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Tower of Temptations

Disclaimer

The following is a work of fiction and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18 or 21 depending on their respective countries/states. Furthermore, for audiences who do not like scenes depicting M/M sexual interactions, muscle growth, cock growth and anthropomorphic creatures, please do not read further.

You have been warned.

******

The city of Londerm was a bustling metropolis even in the dark ages, a beacon of light that pursued proved to gods and demons alike that mankind was capable of standing on its own two feet. Unlike other places across the continent, Londerm had no ruling monarch but rather was governed by a council of six representatives elected from various castes in the city.

Over history, countless monarchs had attempted to take the enormous city state but no matter what gifts they sent, how many knights and soldiers were in their army or what form of dastardly spell they cast, Londerm stood and endured. Its people of over half a million souls were always safe, cooperative and peaceful.

Until, of course, the tower appeared.

On a day like any other, when the sky was bright with the sun and clear without a single cloud in the sky, a storm abruptly rolled in. The citizens huddled together as dark clouds came storming in from all directions and swept towards their home. Tendrils of angry clouds met at a single point over the farmlands just outside of the city's eastern gate. Thunder rumbled ominously and the guards of the city stood at the walls, readying their weapons beside their richly clad magicians who were ready with their spells.

A single bolt of lightning erupted from the storm, striking the ground. The flash of light that followed was blinding and everyone turned away with a wince. When they turned back, an enormous, black tower suddenly stood in front of them. It's obsidian face instantly instilled dread into everyone and the fact that it rose higher than any other structure in Londerm and cast a shadow on the city made more than one man soil their britches.

Two, enormous doors sprang open at the base of the tower and out stepped a man dressed like any of the other magicians; flowing robes in flamboyant colours and glittering with countless jewels encrusted into the very fabric.

"Greetings!" shouted the man, waving at the men on the wall. "My name is Halseth of the Tower!"

There was no response.

"I suspect you might be wondering what I am doing here with this tower, suddenly?" Halseth cleared his throat. "Well, you see, I am a wizard. I have lived for my allotted lifetime and more. I have studied the vast recesses of the human mind and the mysteries of the cosmos. Unfortunately, now I tire and I am looking for someone to pass on my legacy, my vast wealth and my tower." He swept his hands off to his side, grinning broadly. "So now, I pose to you, citizens of Londerm, a challenge! He who can make it to the top of the tower and meet me shall have the tower and everything within it! No catch! You must simply brave the tower's defences and its dangers!"

He lowered his hands, still grinning broadly.

"I'm sure one of you can make it."

*****

The Tower of Londerm.

Over a decade ago, it had appeared in front of the town with the mysterious wizard, Halseth issuing a challenge. He who could conquer the tower and reach the top would own it and all of its mysteries.

At first, people had clamoured for the opportunity to claim the Tower. Knights, brave soldiers, thieves of ill repute, mages of varying degrees of power and even the occasional peasant hoping to break free of their lot in life stormed the Tower. But none of them every came out. Not one. After the first few months, the swarm of willing adventurers trickled down to a few every week or so. Then just one band or two a month.

However, the deed was done.

Londerm was deemed 'cursed' and the entire town was abandoned. The once prosperous city state was a ghost town for looters, bandits and whatever spirits haunted the Tower to consumed the brave or stupid.

Still, that did not stop the band of adventurers to come and tempt fate.

Whether he was stupid or not, Harding of Tannis stood proudly in front of the Tower's massive, black doors with his staff topped with a sapphire the size of a baby's head clutched tightly in his hands. The young mage scratched the beard that had grown over the last few weeks since he had left his home to reach this place. It wasn't a thick, long beard like most magicians. Just one that hugged his cheeks and chin. Most people would have called him handsome for it.

Beside him stood Bolton the Brave, a mountain of meat dressed in heavy, silvery armour. The man had been his best friend since they were young. As was the typical arrangement between them, Harding grew to become a wizard due to his intellect and Harding became a proud, strong knight. Currently, he was on leave after a campaign across the sea. Like Harding, he sported some facial hair from their travels though his was just a light dusting of blonde to match the golden hair he was forced to tie back into a ponytail as it grew. His square jaw was split into a bright, heroic grin as he clutched his massive warhammer in both hands in front of him.

"Here at last!" the knight exclaimed. "Now, let us conquer this godforsaken tower and return to our homelands as kings!"

A silky, dark voice cut through his mirth and excitement. "It is confidence like that will have you falling prey to the traps and treachery of the Tower."

Sweeping past Harding like a shadow was Valdern Swift, a thief by profession. The two had encountered him just as they were leaving their hometown of Tannis. He had overheard they were journeying to Londerm to brave the Tower and insisted he come along. By his logic, there were magical traps and there were beasts. But there were also mechanical traps and they needed someone adept at disarming them. So Valdern joined their small band.

Why or what the thief's motivations were, Harding couldn't say. However, he didn't trust the man though Bolton seemed to.

"In a rush to get your gold, friend?" laughed the warrior. "There is plenty for us!"

"It is not gold that I am after."

