Bound Thirst and Village Wrath
"Anyone... ah... w-water... Ahh... water, please..."
"Ah, no. All this..."
"You used our facilities, so you must pay for them, right? Strictly speaking, it's as if you rented out the entire inn."
"E-even so... this much..."
"If our hero party hadn't arrived in time, you and your wife would have been in grave danger. Of course, it's absurd to put a price on life, and even then, this is woefully insufficient. But please, accept it."
The hero extended the pouch like that. Who hates money? Just yesterday, they were sighing deeply about having no guests. Yet the innkeeper couple stubbornly refused—not because of the pouch's size and weight, or the gleaming yellow gold coins inside. The amount was too much. Too much to even know what to do with if they accepted it. The phrase "life's worth" made them question if their lives were truly valued that highly.
Still, the hero wouldn't back down. The bolder innkeeper finally accepted the pouch with both hands. The hero had offered it with both out of courtesy, but the innkeeper needed both due to the weight.
"Truly, we are so grateful, Saintess. How can we ever repay you..."
"No need. You've lived faithfully, so He took pity on you. All I did was beseech Him for a sliver of mercy. Live according to His will from now on."
"Yes, yes! Starting today, I'll pray even harder than before! Thank you, thank you!"
This remote village had no doctors, not even priests. No plagues ravaged it, but treatable illnesses were left to fester. A briefly infected spot rotted deeply. A cough turned into lung disease. A minor knee ache grew until legs wouldn't bend.
The saintess, who had led the innkeeper couple to the village, couldn't just pass them by. She healed them all. Every touch of her pale, delicate hand cured everything. Scars vanished from the pretty young woman's face. The old man's dim eyes cleared. The farmer's finger, severed by clumsy scything, regrew.
All the saintess asked in return was devout prayer. The villagers tried to pray to her immediately, but she sternly turned them away.
"Wow! It's like new! Thanks, sis!"
"Miss, could you take a look at this too?"
"Miss, what do you think I am, a blacksmith? Hand it over. Damn, what the hell is this...?!"
No one really approached the mage. Her black hair, the prejudice against magic—holy power felt somewhat familiar to the masses, but magic was still off-putting.
She was the one who gave them the first opening. Grumbling about how a lump of metal could be a mirror, she stripped away its rust. Seeing it shine like new emboldened a few brave souls to approach. Polishing tarnished jewelry, sharpening a crumbling axe to a keen edge—these were humble tasks for "magic," but vital for the village.
Snot-nosed kids who trembled in fear even drew near, eyes sparkling at fireworks in the air. The mage told them not to come because it was dirty, but they didn't seem that averse.
"I swear I saw it! Skin black as the night sky, a sleek elf...!"
"Drew a longbow bigger than me all the way back, then thwang!"
"Hey, no! It was way bigger than you!"
The villagers hadn't seen the ranger themselves, but rumors swirled. Bored kids were the main source, picking up adults' words and embellishing the ranger wildly. Her face prettier than so-and-so's sister. Taller than that tree. Super strong. Legs like lightning. Her bow as big as Uncle Whoever, and when she shot it, the sun and moon fell...
Before long, in the kids' imaginations, the ranger became the epitome of absolute strength and abstract terror. The subject herself never appeared, and the hero party just laughed off the guesses. It didn't take long for parents to start saying, "Behave, or the ranger will come punish you."
Thus, the hero party brought life to the eternally dull, idle village.
But they weren't the only ones providing gossip.
"Is that the thing...?"
"Eugh. Look at those horns. And the skin... Ugh, hideous."
"H-hey, check out those tits. They won't explode or anything, right?"
"She's tied up, so she can't do shit, yeah? Right?"
The reason the hero party had come—and the object of awe and gratitude from those same people, now met with horror, contempt, or at best shock. The purple-skinned demon.
"Heh... heuh... hek..."
She couldn't even answer questions, just gasping out labored moans.
Until now, I'd thought it was a dream. I wanted it to be. Strange and bizarre, but one I'd wake from soon if I tried hard enough.
When it was no longer a dream, I hoped it was a hallucination. If it was, some serious illness—but better that than this in the real world.
"Hwe... heh..."
Honestly, even now. I didn't want to accept this as reality.
But these sensations? Undeniable.
I blacked out from that thunderous roar, came to in a completely different place. No longer a bed, no inn. Sandy floor. Stuffy, musty narrow space. No idea where.
No way to find out. No time to think.
My body was bound tight. Ankles. Calves. Thighs. Wrists and forearms twisted behind my back. Thin cords wrapped around my entire body.
"Ah... aah..."
Blood not circulating. Hurts. Stings. Sweat pooling where breasts squish together, or thighs rub. Want to scratch or wipe, but hands tied. Moving sends pins and needles, pain everywhere.
Pink hair blocking my view. Tickling nape, down my back. Cords thin, but they keep hurting. Hot, throbbing.
And my chest? Impossible to ignore. Whatever rag I'd worn as underwear was gone; massive tits sag, jiggling at the slightest motion.
