Holier Than Thou 1

CHAPTER 1

Bridgette travelled alone. She was a priestess, sent from the capital. In her early twenties, typically a young maiden such as her would be sent with an escort, but she did not need one.

Her stature wasn't incredible. Not much higher than five feet tall, her build was svelte and chaste, raised on a lifetime of rationed food for a chaste life. However, she was gifted, with holy power. Anything that would do her harm, was smote with impunity, without so much as a thought from her. She was considered a gift from the heavens.

To that end, rather than squandering her gift, she was sent to dispel dungeons. Horrible hives of evil that spawned horrible monsters, naturally. She need but enter them and explore them thoroughly, and she barely saw the horrors inside before they erupted in yellow, holy flames. The first few times it was frightening, but ultimately she completed her tasks. And her first time was back when she was less than half her age. So this was not her first time. Though, it was hardly an expertise either.

Despite her abilities, she could be confused for a peasant if not for her obvious, holy vestments. Dirty, blonde hair, not very well kept after, subtle freckles across her body, brown eyes and a very comely face.

Long, black robes and her habit were the only hint that she was from the church. She wore a satchel on her back, for travelling, and was otherwise unadorned.

She had managed to perform her duties and cleanse about a dozen or so dungeons, already, and was on to the next. The arch-priest sent to her to an older and more remote dungeon. She was told it was ancient. But beyond that, nobody knew much more about it. People rarely entered, anymore, and what little stories existed about it had those people simply disappearing.

While more information might've been helpful, it also felt as if it didn't matter -- she was protected, regardless. To the point where additional company was a liability. And so she was alone. Always.

It was an intimidating job, for sure. But as her abilities were rather... automatic, beyond her control, her ability to cooperate or aid anyone was limited. It only protected herself....Originally, she had travelling companions... but she had watched them all die, one by one, merely because the monsters attacked them first, delivering Bridgette no animosity until she was only noticed finally. And then they instantly burst into flames, and were ashes, within seconds, as if her companions, her friends died for no reason.

She sighed, as she arrived at the new site. A dark cave, with a huge tree splitting rough-hewn stonework, exposing a passage, as if the tree grew through some old archway, claiming it.

Well, it fit the description. It was always a mixture of fear and anxiety and quiet certainty that she'll nevertheless be able to do any job, while never really being certain of anything.

"...Okay, Bridgette, here we are. Time to begin..." she said. To herself. She sometimes spoke to herself, even if it was improper. There were too many days where she barely spoke, maybe a single sentence to an innkeeper. Some days, not at all. It sometimes felt important to verify her voice still worked, let alone her sanity.

She pitched her tent, and prepared her supplies. Though, her supplies were realistically just a bedroll and food. Even any religious idols did nothing to contribute to her work, and so she eventually left those behind, to travel lighter.

She merely put on a pair of silk gloves, to protect herself from whatever she may touch, inside, as she entered the horrible, dingy hole. She wore knee-high leather boots, when travelling, owed to places like these. So she was unfettered as she walked through muck. She lit a lantern, which was one of her few supplies. Metal, ornate, enclosed in glass and oil-fed, it at least made her look more prepared than a total amateur.

Gradually, the muck drained off and the tunnel grew more consistent, in that eventually her feet fell upon cut stone, stone walls and a stone ceiling. She didn't want to think about what would happen in the event of a cave-in; her powers had heretofore never activated on a non-living thing, but then she had never been at risk from such a thing before either...

She had a habit of pausing, as she did then, to 'check' herself, for any threats. It wasn't like she could focus her power, so it was really just a platitude.

As the passage went, it bent and turned, but never forked, so it was pretty easy to travel. Before long, however, she came across lit torches. They illuminated the walls with a yellow glow.

Checking the floor, there was dust, and checking behind her, it was quite thick enough that her own footsteps were clearly and plainly visible. There was no sign of maintenance at all.

CHAPTER 2

It was off-putting, to be sure. She had no innate talent in magic, so she couldn't tell the difference, but near as she could tell, they were just, plain torches.

At very least, she knew from experience her power would activate from magic threats, so she was still safe. And so she pressed on. The lit torches led the way to a single, large room, all illuminated.

