Chapter 6: 1.06

Rosalie peered out into the hallway, then, after a few moment’s quiet analysis, stepped forward and waved for Zoey to follow. She did so. At a distance, as they had discussed.

They had dropped the impromptu banner-clothing. By high odds, they’d be getting in a few tussles in the upcoming adventure, and tripping over hastily tied, decaying cloth would be a pretty hilarious way to go, especially when both she and Rosalie had already milked out orgasms from each other; modesty really ought not to be a concern of theirs. Rosalie was embarrassed about sex and related fields, that much was obvious, but even she wasn’t that impractical. Her good-sense as a Wayfarer overruled her desire to cover her body up.

And so Zoey got a great view of her ass as she walked carefully down the hallway, inspecting for traps, or potential threats. If Zoey hadn’t just emptied herself, her cock probably would’ve risen up in its stiff, angry seal of approval. Because Christ, this girl had one of the best asses she’d ever seen. And Zoey had had the internet, back home, so that was really saying something.

Like the room prior, the hallway was nondescript besides the vines curling from between crumbling gaps in the wall. The presence of plant-life was much more pervasive. Zoey’s paranoia flickered again, but she forced it down. Rosalie was the expert here, and she’d thought nothing of the vines, even when Zoey had roundabout brought it up, asking whether they were dangerous. For that effort, she’d only received an odd look, and a snide comment about how using the slime to jerk herself off had been dangerous, because who knew if it was poisonous, but otherwise, no, they were just vines.

So. Clearly they meant nothing. Just a convenient (in regards to Zoey’s earlier plight) part of the scenery.

Zoey didn’t know what to expect from this adventure. Combat, certainly. Traps, a given. Loot—an interesting upcoming event. Rosalie had given her an overview of how the world worked, but every shard was different. Each came with their own form of monsters, and obstacles, to overcome. Like the coffin debacle, and that Rosalie’s weapons and armor had gone missing.

Hopefully forever. 

Not really, because she needed those, but damn, Zoey wasn’t going to be happy when she didn’t get to see that ass wiggling in front of her. She wanted so, so desperately to discover the sensation of burying herself into Rosalie, and feeling those soft cheeks pressing into her crotch, but while Zoey’s horniness levels had skyrocketed since her new addition between her legs, the urges were far from overwhelming, at least in a literal sense. She could control herself. She wasn’t some savage. She admired from afar.

But maybe someday …

A vine, thicker than the previous, drew Zoey’s attention as they slowly advanced down the hallway. It was laid out across the floor, from wall to wall, serving as a stumbling block. The strongest paranoia yet hit Zoey, the need to call out and warn Rosalie, who’d clearly seen it, but thought of it only as scenery, something to watch her footing for. Zoey bit her tongue.

Rosalie knew best. Right?

Rosalie stepped carefully across the thick protrusion, and Zoey felt silly, for a brief, ridiculous moment. She’d overreacted. Of course it was safe. What was it going to do, grab her and—

Then the vine shuddered, and Zoey barely made out what happened next. The vine came to life, snaking out and wrapping around Rosalie’s legs at thigh-level, securing her in thick, green loops, like an anaconda. Rosalie was swiped from her feet with barely time to squeak in surprise. She dangled from the ceiling, upside down, and in response, the mass of vines on the wall started to writhe and animate, heeding the incapacitation the larger, trap-vine on the floor had provided.

Oh, shit. Zoey hadn’t been paranoid; she’d been dead right.

Of course the dungeon they found themselves in wanted to molest them. It had crammed them in a coffin and forced Zoey to orgasm across Rosalie’s body as their very first obstacle, for god’s sake.

And while what was about to happen to Rosalie would be an amazing show, and something Zoey would have loved to see in an abstract sense, Zoey sure as hell wasn’t letting Rosalie just hang there and be groped by slimy vines. Not if she didn’t want it, at least. Which, knowing Rosalie, was definitely the case.

Not that she’d be getting out entirely unscathed. Zoey could only do so much, and the slimy green vines were on Rosalie in a blink. They wrapped around her torso, and her arms, further securing her in place, and the most enterprising of the bunch shoved itself into her mouth. 

At least her lower holes seemed to be spared, since the thick, securing vine had her thighs solidly shut.

Her tits and mouth, not so much. Rosalie thrashed about, trying to fight the vines off. Zoey finally startled into action; she was hardly some trained adventurer, and everything had happened in what felt like half a second.

Her arsenal of tools was small, but she could at least try.

An hour of practice was far from enough time to have become a proficient spellcaster, but she had at least some. She called forth that strange well of energy, then in some inexplicable way, activated her Rune of Arcana, calling forth a single circle: the fundamental unit of spellcasting.

Mentally drawing the swooping, interlocking diagram for a high-velocity ice spike in the way Rosalie had taught her, she flung out the first of her spells, aimed directly at the largest vine, the one that had Rosalie’s legs incapacitated.

It cut through green plant flesh with surprising efficacy. Two more spikes had the largest of the vines severed, and Rosalie thumping into the floor. The strength of the bindings at her legs now cut off, Rosalie’s thrashing gained purchase; the grip started to loosen at her thighs, and Zoey could hear the vines start to tear. Rosalie’s mouth was still occupied by a squirming occupant, and—Zoey paused in surprise. It was emptying some kind of fluid into her mouth. A translucent, pink material dribbled from her chin and out her nose. Based on the second, Zoey assumed the vine must be injecting its payload with no small amount of force.

Shit. That wasn’t something dangerous, right? Seeing how it was a trap, it couldn’t be pleasant. Zoey needed to get Rosalie out, like, now.