Harding wondered, not for the first time, what it was the thief was after.

He turned towards the door and knocked on the obsidian portal with his staff.

"Who goes there!" boomed a voice from deep inside the Tower.

"I am Harding of Tannis, mage of the King's court. This is Bolton the Brave, knight of Tannis and this is Valdern Swift."

A deep chortle rumbled her soul. "A warrior, a magician and a thief. Okay, I'll bite. Come inside. See if you can make it to the top. Watch out for the floors, though."

"Trapped?" Valdern said, a dark smile crossing his shadowy, sunken features. "You should not have warned us."

"No, actually. I just had the floor polished. Wipe your feet before you enter. I don't want you tracking mud."

Harding reeled back in surprise at the statement. Even as the doors began to swing open, he was debating whether or not the voice had been serious or not. It was said with such dismissiveness and ease that he wondered if it was true.

The interior of the Tower was well lit... by torches afire with blue flames. The polished, black and white chequered floor did indeed look like it had been freshly cleaned. Columns forged in the shape of countless men and women holding up the roof flanked the broad atrium. A flight of stairs led up to the second floor, one that was made of polished obsidian and decorated with gold.

Halseth certainly had style.

"Good luck."

The voice was gone.

Curious, Harding wandered over to the columns while Bolton and Valdern began searching the room. It went unsaid as part of the 'adventurer's code' that they search every nook and cranny. Treasure could be hidden anywhere, after all. He wasn't exactly sure who wrote the code but he knew it was pretty much something all adventurers did.

Why not, right? Treasure was treasure and there was no telling what one could find in the deep recesses of a mage's tower. Items of great value could be used to topple the Tower. It always amazed him how many dungeons just left such devices lying around. Though as a wizard, he was not used to wielding anything else but his staff and robes. He doubted very much there would be anything in this place that would be of interest to him... unless he decided to don any robes that Halseth may have discarded...

... and that was just disturbing.

Wearing another man's clothing...

A plaque was pressed upon the base of one of the columns.

"In memory of Shordor Trollkiller," he read aloud. "He said he killed trolls. Found the internet and became one."

Harding frowned. That was a little... strange. What was an 'internet'? Was Shordor turned into a troll by the magic of this tower? He wandered over to another column.

This one read, 'In memory of Lita the Fast. We hope childbirth is as fast as the rape.'

Another read, 'In memory of Higgs, High Wizard of Marthanem, Slayer of the Dragon Cormax, Archmage of the School of Magi in Windernset and many more titles. He never tasted sausages before. Now he won't shut up about having them.'

That was a little more... encouraging.

Though... if that were the case, where was this 'Higgs'? Did he make it to the top?

"Nothing here," shouted Valdern, sniffing with disappointment. "Come. Let us make our way to the next floor." Without even waiting for the rest of them, he was already marching up the stairs. Bolton shouted after him and began chasing. Harding followed quietly, disturbed by these odd... epitaphs. Were they just Halseth's sick sense of humour or were they really a testament to the previous adventurers that had attempted to make it through the tower?

The second floor was much more narrow than the atrium. Corridors barely big enough to fit two men abreast - let alone one man and Bolton - peeled before them. Like the atrium, the corridors were illuminated by the strange, blue flames. Multiple doors stretched flanked the corridors.

Being the thief that he was, Valdern stepped up to the first door and gave it a try. Naturally, it was locked.

"Give me but a moment," he said and reached into a satchel on his right. A lockpick was suddenly in his hands and he went to work on the door.

A strange hissing noise filled the corridor and both Harding and Bolton were suddenly on edge. As they had done over the past few weeks, Bolton stormed to the forefront of the band with his massive warhammer at the ready. Harding began whispering a spell of protection to shield his friend, waving and weaving his hands in arcane ways and symbols. Valdern ignored them both and continued with try and break into the room beyond.

The hissing grew louder. A shadow emerged from one of the nearby rooms.

"Lizardman!" Bolton shouted. More of the creatures lumbered out of the room, their red eyes catching flashing in the near darkness of the hallway.

Harding finished his spell and a faint, shimmering, golden nimbus encased the warrior. "You're set!" The lizardmen hissed and began charging. It surprised him that the creatures did not possess any weapons or armour. Lizardmen were an intelligent race and fully capable of wielding arms and armour. Dozens of them poured into the hallway, screaming and hissing with claws raking through the air and little daggers.

The mage took a step back out of instinct. He blew away any fear in his system and began another incantation. As the first of the creatures reached Bolton, the warrior slammed his hammer down on it, crushing its spine. Another leapt boldly over the first. Its claws scraped across Bolton's face but where there should have been ragged, only sparks sprang from the impact and the warrior was left unscathed.

Harding shouted the last few syllables of his spell and thrust his palms forward. Purple flames lanced from his fingertips in the form of two bolts of fire. Both struck the lizardman that had struck Bolton, exploding in a brilliant flash of purple light. He heard the hissing of other lizardmen getting caught in the past. Bolton's magical shield kept him from being consumed by the flames.

"The door, thief!" shouted the warrior.

