Chapter 13: 1.13

After Zoey’s third orgasm, and Mel’s eighth, she was starting to lose hope.

Zoey had expected the slime-girl would be long-lasting, on account of her being a magical dungeon’s final boss, and by matter of her wanting to fight through the proxy of fucking. But eight times? And they hadn’t been gentle climaxes. Her whole body had been a shaking, twitching mess each time, turning the slime-girl’s brain to mush as she whined and spat obscenities and lewd nonsense, but still, she kept going—kept wanting more.

The good news was that Zoey’s efforts were having an effect. The dark-green orb inside Mel’s chest had started to affect an orange tint, approaching red. Zoey used her not-very-comprehensive understanding of video games to guess the orb somehow related to her status, or her ‘healthiness’, for a perversion of the word. She was being worn out. And that could be seen physically, too, by the way Mel’s control of her body had lost some of its finesse. Every slapping thrust of Zoey’s cock into her insides left sticky green residue, now, no longer just clinging, but actually separating from her body. She was melting from pleasure—literally. 

Which had meant things had gotten quite messy in the past twenty minutes. Zoey was covered in green slime—Mel’s green slime—though her body hadn’t actually changed much; it was the same gorgeous collection of curves, and provided the same tight interior coaxing for Zoey’s girlcock. She had, however, grown the tiniest bit smaller—her misplacing of her goo shrinking her height by maybe an inch.

There was another piece of good news, despite Zoey’s fatigue, and the way her stamina flagged. Zoey had a plan. She’d formed it while curling out Mel’s eighth orgasm with her fingers and tongue. The orb, deep inside Mel’s body: Zoey thought she could reach it, now that Mel’s body had more give—and by the fact it seemed to have shrunken the smallest amount. 

Zoey finished riding Mel down, then rolled her over onto her back. She shuffled between her legs, gripping her cock and lining it up to her entrance. 

“R-Really ought to pace yourself,” Mel teased. “Going inside again? Already? I know you like my insides, but you’re going to lose.”

Zoey was already close to losing, so she needed to go for a hail-mary. She grunted instead of responding, not having the energy to respond to Mel’s playful teasing anymore. She pouted at that, but gasped when Zoey’s cock split her lower lips open, and she pressed in.

Just because she and Mel had been going at it for a while didn’t mean she’d grown immune to the slime-girl’s tight walls, but Zoey reined her reactions in and forced herself to focus. She paid attention to how deep her cock reached—Zoey’s generous loads of girlcum from her previous orgasms had slowly absorbed into Mel’s slime, then disappeared—when she was buried all the way in. Where there’d been two inches or so until the orb, now there was only one. If Zoey slammed hard enough, it should bump. 

And who knew if that would do anything, but it was her best shot.

“Help me,” Zoey said gruffly. “Push hard.”

Mel laughed delightedly. “Yes ma’am.” She dug her hands into the soft earth to either side of her, getting a grip for helping push against Zoey. She hadn’t an idea what Zoey was going for, Zoey assumed.

Zoey pulled back, savoring the hot, sticky slide of the slime-girl’s pussy despite the importance of her goal, then, mustering all her strength, slammed in as hard as she could. Mel, ever the accommodator, did as Zoey asked—she pushed as hard as she could, too, jerking her lower body into Zoey.

Zoey’s cock slid through Mel’s body, and with the force of her impact, her lower half slapped into Mel’s and managed to embed half an inch into her gooey substance. Zoey craned her hips forward, too, really getting as far as she could.

The tip of her cock bumped a hard object.

The reaction was almost shocking. Mel cried out, her pussy clamping down like a vice, and her entire body spasming. For almost ten second she shook, writhing around on the ground, before finally releasing, and panting. Zoey couldn’t help but be concerned—it looked like it had been legitimately painful, which wasn’t her goal. Or, had it been?

“Oh my gods,” Mel panted out. “You h-hit my core. I can’t believe you can reach that far.” Something wild appeared in her eyes. “Do it again. It hurt so much.”

