Mansion of Madness! - Chapter 3

The light of Freiren’s little spell shone up and down the length of the corridor, and glinted off something shiny between the chest of drawers and a podium bearing a vase. Sizing it up, Erza tensed. A guard? …No, not a guard, just a suit of empty armor. Exhaling, she allowed herself to relax again.

As her heart slowed its beating, a thought occurred to her: even since she’d woken up, she’d been trying without success to use her magic, but no matter how many times she’d tried, the spell simply refused to cast–Freiren’s light seemed to be the most the Mansion would allow. 

But there was no reason she had to use her magic. After all, there was nothing stopping her putting on a suit of armor the traditional way–it would be useful, assuming she could fit into it. If nothing else, it would conceal more than the remains of her maid outfit…

Tugging at the scraps of her bodice to conceal her bra, she strode towards the armor. 

“H-hey!” cried Weiss, “wh-where are you going now?” 

“I’m just taking a closer look,” said Erza, without slowing her pace. 

“What is it with you and clothes?! Can’t we focus on getting out of here? You can always find a boutique afterward!” 

Ignoring her, Erza approached the suit of armor and paused, looking it up and down. Freiren and Samus hovered close behind her, the former helpfully raising her light, and the latter poised, tensed, ready to throw herself into melee if the armor happened to prove as troublesome as the bunnysuit. Not that Erza was unprepared for that either.

Leaning in as close as she dared, her entire body tensed in case she had to jump away, she studied it. Up close, it was clear the armor shared the same body motif as the rest of the mansion: the breastplate, the vambraces, the greaves… all had been styled to resemble a human body in a state of extreme contortion. A naked, female body, she noted with a blush. Even the helm had a woman’s face, her eyes rolling back and her mouth open in a squeal of extreme lust. The thought of wearing it made her want to–

<SKILL CHECK: ERZA - AGILITY …PASS!>

–leap back with a gasp of disgust as the armor vented steam and unfolded like origami, revealing the squirming morass of tentacles lining its inner surface. Lurching, it threw itself forward, clearly intending to wrap itself around her, but unfortunately for it, she’d already put herself out of range. Overextended, it toppled to the floor with a crash and a clatter and lay there unmoving, its energy clearly spent. With a sad moan, its little tentacles shriveled and went limp. 

“Perhaps it would be safer to go unarmored,” said Samus.

“Yes,” said Erza, kicking a sabaton. “That’s what I was thinking.” 

*

As Erza and Samus rejoined the main body of the group, Freiren remained by the collapsed suit of armor. Bending down, she left her werelight floating overhead and picked up the armor’s codpiece. Unlike the other pieces, it had only a single, much thicker tentacle, but in many ways that was worse. Discarding it with a scowl of disgust, she stood. She wondered if all the furnishings of the Mansion were so mimic-like in nature.

At once, her eyes turned to the chest of drawers standing next to the armor’s abandoned stand, and she bit her lip as a sudden thought occurred to her. This mansion was full of magic–that much was apparent already. This mysterious Mahou was clearly a strong spellcaster. And who was to say this wasn’t where she kept her grimoires? Why couldn’t they be in a chest of drawers like this? At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt to check, would it?  

Taking a step closer, she looked it over. With its curvaceous sides, plump legs, and breast-like knobs, it certainly didn’t look like any mimic she’d even seen, but then, neither had the painting or the armor. Clearly it was safer to pass, given the circumstances, but…

She raised her hand, sliding it slowly towards the knob, and–

<SKILL CHECK: FREIREN - PERSONALITY …PASS!>

–wrenched it back before she could go any farther. No, best to leave things alone for now. What were the chances of Mahou keeping her best spellbooks in a random corridor like this anyway? 

“Hey, are you done over there?” said Weiss.

Freiren sighed. “I’m finished,” she said, turning to go. 

The chest of drawers seemed to sag in defeat.

*

As the rest of the group explored the corridor, Gura kicked her feet and sighed and blew raspberries, not so patiently waiting for the others to decide what they were doing. Ugh, she was so anxious! Why couldn’t they just pick a course of action and do it?!

Beside her, Ilulu snickered. 

“What?” said Gura, throwing her a scowl. 

Instead of stopping, the dragon chuckled even harder, covering her mouth and refusing to meet Gura’s eyes.

Finally, Gura could take it no more. “What?!” she cried, all but throwing up her arms. “What’s so funny?!” 

Ilulu’s grin could have taken her head off. “I was just looking at the plant,” she said, all innocently. 

Gura eyed the ‘plant’ in question, which she probably wouldn’t have recognized as one if it weren’t sitting in a flowerpot. It had a bell-shaped head to start, one capped with a fat ring of flesh resembling lips–every few seconds they smacked, saliva (or something like it) sliding from between them to water the pair of giant sacks beneath. They looked like boobs, Gura noticed, blushing. Big boobs. 

Ilulu snickered again. 

“Whaaaat?!” cried Gura. “What’s so funny about it?” 

“I’m just thinking…” said Ilulu. “Even the plants are bigger than you.” 

Gura went red. “Sh-shut up,” she said. “Those aren’t even boobs anyway! They’re just, uh…” What parts did plants have anyway? “Eggsacs, or something.” This only made Ilulu laugh even harder. “Shut up!” 

“I bet you won’t touch them,” said Ilulu, between giggles.

“Eh?” 

“Go on,” said Ilulu, leaning in even closer now. “See what they feel like.” 

“What?! No way! I’m not gonna touch some gross, evil witch plant, just because you dared me to!” 

“What if I double dare you?”

Gura tore off her uniform’s ribbon and tossed it at the ground. “You’re on!”

