"What potions do you brew?" Had I expected too much in the way of a normal conversation from an alchemist? Was that too much to ask for?
The shop smelled as any potion stall would, except this one was possessed by a lingering musk I'd not yet the displeasure of encountering.
"Potions to help with what you need. You asked for a healing potion, but to heal what exactly? You could save some money by just hiring yourself a priestess. I am an artist, and perhaps my potions can heal in other ways?" A cryptic response from an equally cryptic girl; was she insulting me?
The store's owner was a ratty little thing with a mop of disheveled auburn hair and a pair of spectacles that loosely clung to her upturned nose. It wasn't that she was snobbish or even petulant for that matter, as some intellectuals tended to be, it was that I doubted whether or not she was anywhere at all; a sudden hiccup subsided into a smile, glassy hazel eyes glazing over in a satisfied, aloof stupor. The woman seemed to exist somewhere else entirely, and I felt somewhat offended by that fact.
"I have coin," I said bluntly, "and if these potions of yours are as artistic as you claim them to be, then they shall suffice."
Her face scrunched up at the sound of my voice, a sharp brow raised inquisitively. She stood on tiptoe, peering over the countertop at me. "You don't look sick. And no wounds either." Her words were slurred.
"It's a contingency. You know, in case I get injured in the future; I'm an adventurer."
That seemed to liven her up, "An adventurer! You kinda look the part, I suppose, but not many pass through our little town. Like, you're officiated and everything?" She leaned over the counter, balancing on bare tippy toes as I presented my mark of membership.
"Yes, and I require your assistance. If you would just-."
"Join you," the shopkeeper was a whirlwind of pre-emptive excitement, scurrying about, frantically searching for the necessary traveling amenities amongst the ransacked store, "That could be fun!"
Fun? That wasn't quite how I envisioned this venture going, "No, you misunderstand me; I'm looking for-."
"Oh! I have a backpack here somewhere..." She was now climbing onto precariously placed barrels, rummaging through their contents in search of who knows what.
"Miss!"
She stopped dead in her tracks, staring blankly at the wall as though transfixed by something only she could see. Her eyes wandered in their sockets until they found mine. "Hmm?"
"As I've said, I simply need a healing potion and nothing more. I can find company in Kalgor. That's where I'm headed, to find others like myself. This is a detour, a mere errand along the way."
"But you're an adventurer," she whined like a child, pouting, "and I've always wanted to go on adventures." Another bright idea glimmered at the edges of her droopy-lidded eyes, "I can totally be useful. I make lotsa stuff, all kinds of brews, elixirs, tonics and tinctures." She listed off item after item, each word less comprehensible than the last.
"I'm sure you do, but-."
"Just let me close up shop and we can be outta here in, like, five minutes tops." She disappeared behind the counter once more.
Was this woman really the best alchemist this dreary village had to offer? Surely there were others I could seek out elsewhere. But time was of the essence and my patience had been worn thin. I sighed, awaiting for my dirty little pest to reemerge from her undoubtedly ransacked quarters.
I paced back and forth impatiently, taking in my surroundings. Shelves lined with various ingredients, unlabeled bottles, crates filled with god knows what, all piled atop one another, making the store appear more akin to a junk heap than anything else. How could anyone ever find anything in such a mess? There was a desk tucked away in the corner, papers strewn about its surface. A journal lay open, its pages scribbled with illegible ramblings. Curiosity got the better of me and I approached the cluttered workstation.
Upon closer inspection, I could make out certain passages amongst the woman's frantic notes: '…Increased dosage resulted in heightened euphoria. Side effects include: impaired vision, dilated pupils, loss of inhibition, lightheadedness, improved libido, odorous discharge…'
These ramblings went on and on, detailing various experiments conducted upon the author herself. What sort of lunatic drank her own brews? One entry in particular caught my eye, '…Decreasing the potency of Lover's Loss has proven unsuccessful. Subject's body has become increasingly sensitive, experiencing frequent bouts of arousal. Increased production of vaginal secretions due to heightened sensitivity. Masturbation required at least once every hour. Intense orgasm triggered fainting…Effects persistent…'
My jaw clenched involuntarily as I read through the depraved accounts of self-pleasure, my mind filling in the blanks as to what the shopkeep must've looked like in the throes of ecstasy. The potion’s name was Lover’s Loss, implying that the reports in the alchemist's notes had been the exact opposite of what she intended. I checked the date.
Almost two weeks ago. Was she still undergoing these symptoms nearly two weeks later?
Curiosity got the better of me; what exactly was taking her so long to prepare? I thought of her notes and took it upon myself to investigate. What if she needed assistance lifting something? Yes, that's the lie I told myself.
"Are you alright?" I called, tentative yet assertive, "Do you require any help?" No response.
