Exhausted, filthy, and downright irritable, the Rangers marched forward once again. Combat was becoming a downright nuisance . . . especially since there weren’t any mortal stakes involved. Not really. Dane could see that realization slowly settling into the muscles and over their brows. They were getting bored. The ‘game’ was getting tedious.

So after another jaunt down another hellishly-hot corridor, it was with great relief that all of them set their eyes upon a room which contained no monsters. In fact, it seemed to be something lifted from the vaunted halls of a five star hotel. The red velvet cushioned door to the place sat ajar, open enough that they all could see the brilliant white silks that hung over the walls and corners. Within lay a plush purple carpet, a bit gaudy with its golden threads laced over it into the pattern of hearts and stars. And on top of it was a long dining table covered in empty dishes, circled by stout and comfy-looking straight-back chairs.

Perhaps the jewel of the room were the massive double mattress beds against the far wall. They practically oozed the smell of duck down.

Dane sighed. He could already see where this was all going.

“Nope,” he called out, running ahead to the door and latching it firmly shut. “Nope nope and nope. Not gonna happen.”

Haunted faces turned his way. All except Rivera, who always looked like he just wanted to eat some rocks. Or gems.

“Those beds,” Guzman spoke out to no one in particular, a longing look clinging to her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept in anything half as good as that.”

“Traaaaaaaap. Trap. This is a trap. A T-R-A-P trap. How can you not all see this?”

Neiderhauer turned a baleful glare towards Dane. “I’d hit you so hard right now if I didn’t know you were right.”

Dane shuffled his feet. “And that would hurt a lot. But if it also results in us not going in there and doing whatever happy demonic things the overseers of our dungeon have planned for us, I will gladly take a punch to the face. Full force.”

Their faces were priceless. A mix of longing with a side of wanting to murder Dane. He peered more closely and wondered if part of that telltale sparkle to their eyes was a Charm aura. One that he’d probably saved again. Well, and Rivera, since he was more likely to want to smash everything in that room than actually use it the way the trap-layers wanted them too.

“Aye, laddie, tis not a time to search for treasure? Might be a trap, maybe. But me dear mother might be my father too. Her beard is thick and I often don’t know which is which.”

Ah. This again. Dane wondered how long it would take before the LT was full-on dwarf. But, many had been inside the anomaly longer and they seemed to have control of themselves. He was missing some of the mechanics at play here. Important ones that he’d have to figure out at some point.

“Sir. If we enter this room I want everyone to promise me that it is just to search for treasure, then move to the next part of the dungeon. Because there is no way that this will end well for any of us if we linger in there and eat whatever magic food appears on those plates, and then Goldilocks through those beds against the wall.”

The dwarven LT cocked his head. “Aye, they be fair terms. But the Great Thane hisself won’t stop me if that table conjures up a fine mead or ale.”

Dane opened the door. They’d have to go through here anyways since this was where the passage had led them. But he wasn’t about to let down his own guard for a single minute. Especially since he was growing more and more certain that there was indeed a charm aura affecting the actions and thoughts of his comrades.

“It’ll likely be blood filled with writhing maggots all cloaked in the disguise of demonic illusion,” Dane warned, but his heart wasn’t in it. He opened the door and the rest of them filed in, marveling at the sights.

“Well that explains it,” came Pugh’s voice not long after. Dane headed in behind the rest, eager to see what in the literal hell he was on about. And a second later he had slapped his head hard, trying to understand the sheer audacity of the dungeon that contained them.

He was staring at a signpost that read, “Save point. Rest your head, ye weary adventurers.” There was no way these guys weren’t going to fall for all of it now.

“Just, please, don’t touch anything,” Dane sighed. Neiderhauer extended one taloned finger, poking the sign post while staring directly at him.

Dane looked around desperately. There had to be some sort of counter spell option around here. Something to turn all of this off and reveal it to be the nasty messy human bone hell furniture that it surely was.

“Does that include me?” asked a soft and sultry voice. She entered from another door, one that hadn’t been obvious before. A golden tan ran over her body like caramel on ice cream, her white dress just barely covered her past her nibbly bits. Dane felt the hairs on his body rise, and something more private rise as well. He cursed. This was getting messier by the minute.