Stamping over to the plant pot, she snatched it off its pedestal and raised it to her face, squinting suspiciously. The plant suckered and sucked, thick globs of what really looked like saliva drooling from its lips, but otherwise it appeared harmless. Placing it back on the stand, Gura flicked a glance over her shoulder at Ilulu, who was still grinning smugly. 

“Go on…” said the dragon.

Sighing, Gura raised a finger and aimed it at one of the plant’s swollen boobs. An inch from the nipple, it occurred to her that this was a really bad idea, but she was committed, so what the hell? Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and jabbed it.

It felt squishy, like poking a big pudding. Otherwise, however, nothing happened. 

Opening her eyes, Gura snatched her finger away with a grin. “There!” she said, looking back at Ilulu. “I did it! I did it! I– What?” Ilulu’s face had gone pale. “What…?” 

Looking down, she found the plant’s head latched to her chest. And sucking. Hard. 

Squealing, she grabbed the plant’s neck and struggled to tear it off, but no matter how hard she tugged, it refused to release her. “H-help! Get it off me!” Worse than the fact it was latched was the feeling of it: the harder the stupid thing sucked on her nipple, the more sensitive it seemed to become. Even through the bodice of her uniform–even through her bra! It felt as if someone were teasing her–

Sucksucksuck! “Nnn~!” 

<SKILL CHECK: GURA - TOUGHNESS …FAIL!>

With a wild moan, Gura stumbled back, dragging the plant off its pedestal in the process. The pot flew free, along with half of the soil, and still the thing stayed latched to her chest, sucking and sucking and refusing to let go. 

“H-h-hey,” said Ilulu, dancing out of her path. “Hey, watch where you’re–!” Gura crashed into her, and a second later both were on the floor. 

“H-help!” cried Gura, fighting even to speak through the pleasure now. It felt as if her chest were on fire. Her chest and, um, at least one other part of her. “H-help!” 

By now, the others had heard and rushed to her aid. In the end, it was Samus who saved her–grabbing the plant by the stem, she ripped it off her in a single sharp motion and tossed it aside, head and boobs and all. Striking the wall, it fell sadly to the floor, still sucking…

…a noticeable portion of Gura’s bodice stuck in its mouth. 

Red-faced and panting, Gura struggled to recover her strength and stand, especially as Ilulu fought increasingly hard to get out from underneath her. 

“What were you thinking?!” cried Weiss, standing over her with her arms crossed. “Why would you touch it on purpose?!” 

Gura’s nipple ached. Closing her eyes, she mumbled something wordless.

*

“At least we’re all okay,” said Erza, once Gura had recovered. Blushing, the sharkgirl stood with her arms folded to cover the tear in her uniform. 

“Yes, for now,” said Weiss, crossing her own arms, albeit for an entirely different reason. “Now, perhaps if we could all start taking this seriously and get moving?” 

Baka, who’d been about to pick up the plant herself, froze a centimeter away from it.

“But which way should we go?” said Emilia. They had two options: left from the maids’ bedroom. Or right. Neither seemed any more appealing than the other. 

Without a word, Samus hurried to the left end of the corridor and poked her head around the corner. A moment later, she rushed past them to the other end and stuck her head around that corner too. Finally, she returned. “They both seem clear,” she said. “Though we won’t know for certain without sending the light down them.” 

“Let’s just pick one at random then,” said Ilulu, with a shrug. “Left.” 

“Right,” said Nicole, at any exactly the same instant. The two glared at each other. 

A quick game of rock-paper-scissors later, and Ilulu was left staring glumly at her fist as, like a major democracy in times of economic stagnancy, they marched to the right. Turning the corner, the nine of them stood and watched as Freiren sent her little light floating ahead, illuminating a large pair of wooden doors, each carved to resemble a terrifying face. 

“Now what…?” asked Gura, when no one else spoke. 

“Someone will need to open them,” said Freiren. 

As one, all their eyes turned to Baka. 

“N-nya…?” 

Fortunately, it didn’t take much cajoling to get Baka to go ahead. Swallowing, she planted her hand on the door handle and stood there for a moment, frozen in mortal terror. “Nyou… nyou’re sure it will be safe?” 

“Of course we are,” said Weiss, from around the corner. “Go on, you can do it! We all believe in you!” She shielded her face. 

Swallowing, Baka took a deep breath, tightened her grip, and yanked the doors open. Mercifully, there was no crack of lightning this time. Only a gasp from the catgirl as she saw what was inside. “Oh my Mom!” 

“What?” said Erza, poking her own head out. “What is it?” 

“It’s a kitchen!” cried Baka, voice high with delight. It was easy to see why she was excited: the Mansion’s kitchen was as large and impressive as the rest of the building, with a gigantic oven squatting in the corner like an iron bulldog; an enormous fridge towering over them all like the column of a temple; and, on the titanic central table: a massive sausage-grinder, just waiting for someone to grab the handle and turn it.

Baka’s stomach rumbled loudly. “I’m gonna make myself the biggest sandwich ever, nya!” Giggling, she rushed inside–

–straight into the trap on the other side of the door. Zzzap! 

As Baka finished bubbling, the rest of them crept around her smoking form, taking care to look for any other traps that might be waiting for them as they did. Who knew what the kitchen had in store for them? It could be their salvation or their demise…

“Go on…” said a voice in the back of their minds, barely audible over the clack of their feet against the tiles. “Eat up~, my little morsels. Make nyourselves nyice and plump for me…” 

Vote to decide who should act and what they should do! Depending on the combination, this might go really well for them! …Or it might not. More than one option may be enacted. 

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