She almost slapped her forehead in realization, then genuinely despised herself for forgetting—again, she wasn’t some hardened veteran. She’d forgotten the other tool she had available.

Like she had once before in the coffin, Zoey pushed a surge of strength into Rosalie, utilizing their bond to Bolster her. 

Gaining newfound strength, Rosalie’s efforts finally yielded fruit; the vines at her thighs ripped, and her arms broke free from the smaller assaulters. She grabbed the vine squirming into her mouth and pulled it out, gasping air and hacking at the liquid in her throat and lungs, then crawled from her squiggling prison, Zoey assisting in dragging her to safety.

Rosalie collapsed back, and Zoey leaned over her, panicked and not sure what to do. Rosalie was hacking out whatever pink liquid her molesters had shoved down her throat.

“Are you good? Are you—shit, is that stuff dangerous? It’s not poison, right?” She felt incredibly useless, and fumed at herself for not doing more.

Ironically, or perhaps expectedly, Rosalie was calm despite the attack. She waved away Zoey’s concern, not able to talk as she gasped and coughed out liquid, but conveying with body-language that she was fine. It did a lot to assure her … but not entirely.

“It’s not poison,” Rosalie finally said when she could speak. She hacked between words. “This is only a first advancement shard. None of the traps are deadly.”

Zoey took the reassurance at face value, but she still had a bad feeling. “What’s it do, then?”

“Weakens me, at a guess. We’ll be finding out.” She cleared her throat for a tenth or eleventh time. Reluctantly, she said, “Thanks for the help.”

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“I should’ve used Bolster as soon as you were snagged. I’m so stupid.” Maybe she’d have been able to tear herself out before the vine had gotten into her mouth, but Zoey’d been an idiot and hadn’t reacted in time.

Rosalie didn’t contradict her, but she didn’t seem to blame Zoey, either. “You’re new to delving. Mastering your panic is one of the hardest steps.” Rosalie wiped her hands down her chest, and they came back covered in clear liquid. Strands bridged from her hands to her breasts. “Gods, I’m covered in this stuff. I feel like I’ve been dumped in a tub of sap.”

Zoey’s panic finally settled, and she took in the nude woman covered head-to-toe in gooey lubricant. In the glinting light of the wall torches, it served as oil, turning her body glossy and very much something Zoey’s cock appreciated.

Ah, shit. 

Well, this was going to be a hard erection to explain.

Rosalie gave it one look, then shook her head in disgust. “Pervert.”

“I’m glad you’re fine,” Zoey said.

Rosalie huffed and forced herself to her feet. “It caught me off guard. It won’t happen again.” Her pride was stung that she’d fallen for the trap.

“I knew something was weird about those vines.”

“I suppose you did,” Rosalie said sourly.

A short silence, and given the proof she’d needed, Zoey chose to broach a topic she felt needed to be, however strange it might sound.

“I think the dungeon wants to get in our pants.” The euphemism felt silly considering their nakedness, but it felt better than saying ‘molest’ … or an even harsher term.

“Dungeon?” 

“Shard,” she corrected. The world was game-like, but they had their own specific terms. Not a dungeon, but a shard.

Rosalie was quiet for a bit. “You might be right. I’ve never heard of such a thing … but.” She bit her lip. “It might have to do with you.”

“Me?”

“Shards conform to their opposition. Seeing how your runes encourage …” Rosalie didn’t finish the thought. “It makes sense the shard latched to that, and is a pervert, too, now. I just … didn’t want to consider the possibility.”

Pervert, too? She’d been throwing that word around a lot. Zoey had hardly asked for any of this, okay? And getting an erection at a naked, drop-dead gorgeous girl covered in oil was far from a ‘perverted’ reaction. But Zoey had learned to take her licks. Rosalie was pleasant otherwise.

“Regardless,” Rosalie said. “Let’s keep it moving forward.”

Rosalie—and Zoey—eyed the mass of vines on the wall as they passed, but as soon as Rosalie had freed herself, the plants had reverted to their inert nature. They didn’t so much as twitch as they creeped by. 

They advanced down the hallway, quickly putting distance between them and the coffin-room. 

It didn’t take long for action to find them.

She heard the skittering of the creature before she saw it. Rosalie, of course, did as well. Her foot skidded back and she dropped into some form of combat stance—or what seemed to be so, based on Zoey’s amateur appraisal.

A knee-high, black-furred thing appeared around the corner, and spared not a moment to launch itself at Rosalie. Zoey, like previously, reacted with a delay, shocked despite her mental preparation for a fight. Because what the hell was that thing? Not that she’d expected some, she didn’t know, coherent animal like a dog or a cougar, seeing how she was in an alien world, but seriously. The squeal, the blur of black fur, and the way it threw itself forward with reckless abandon, freaked her the fuck out, okay?

This time, at least, Zoey activated Bolster immediately, feeling her energy reserves dip. 

Rosalie made short work of it. Zoey would’ve helped, but with Rosalie wrapped in a violent, lightning-fast struggle of flesh and fur, Zoey didn’t remotely trust herself to launch an ice spike and not cause collateral damage.

Rosalie didn’t need the help, anyway.

It was a nauseatingly violent affair, Rosalie’s killing of the monster, but what had Zoey expected? 

“Well,” Rosalie said when things had concluded, as she stared down at the beast that had been beaten into submission. “The shard’s only goal isn’t getting in our pants. It’s normal to some degree.”

“What a relief,” Zoey said dryly.

She had liked the vines better.

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