“And now who the heck are you?” Dane asked. Even Rivera seemed to be staring now, his big dumb robot head pivoting to transfix her with his iron gaze.

“I’m Tracy,” she cooed.

“Hey there Tracy,” Pugh cut in, swinging in front of Dane. “So what’s happening here? We never saw a save point before.”

She gestured around, her arm gleaming in the dim ambient light that seemed to radiate from everywhere.

“You find them in the bigger dungeons. Say, is this your first time in a big, dark dungeon? You boys don’t look very high level.”

“Hey!” Guzman barked. A moment later, though, she looked shy. “Sorry, I can be a boy if you want me too.”

Tracy giggled. And Dane frowned. He went over to one of the beds, pushing both of his hands down upon the mattresses as hard as he could.

“What horrors am I about to witness, Tracy?” He spoke her name like it were some accursed object, ire drenched with sarcasm. “I have resisted your charm and I bet I can break your illusions as well!”

Tracy tittered. Turning her head to the rest of the party, she showed a small yet dazzling smile, rows of perfectly shiny teeth within. “He seems like a handful. Quite the imagination on that one.”

Dane grinned, okay he sneered, and the others frowned at him.

“Oh, come, you know how it is. I go half crazy sitting here, stuck in a dungeon. I used to be a barista, you know. You are in the middle of Center Street Mall. Or would be if things hadn’t gone all weird. And apparently that means that I’ve become a Keeper of the Save Point, which is basically a dungeon barista who hands out food, gives a good comfy place to rest your heads, and never ever is able to leave the room. Fun, right? I understand going loopy.”

“Lies!” Dane called. But his face was screwed up on itself, the sort of lemon sour twist that tells others that you’re no longer confident in what you’re saying.

Tracy walked over to the dining table and lightly danced her fingers upon it. From the plates laying upon it rose a series of delectable meats and vegetables, all newly roasted and releasing their steams and scents into the room in observable clouds of delectability.

“Yep, I’m eating that,” Neiderhauer announced, and made a beeline for the head chair. The rest joined him, all but Rivera and Dane, who had crossed his arms and closed his eyes, humming a tune.

“Whatever,” Tracy announced. She sat down at the table and soon the room was full of the sounds of jovial conversation and the tearing of searing meat from bone.

“I wish I had flesh,” Rivera said, finally. “That looks amazing.”

Dane opened his eyes. It did look amazing. And what was more, judging by the bones on the floor, the food just kept coming. He could feel his resolve crumbling.

“Are you really not some magic demonic trap?” he asked, finally relenting.

Tracy stood up, excused herself, and padded over lightly to where he still stood. “Do I look like a magic demonic trap?” She came closer, so much so that despite the powerful aroma of the feast, he could pick out the rosy scent of her skin. “I don’t want to be here, but here I am and I could use a little company every now and again.”

Dane sighed. He’d gotten hard again. And ever so hungry.

“Fine. Fuck it. I’m going to go eat your magicked dirt and worms because, you know what, if that really is what they are they are going to taste just like what you want them to. And it isn’t a big deal if you kill us, because we’ll just respawn anyways. Yeah, let’s do this.”

“Heyo!” Pugh and Neiderhauer called from the table. “Dane’s finally figured it out!”

“Get over here, Dane,” Guzman added cheerily. “We’ve saved you a seat.”

“And maybe there is something I could do for you?” Tracy asked Rivera. He cocked his head.

“I don’t eat or sleep. I am a monster.”

“Oh, honey, I live in a dungeon. I know monsters. And you aren’t one of them. I think I might have something for your type. Automaton, yeah?”

She waved her hand in a spiral that started from her shoulder and rolled down to her very fingertips. Everyone stopped eating to watch — it was quite hypnotic. Then, abruptly, her weave stopped. In her dainty hand was a red gemstone, rough on its edges yet apparently peppered with some sort of glitter.

“Eat this and experience all of the things your human body longs for from that table, and from the cushions of my beds.”

Rivera grabbed the gemstone like an addict for the stuff, a hungry longing clear even through the metallic visage of his construct head. He crunched it and, for a brief moment, his strange and monstrous body exuded joy.