"Well, now..." she mumbled, looking this way and that, putting her lantern out to save fuel.

It was a large, empty room, with about five or so further hallways, all appearing to be lit up as well. She fished in her satchel for paper, and started to sketch out a rough layout of the place, since now it deviated some. It was easy, as there was no furniture or adornments of anything besides the torches.

As she sketched, she noticed the air was fresher, as well. Peering behind her, the air in the dark hallway behind her was musty, earthy and wet, while in here it was almost fruity and pleasant. Not that it meant it was safe, of course.

"--Okay, there!", she said, drawing a sketch of this big, empty room, and documenting the left-most hallway as the first one she's going to try. There was little else to do, but to press on, after all.

Entering the first hall, it was more of the same. Lit torches, unremarkable hall, occasionally turning at once or bending gradually, but not deviating further. She kept an eye out, for danger, but her ability had a history of completely triggering against threats, regardless whether she knew about them or not.

...It was an uncomfortable thing. As she stepped along, her footprints still the only disturbances to the dust on the floor in a good long while, she recalled when she first started to travel. Seemingly good people would burst into flames before her, and it was a horrible experience to learn that they meant to, were about to do her harm. It was jading.

It was only once she encountered a wall that it snapped her out of her somber recollection. With no choice but to turn back around, she noticed a subtle haze in the air. It was visible thanks to the torches. The air's subtle smell reminded her of the kitchen, back in the monastery, particularly, and ironically when no cooking was happening....If it was a threat, it would be taken care of, so she walked through it, unfettered.

Having doubled back, she arrived back in the large, main room again. She documented the first path's lack of a destination, in the meanwhile. The haze was still present. Was it always there? Wouldn't she have noticed it? Amidst the yellow illumination from the fire, it was pretty obvious contrast of a color; blue, or maybe purple. Was it humidity setting in, as the day got old?

It was definitely stuffy. But then, dungeons were hardly comfortable places. She began to explore the second hallway, next. It wrapped and went on the same, boringly. Typically, monsters were erupting in the distance by now. But then, this peace wasn't bad either. It was good for her mood.

The second hallway resembled the first, in that it ended without destination or event. What a stupid place. She took out her map, and doodled her findings, complete with a sad face at the end of hallway two. She took out her canteen of water and drank some. Even menial work was demanding. And so, she headed back.

Arriving back in the hazy, main room, without further ado, she wrote on her map, and headed back in. Pausing, however, she stepped back, and looked around the room again. She was about to go into the second hallway again.

"Ah, whoops!" she said, with a laugh, and skipped into the third.

Unsurprisingly, it was more of the same. She spied no real purpose for all this empty hallway. Only a few items seemed to line the walls, here and there; barrels and crates, all looking terribly old. It wasn't fifteen minutes before she hit another dead-end. Sputtering, she turned around and headed back, not even bothering with her map.

On the way back, she panted, through this humidity. It was obnoxious; the haze made it hard to see, and uncomfortable to move. Exploring this whole place was demanding, after all.

Back in the main room, she noticed all these supplies around were all untouched and unopened. Realizing she somehow forgot to include them all in her mapping, she took it out and doodled a few barrels and such, here and there.

Sighing, she set out down the fourth hallway, this time doubling back like she went in the wrong one again, but verifying it IS the fourth, and going down it again, laughing.

Some ways down it, however, she wrinkled her nose at continuing. She was SURE this led nowhere. They all did. And so she turned around, heading back. And as she arrived back in the main room, she paid the fifth hallway no mind at all.

CHAPTER 3

Bridgette felt like she had already explored this whole place. Give or take. She was exhausted, sitting down a crate, feeling woozy, and taking a sip from her canteen, when she finds it's empty.

She peered around, towards the way out (It was easy to see, as it was the only one with darkness down at the end of it).

"...Oh..." she mumbled, looking down at her lantern. She would have to re-light it. But she didn't have her flint. Oh, dear. What a simple, silly problem. She couldn't go back through the dark, she could twist her ankle! In knee-high boots... Oh! But these bottles, she discovered, sitting here on all these barrels are all wine!

