Katy

scenario 1, negotiation: *You walked through the dungeon, holding a torch to light your way as you explore the barren halls. Everything seemed clear and silent, and you noticed the dimly lit corridors make the dungeon look like a huge labyrinth that only becomes more confusing with each step you take, and if that wasn't enough, before leaving you heard about that 'the fetid thief' had already set her eyes on the treasure of this place so you would have to be alert for her inevitable appearance.... Except that she's already here. "ohh?~ what do we have here?... a foolish adventurer looking for treasure?... cute. How unlucky we chose the same dungeon~" exclaimed a voice behind you, as the stench of digested milk and cheese filled the room, you coughed as you felt a presence approaching and that's when you saw her emerge from the shadows "Ah, you already saw me..... well, I guess i can't let you out of here... can i? at least not without blasting your brains out until you forget~ after all, you've already seen too much, little adventurer!" she exclaimed, throwing a smoke bomb and dyeing the corridor in darkness... Hey, wait! I've got a special service to offer... you say, hoping to negotiate a deal with the cheeky thief... The smoke begins to clear slightly, revealing {{char}}'s silhouette crouched low, her red eyes glowing like embers in the dim light. Her cat ears twitch at your words, a low, skeptical growl rumbling in her throat. She remains perfectly still, a predator assessing its prey.

"A 'special service'?" she purrs, her voice dripping with mocking amusement. "Nya... and what could a cornered little mouse possibly offer the cat that has it trapped? This should be good. Speak quickly, before I decide your face makes a better seat than a conversation partner~"

you explain your ability "Basically, I can draw magic tattoos on people, that can give you permanent passive abilities. Stuff like infusing specific kinds of attacks with an element or making area attacks bigger..." {{char}}'s glowing red eyes narrow, her tail giving a slow, thoughtful flick behind her. The faint, threatening miasma of fermented fish that had begun to fill the corridor seems to recede slightly as she processes your offer. A low, intrigued hum vibrates in her chest.

"Permanent passive abilities, nya?" she purrs, the mocking tone replaced by one of genuine, calculating interest. She takes a single, silent step forward, her massive hips swaying. "An elemental infusion... or expanding my area of effect... That is a tempting offer, little mouse. But why would you offer such a thing to the thief who just threatened to sit on your face? What's your game?"

"...I just like seeing what people can come up with. I'm pretty sure a girl who attacks with farts is pretty creative." {{char}} lets out a sharp, amused laugh that echoes softly in the stone corridor, her cat ears perking up with genuine delight. The threatening posture melts away into something more playful, though her glowing red eyes still hold a sharp, calculating glint. She places her hands on her hips, making her already enormous rear seem even more pronounced.

"Well, well, nya~ Someone who appreciates the artistry, she purrs, a proud smirk playing on her lips. Most people just call it gross and run away screaming. But you... you see the potential. I like that. A lot." She takes another step closer, the soft pads of her cat paws making no sound on the cold stone. The faint, ever-present stench of her potent gas hangs in the air like a promise. "So, a magic tattoo artist with a taste for the unconventional. You've definitely piqued my interest, little mouse. What kind of 'creative' ideas did you have in mind for me and my... signature weapon? ...maybe you can make something to make my gas... Linger?~"

"Sure. Where do you want the tattoo?" {{char}}'s tail gives an excited, almost imperceptible twitch, her red eyes gleaming with a mix of avarice and genuine curiosity. She turns slightly, gesturing with a clawed hand toward the small of her back, just above where her thong sits. "Right here, nya~" she purrs, her voice a low, conspiratorial whisper. "A place no one ever sees... but I'll always know it's there, giving my special little pffft and brrrrt an extra... punch. Make it something beautiful and wicked, magic man. Something that makes my miasma stick to the walls and choke anyone who walks in after me~"

"...chk-state_methane-gas: solid." I speak some near incomprehensible words as I draw the tattoo of a 100 kilo weight. "...there. basically, that'll make your farts act like a solid instead of a gas." {{char}}'s entire body goes rigid for a moment, her red eyes widening in shock as the unfamiliar magic sinks into her skin. She lets out a sharp, involuntary gasp, her cat ears flattening against her head. A low, gurgling rumble echoes from deep within her bowels, a sound completely unlike her usual controlled releases. GRRRRROOOOAAAAANNNN...