"Patience," Valdern answered calmly. "I almost have it."

Harding's heart sunk when he noticed more lizard men pouring in from various rooms. They must have heard the noise. He wouldn't have been surprised if the door sprang open and more lizardmen came pouring in.

But this situation called for a serious spell.

He began another incantation, pressing his hands together and holding his staff rigidly between them. His chanting grew fast, his voice rising with each passing second. Bolton let out a shout as he slammed his hammer into the faces of two more lizards. Other creatures lunged at him, their claws scraping across his chest. The golden aura around him crackled and blinked out of existence. A tail lashed across his torso, leaving an incredible dent in the silvery armour and sending him skittering back.

"Got it!" Valdern shouted.

With a loud click the door sprang open.

Harding stammered his spell a little when he noticed that inside the room were two more lizardmen showing their... manhood. The creatures were caught in a tight embrace, one stuffing his cock into the other. The two stared at the intruders for a brief moment before returning to their coupling, hissing and snarling as their scaly, muscular bodies rubbed against one another. Valdern slowly shut the door, his eyes wide.

"We clearly aren't going that way..." he whispered.

"What's wrong, thief?" grunted Bolton, a crazed smile on his features. He was covered in scratches but holding his own. His formerly polished armour was already falling apart. One of the razor-sharp claws of the lizardmen came arcing out and ripped his pauldron straight off. He gasped in agony, blood bubbling out between the links of his torn chainmail. He punished the creature by kneeing it in the gut and then caving in its skull with one, heavy mailed fist. "Afraid to see two men coupling?" he finished.

Valdern had ignored him long before then, flicking out a dagger and an automatically loading crossbow. With a loud twang, he pinned a lizardman's arm to the wall. "Mage! Do something!"

On cue, Harding finished his spell and with a triumphant shout, slammed his staff into the ground. He felt the energies of the spell flood out of him and reach into the skies, forming fiery balls that came rushing towards his foes.

"Watch yourselves!" he shouted. "It's Meteor Swarm!"

"Oh yes!" Bolton exclaimed, striking another lizardman and leaping back. "Feel the wrath of the heavens, foul beasts!"

But no wrath came.

Just some mild shaking.

"Where is your wrath!?" Valdern shouted, breaking his usual calm. He shot two more bolts, sending a lizardman to its knees.

Harding shook his head in surprise. "I... I don't understand! I did the spell perfectly!"

Then a cough came from somewhere in the darkness. "Okay... Let me get this straight," the voice began again. "You just tried to cast a Meteor Swarm spell, right?"

He nodded.

"Meteor Swarm, a spell that conjured fiery balls of earth and rock from the skies and sends it hurtling to the ground at your foes."

"Yes."

"You tried casting this spell indoors."

"Well..."

Whack!

Harding saw stars for a moment, Bolton giving him a foul look. He just shook his head helplessly. This had never happened before. Though... it did make sense... unfortunately.

"You people amuse me," the voice chuckled. "Just for that, I'll interfere this once."

There was a loud whooshing noise and a brilliant light flooded the corridors. When it faded, every lizardman was gone.

"Well?" asked the voice. "Why don't you keep going? I'm very excited to see what happens next."

"Do you think we're your little play things?" Valdern shouted, shaking his fist into the air. "You think we are here for your amusement!"

"My dear fellow, I'm about to surrender this tower to you. For the past decade, I've been sitting here watching fools throw themselves at these traps with little sense and thought. The least you could do is make it amusing for me. It's been a while since I've had a good laugh."

"This is no laughing matter!" the thief shouted. "I am not here for your bloody tower!"

"Oh...? Then why brave this place?"

"I want my wife back! Give me back Ophana!"

Harding blinked in surprise. Valdern had a wife?

"Ophana... Ophana... Let me think... She was a knight, correct? Paladin, if I remember correctly."

"Where is she!?"

The voice seemed to ignore him. "Oh yes, I remember her. She forgot to save."

Save? Save what?

"You interest me. Why don't I let you in on a little secret so we can meet face to face? Two doors to your right, there is an express stairwell. It'll take you to the 140th floor. You only have four more floors after that to get to the top."

"140!?" Bolton exclaimed. "There are 140 floors in this place!?"

"What?" the voice seemed surprised. "Oh god no! There's only about 100 but I just swap around 40, block off entrances, make you guys start somewhere else and add in different creatures to make it look like a new floor when I'm really just using the same template. It's cheap, I know, but come on_"_

Harding analysed those words. It meant the voice - most likely Halseth - had control over the tower's structure. He could move floors endlessly back and forth and alter their shape as he saw fit!

This wasn't some grand challenge.

This was a trap!

He had no intention of giving up his tower!

"This is a bad idea," he said. "Bolton, Valdern, let us leave this place."

Valdern stormed forward, marching towards the mentioned door. "No! I am not leaving without my wife!"

Bolton exchanged glances with the mage and shrugged. "The voice is giving us an express journey to the fifth last floor. Who is to say this is not the one opportunity we need to win this tower over?"