I rounded the counter, peering down at the narrow stairwell that descended beneath the shop. A faint glow emanated from below, illuminating the creaky steps leading down into the alchemist's abode.
"Miss?" I tried again.
Still no answer.
My footsteps echoed throughout the cramped passageway, descending further into the bowels of the earth. As I approached the bottom step, the dim light grew brighter. My eyes adjusted and the room came into focus; I was met with a sight most unexpected.
The alchemist was sprawled out atop a bed, completely nude, legs spread wide apart. Her head was tossed back, a slender hand buried between her thighs, furiously rubbing away at her exposed cunt. Her breaths came in short bursts, labored panting devolving into low moans, fingers pumping in and out of her dripping pussy. I couldn't turn away, hypnotized by the lewd display. Her ample bosom heaved violently, bouncing with each thrust, stiff nipples aching for attention. Beads of sweat glistened against flushed skin. The woman writhed about, wriggling and squirming as she masturbated with reckless abandon.
She whimpered, arching her back, hips bucking wildly. I watched, entranced by the alchemist's performance, unable to tear myself away from the mesmerizing spectacle. "J-Just a m-m-minu-ah fuck, gimme a s-sec…" Rounded spectacles bobbed with every lurid motion, nearly falling to her heaving bosom before she managed to catch them with her freehand.
The alchemist gasped, toes curling, walls clenching around probing digits. Her entire body convulsed violently, trembling uncontrollably. She cried out, shuddering as waves of orgasmic bliss washed over her. I was captivated by the erotic display, rooted to the spot. My pants suddenly felt uncomfortably tight and I shifted about, trying to hide my growing erection.
A final gasp, followed by a prolonged sigh. She lay there for a moment, basking in post-orgasmic bliss. Slowly, narrow eyes fluttered open, peering across the room, catching sight of my silhouette hovering in the doorway. The woman yelped in surprise yet showed little interest in shielding her exposed sex; it was mind boggling. What had gotten her? Had this woman any decency?
"Still working out the kinks. Ya know, they say you should never drink your own stuff…" She giggled drunkenly, rolling over onto her stomach, lazily stretching about, still very much naked, "…but how else will you know that it works, right?"
"Uhh, yes, well, I'll wait upstairs while you finish up." I turned to leave, awkwardly stumbling over myself.
"Wait!" The alchemist rolled off of her bed, landing flat on her ass, scrambling to her feet. She rushed over to my side, tugging at my arm. "Don't go! We can totally leave now! That was just for the road!" Her tone was oddly nonchalant considering the circumstances. A thick miasma of sex-funk permeated the cramped understudy, too rich for a single act of self-indulgence; how often was she masturbating?
"Are you sure? I mean, you seem rather busy."
"Nonsense. Come, I've already packed up my things." Sure enough, a sack sat near the foot of her bed, stuffed with various items and personal knickknacks. "Promise, promise, promise I won't bother ya. It'll be smooth sailing from here on out, partner." She extended her cunt-slick fingers in a binding shake, either oblivious or apathetic to the pungent love-juices that clung to them. "I may be little but I can be a big help out there, and the name is Chiyo, pleasure ta meetcha."
I recalled the scrabble of notes I'd flipped through earlier, namely regarding Chiyo's half-baked experiments and their lingering side effects. I began to wonder whether or not the concoction had worked exactly as she’d planned, or if there wasn’t more to the alchemist than her brain-fogged state let on. A part of me was excited by the prospect of freeing Chiyo from her self-imposed affliction, while the other couldn’t seem to shake the lurid imagery of her sprawled form; how far would she stoop to relive herself? I buried that thought as quickly as I could. “Were you always like…this?”
Chiyo sighed half-heartedly, “ The opposite, actually. You should’ve seen my shop a couple weeks back, all organized and tidy. Hell, you should’ve seen me.” There was a tinge of regret behind those foggy spectacles, but it didn’t last long. “I was working on something to kill my sex-drive entirely so I could focus solely on my work, now I can’t stop thinking about all kinds of nasty stuff. Funny how it goes, right? Well…I made some mistakes…” She trailed off, shrugging mildly with her hand still extended in a shake, “Can only fight it for so long, but I won’t be a problem, I promise!”
All in all, I was looking for companions to assist me on my travels and the spunky shopkeeper didn't seem like the malicious sort. Plus, cute company was a rare occurrence in this line of work, unless you preferred haughty elves or overbearing half-orcs. Then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and beneath her sloppy appearance Chiyo was quite attractive. Her thin, bony body was decorated in speckles of richly colored freckles and a diminutive stature meant she was rather flexible; I’d witnessed that first hand. What would be the harm in it?
I accepted her proffered handshake, wincing inwardly as the viscous fluid seeped between my gloved fingers, "Candor guide us."
***