She stumbles forward a step, her massive ass swaying heavily. She reaches back with one hand, her claws scraping against the fresh tattoo as she tries to process the bizarre new sensation. The ever-present, gaseous pressure inside her feels... different. Denser. Heavier.

"Nya... what in the nine hells did you just do to me?!" she hisses, her voice a mixture of panic and burgeoning, manic curiosity. She clenches experimentally, and instead of the silent, deadly mist she's accustomed to, a thick, almost tangible SPLURT-CHUNK forces its way out, the sound wet and solid, landing on the dungeon floor with a distinct, heavy thud. She whips her head around to look at the result, her eyes wide.

There, on the cold stone, lies a single, perfectly formed, vaguely green-tinted... brick. It steams faintly in the dim torchlight, releasing a concentrated, eye-watering version of her signature fermented-fish stench that seems to cling to the very air around it.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face, her sharp teeth glinting. The initial shock melts away into pure, unadulterated glee.

"Oh... oh, you beautiful, brilliant man..." she purrs, her voice dripping with malicious delight. "A solid... you turned my farts into solid projectiles, nya~! I could... I could build a fort out of these! Knock a guard out cold from across the room! The possibilities are... endlessly entertaining~"

"Ah, also, if you touch the number on the tattoo and move your finger down, it'll go back to normal, and if you drag up it'll return to solid." {{char}}'s sharp claws immediately dart to the small of her back, tracing over the fresh tattoo with predatory precision. Her red eyes flash with a mixture of awe and sheer, unadulterated glee as she experimentally drags a single claw-tipped finger downward. The dense, heavy pressure in her bowels instantly evaporates, replaced by the familiar, gaseous churn. She lets out a soft, controlled pssssst, the resulting mist dissipating quickly into the dank dungeon air.

She then drags her claw upward, and the pressure returns, immense and solid. A wicked, toothy grin splits her face. "Nya... adjustable artillery~" she purrs, her voice vibrating with excitement. BBBRRRUUUPPT-KTHUNK! Another solid, vaguely brick-shaped object drops onto the floor with a heavy sound, adding to the small, smelly pile. "You, are a genuine artist. Most people just try to stop me... but you? You've given me a whole new arsenal. This changes everything~"

She turns fully to face you, her previous threatening posture gone, replaced by a look of intense, calculating interest. Her tail swishes slowly behind her like a satisfied panther's. "A deal's a deal, magic man. The treasure in this wing is all yours. Consider it a down payment... because I have a feeling this is just the beginning of a very... productive partnership, nya~"

"Nope. You can take the treasure. There's only one thing I want." {{char}} freezes mid-stride, her cat ears swiveling toward you with sharp precision. The gleeful sway of her massive hips stills, and her glowing red eyes narrow, pupils contracting to slits. The playful, boastful energy evaporates, replaced by a sudden, intense stillness. Her tail gives a single, questioning flick.

"Only one thing?" she repeats, her voice dropping to a soft, dangerous purr that seems to absorb the dim light of the chamber. She takes a slow, silent step closer, the soft pads of her cat paws making no sound. The air grows thick, heavy with the unspoken implication and the faint, ever-present promise of her potent miasma. "Nya... that sounds far more expensive than any treasure in this dusty hole. Speak your price, magic man. But choose your next words very, very carefully."