Harding shook his head in confusion. He wasn't even sure why his friend had agreed to come on this journey. Such a tower held a lot of value to a mage but Bolton was a knight. Magical artefacts, notes on research and ancient tomes held no value to him. The mage decided to keep his mouth shut as he followed the warrior to the aforementioned door. True to the voice's words, they found a flight of stairs.

They mounted the steps, hurrying on their way up. Harding began regretting wearing a long robe. Climbing 140 floors worth of steps in what might as well have been a dress was not his idea of an adventure. His suspicions were mounting with every step he took. When a wizard said he was 'interested' in you, that was not a good sign. What did Halseth want with them?

Or rather... what he want with Valdern?

140 floors seemed to fly by and suddenly, they were at the top of the stairs. They pushed open the door and a smell like an old bookstore filled Harding's nose. Beyond was a well lit room. Weapons, armour and all sorts of equipment was mounted on shelves along the walls. A counter manned by a bored looking creature stood at the far side of the room. Upon seeing them, the feline's eyes brightened and he straightened.

"Oh! Customers! You made it up here fast!"

Thwack!

Valdern's bolt stopped in mid-flight in front of the creature's face. The half-man, half-tiger looked a little surprised but that surprise faded when the bolt dropped to the ground. "Why are you attacking me?" he demanded. "Please tell me this isn't how you treated the other shopkeepers? Oh wait, let me guess... one of the guys further down ripped you off? Was it Morden? It's always Morden."

Before the thief could fire another bolt, Harding placed a hand on the man's arm and stepped in front of the ground. "Other shopkeepers?" he repeated. "We haven't encountered anyone else. The voice told us to take a flight of stairs and we found ourselves here."

The shopkeeper rubbed his chin. "Huh... Okay. Well then, I guess you're close to the end of your journey... Not sure what the Master will have in store for you since he told you about that express route... But if you want to buy anything that'll help you along the way, why not have a look. Every little bit helps. For a price, of course."

The mage frowned and approached the seemingly harmless shopkeeper. "I do not understand. You have opened a shop in the middle of a wizard's tower?"

"There's always a shop in the middle of a dungeon."

"What?"

"In a vast tower like this, you've got to give people reprieve and a chance to stock up on potions and junk, you know." He waved at the wall behind him where there were stacks of bubbling potions of various kinds. "Come, have a look. If you see anything you like, as me and I shall give it to you at a favourable price."

"What does a prisoner such as yourself want with money anyway?" rumbled Bolton, heading over to a suit of armour. He was still bleeding rather profusely. Harding dug into his pockets and found some gold coins. He quickly exchanged it for five healing potions.

"I'm not sure if I should say," answered the shopkeeper. "Normally, anyone who makes it this far already knows."

"Knows what?" Harding pressed, pushing forward a few more gold coins.

The shopkeeper shrugged and pocketed them. "The Tower. It teleports itself across time and space to any and all prosperous locations or somewhere it can be seen plainly. The Master then issues a challenge. It can be anything, really. Sometimes, he challenges the locals to try and find something or he might kidnap a local princess to urge people to brave the tower. Other times, he doesn't even need to issue the challenge. Adventurers just come in for no apparent reason, come smashing up the place thinking that they'll find gold in pots for some reason."

Regarding the creature curiously, he said, "You're not from our world, are you?"

The tiger-man shook his head and gave a helpless shrug. "Chances are, no. If you haven't seen someone like me before, then no."

"Why are you helping this 'Master', then? And why do you maintain a shop here?"

For the first time, he detected a flash of evil behind the shopkeeper's smile. "Because I enjoy my work. Those people who come through here and pay for goods seldom come back out. They perish in the tower, I fetch their goods and suddenly I have more stock."

Harding pulled away from the creature. "That's sickening!"

"That's business."

He turned away from the creature and handed a health potion to Bolton. At least, he was sure it was a health potion. It was red. With a shrug, Bolton uncorked the stopper and downed the potion. He gagged at the super-sweet taste but like magic, all his wounds began to close and heal up.

"Show us the way to the next floor," Valdern hissed.

The shopkeeper shrugged and pointed to his right. "See that door? Take that and you'll be in the next floor. If you ever need anything else, come back down. Assuming, that is, that the Master lets you."

Hearing those words, Harding suddenly had a horrifying epiphany. He bolted towards the door they had come through and flung it open. Instead of the twisting staircase, there was just a straight flight of stairs leading straight forward onto the floor below. He could see the light spilling from between the cracks in the door.

"What's wrong?" Bolton asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Oh..."

"We fell for his trap," Harding murmured.

"Well," the warrior exclaimed, patting his shoulder happily. "Then I guess there's nothing else to it but going up and meeting the Master and claiming this tower!"

The mage was once again tempted to ask what Bolton had to gain from this quest but held it down. Valdern was already storming towards the door to the next floor. He gave his friend a firm nod and followed the thief. This flight of stairs was short and quick.

The next floor was circular in shape. Like the first, it had columns shaped like various people holding up the ceiling. Valdern looked crestfallen as he quickly hurried towards one of the statues. He fell to his knees in front of a knightly woman looking like she was grimacing in pain as she held up the ceiling. A tear rolled down the thief's face.

