Round 123 Transcript

Silra secures the plate, arc-welding it into place with precise, methodical passes. The metal glows red-hot and screams as it fuses to the existing structure—a sound that mingles with the building's own groans, which have taken on a distinctly feminine quality. Halie steadies the frame, her hands white-knuckled on rusted steel. Jeane staggers back, clutching her head, as the pheromones thicken into a visible mist that tastes of musk and salt. The structure's need pulses through the walls like a heartbeat. 45 minutes remain. The Force's whispers grow more insistent: 'take me' now a mantra in the creaking timber.

I watch Jeane struggle against her succubus instincts as she demands faster work from us, her frustration palpable in the air. The building's feminine moans and the thick musk of pheromones only serve to heighten my own arousal even as I try to focus on supporting Halie and Silra's efforts.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what needs to be done. "Alright, everyone, let's push through this. We've come too far to give up now."

I watch Jeane struggle with her succubus instincts, her eyes darting around the room before settling on Silra with an intensity that makes my stomach churn. The building's demands echo in my head like a relentless mantra, and I can feel the heat rising off of it, thick and cloying. It's not just a physical sensation anymore; it feels alive, hungry.
"Jeane," I whisper, stepping closer to her, trying to get her attention away from Silra. "Are you okay? We have to keep working if we're going to stop this thing."
My voice is so quiet it's almost lost in the air, but I know she hears me. Jeane blinks rapidly, her pupils dilating as she focuses on my face. A small, apologetic smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"I'm trying," she says, her voice strained and husky. "But this... pressure. It's like nothing I've ever felt before. Like the building itself is inside me, screaming."
She takes a shaky breath, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. I can see the sweat beading on her skin, the way her muscles tense beneath her clothes. She looks ready to snap.
The sound of the welding torch flares up again, sending another wave of heat through the room. The groans from the building rise in pitch, more insistent now, a desperate whine that makes my own skin crawl with empathy. "It's getting worse," I mutter, glancing back at Silra and Halie as they work frantically to reinforce the damaged frame. "What do we do? What does it want?"

Jeane Cromwell's wings shifted restlessly behind her back as she fought against the overwhelming urge to simply give in to what the building demanded of them all. The pheromones had thickened into a visible mist now, coating everything in the room with an oily residue that clung to skin and made it difficult to breathe without tasting something sickly sweet on every inhale. I can barely think straight! She hissed through clenched teeth. Every second we waste is another second closer to all of us being crushed under a mountain of concrete because someone can't keep their hands off me long enough to finish the repairs! Her eyes, dark and narrowed with frustration, locked onto Silra as she worked. The elf's movements were steady despite whatever effect the building's psychic assault might have been having on her—and that steadiness only served to fuel Jeane's growing anger. She strode forward, moving closer until there was barely a foot between them. If you leave this room, if you try to abandon us here because you can't handle being in the same space as me for even one more minute— Her voice dropped dangerously low, I will make sure it's the last thing you ever do. The threat hung heavy in the air, far more tangible than any promise of salvation from their predicament. Jeane meant every word, and everyone present knew it.