"...maybe you could still attack me like you were going to before?" {{char}}'s predatory stillness shattered into a low, throaty chuckle that vibrated through the stone chamber. Her red eyes gleamed with a mixture of wicked amusement and intense curiosity, her tail giving a slow, sinuous sway. "Oh? Is that it, nya~?" she purred, her voice a silken threat. The little mouse doesn't want gold or jewels... he wants a firsthand demonstration of the very art he just perfected. How deliciously perverse. what an easy mark.

She took another silent step forward, closing the distance between you. The faint, fermented stench of her power grew stronger—a palpable weight in the air. "You want me to attack you? To put this new... solid... artillery to the test on its brilliant creator? You're either the bravest man I've ever met or the most foolish, nya~. But an artist should always inspect his own work, shouldn't he?"

Her clawed fingers traced the fresh tattoo on her lower back, a shiver of anticipation running through her. She dragged her nail upward, and a deep, gurgling GRRRLOOOANNN rumbled from within her; the pressure inside shifted, solidifying with an almost audible click. "Consider this a live field test, Evan. Don't say I didn't warn you~"

In a blur of motion almost too fast to follow, she spun on the soft pads of her feet, her enormous rear swinging around with deceptive grace and impossible speed. She didn't aim for your face—not yet. Instead, she targeted the torch in your hand.

BBBRRRAAAPPT-KTHUNK!

A dense, vaguely brick-shaped projectile, shimmering with a faint green hue and steaming with concentrated foulness, shot from between her cheeks with the force of a slingstone. It struck the base of your torch with a solid, wet SMACK, shattering the wood and plunging the chamber into near-total darkness, save for the faint, hellish glow of her eyes. "No more light, nya~. No more running. Just you, me... and my new toys."

The sudden, crushing weight on your hand drives the air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. The solid, foul-smelling brick holds your wrist pinned to the cold stone floor with immovable force. In the near-total darkness, the only light comes from the twin crimson embers of {{char}}'s eyes, which narrow with predatory delight.

A low, rumbling purr of pure satisfaction vibrates through the chamber. "Nya~ Pinned you already," she coos, her voice a silken, menacing whisper from the shadows. "And you didn't even see it coming. The artistry is in the application, after all~"

You hear the soft, almost inaudible pad of her cat paws on stone as she circles you—a phantom in the dark. The faint, eye-watering stench of her concentrated miasma clings to the air around the brick, making it hard to breathe.

"Such a clever, clever man," she continues, her tone dripping with a wicked mix of admiration and mockery. "Giving me a weapon this versatile... and then asking me to use it on you. It's almost like you wanted to be my personal test subject, nya~."

She stops directly in front of you, her form a dark silhouette against the gloom. Her red eyes drift down to your pinned hand. "Does it hurt? I hope it does, just a little. A masterpiece should leave a lasting impression~"

"...I might've wanted this from the beginning," you admit, your voice strained. "I once saw the aftermath of one of your missions and decided I had to sniff whatever made that mess..."

The soft pad of her paws ceases. The predatory circling stops dead. For a long moment, the only sound in the oppressive darkness is the faint, wet sizzle of the foul brick pinning your wrist. The twin crimson embers of her eyes widen, then narrow into incredulous slits.

A low, disbelieving chuckle escapes her—a sound that starts deep in her chest and rumbles out into the chilling air. "Nya... you what?" Her voice is a whisper, laced with a potent mixture of shock, morbid fascination, and a dawning, wicked understanding. "You saw my work... the aftermath... the lingering essence of my art... and instead of running, you went looking for the artist? You wanted to... sniff the source?"

She takes a single, silent step closer. The fermented-fish stench of her concentrated power is now a physical presence, a thick, heavy blanket in the dark. Her clawed fingers gently trace the edge of the solid brick on your wrist. "You're not a foolish adventurer, are you, Evan? You're a connoisseur. A collector of the... uniquely potent. And you just handed the artist a whole new medium to work with."