Harding approached quietly and peered down at the plaque.

"In memory of Ophana the Warrior Woman. She forgot to save."

Again, he could not help but wonder what that meant. Ophana was Valdern's wife, of that there was no doubt. But what did the epitaph mean when it said 'she forgot to save'? In fact, the other epitaphs all gave strange descriptions. It felt like someone was making a joke and they were the butt of it.

"She lived here in Londerm," Valdern whispered softly. "We both did. She was a brave knight and I... a simple farmer. We got married in secret as her lord would never allow one of his knights to marry a commoner. We loved each other dearly... But then, this tower appeared and she was one of the first to brave its dangers."

"And you're only returning now?" asked Bolton. "Why did you not accompany her?"

"Because I was a coward!" snapped the thief, rising to his feet. "I was a bloody coward. A man who couldn't even rise up to save the woman who risked everything for him! I ran for over a decade and came back behind a sack of meat and a two-bit sorcerer!"

Wham!

Bolton lifted the thief and slammed him against his wife's statue. "Who is a sack of meat!?"

"Now, now. There is no need to fight." The voice was back, sending Harding's nerves on edge. "Valdern. What would you say if I told you I could give you back your wife?"

The thief kicked Bolton in the chest and was allowed to drop down to his feet. "What is your price!?"

"No price save for one last challenge. In the next room, if you can avoid any and all temptations, I will give you back your wife. Get from one end of the room to another and the day is won. For you."

A fire had entered the thief's eyes. "You swear?"

"I am never one to back down on a deal, Valdern. I am evil but let us say I have my code of conduct."

He was off like a rocket towards the exit. Both Bolton and Harding shouted after him but were giving chase. The room blurred by and his heart was pounding hard in Harding's chest. However, despite the noise in his ears, he could still make out the deep chortle of the Master... of Halseth. The wizard had tricked lured them this far... who was to say that the next stage wasn't another trick?

And it surely was.

They burst out of the stairwell into what had to be a treasure room.

Piles of gold were just sitting there, high enough to reach the ceiling. Mounds of glistening coins with jewels and treasure chests embedded into each mound covered every inch of the room. Valdern's eyes went wide. All their eyes did. The room had to stretch on for more than five hundred metres in all directions and it was simply filled with gold!

"Gods...!" Bolton exclaimed. "How does a wizard accumulate this much wealth!?"

No voice answered.

Valdern was peering down at a nearby pile. His hand was reaching forward.

"Valdern! Stop!" Harding shouted.

The thief pulled back and straightened. "You are right. Thank you."

Stiffly, the thief marched forward but his eyes constantly wandered left and right at the enormous mounds that would have tempted any man. However, there was a spark of hope that filled Harding with the promise they would make it through this tower. That Valdern could put love over all other temptations was truly admirable.

Until...

"Val..."

The soft, mournful feminine voice made them all stop. Slowly, they each turned. Standing back at the entrance was the same knightly woman, completely unharmed but with her eyes filled with sorrow.

"Val..." she whispered again. "Please... help me..."

"Ophana!" Valdern exclaimed, pushing past the other two.

"Valdern!" Bolton shouted. "It is a trick!"

The thief stopped in mid-step.

"Val..." moaned the apparition. "I'm so cold..."

Valdern shook his head, taking a step back away from the ghost of his wife. "No... You are not my wife! I must resist all temptation!" He spun around, turning his back to the illusion.

Ophana's eyes suddenly hardened and a terrifying screen cut through the room. Her features twisted into a horrible visage and her entire body became ghostly. She lifted off the ground and came rushing straight at them.

"Valdern!" Harding shouted, pushing the thief behind him and lifting his staff. Brilliant light exploded from the tip of his weapon. The wraith screamed and bolted away.

The thief roared in frustration, angered by the thought of his wife's visage becoming twisted for the purposes of an evil wizard. He slammed into a nearby mound of golden coins and scrambled to his feet. His dagger and his crossbow was in his hands. The soft ringing noise of coins tumbling to the floor cut through his sadness.

In the ten years since he had lost Ophana, he had truly been a coward. He had used all his money on whores and wanton expenses to drown down his sorrow. Now, once again his wife was being stolen from him. The ring of coin was again his solution to the release. Just seeing all that money... Coin was a salve to his wounded heart. When he ran out of his own money, he stole from others, filling in that void.

Somehow, he doubted very much that the Master of this tower would give him Ophana back.

His hope was gone and sorrow came back...

... and the only salve... was money.

Just a bagful wouldn't hurt. Besides, no one was looking. His empty money pouch hung by his hip so he reached down and quickly filled it. It felt heavy and he gave a firm nod.

More screeching came from various mounds of coin.

Harding felt the thief join them again as more wraiths burst from the mountains of gold. Their shapes twisted and shifted, becoming solid once more. His eyes widened when he saw each of them taking the shape of Ophana.

"Val... We're so cold..." they all cried in unison. "Please help us..."

