With his family away for the week, Orias had been left to staff the bathhouse alone—manning the front desk, scrubbing the pools, and restocking the bath salts. He’d been too busy to eat, too distracted to realise just how ravenous he’d become, until his stomach sounded the alarm by growling a full minute before the bell above the front door even jangled.

A human girl in armour stormed in, dragging an elven male behind her by his lyre. Orias had smelled him coming from across the street. Sweet. Juicy. Like honey-glazed ham. Male energy oozed out of every pore. Orias’ tail went instinctively went turgid, and he quickly shoved it under the desk before it could swipe a shelf of talcum powder in excitement.

“We need to book a Bard Service,” the girl huffed. “This horndog almost got us killed last time chasing after ugheverything. We need his head in the game. Are you the woman running this place?”

Orias blinked, looked down, and only then noticed the line of drool sliding off his chin and into his cleavage.

“Uh. Apparently,” he said, wiping his mouth.

So that was why his tunic had been so uncomfortably fitting all day. The hungrier he got, the more he started to resemble that side of the family. A few more skipped meals and he’d have become the identical (if slightly less busty) twin sister of his half-succubus father.

Normally his father would handle Bard Services. But desperate times. Before the girl could even utter “Don’t I need to pay first?”, Orias had already whisked the bard into the back.

Once he started feasting, it was always hard to stop. The last blue embers of male essence drifted from the bard’s lips as he collapsed back - sweaty, jiggling, and one very satisfied customer.