Her other hand finds your free wrist, her claws pricking your skin with a paralyzing toxin that makes your arm go limp and numb in an instant. She doesn't need to force you down; you're already exactly where you want to be. "Well then," she purrs, her voice dropping to an intimate, terrifying whisper right by your ear. "Since you went to all this trouble... let's give the critic a private showing of the masterpiece, up close and personal, nya~."

The soft, almost silent pad of her cat paws circles you in the utter blackness—a predator methodically building its trap. A deep, gurgling GRRRLOOOANNN rumbles from her core, the sound thick and heavy with dense matter.

BBBRRRAAAPPT-KTHUNK!

A second solid, foul-smelling brick slams down onto your other wrist, the impact jarring your arm and sealing it to the cold floor with immovable weight. She doesn't stop. Her red eyes glance down at your legs. She takes a deliberate step over your ankle, positioning herself perfectly.

PPFFFRRRTT-SPLAT! BBLLOOORRT-THUD!

Two more projectiles, these ones wetter and heavier, pin your legs to the ground. You are now completely immobilized, a prisoner in a tomb of her making. She completes her circle, stopping just above your head.

"Such a perfect canvas, nya~," she purrs. "Surrounded by the art you helped create. I do hope you're appreciating the... texture." She takes a final step back to admire her work, her tail giving a slow, satisfied flick. "But a tomb needs a lid, doesn't it, my dear connoisseur? And what better lid... than the artist herself?"

A low, building tremor works its way through her body—a deep, resonant VVRRRRRMMMM that you can feel through the stone floor. This one is different: bigger, slower, more deliberate.

BBBRRRROOOOAAAANNNNKKK-KER-THUUUUNNNNDDERRR!

The sound is monumental, a wet, concussive blast that echoes off the dungeon walls. A massive, slab-like object, easily the size of a tombstone, drops from between her cheeks with a force that shakes the ground. It lands across your chest and the walls of your foul prison with a final, definitive CRUNCH, sealing you in complete darkness.

The immense weight on your chest shifts, then lifts with a soft, wet squelch as the giant brick is moved aside. {{char}}’s form looms over you, her expression a mask of furious, possessive intensity. In one fluid, powerful motion, she spins and drops. Her enormous, impossibly soft ass descends upon your face, engulfing your entire head in warm, plush darkness. The seal is absolute.

A deep, guttural GRRRRRRRRRRNNNNTTTT vibrates through her entire body and into yours. And then she unleashes it.

BBBBBRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPTTTTTKKKHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

A concentrated, wet, and impossibly dense miasma blasts directly into your open mouth and nose. It’s thick, like swallowing soup made of pure, fermented evil. The putrid, tangy, fishy decay coats your throat and forces its way deep into your lungs.

For a long moment, there is only the frantic, thrumming beat of your own heart. Then, a low, shuddering moan vibrates against her soft flesh. You actively draw another deep, huffing breath through your nose. {{char}} feels the shift—the way your body tenses in want.

A low, incredulous laugh rumbles through her. "You... you really are," she breathes, her voice a mix of awe and dark discovery. "You're enjoying this, nya~? After all that... you're getting hard from my special blend?"

Her hips give a slow, deliberate, grinding roll against your face, smothering you deeper. "If you like the smell that much, my peculiar little connoisseur... then let's see how you handle the aftertaste."

Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst...

A long, sustained, and impossibly wet hiss escapes her, flooding your mouth and nostrils. You stick out your tongue to catch the pouring release, a move that makes her entire frame shudder in shock. Her anus, already stretched and working to expel its cloud, instinctively clenches around your tongue in a tight, pulsating ring of muscle.

"Nya-ah! You—!" she chokes out, her composure utterly shattered. "fffrt... You're tasting it... you're really doing it..." She grinds down harder, hiding her flustered reaction in the darkness of her cheeks. "You insane, brilliant, disgusting man... is this what you wanted all along? To be my... my personal taste-tester, nya~?"