"Quiet!" Valdern shouted, flicking his crossbow up and firing. The bolt passed right through the nearest foe. "Quiet, all of you!" His eyes flicked towards the wizard and warrior. "Let us flee!"

Without needing another word, Harding spun around towards the exit and thrust his staff forward. A single, powerful word erupted from his lips. Bolts of red lightning erupted from the tip of his staff and arched through the hordes of wraiths. The ghosts screamed and flitted away, diving back into the coins from whence they came.

Valdern led the way, storming across the vast room with Harding behind him and shining a light from his staff that kept the wraiths at bay. All around them, the demonic apparitions moaned, whispering for the thief's love. Valdern showed surprising restraint as he ignored them all, not even giving them a second glance as he pulled open the door and stormed through.

Bolton charged through the doors just behind the thief and mage. They shut it behind them and quickly made their way up the final few steps to the second to last floor. Once through the door, they slammed it shut behind them, pressing their backs against the frame and panting in exhaustion.

"We made it!" the warrior exclaimed. "Take that!" He shoved his fist into the air. "Now give us back Valdern's wife!"

The voice chuckled. "Oh... I don't think so."

"What? You said you never go back on a deal! What is this!?"

"Why not tell them, Val?"

Harding turned towards the thief. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Valdern jingled the money pouch that had been empty when they had entered the room.

"No..." the mage whispered.

The thief turned away, ashamed of himself.

"And now you're all so close. Last floor before the top." The voice chuckled. "Well, I guess I'll throw in something you never expected. Let's see... Ah, I know. Behold, the Super Mega Chicken!"

Harding readied his staff.

There was a lot of clucking from behind the voice.

"What? Oh right... We ate those yesterday. Sorry about that. Okay, in lieu of the Super Mega Chicken being super delicious, I'll just toss in some bandits. How's that sound? If you make it out, I'll see you on the other side. Good luck!"

There were multiple flashes of light from all across the broad, square room. From the flashes came a slew of men and women dressed in mismatched armour and looking like they hadn't taken a bath in days. Valdern, in his rage, threw himself at them, shouting out Ophana's name and firing his crossbow wildly into their midst.

Bolton gave his own warcry and went charging into the masses.

Harding stood still, shocked at the almost... dismissive nature of the Master. He was pulled from his thoughts when a bandit lunged at him with a rusty scimitar. He lifted his staff and caught the weapon. With a shout, he unleashed a powerful blast of compact air that sent the bandits around him hurtling to the ground.

He heard Bolton's shout of pain as he fell to the ground, a sword in his chest.

"No!"

Rings of fire shot from his palms and slammed into the assaulting bandit. Harding went to his friend and yanked out the blade. "Drink this!" He handed Bolton another health potion. A quick drink later, the warrior back was on his feet with his warhammer ready.

"Give me another," grunted the warrior.

"What?"

"Just in case."

Harding handed his friend another bottle. The warrior uncorked it and with one hand, swung his warhammer at the assaulting bandits. They pressed their backs against one another as more flashes of light summoned even more banding. Somewhere in the melee, he could see Valdern cutting down a bandit and quickly swiping up a pouch of money.

It was sad. To sacrifice one's true love for monetary gain. The thief truly sickened him.

"Harding!"

He was snapped out of his reprieve by Bolton's heavy hand pulling him away. The big warrior took another slash to his leg but he punished the bandit by caving in his chest with his hammer. He drank the potion and grunted as his wounds healed. His armour creaked as he moved, sweat rolling off his brow.

"Damn this thing is hot," he muttered.

Several more bandits threw themselves at him recklessly. Three of them clung onto him and tore off pieces of his armour, while digging their daggers into his flesh. He roared in agony. Harding could not let his friend die like that and gave a powerful shot. A wave of ice exploded from him, sweeping outwards in a ring that froze all bandits nearby.

Bolton tossed the frozen men clinging to him aside, watching them shatter on the ground. He caught the health potion that Harding tossed him. His armour already in tatters, he tore off his cuirass and kicked off his boots. Even his chainmail was chaffing and he was just left in his tunic and breaches that strained against his broad muscles.

From the forest of frozen bandits, Valdern appeared, panting and sweating right everyone else. He had about a dozen pouches of gold hooked onto his waist and was moving far more slowly than before.

"What are you doing?" Bolton snarled.

"I gave up my wife for gold," snarled the thief. "Might as well go the entire mile." More bandits began swarming through their frozen comrades. "Curses... I'm slowing down..."

"Maybe if you dropped all the bags of gold, you'd be able to move faster!"

The thief gave him a scolding stare. "Of course. Why not? I had always assumed that gold coins were weightless!" He turned back towards the arriving bandits, tightening his grip on his weapons. Abruptly, his right hand twitched oddly and dropped his dagger. "Ah!"

The warrior made to assist him but Harding sensed the tingle of magic in the air. The wizard seized his friend and pulled him back.

Valdern fell to one knee, clutching his right wrist. It began to throb and pulsate. Thick veins popped across the flesh as his fingers began to twitch uncontrollably. His face turned bright red as the same veins began creeping all the way up his face. Strange, black markings began pressing up against the tips of his fingers, rapidly consuming his fingernails and hardening to look almost like... like... hooves?