Lifting one of the bottles, she vaguely remembered hearing, as a child, that wine only became better, more valuable as it aged.

She pulled the cork out of the bottle, she sniffed at it. Oh, it was lovely! MUCH better than communion wine, which she always hated as a girl!

It was encouraging enough to take a sip! --It was great! No hint of alcohol flavor at all! Maybe it was just grape juice, down here!

Looking around, she was at a loss at how to handle this place. She searched everywhere, (didn't she?) and found nothing. It was a small blessing, to be able to quench her thirst down here. It even had some sweetness, which was a treat! She rarely was able to have juice, before, and managed to finish the whole bottle while contemplating what to do.

Placing it down, while trying to figure this place down, she wobbled some. Confused for a moment, she realized that probably WAS wine, after all. She was drunk.

She had never been drunk, before.

"Oh, foo... Bridgette, you've gone an' done it now..." she said, "You gotta say some Hail Mary's when we get back."

Not TOO fettered, she pressed on, starting from the first hallway once again, forgetting she left off halfway down number four. She did her best to try to figure out what to do, or look for, but the haze was so thick! She could only see a few feet in front of her, at times.

She hadn't noticed before, but in a way, that was panicking. She could get lost! Fortunately, whenever she was hungry or thirsty, all these bottles were all over, and she had a feeling all the crates and barrels were filled with something similar.

And so halfway down the fifth hallway -- no, wait, the first, but again? She helped herself to another. She still felt a bit funny, but she didn't want to get dehydrated. She remembered this was all the monks drank, after all, and they were fine, each of them, year after year! The halls smelled the same as the opened bottles, she noticed, and it was a pleasant aroma, after all.

If only it wasn't so humid, and stuffy! But, she was a woman of faith, and couldn't remove her holy vestments. Heaven forbid.

By hallway number four, or perhaps three, she sat down to take a break again, and sipped at a snack. There was nobody around, after all... so she rolled up just the bottom of her skirt, just a few inches, tying it off to allow some of this terrible heat to breathe! No big deal -- she hadn't done it since she got her vestments, but she used to do it all the time, as a girl, as she cleaned the monastery!

CHAPTER 4

Bridgette walked forward, panting, her robes pulled up to her waist by now, tied off above her thighs. She was almost too immodest, but she couldn't help it! This place was always so sweltering!

She wandered down hallway number... whatever, staggering occasionally, wondering when she can go back home, without really considering what she has to do to make that happen.

Tying off her robes made it an OVEN inside, however, with nowhere for the heat to escape! She hiccupped, looking back and forth, not a soul around, and she still had her smallclothes, after all...

She lifted her robe, her heart practically beating out of her chest, tying it off... above her collar. By now, it was practically just her habit and a cape, of sorts... but it was so comfortable! The arch priest would understand. It served no purpose better than just taking the rope off, full stop, but it made sense to her. She still wasn't abandoning her vestments, even if she wore them awkwardly. And besides, nobody would see her like this, if this ridiculous haze stayed so thick!

Now CERTAINLY more comfortable, she celebrated with a new wine bottle. Oh, it was so soothing! This liquid diet was satisfying! Cooling. If a bit bloating. Her exposure was admittedly distracting, however. This certainly was not her nature. Plus, there wasn't really anything else new or different to see. Just a constant haze of wine... oh, but in which case, why did she need to wear these tight, painful smallclothes..? Certainly THEY weren't holy as well.

She laid down, just about anywhere, now quite relaxed, for a nap. Just a bit of a rest, before she continued her task, probably done by tomorrow. But before she did, she gradually peeled off her pure, white brassiere. And then her matching panties.

"Ahh, m-*hic!*-much better..." she whispered. And fell asleep. And woke up still drunk, 10 hours later.

CHAPTER 5

The priestess wandered the hallways, for untold hours, and then days, never accidentally finding the exit. Her svelte figure, raised on rationed food and water her whole life, swelled with generosity. Her cheeks grew rosy.

No matter where she walked or searched, she never found anything but more merriment. Even as the discarded bottles began to accrue on the floor, there was never any want or shortage, and despite her efforts she never seemed to sober up or clear her thoughts -- it was if the very air inebriated her, even between drinks, which somehow never ran low. Even when she slept, deep and snoring, for hours and hours, she woke up dizzy, giggling and wobbling.

