First Night with the Hero
"So, who's gonna take her?"
A brief silence fell.
"Can't we just leave her outside?"
"We're in the middle of the forest, Aisoll."
"What, you think a bear or wild boar’s gonna drag her off? She's still a demon, y'know."
"We... can't just make a companion sleep outside, can we?"
"Then Lucilla, you take her and put her up."
"Aisoll."
"......Fuck."
"How about using Breri’s tent while she's away?"
"You serious? She'd lose her mind if we did that."
"Hmm. My judgment was rather shortsighted."
This was the conversation the hero, the saintess, and the mage were having among themselves, while I sat there done with my crying fit. Who would take me along?
I'd felt it just moments ago, but it was a relief that all the hero party members were women. If this had been before, their passing me around like a hot potato might've hurt my feelings. But now? It was probably for the best.
With my skin color—not to mention being a succubus—who'd want me bunking close by? Not even I would.
I ignored the gnawing emptiness in my gut. Filling that hunger? It wasn't important. How would I even get semen...? Better to starve to death for real.
"I'll take her."
It was the hero's voice.
"You sure that's okay?"
"My bed's plenty big, and I've got a backlog of work to handle besides. I wasn't planning on much sleep anyway."
"Yours is the biggest? Isn't Breri’s the largest? With her height and build."
"Aisoll. There are ears listening."
The mage shot her a side-eye. I didn't know about their hearing, but my ears were pointed right now.
"Whatever. You really okay with it?"
"What trouble could there be? Tomorrow's another story, but for tonight, I'll take her."
Deep down, I'd hoped the saintess would take me. She'd fetched my shoes earlier, and she seemed the gentlest. The hero, though... that first meeting kept flashing back—the sword at my throat, her bellowing rage.
"We'll camp here until tomorrow, then move out the day after. Rest easy in the meantime."
"You too. Don't pull an all-nighter just 'cause you've got work."
"'Tis the duty of a hero; how could I find it burdensome, Aisoll? Still, I thank thee for thy concern."
"......As if you mean that. Hey! How long you gonna lie there? Get up!"
At the mage's words, I pushed myself upright. I clutched the clothes I couldn't wear yet. My sudden crying jag had left their gazes awkward and distant. Nothing new there. They'd looked at me that way from the start. Better than the villagers' curious stares, at least.
My eyes were still damp, but the tears had stopped long ago. No dawdling when it was the mage talking.
Standing up bared my chest, sagging just to the edge of decency. My center of gravity pulled forward naturally.
The saintess picked up the straps; the hero, the undone shackles.
As the hero headed out, she said, "You've had a rough time of it. Have a good night, Aisoll."
The mage didn't reply. Instead, she stared down at the bed I'd just vacated. No stains or marks, but her sweeping gaze was uneasy all the same.
"......Can't even wash up right now."
That smell they'd kept mentioning. I'd thought the mage was just sensitive, but now it just made me more depressed.
Purple skin, horns, massive tits, a glowing lewd tattoo, living off semen—and now I reeked too. That's me.
The hero left first, then the saintess. I had to dismantle my own tent. I'd been shoved in bodily; now I pushed it aside with both hands. They'd each used just one arm.
I'd left the slippers behind. Barefoot again.
But my body felt freer now, and the ground was flat. It was already night. The sky was pitch black. The campfire was dying down, making everything dim. Whether my night vision had improved or not, I followed cautiously after the two leading the way.
The tents weren't too far apart. Roughly a few dozen steps, by my rough guess.
"I'll head in first. You've worked hard, Hero."
"Ah, yes. You too, Lucilla—you've had it rough. Rest well and have a good night."
The saintess bowed politely to the hero. She spared me no glance.
If I hadn't known better, maybe I wouldn't have noticed. But as a succubus? Of course she wouldn't want to deal with me. Especially as a saintess...
Should I say something? But she scurried straight into her own tent.
The hero's tent was close too. Maybe because it was hers, it looked even bigger somehow.
"Come on in."
Once more, both hands to push the flap aside. If even this takes two arms, just how weak have I gotten?
"Hold on."
The hero blocked me the moment I stepped in. I looked up at her.
"Barefoot?"
"......Y-yeah."
"Stay right there. I'll get you water to wash with."
No choice but to obey the hero. I stood just inside the entrance.
While waiting, I glanced around. The hero's tent—her quarters—felt grand. Compared to the mage's cluttered mess...
"Huh?"
"What's wrong?"
"N-no, nothing."
