Now available on Literotica: Becoming Monsters Book 1, Growing Problems!
All 40 chapters will show up here, so look forward to Honoka’s adventures with monster girls chapter by chapter as I figure out how to format everything to fit my vision.
For right now, enjoy the story and join with thousands of people when I say to KEEP HARMONIZING!!
PREVIOUSLY ON BM: When you get a succubus for a fiancé, the first thing you do is her. Also, groceries.
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Chapter 8: Under Pressure
When Honoka pushed her door open, as many bags as she was able to carry looped in her shaking and straining hands, she wasn’t expecting to see her studio apartment look like General Sherman just marched through. Setting the bags down, she stared in shock, unable to see the floor underneath the mess, open boxes and packing paper and all kinds of
stuff
littering everywhere. The most concentrated part was the kitchen: every burner on her stove, six other hotplates and a butane camp stove were all on and cooking different shaped glass somethings each, myriad colored and sometimes
glowing
concoctions in varying states of bubbling, blooping or boiling. All those burners on, including one open flame, even with the AC on full from the window unit, it was stiflingly
hot.
On the bed and watching something on her phone, Diane blissfully relaxed in a pair of artfully ratty capri jeans and a tie-dyed crop top, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, tail and wings spread behind her like spilled paint. When she first glanced up and saw Honoka in the doorway her face brightened, looking like she was about to jump up and jump her in equal measure. Then Diane noticed the look on the black woman’s face and the succubus glanced around the room, observing everything possibly for the first time and what a disaster it all appeared to be. Her eyes widened and she shot straight up, panicking as she tried to suddenly wish the mess would disappear.
“I’m sorry, oh man, this
looks
really bad, but…” She bent down, offering a view of some great cleavage but Honoka wasn’t in the mood, picking up one of the larger clumps of packing paper, unsure where to put it. “I got those potions cooking and I guess I figured I’d clean up…later…”
Honoka reigned in her anger, rubbing her forehead with one hand while her other rested on her hip. “I should have realized you’ve never really lived with anyone before, so you don’t know what it's like to keep the common area clean. I have two older brothers and a general contractor for a father, so believe me, I’ve seen worse.” Honoka shook her head, setting her pink canvas bag by the door while keeping the keys to the van in her hand. “Speaking of my family, my parents are flying in tomorrow night to meet their future daughter-in-law and it might be a good idea to make a positive first impression for them, FYI.”
“I’ll clean it up now, at least most of it,” the alchemist succubus was losing it, nervous anxieties pulling her in different directions. “These potions need another hour before they’re done, then I’ll scrub everything spotless, I promise.”
“I don’t care about spotless, at least not until tomorrow night, but I need to walk across the room and cook lunch soon.” Honoka sighed, turning around to head back downstairs. “I still have at least five more trips for the groceries. You can’t help because you need to stay hidden, but I’m going to become tired and hungry when I’m done so I’d like at least the clutter organized.”
It took thirteen more trips. Honoka lay on the floor, gasping, legs too shaky from all the stairs and unable to keep her upright. One of those trips included leaving a box of cookies and an apology with her downstairs neighbor. During those sojourns, Diane got the apartment organized and stacked the boxes in the corner opposite the kitchen. What could fit in the fridge was put inside, but there remained so much, Honoka just left half of it next to the refrigerator, praying it wouldn’t go rotten in the heat. Diane was very apologetic and made a good start with a fantastic shoulder rub that felt downright sensual. It helped that she really leaned into it, allowing her breasts to join in the fun. She also offered to help cook but quickly claimed no idea how to cook anything other than microwave dinners.
“You watch cooking shows!” Honoka threw out in good-natured exasperation, setting up the rice cooker and a skillet from her cabinets. “Doesn’t any of it stick?”
“I like eating food, not making it.” Diane held a long thermometer into one of the tall beakers, orange goop sizzling at the bottom of it.