Chapter 9: shlorp
The tendrils slid across the floor like serpents made of syrup, their glossy surfaces glistening with a lewd, liquid sheen.
Some were as thin as ribbons, quivering with delicate promise; others ballooned with fluid, jiggling with each sultry movement, as if teasing the group with their curves.
They weren't fast—but they didn't need to be.
Every surface was slick with lube, every step a potential slide into ecstasy or doom.
And the walls?
They moaned—deep, sultry wails that reverberated through the corridor, as if the dungeon itself were aroused, savoring the chaos unfolding within its fleshy embrace.
Kota's eyes scanned the floor, his hoodie clinging to his lanky frame, damp with the dungeon's musky heat.
The glyphs glowed irregularly now, pulsing in time with the girls' movements, radiating a warm, tingling energy.
"They're drawing in lust mana," he said, his voice low, fighting the heat pooling in his core.
"The slimes are catalyzing it into forms."
"What the hell does that mean!?"