I brushed off the sound in my ears. The 'rule' that had bound me was gone. No more tacking on honorifics even in my head. God, she's rude—no manners at all. Not a mage, just some witchy little bitch...
I remembered the clothes in my hands. Even among women, parading around bottomless and braless was no sight to see. I hurried into the pants first. They clung from my thighs up, squeezing my ass tight.
Shoved my head into the top. My horn snagged.
"Ah, uh...?"
"What are you doing?"
The fabric was loose-woven enough that I could make out shapes even wearing it like a hood. The hero was suddenly right in front of me.
"Your horn caught?"
"......Yeah."
My head was still trapped inside by the horn. Or maybe it'd just pierced clean through. Sleeves half-on, tits fully exposed. What a pathetic sight I must make. More pitiful than funny.
"Hold still."
The hero set down a wooden basin and approached. Her hand gripped my horn firmly. Probably trying to push it back in or—
Eh? Huh? What? Ah?
"Ah, ah?! W-wait, stooop...?"
"......There."
Shluck.
My vision cleared. The hero loomed right there, gazing down with a subtle expression.
What was that sensation just now? When she touched my horn, something... A feeling I'd never experienced before...
"Wash your feet with this for now. Be careful not to spill."
Her words snapped me back. The basin sat by my feet, carved from wood and fairly large—like a small tub. More than enough water just for feet.
I sank down slowly, washing one foot at a time. The rippling water felt cool. My body had shrunk all over; my feet were tiny now too. Whatever salve they'd used had healed the cuts—no more pain.
"While you're at it, wash your face too. Dump the used water outside."
Ah.
I looked back at the basin. My two feet sat neatly inside the water-filled bowl. No wonder there was so much...
No helping it. I shook off the water roughly with my hands, picked up the heavy basin, and shuffled out—pushing the flap aside with effort to pour it. Right by the entrance; should be fine. No one would complain about this...
By now, the hero had changed into casual clothes. Slippers too. White top and bottoms, silk maybe? Thin fabric that clung to her figure. Actually... quite feminine. Comparing her to the mage was an insult.
"Those clothes from the innkeeper?"
"Yeah, the old man..."
My words caught. Just one day, and already nostalgia crept in when I said it. I'd cried enough earlier; no more tears now. I couldn't speak for a moment.
"We'll need new clothes for you. Underthings too..."
Gotta ask Aisoll and Breri. The hero muttered to herself. The mage? No way they'd fit. She'd probably flip out just remembering the slippers from earlier.
"You probably overheard earlier. I've got work to do, so use that bed."
The hero's furnishings were simple: bed, wardrobe, desk. But each was enormous. The wardrobe had ornate carvings—easily as big as the mage's bookshelf. The desk was antique-style, stacked high with neatly sorted papers.
Of course the bed was huge. Length, width, height—all immense. Room for two or three; five of my small size with space to spare.
"M-me, all alone...?"
"I won't be sleeping tonight. No need to overthink it. Just don't disturb me. Ah, and since I'm working, I can't keep a candle burning all night."
The mage's tent had some ceiling lamp. The hero lit the room with several candles on her desk.
She said her piece and sat at the desk, leaving me behind.
I watched her for a bit, then climbed onto the bed. Had to crawl a little to reach the pillows.
The mage's bed had been nice, but this felt different on hands and knees. They sank deep into fluffiness—soft yet springy.
The pillows were huge. Bigger than my horned head. And there were three.
Was it really okay for me to take up this whole massive bed? I wanted to ask, but anxiety held me back. I lifted my head.
The desk was beside the bed. The hero's back was ramrod straight. "Don't disturb me" echoed in my mind; I hesitated to speak.
Suddenly, she turned. Our eyes met.
"Something to say?"
"Uh, um..."
Those deep blue eyes fixed on me. I fumbled and blurted whatever came out.
"G-good... good night..."
Was it okay for me to say that, crashing comfortably while she worked? My voice trailed off.
Backlit by candlelight, I couldn't see her well, but her expression seemed oddly subtle too. Shouldn't have said anything.
"......Ailet. You too—have a good night."
Ailet. My succubus name.
The hero turned back. Her hair gleamed gold in the candlelight.
Slowly, quietly—so as not to disturb—I lay down. Horns forced me onto my back. No choice.
I pulled up the covers. My chest weighed down my torso. Legs stretched straight but spread by my hips, thighs still touching.
I tried ignoring it, but my stomach kept growling. Still, the bed was soft. Pillows cozy. The candlelight felt warm and gentle.
Last time I'd lain down properly like this... two days ago? First real sleep at night...?
I mulled it over slowly, and my eyes drifted shut.