No energy. Days of flipped sleep, nothing proper to eat.
Throat parched. Exhausted. Exhausted but pain keeps sleep away. Can't even lie down bound like this.
Hurts. Hurts so much.
"Haa... haa..."
Didn't matter anymore if real or not. If dream, I'd go mad in it. If hallucination, same.
And what hurt as much as this?
"D-did you hear?"
"...J-just moans, ain't it."
"Damn, looks freaky and those sounds are kinda lewd too."
The stares. From the open door far off, heads peeking, eyes on me.
Clear even through tangled pink strands: greasy, unwashed dirty faces. Eyes wide with curiosity, shock, disgust, fear. Expressions screaming stay away. No pity. No humanity.
That hurt. As much as the body's ache.
"Heh... hek..."
No sunlight, no breeze. Sweat kept coming. Hadn't drunk before capture. Never drunk, actually. Throat burning.
Hurts, stings, numb, body hot, throat dry.
"Th-there. W-wate... "
My voice, but higher, more rasped.
"D-did you hear that just now? She spoke!"
"First demon ya seen? Demons don't talk human."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Ya ever seen one before?"
"What about that one last time."
Breath ragged. Even still hurts. Fingers, toes numb, cold. Sharper now.
"Wa-water... Haaah, water please..."
The men's stares from afar shifted a bit.
"Beggin' for water? You heard it too?"
Want to nod, but can't. No voice left.
Maybe. I'm not human anymore, hidden power? Telepathy? Please.
Water. Yes. Water please. Thirsty. Please water.
"Hey! What're you doin', fool!"
A slouched man yelled at one rising.
Why? Giving water. I'm thirsty. To a thirsty person. Why. Water. Please. Please.
"Just now, that demon asked for water..."
Shook head barely. Horns felt heavy. Couldn't lift easily.
Telepathy then. Yes, yes. Asking for water. So please water. Please. Please. Water.
"Didn't hear? Don't get close!"
...Huh?
"Hero party's big shots, fine for them. But us? What if somethin' happens!"
No, no. Not that. Danger? Wrong. No,
"...Yeah, guess so."
No! No. Not that. Really. Just water. Thirsty.
"Wait it out. What if it eats ya up close."
Really no. Eat what? I'm human. Was. Don't do that. Need water. So water...
"Good call. Nearly got us, you didn't."
Tried shaking head, lifting it. Half-risen man slumped back. Faint hope gone.
Vision blurring. Something on cheek.
"Ah... ahh... h..."
Throat dry, sweat, tears. Looping thoughts. Since before binding. Before collapse. Since black girl. Fleeing monsters. No—since becoming this body.
Why. Why me. Why like this. What did I do wrong.
"Village chief?"
"H-hero! N-not just Saintess and mage too..."
Peeking eyes vanished. People entered. Not the watching men. More women. Two I'd seen yesterday. Black-haired girl, golden bob woman. Two new: dark-and-white robed woman. Wrinkled elder.
"H-hero. Th-that. The demon...?"
Elder pointed cane at me. No strength to reply.
The bobbed hero, called hero, held up my rag underwear.
"Indeed. According to the garb, her called name is 'Ailet.' To elaborate the mage's words: among demon kinds, a succubus—dream demon.
My race: succubus. Name: Ailet.
Didn't surprise. No energy for it. Thirst worse.
"Th-that. Dream demon means..."
"Details need confirming, but among demons, exceedingly rare."
The woman who'd yelled and drawn sword at me speaking so softly? That surprised more.
"S-such a horrific thing..."
I closed my eyes at those words.
"As you see, bound now. Moreover, cords soaked in holy water—no escape however she struggles."
"E-even now, but it could have slaughtered us all..."
"Not necessarily. Per the mage..."
Voices faded. Eyes closed, bindings, pain dulled slightly.
I'm a succubus. Name Ailet. I'm horrific. That thing. Could slaughter all.
Was human. Lived normally. But now. Such a.
"...Have you lost your minds!!"
Eyes snapped open. Pain unabated. Fresh sting.
Not the blonde woman shouting. She looked flustered, hands fidgety.
"D-didn't know..."
Mumbling from outside, faint.
But that voice. Familiar somehow.
"'Didn't know' an excuse?!"
Elder bellowing, no trace of earlier tremble.
"Pickin' up somethin' not even human! Plannin' to kill us all?!"
"Ah, no. That's..."
"Stuck runnin' mountain inn, forgot what humans look like?!"
Clear in shrill yell: mountain. Inn.
"You damn outsiders could've wiped this village—hear me?!"
Moved instinctively. Tumbled forward, wriggled on floor.
Blurred after days: innkeeper couple's faces.
"Ah... ahh... hwaa..."
Dry mouth, words failed.
Don't to them. To me. Me instead. They're innocent.
"Ch-chief. Your words a bit..."
Bobbed woman tried intervening, elder ignored.
"Why! Senile at your age?!"
Chief swung cane pointing me. Thin body quaking, roared.
"Look at that, your buried kid come to mind or what?! Eh?!"