“Thank you,” he said, before retiring to a wall to slump and, amazingly, fall asleep. If ever Dane had wondered about the sounds of a sleeping golem, he no longer had to imagine. It was a cross between a chainsaw and a pneumatic pump. Tracy placed a hand on his head and a moment later he was silent.

“What was that?” Dane asked. “Did you just kill our friend?”

She laughed. “You are non-stop, you know that? He’s asleep and I gave him the illusion of having been able to join you all, as his human self, in feasting and carousing. And other things as well,” she added, sucking on her lower lip.

Dane shivered. “Sorry,” he said, raising up a leg of lamb. Juice ran down its sides, sliming his plate. “I just don’t get it. Why? The Five made all of this?”

“Four,” Neiderhauer corrected. Dane glared at him.

“Truthfully, I don’t know why.” Tracy pouted. “I mean I’m happy for the awesome body and everything I ever want to eat any time I want it, but I’m just stuck here forever. It really sucks.”

Dane nodded. “I really am sorry. This is all just so good. Too good to be true, you know. And I never would have thought the Four . . . thank you.”

The other rangers were getting up and heading for the beds. Dane took his time and Tracy joined him.

“You aren’t the first to suspect, if that helps,” Tracy said. Dane nodded, not able to think of anything to add to that. “Really I think I’d be surprised if at least one of you didn’t think it. Maybe I’d even be suspicious.”

Dane took a swig of fruity ale. It tasted tart and honeyed all at the same time. His stomach squealed in glee.

“Yeah I could see that. Do people ever try to kill you though? Why bother being suspicious?”

“You’d be surprised,” she muttered, and for a second she looked cruel and angry. But the look faded away in an instant, and he was left wondering if he had ever seen it at all.

“What happens when you try to leave? You said that you are stuck here. If you walk out that door, do you disappear and reappear in here?”

Tracy looked at the door. “Something like that. It’s hard to explain, and I think it might be time to sleep.”

Dane was feeling groggy. A mix of the heavy food and the alcohol, not to mention all of the fighting and adventuring beforehand, was catching up to him fast.

“Yeah, I think I might be ready for bed as well.”

Tracy smiled and took his hand. “Wanna share?” she asked. He smiled and padded with her to a bed away from all the others. He wanted to share indeed.

***

Dane was surrounded by something. Energy of some sort. Wispy tendrils of it that crackled like lightning yet felt soft to the touch. About him extended a tunnel, its edges juicy, soft and fleshy, large hair follicles extending out and curling in on themselves every five feet or so. A voice was moaning and whispering through him.

“It will be over soon. Feel my caress. Relax. It will be done and you will be free.”

He knew that voice. A soft and sultry voice. A voice encapsulated within the wam and yielding flesh of a woman he knew as Tracy. A woman who had welcomed them into her dungeon home. A woman who was definitely a trap.

Trap! The energy turned crimson and branched out in all directions, sharp edges slicing past him and one even taking a bit out of his ass. The voice snarled.

“Give it the fuck up. You are mine.”

The tunnel shook. There was a crackling sound, the feel of intense heat and suddenly he was free.

There, in bed, his pants down around his stubby ankles and his surprisingly large member quite erect, he was finally able to see the truth of the place and the person who they had met. Tracy was there and her features were recognizable as her, but from her head protruded small, somehow sexy horns above hungry and almost reptilian eyes. About her was a crimson miasma, thickest about her bouncing breasts and sopping loins, and Dane could see clearly that this energy was rising from him.

Level lost! You have been the victim of a life drain ability and have lost a portion of your soul. If you are reduced to zero, you will die. Permanently.

Wait, what? Dane desperately tried to scoot out from under her, but it felt like Tracy had thighs of steel so hard they clutched at and restrained him. He tried to scream, but a thin and visible whisper of sound left his mouth like smoke and entered into one of her nostrils.

“Oh yeah baby, Some seasoning for that sauce. Give me more. Scream, Dane.”

He saw her close her eyes and arch her back in the loudest and most ecstatic orgasm he’d ever witnessed. Then another pulse of energy left him.

Level lost! You have been the victim of a life drain ability and have lost a portion of your soul. If you are reduced to zero, you will die. Permanently.

