#level drain

Being an adventurer girl, a hero well into her quest, you don't usually pay monsters much thought. If they're especially high level or counter you especially well, then sure, but you're versed enough in magic as well as melee to not be out of your comfort zone in most cases.

That's why, when you found a huge hive full of drones, humanoid beegirls that were all your size, you didn't think much of it, practically waltzing your way in there. On their own, they were little threat, but there were just so many of them...

After a lot of fighting, you end up their captive, bound in sticky honey and taken to meet their queen. Your weapons, spells and even clothing stripped of you, you were presented to her. She decided, since you walked in here willingly, that you should stay here. Forever.

She pulls you against her massive form, your head shoved between her tits, breathing in her pheremonic pollen as she thrusts your cock into her and starts riding you gently. Despite your struggles, you cum quickly, overwhelmed by the hypnotic pheremones she produces, and she absorbs a couple of your levels.

As the hours and days pass, she keeps draining you over and over, keeping you alive on her nectar and honey, which only causes you to become more and more irresistibly in love with her, hypnotised into total obedience for the queen. By this point, you're far too weak to be fighting any monsters anyway, and she's almost unstoppable.

"Awwwh... look at you, such a good girl for me. Thanks to you, I have so many high-leveled drones that we were able to capture one of the nearby human towns easily. Now we have even more like you, cute human pets for my worker girls to use as mana tanks.

Soon enough we could rule the entire country and enslave all of the humans, and it's all thanks to you...~

How does that make you feel, honey? Does it feel good to submit to me, even at the downfall of humanity? Is the pleasure really that worth it? Or are you too far gone to even understand? Such a good girl, willing to sacrifice your own kind for me~"

You do nothing but whine into her tits and cum again, whimpering as she laughs gently at you. She holds you close and you hug back, too attached to ever want to let go of her.

A few days later, she takes you on a tour of the hive. So many humans, all being fucked and drained by the worker drones, all to make your queen and her army unstoppable. She laughs at you and how you're clearly turned on by the fact that you gave her this power.

Eventually, she leads you to your new chamber. Now that all your levels have been drained by her, she explains, she just needs to keep you as a mana battery down here somewhere safe. You'll just be another captured human, a nameless toy for the queen and her drones.

She sets you into a strange, full-body... thing, made of sticky honey. It binds you tightly to it, covering your entire body and leaving you trapped and unable to move. The honey tendrils seem to bend to her will, teasing you and making sure you stay in your new forever home.

It then starts thrusting into your mouth and ass while also sucking your tits, your mind instantly shutting off as the stimulation across your body overwhelms you with pleasure. She leaves your cock exposed, free for her drones to fuck as they like, and while you aren't being used by one of them, another tendril comes down to drain it and siphon off more power for her.

You're just another one of the many humans dedicated to helping the queen take over the area, then the country, then the world. You caused this, and now you're nothing more than another pawn in her chessboard.

In those older games you can get lost levels back. But it's so expensive, like America healthcare expensive, just to claw back one experience level. Or you could regain the lost experience the hard way.

get back on the treadmill and grind it out

Maybe that's your plan when the spectre brushes your cheek with her cold fingers and an experience level evaporates. You can't afford to dump a wheelbarrow of gold into the collection box at the city temple to have a restoration spell cast. So you decide to deal with it, until she touches you again.

That's two levels gone. Twice as much of your irreplaceable time and investment gone because this fucking monster can just arbitrarily take it from you. With every touch, the spectre robs you of everything that you earned with your experience. Your maximum hit points decrease. Those spells, attack bonuses, special abilities start to grey out one by one.

And the more she smothers you in debt and weakness, the easier it is for her to take even more from you!

Isn't that hot? Some tabletop developers must have thought so in the eighties and nineties. Half of the level-draining monsters in the Monster Manuals were some kind of sexy inveigling bikini demon. Ravenloft was scary and fascinating because of the irreparable harm the monsters in that setting could do to you.