Huh.

So it had been painful, but Mel had liked it anyway.

Zoey pulled back, Mel braced against the dirt, and they worked together to slam Zoey’s cock back into her ‘core’, which, Zoey guessed, was what the orb of translucent glass was called.

Mel contracted and spasmed, her ninth orgasm ravaging her body, despite that they’d just started—that it had only taken two thrusts. Zoey almost sagged in relief, because it looked like she’d found the advantage she needed. The problem was, Mel’s seizure-like spasms were really doing something to milk Zoey’s cock, and while she hadn’t fallen apart in two thrusts like Mel, she was also closer to giving out than the slime-girl. She couldn’t afford to keep exhausting herself.

The ninth, tenth, and eleventh climaxes were easy enough to draw from Mel. On the twelfth, Zoey emptied herself into Mel’s cute insides, and collapsed forward, panting into the sticky girl’s shapely breasts. Still smelled sweet and citrusy. Wasn’t quite as comforting, anymore.

“Aw, c’mon,” Mel complained. “Just a few more. I think you’ll actually have me.”

She wasn’t lying; the core had dipped further into red, a similar neon to Mel’s green slime. Zoey clawed her way to a fourth wind, got back up, and continued pounding into slimy, clenching pussy.

Fourteen did the trick. 

Mel lay in a gooey puddle, her body barely able to keep formed. She murmured happy nonsense to herself, eyes closed, and the previous forest-green core in her lower-chest now a bright, neon red, with cracks running through it. 

Zoey wanted so desperately to fall back into the grass and pass out, but she had shit to do. She staggered to her feet, swaying and almost falling over.

“Sure you don’t want some more?” Mel babbled happily to her as she passed. “You can still use me. I just can’t move.”

No, thank you. The first half had been amazing, but the second half, not so much. Zoey enjoyed a good fucking, but that had been, uh, stressful. Usually her life—and her friend’s life—wasn’t on the line.

With Mel’s defeat, the pile of slime holding Rosalie in place had melted, leaving the blonde girl unconscious and collapsed-over. Her spear, the one she had taken from the armory, lay a half-dozen feet to her side. Zoey knelt down and rolled her onto her back. 

This was the first time she’d been able to see Rosalie up close. She wasn’t in great shape. Rosalie had chosen to face Mel in the more traditional arena of battle, and had taken damage appropriate to that. Since Zoey had had a delightful opportunity to explore Rosalie’s body, she could tell what cuts, bruises, and other injuries had been recent. The odd part was that most looked well into the process of healing. The cuts were scabbed over and already fading. Rosalie’s runes? A healing aspect of the slime? Something else? Either way, Rosalie was breathing, and while beaten-up, on her way to recovery.

Zoey’s anger spiked at the fact Mel had hurt Rosalie. Oddly, it reminded her of that first interaction with Ephy—when Zoey had been offered the class ‘Charmer’, which influenced the minds of people. Ephy had said, ‘don’t mistake me something for I’m not’. Zoey got the feeling that was what she had done with Mel. She was enthusiastic, playful, and great at making Zoey feel good, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been willing to fight—and hurt—Rosalie. To fight and hurt her, too.

Though was that perspective justified? Rosalie had been the one to come fight Mel, not the other way around. Could Mel have let them pass without a fight? Was it coded into her genetics to defend the shard’s exit? It might be a more complicated issue than first appraised, but Zoey didn’t want to think about that. All she saw was Rosalie, laying unconscious and still healing, and felt furious.

She shook Rosalie by the shoulders gently, trying to rouse her.

“Hey. Daylight’s burning. Up and at ‘em, princess.”

Rosalie stirred, and a few pats to the cheek had her blinking up at Zoey. A smile split Zoey’s face, mostly relief.

“Zoey?” Rosalie asked groggily. She leaned up, a hand going to her forehead as she groaned. “I feel awful. What …” she looked around, eyes landing on Mel. “... happened?”