He turned his head to look for help. Surely the rest of those guys heard her. This woman was a screamer not a moaner, for gods’ sakes. But there was no hustle, no draw of weapons. Just a renewing rubbing and humping that he needed to stop now. Because, damn it, if he understood those words correctly then there were real ways to die in this place and he was under one of them right now!

He tried to scoot again and she grunted. “It’s almost over now, Dane. Just let it happen. Maybe even enjoy yourself a little.”

He pushed against her with his little gnome arms but she would not budge. Finally, desperately, he took a swing . . . and punched her hard in her right boob.

Critical Strike! You have targeted and attacked the weak point on a foe. It isn’t just Achilles who’s got them ya know. And, lucky you, this lady seems to hate getting hit in her naughty bits.

Tracy screamed and rolled off, holding her boob as if it were the swollen testicle of a very unfortunate man. Dane leapt up and screamed as well.

“Wake up. Goddamnit wake up! I said it was a trap!”

There was a stirring from the beds, the rangers rolling to their feet in various states of undress.

“Woah, way to go Dane!” Neiderhauer exclaimed, eyeing the succubus up and down with his reptilian eyes.

Rivera pounded past him and swung a large club-like fist which Tracy ducked under easily. She was still holding her boob with one hand, but her other hand found the junk of a sneaking and nude Pugh, whose city guard sneak had proven ineffective against such a creature.

“Gah!” Pugh cried as her grip tightened and then severed his bits and pieces.

“Ugh!” the rest of the men winced. Last time any of them had seen anything this bad was during the Army’s mandatory STD video screening.

Tracy, obviously a succubus, stood up triumphantly and held the man’s testicles above her head. “This has all been quite unfortunate. I was going to send you all off in a way most pleasant and enduring. I was going to let you all escape the hell of this place satisfied and consummated. I can think of no better way to pass from your mortal coil.”

She held up a taloned finger, removing it from her injured boob. “But YOU! You had to ruin everything. You and your deliciously hard gnomish boner.”

Dane couldn’t help himself. He beamed with pride.

“Now here is what is going to happen. If I eat these testicles—”

“Ugh,” the men winced again.

“Your friend here will be destroyed, fully eliminated from this mortal plane, never to respawn.”

“Fuck that,” Guzman said. The white and tan lines of her chi accentuated and blurred her movements and everyone else seemed to slow as she ran forward and leaped, grabbing Pugh’s balls out of Tracy’s hand in a somersault. The rest of the party leapt to action, but not before the succubus lashed out with her own taloned fist, blasting Guzman fast and hard into a nearby wall.

Pugh, strangely enough, was uninjured. He looked like a Ken doll. A baffled, embarrassed, enraged Ken doll with a sword. He lunged and stabbed up, trying to connect with the surprisingly nimble woman, and she cartwheeled sideways.

“Dodge this,” Neiderhauer growled. A torrent of flame sprayed forth and the succubus tried to run to cover but her tanned golden skin set alight, melting and then burning in patches. She made a beeline for Guzman, who was in the process of peeling herself off the floor and getting back up to fight again.

“My balls!” Pugh cried. All of the party began to sprint, Dane’s erection bobbing up and down in rhythm with his gnomish waddle-stride. The succubus stomped the back of Guzman’s head, dazing her, then swiped Pugh’s testicles from her hands.

“No mercy,” she snarled. And then she swallowed Pugh’s kit and kaboodle, and Pugh himself broke into energy and became no more.

Dane stopped running, shocked. It’d been a trap, but that had been okay because if they died they’d just respawn. There’d been no stakes. Not really. He stared in shock even as Rivera blasted Tracy about the room with big two-fisted strikes, giving her no mercy and keeping her way too off-balance to effect a nimble dodge. Dane headed over to where Pugh had been standing, and stared at the floor.

Zilch. Zip. Nada. Dude was gone.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned. Rivera’s metal head craned down to take him in. “Don’t be sad. Bitch is dead,” he growled, pointing. Dane looked over to see the pile of broken bones and flesh that was a ready-to-loot buffet of cards and equipment.

“We grab her shit,” Dane said, his own voice an angry growl. “And we find where she spawns and we kill her again. This operation of hers ends now.”