Eventually, one by one the torches flickered out, the first 'change' in who knows how long, however it was only a minor inconvenience; it was just a change in mood, for the most part, and even when the last few snuffed out, one by one, it just made the place cozier! Even when the last one went out, somehow she could see just fine!

Over days, her belly grew distended. Quite exaggerated, atop her skinny, featureless body. It caught her peripheral vision, even when she looked straight. And with this fog, it was the only thing to see, at times. Not that she minded.

It wasn't uncomfortable, to be so bloated.

And for hours into days, she wandered, perpetually swollen and engorged, her appetite always healthy, her mood always merry and her vision always slightly off-kilter. She rubbed it regularly, feeling healthy and jubilant! She couldn't help it.

Eventually, however, it grew harder to see. Even while it went from bloated to perpetually swollen from drink to permanently engorged, gradually her breasts swelled out, as if to mimic, like she was with child, enough to conceal her stomach entirely. Her vestments, she could only wear like a scarf; they would not so much as lower over her collar, anymore, as even her arms were thick and hearty. But she stayed dutiful. Her boots had to be unlaced, until she just discarded the blasted things.

Out of pure happenstance, eventually her 'duties' had her wander up, all the way out of the dungeon, despite eluding it until then. She staggered out into the sunlight, her pale skin illuminated for the first time in a long time. The light was shocking. She was blinded, for a time, before anything came into view.

"Whoa... whass alll thiss?", she slurred. "I 'member thiss. Thiss'zz my tenn! Oh, iss alll broken!"

Before her was the rotted wreckage of what was once a tent. Ravaged by animals for the food, the linen and canvas it was made out of was weathered, molded and covered in vines, as if it was left in the wild for a decade. Because it was.

Bridgette herself looked fundamentally different. Her hair had grown down to her butt, and her vestments were tattered, around her shoulders. She was now already middle-aged. Her breasts and belly both hung, with girth, already beginning to give up the reinforcements of youthful perkiness. Her skin was beyond pale, with dark blue veins tracing all along it, clear to see.

As she craned her bottle above her head as she gulped at it, a little bit peckish again, she wiped her mouth, hiccupping as the bottle somehow refilled.

"Welll, now. I'm fin*HIC!*finally done? I s'ppose I shud gow back home? Whish way wuz thad 'gain?" she slurred, and shrugged. One direction was just as good as another! But still, this light was ridiculously bright. Pesky, even. Her eyes still hurt, and so she headed back down, into the same depths she emerged from. And gradually, the rocks composing the entrance gently shifted, with barely a rumble, sealing it off.

As Bridgette walked back down, merrily and obliviously staggering along, she dropped the bottle in her hand, and it shattered. She didn't need it anymore, to be just as drunk as she always was, now.

EPILOGUE

Adventurers were dispatched to a dungeon; a priest, a warrior and an amazon. It appeared only recently, and since fresh dungeons were safe, beginning adventurers were usually designated to clear them out.

Inside they only found rudimentary monsters -- slimes, goblins and the like. It was perfect pacing for the young adventurers, who were inexperienced and eager to learn.

The dungeon was unremarkable, until they happened to come across a prisoner. A battered and naked woman, wearing the tattered remnants of a nun's habit, looked as though she was wandering the halls, if not crawling through them judging by how soiled she was. From the looks of it, she was definitely a lost or abandoned adventurer, not ready for even these elementary challenges. The party was warned that something like this could happen someday, but to happen on their first dungeon was a surprise.

The priest elected to stay behind with her, to treat her wounds. She was slurring, but friendly and cheery -- definitely not a lost cause! The party decide to press on and bring her instead, waiting to treat her when they're somewhere safe. The priest gave the woman his cloak to cover her decency.

As they continued on, they tried to avoid combat best they could, and headed back to the entrance. Her state is a confusing one -- her symptoms are almost as if she were plainly drunk, but who in the world would drink in a dungeon? She did not smell of any alcohol, and didn't appear to have any possessions at all, let alone bottles.