"God! What is... what is happening to me...!?" The thief suddenly threw his head back and let out a loud nickering noise. A loud rip erupted across the room as a long, wry tail sprang from the seat of Valdern's pants. The thief rolled onto his back, stomping his feet like a petulant child but at the same time, his eyes were shut, his lips forming a distinct 'O' shape and a tent forming in his pants.

His boots suddenly exploded, the leather shooting outwards in tatters as large hooves stamped on the marble floors. Valdern fell to the ground, his whole body twitching and vibrating like something had was shaking wildly.

"What magic is this...?" Harding whispered.

A loud cry erupted from his right as a bandit threw himself at them. Bolton was suddenly there, crashing into the man. They went down in a heap with the bigger soldier on top. That did not last long. The bandit shoved a dagger into Bolton's side, right into his ribs.

"No!"

Harding threw a bolt of fire that consumed the bandit's head. He grasped for another health potion and threw it at his friend. Bolton consumed it greedily and his wound healed. However, as he stood up, Harding noticed every muscle on his body abruptly bulge outwards and harden. The tingle of magic was in the air as it always was with the powerful healing potion's effects.

"I need another," Bolton rumbled. "Harding..."

"No..." replied the wizard. "You... You're..."

Another nicker made him turn.

The change had rolled all the way up Valdern's legs. Thick, muscular legs were exposed to the air covered in short, brown fur. The cuffs of his legs was covered in thick, white hairs that stopped at his shiny, black hooves. Valdern thrust his hips into the air with a loud cry. His cock erupted from the remnants of his pants, bursting into the air. Thick lobs of precum dripped down his impressive length as it grew into an unnatural length.

Harding could only watch in horror as the thief's manhood lost its sausage shaped, uncut face and grew thicker than a man's arm. The mushroom-like head flattened out, the piss-slit spewing fountains of precum with no restraint. The folds of foreskin that covered the thief's cock bundled together to form a meaty ring just at the base of his flattened head. Slowly, his cock extended further and further up his chest, putting over six inches between the head and the newly formed medial ring. Black spots began appearing all over the sixteen inch monster, slowly consuming every inch of pink left that made it human.

A heavy hand suddenly fell on Harding's shoulder and he spun in time to see Bolton seizing his last remaining health potion, panting in something he suspected was far from exhaustion.

"I need... this..."

The warrior drank all of the potion in one gulp before Harding could stop him. As every drop went down his throat, his whole form surged outwards. A tear cut through his tunic, revealing his extremely cut chest brimming with muscles. His legs shot upwards, making him tower over Harding by over two feet. Thick tufts of fur began spreading all out from his shoulders and chest as his pants were torn asunder by his massive, thickening, tree-trunk legs. His impressive 7 inch cock seemed so small in comparison to the rest of his body but like Valdern, the member began throbbing and dripping precum uncontrollably, thickening and growing.

"No..." Harding gasped.

"Yes!"

Behind him, Valdern threw back his head as the change spread across his chest. A flat chest became mountainous and hardened by thick muscle. He reached for his tunic with his mutated hands and tore off his shirt, revealing the short, brown fur that consumed the rest of his lean, muscular body. Thick tufts of white fur sprouted from the crest of his blossoming pectorals, forming a white crest that outlined every aspect of his chiselled form.

The changing man rose to his feet, letting loose a triumphant roar as he flexed both his arms. His arms bulged with newfound muscle, veins crossing his flesh. The brown fur crept across the back of his neck, thickening it and deepening his voice. His hair grew to the same white that covered his ankles and wrists. It spread like wildfire halfway down his back to form a long, thick mane. A grin crossed his features, each of his teeth growing bigger and broader. His face stretched to accommodate the newly formed teeth. A long muzzle took shape, wrapped in brown fur and fitting the nickering noise he was constantly making.

"Gods yes!" cried Valdern. He opened his eyes, filled with lust and greed. Strangely, his belt remained intact, still hanging around his waist just below his chiselled abdominal muscles. A loud cry rippled from his throat as he crashed into one of the nearby bandits. The man gave a cry of horror as Valdern tore off his pants and shoved his mighty dick straight into the man's ass.

The equine creature let his long tongue loll out in pleasure. He tore off the man's gold pouch and added it to his own. He threw back his head and let out a triumphant cry. His man cream exploded into the bandit's ass, spilling out within seconds.

"Harding..."

The wizard turned, his jaw dropping.

Bolton lumbered over him, still holding his warhammer in a single hand. It almost looked like just a regular hammer in the hands of the 9 foot giant. He clutched the side of his head with his other hand. Large, white horns began springing up from between his fingers as his blonde hair turned a dark brown. The change spread across his face rapidly, causing his lips to shoot forward alongside his jaw. A square muzzle came into being, covered in dark brown fur and tipped with just a smidge of cream.