Drain levels. Drain stats. Permanent hit point loss. Bit by bit, little pieces of you, measurable but intangible, all flowing into the smirking mouths of pretty monsters. How could anyone not be captivated by such a fucked up thing?

Even if you survive the encounter, you mark down the negative levels on your sheet. They're impossible to forget, the way you never forget the most money you ever had in your bank account. The debt warps every other motivator. You're adventuring and gathering gold in the hopes that you can pay the arbitrary, expensive fees to remove the weight of one of those lost experience levels from your balance sheet.

The rest of the party understands your frustration on an intellectual level. But the spectre never hit them. They still get to quest for the magical gems or whatever was the point of your silly campaign.

The experience you lost defines you in a way that doesn't apply to them. Maybe you grind enough to afford restoring one of the stolen levels, or you gain it back the hard way. It's nowhere near what you lost, but you can feel a little sense of relief.

Over time, the scope of your motivation shrinks. Get back what you lost. Except you can't, it's too expensive, there isn't enough time. So if you can't do that, then maybe you can confront the spectre again. Destroying her won't bring back what she took away. But you want to make sure no one else suffers like you have. Or maybe you just want revenge. Probably both.

You sneak away from the party one night. You've grown apart from them, anyway. You have more in common with the spectre now. You've spent most of your waking life thinking about her and what she took from her. And she's waiting for you in the cold ruins where you first encountered her.

The spectre isn't surprised you wanted a rematch. Neither of you are surprised when the battle turns her way. You don't have your friends to support you this time. Her flanged, iron mace batters at your guard. She knocks aside your blade, bludgeons you to the ground, but doesn't raise her weapon for a killing blow.

The spectre holds out her other hand, inviting you to shed pretense. You crawl forward and lift your chin, pressing your still-warm cheek into the cup of her life-stealing hand.

She holds you there for a long time. More abilities go grey. There's no stopping it, now. This isn't mercy. She's giving you what you want.

More soul-debt, more exhaustion. Let it crush any memory that you were anything but leaden emptiness.

The spectre smiles. She withdraws her hand. You feel the lines of frost left by her fingernails scraping your cheek. She lays down her mace. She won't need it to seal your fate. Its strikes were feather-light compared to the crushing weight that is to come.

How badly do you want it, now?

She touches your lips with her finger. Still on your knees, you open your mouth. She laughs at you. Snowflakes and cold mist steam from the cruel turn of her blue lips. She slips her finger inside your mouth. You coil your tongue around it and suck. Your grateful whimper makes her laugh again.

Obscene. You draw her chill into your weakening body as her touch pulls at the wan flicker of your potential. You feel the doors to possible futures, avenues of escape, close one by one. You can almost hear the soft click of the locks.

The tomorrows flow out of you. What would you do with them? Try to claw your way back to a high water mark you'd never see again? The spectre cradles the back of your head with your other hand. You feel a thin line of drool freeze on your chin while you suck her finger. She has given you so much soul-debt, now. The weight of it will bar you from any afterlife the gods had prepared for you.

She pulls her finger free from your mouth with a gentle, wet pop. You sigh out a plume of freezing air and snowflakes. She purses her lips and blows a matching trail of cold in your face, eyes bright and mocking.

Then she kisses you, and now her hands dip into your chest, between your legs, groping as she frees you. Only from your old body, not from what you now owe her, which is everything, until the stars turn into dust. Now she is so much brighter than the sun and moon ever were. You were something bright and magisterial and alive before she left her first mark on you. And now you've thrown every bit of it away.

The reward for surrendering to the pressure of her will always be more pressure. There are no levels left to drain, so now she takes your ability to choose. She uses debt to carve you into a more useful shape. You cede more of yourself to her with every touch. There is so little of you left.

Your new, ghostly form kneels to her, because it is what she demands. She straddles your face and uses your mouth. More debt pours into you, squeezing out the capacity for thought.