, "Have you ever had tea brewed by an alchemist? You're missing out."

"Fine, fine. Just hurry up with that truth potion. No milk or sugar."

She left for the back room and the clink of tubes and beakers soon followed. Pycha peered out the window, observing the people in the streets. As he watched another tryst unfold in an alley across the street he could hear Akrasia laboring away in her back laboratory. The lover's poorly hidden display only lasted a few minutes before they finished and left in the direction of the brothel.

A sweet smell temporarily overpowered the mix of other reagents as Akrasia emerged from the backroom with a tea tray. Humming, she placed the tray on the counter. She grabbed the cup in front of her and inhaled its scent.

"Wait," said Pycha. He walked over and snatched the cup from her hands. "You can have mine." Seeing her offended look, he continued, "Just because you're helping me doesn't mean you aren't enthralled. You drink first."

She scoffed and picked up the dark black tea, "I detest plain tea." She took a few sips and gave him a sardonic glare. "Satisfied?"

Pycha took a few sips of his tea and grimaced at it, "This is disgustingly sweet."

"And whose fault is that?"

"It's a precaution."

An awkward pause hung in the air.

"So, Pycha, have you ever been in love?"

Pycha grumbled and took another sip of saccharine tea. "You should try to fight your lovesickness, not indulge it."

"That's a shame. I've never found anyone either," she bemoaned as she sipped the tea she hated. "Still, I'm hopeful. I've met someone recently."

Pycha took another sip. "Hopefully, they're better than a married noble. That gate guard would be a better match."

She laughed, "He's a sweet one. Always faking illness to see me. But no, he's a little too simple for me, bless him. Besides," she took another sip, "I don't think he'd like me for me. Being lusted after is nice, very nice sometimes, but I want someone who likes the real me."

"Hard to tell what's what when the entire town is lovesick. A succubus' lovesickness is like a mosquito bite; scratching it just makes it worse. Your one true love is probably at the brothel scratching an itch that won't go away."

"No, he doesn't like brothels." She smiled at him as she took another sip.

"Wait, what did you just say? My head is swimming."

"It's probably the chemicals in the back. You get used to it."

"R-right. Probably." Pycha fanned himself as sweat started to drip from his brow. "It's warm in here."

"Well, there are fires in the back and you're wearing leather armor. Why don't you shed a layer? We're not going anywhere."

"N-no, I shouldn't." He took another sip of his tea. "The abyssals minions might find me."

"What if she didn't have minions? What if she was actually just helpful and likes the town. What if they're not hurting anyone?"

Pycha pulled at the neckline of his armor. "It's in their nature. They can't help themselves. I know this doesn't seem bad right now, but nothing good can come of this."

She scowled at him. "You don't know that."

"They're all the same. Creatures of base desire. Many hells it's sweltering in here." He unclasped some of the buckles of his armor and shifted in discomfort.

Akrasia crossed her arms over her chest. "How do you deal with your attraction to them?"

"They can sense a person's darkest carnal wishes always assume the form of whatever people around them most desire. A half-elf makes a lot of sense. Rare, exotic, small frame, large chest-" Pycha stopped talking as he felt a tightness in his pants.

"But you've always been attracted to their true form. You feel a lot of shame for your forbidden desire."

Pycha was no longer listening and was entirely focused on removing his armor. A strange throbbing built in his cock. He stifled a moan.

"Aw, what's the matter," she said, reaching over the counter and caressing his cheek. Her touch sent a shiver down his spine.

He crossed his legs and pulled at his pants. "You... you..."

"I," she said, placing a hand on her chest, "want to help people and make them feel good."

"You're no alchemist."

"No. Succubus magic may not be that strong, but it does have minor healing properties. What fun is a partner that collapses from exhaustion, after all? So, with a little cum and blood magic, it turns out I can cure almost any human malady. Sure, there are some side effects, but people seem happy and are a lot more willing to give me reagents."

He reached for his dagger, but Akrasia gently stroked along the ridge of his ear. A groan of pleasure escaped his mouth as his knees went weak and his weapon fell to the floor with a dull clang.

"Just charm me and be done with it!"

"No, I want us to begin our relationship with honesty."

"What are you-"

"I told you I want love like in the stories. But it's hard when one of us isn't being honest." She leaned over the counter and kissed him.

A rush of pleasure shot through his body. He couldn't hold back. A warm pulsing sensation filled his pants as his legs gave out. He fell onto his back and struggled until he finally managed to get his pants off. His seed covered cock was still stiff, so much so that it hurt. He wanted so badly to grab it and cum again.

He shook his head in disbelief and shame and spoke to Akrasia as she rounded the counter, "What have you done to me?!"

Akrasia stared triumphantly at his thick pulsating cock. "Well, I put alraune nectar in both our teacups. I'm not much of an alchemist, but I know what that stuff does to your kind. To me, it just has a nice flowery sweetness, so I usually put a lot in my tea. Your cup only had a little. Think of it as a kind of truth potion."

Pycha barely heard her. He wanted to run, but his body was shouting at him for release.

"Maybe this will help you along," she said in a teasing tone. She pulled at the shoulders of her dress and undid the lace that clung so tightly to her cleavage. The blue and white dress fell to the floor with unnatural ease. She ran her fingers through her chestnut blond hair causing it to lengthen and darken all at once until it was jet black and reached down to her bouncy, supple ass. Her skin reddened in hue, and two horns sprouted above her brow and spiraled to the back of her neck. Her legs lengthened and grew soft fur from the hip down, leading to her hooved feet. Behind her, a long red tail ending in a fleshy spade swept across the floor.

Her luscious red breasts expanded slightly as she let out a coo of relief, no longer needing to restrain them. She placed a hand on her hip and ran it down her thick and powerful thighs. A satisfied smile crept across her beautiful face, her already attractive features more slightly pronounced. Her emerald green eyes now betrayed a greedy hunger as she looked over the fallen Pycha.