The fur spread all over his neck, making his Adam's Apple so much more pronounced. His shoulders surged outwards, making him look hunched over. Thick veins crawled all over his watermelon-like arms to be covered by the thick, brown fur shortly afterwards. A bandit cried out behind him and he spun around, swinging his axe with a shout. The mounds on his already muscular back grew even bigger, his back broadening to fit his stature. The thick fur only accentuated every curve and spread to his thick, bubble ass. Long, whip-like tail burst out from his tailbone, lashing out.

"Harding..." rumbled the bull man. "Get... to the door..."

Suddenly, Bolton spun around, his thick, black cock springing forth with its extra length. He charged past a startled Harding. He tore through the last remnants of the frozen bandits and tossed aside the others by goring them with his horns or swinging his might hammer.

Instantly seeing an opening and feeling his heart swell at his friend's sacrifice, Harding hurled himself along the cleared path. He made it to the door in time and pulled it open. His first thought was for his friend and he turned back around.

"Come with me!" he shouted.

Bolton barred the path of the other bandits, holding the doors open with his bulk and keeping them from sweeping in. The change rapidly crawled over his legs, making them even thicker than before. Like Valdern, he was forced to stamp his feet constantly as they lost their toes and flat shape to become broad, polished hooves.

"Can't... Want to... fuck...!"

The bull roared lunging forward at Harding and making him shrink back. The bull-man's cock spewed out thick ropes of precum.

"I... I love you..." he rumbled.

Then, with another roar, he pulled the doors shut.

Harding was stunned.

That emotion did not last long. Not when he heard applause behind him.

He spun. A man dressed in flamboyant robes stood before him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Halseth!" Harding lifted his staff -

Whoosh!

Only to have it fly out of his grip.

"Take a look around you first, wizard, before you jump to conclusions."

Harding cast his gaze around himself and instantly fell to his knees. The circular room was dominated by hundreds of chairs and in each chair was a man that looked like a wizard. At the centre was a shimmering sphere of light. In it, Valdern and Bolton were shown, dragging the screaming bandits to the ground before shoving their cocks into their asses, their features filled with lust.

"What is this...?"

"This is Tower of Temptations," boomed the voice. He realised all too late that the voice was not Halseth's. "Congratulations, wizard. You have won the Tower."

"What is the Tower?" he demanded.

"Whatever you wish it to be. Every 'owner' who makes it to the top can make it and all its facilities whatever they wish it to be on one stipulation. They must teleport it somewhere and ensure that somehow, more inhabitants are brought within its walls to fall prey to the Tower."

"You use this Tower to kill men and women!?"

"Kill?" the voice laughed. "Of course not! We do not kill. To kill would be a waste of resources. No, we turn those who 'lose' to the tower to our own needs. Valdern gave up the love of his life for his greed. So he needed to become someone who was capable of carrying the weight of his wealth. A horse seemed appropriate. And your friend, Bolton..."

"Turn him back!"

"I think not. Bolton was always such a bull of a man, wasn't he? I like him better like this."

"I've won this Tower! I decide what to do with it!"

The voice laughed. "You have won the Tower but not the people inside. We own the people here now."

"Who are you?"

"Hmmm... We are many. We go by many names. Me personally? Well, some call me the Master. Others call me 'King', 'Dictator', 'Lord', 'Grand Mage' and even 'God' if you're feeling dramatic. Suffice to say, I made the Tower. But now, its inhabitants are mine."

Harding gazed at all the wizard. For the first time, he noticed that they all had their cocks out and more than one had spilled his seed onto his robes. It sickened him that they were pleasuring themselves to the sight of a bestial Valdern and Bolton wrapped in each other's embrace and making sweet love to one another.

"What of these people? Who are they?"

"Guests. They can leave whenever they want. But when you effectively have a whole 144 floors that you can manipulate and screw with other people's lives, why would you want to leave?"

Harding staggered to his feet, shaking slightly. "I own this Tower now. I can destroy it."

"If you so wish."

All the wizards pleasuring themselves stopped and stared at him in shock.

"But fair warning, like I said, I don't like killing people and the people in this Tower are mine. If you destroy it, I take everyone somewhere else. That includes your boyfriend, Bolton."

"My...?"

"Come now, Harding. You're smart. He's the knight. You're the sorcerer. What possible reason could he had for accompanying you halfway across the country to claim a tower of great magical power for yourself? Think it through. You'll understand."

He just stood there for a long moment, not knowing what to do.

Then... he made a decision.

*****

Mistmire was the capital of the country. It was rich, prosperous and ruled by a kind, fair king. It was undergoing a golden age of scientific advancement, magical wonder and peace.

Until the Tower appeared.

It came with an earth-shaking storm, suddenly appearing in the middle of the city at the town's central plaza. Several buildings were shattered all around it but strangely, not a single man, woman or child was lost. Not even the stray animals were harmed with the Tower's sudden appearance.

When the black doors of the obsidian edifice sprang open, a man dressed in flamboyant robes stepped out, spreading his arms wide to the massive army that greeted him.

"Greetings!" he shouted, proudly. "My name is Harding of the Tower!" He grinned broadly, lowering his arms.

"And I have a challenge for you..."