“It’s taken care of, don’t worry,” Zoey said. “But we should get going. I don’t know if she’ll heal.”

“You … defeated her?” Rosalie sounded utterly baffled. Which, from her perspective, might be fair—she likely assumed Zoey had won in combat. “Why are you covered in so much slime?”

Because I just got done fucking a melting slime girl until my limbs were, ironically, jello.

“It’s a long story. Can you stand?”

“Of course I can stand.” Rosalie shakily got to her feet, then swayed—and would have fallen, if Zoey didn’t reach out and steady her. “Stop being ridiculous,” Rosalie protested, “I can stand without help.”

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Managing this girl’s pride was going to take effort in the coming weeks, Zoey could tell. Her best option was to ignore the protest and move to practical matters, to distract her from how she was helping. “How do we get out of here?”

Rosalie spared another glance at the collapsed slime girl, then said, “Probably through the clearing. But I want to go look at her.” She didn’t push Zoey away, and leaned against her for support.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” she said flatly. 

Zoey sighed and didn’t contradict her. She helped Rosalie over the first few steps, but soon enough, her arms were swatted away, and with more strength than before—she seemed to have regained her steadiness. So Zoey let go. Rosalie finished striding over to the slime girl by herself.

She looked down and studied her, and Zoey realized why this might have been a bad idea.

“What’s all the—?”

Rosalie paused.

“You did not,” Rosalie said.

Sticky white strands floated around in Mel’s lower body, not yet absorbed.

“She did,” Mel mumbled happily. “It was so amazing.”

Rosalie jumped. “She’s still alive!”

“I hardly killed her,” Zoey said, mildly affronted.

“Kinda wish you did,” Mel whined. “Dying feels so good.”

Zoey stared in disbelief at the slime-girl. Getting killed felt good? She guessed Mel respawned, and had experienced it before? But still … what the hell.

So weird.

Not that she was kink-shaming, she guessed? If a girl got off on dying, um, good for her??

“Why—Why—” Rosalie seemed to be confronting the fact Zoey had fucked Mel into submission, rather than fought her.

“Offered to you, too,” Mel mumbled. “But you wanted a boring fight.”

“Offered to me? No, you didn’t. What?”

Zoey paused. Knowing Rosalie, it was quite possible Mel’s offers of ‘fighting another way’ had gone completely over her head, and Mel had taken that for rejection. 

“Hey, Mel,” Zoey said. “How do we get out of here?”

“You know her name?”

“Out the opposite end of the clearing,” Mel mumbled. Her eyes were still closed. She was in seriously bad shape … however happy she seemed to be about affairs. “But there’s a secret loot room beneath the lake. Should raid it. As thanks for … the amazing time.”

“You are disgusting,” Rosalie said to Zoey. “You fucked the boss into submission?”

“Could’ve been you,” Mel said.

“Quiet, you—you perverted creature! As if I would—” she cut off, then spun to Zoey. Her cheeks were flushed. “Let’s keep it moving. The loot room. Do we swim down?”

“Make sure you hold your breath.”

Rosalie shot another glare at Mel.

“Thanks, Mel,” Zoey said. “You’ll be fine, right?”

“More’n fine …” she sighed contentedly.

Rosalie stalked away, toward the slime-lake.

Zoey jogged to catch up. “Hey. You’re not mad, are you?”

“Mad? Why in the world would I be mad?” The incredulity on Rosalie’s face seemed genuine. 

Zoey had misread the situation. “Never mind.”

“You think I’m upset you fucked another girl? Even if we were a thing, why would I be? And we're not, by the way."

She guessed Rosalie’s culture was a bit more open about multiple partners than hers. Polyamory hadn’t been especially popular back home, not that Zoey had ever had a problem with it. “Right. Again, my bad.”

Rosalie opened her mouth as if to say more—and by the look on her face, it wouldn’t have been nice—but then she huffed, and spun back forward. “We’re dawdling. Loot, then exiting the shard. I’m ready to be out of this disgusting place.”

 

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