My Dungeon Daddy System: Raising Monsters and Waifus Underground Chapter 35 – Operation Ugly

​The destruction of the dungeon’s reputation began with a sledgehamr.

​"Harder!" Reed shouted, pointing at the ornate stone pedestal that held the guestbook.

​Grika swung the hamr with manic glee. CRACK. The polished marble shattered into jagged, uninviting chunks. The velvet-bound guestbook tumbled into a puddle of dirty water.

​"Excellent," Reed said, checking a clipboard he’d grabbed from Maira. "That looks much more nacing. Less ’Welco Ho,’ more ’Get Out.’ Now, for the cast."

​He turned to the room. Operation Ugly was in full swing, but it wasn’t just about breaking furniture. It was about breaking dignity.

​"If Kaelen sees a resort, we die," Reed announced, pacing in front of his line-up of monster girls. "If she sees a struggling, filthy, desperate dungeon, we live. That ans you all need to look like you crawled out of a swamp."

​He held up a bucket. It was filled with a thick, viscous mixture of mud, ash, and sli that Luma had graciously provided.

​"Who wants to go first?"

​The Dressing Room (Floor 1)

​Seraphine stepped forward, her nose wrinkling in disdain. The Lamia Knight was currently wearing her Magma Dreadnought breastplate, polished to a mirror sheen.

​"I do not require mud," Seraphine hissed, crossing her arms. "I will simply look... fierce."

​"Fierce implies competence," Reed corrected, dipping his hand into the bucket. The muck was cold and gritty. "We need ’Desperate Scavenger.’ We need ’I haven’t washed my scales in a month.’ Co here."

​Seraphine stiffened as Reed approached. She lood over him, seven feet of Amazonian snake-woman, radiating heat.

​"This is undignified, my Lord," she warned, though she didn’t back away.

​"It’s camouflage, Sera," Reed murmured. He slapped a handful of mud onto her bronze pauldron. SPLAT.

​Seraphine flinched. "Cold."

​"It gets colder," Reed promised. He reached up, saring the grey sludge across her collarbone. His fingers traced the line of her neck, pushing the muck into the gaps of her armor.

​Seraphine’s breath hitched. Her tail, which had been lashing angrily, suddenly went still. Her pupils dilated.

​"You missed a spot," she whispered, her voice dropping an octave. She leaned down, offering him her neck. "Here. Make it... thorough."

​Reed paused. The tension in the room spiked. This wasn’t just disguise anymore; it was grooming. It was primal. He scooped up more mud, running his hands down her bare arms, coating her bronze skin in grey filth. His thumbs pressed into her muscles, turning the application into a rough massage.

​Seraphine shivered, her heavy eyelids drooping. She let out a low, vibrating purr that rattled Reed’s chest.

​"Hey!"

​A wrench hit the floor with a clang. Grika was standing on a crate, her goggles fogged up.

​"That’s not camouflage!" the goblin yelled, hopping down. "That’s foreplay! Why does she get the hands-on treatnt?"

​"I am the Tank," Seraphine smirked, leaning her muddy cheek against Reed’s hand. "I require the most... coverage."

​"Bullshit!" Grika grabbed a handful of mud from the bucket. "I’m the Engineer! I get dirty for a living! Watch this!"

​SPLAT.

​She threw the mud. It hit Seraphine square in the chest.

​The room went silent.

​Seraphine slowly wiped the muck from her breastplate. She looked at the mud on her fingers. Then she looked at Grika. Her smile was terrifying.

​"War," Seraphine hissed.

​"Wait—" Reed started.

​Too late. Seraphine scooped up the entire bucket and dumped it over Grika’s head. The goblin sputtered, looking like a chocolate-dipped rage-monster.

​"OH, IT IS ON!" Grika shrieked. She tackled Seraphine’s tail, her oily skin sliding against the mud.

​"Ladies!" Reed shouted, trying to intervene.

​He stepped forward and imdiately slipped. He went down hard, landing in the spilled muck. Before he could get up, a heavy green weight landed on his chest.

​"Gotcha!" Grika crowed, sitting on him. She grabbed a handful of sludge and sared it aggressively over his face. "Now you look tough, Boss! Like a real warlord!"

​"Get off him, you grease-rat!" Seraphine roared, lunging. She grabbed Grika by the waist and hauled her off, but in the process, she slid over Reed’s legs, her massive tail pinning him to the floor.

​It turned into a pile-on. Mud flew everywhere. It was wet, it was ssy, and judging by the way Seraphine was "accidentally" constricting his thigh and Grika was nipping at his ear, it was definitely engaging the Harem Protocol.

​"Amateurs," a cool voice cut through the chaos.

​Reed wiped mud from his eyes. Maira was standing over them. She was pristine, holding a spray bottle.

​"You are wasting resources," the Demon Maid stated. "And you missed a spot."

​She aid the bottle at Reed’s chest and sprayed. FSST.

​It wasn’t water. It was ice-cold sli.

​Reed gasped. "Maira!"

​"Adhesion agent," Maira said professionally, though her tail was twitching with amusent. "To make the dirt stick. Hold still, Master. I must apply the finishing touches."

​She knelt down, ignoring the mud ruining her stockings. She reached out, her sharp nails scraping gently against Reed’s chest as she spread the sli. Her touch was precise, clinical, and agonizingly slow.

​"There," Maira whispered, her face inches from his. "Now you look... suitably pathetic."

​Reed lay there, pinned by a snake, straddled by a goblin, and grood by a demon. He was covered in filth, shivering from the cold, and terrified of the erection he was fighting to suppress.

​"Okay," Reed wheezed. "Good team building. Everyone up. We have a Paladin to fool."

​

The Hot Springs (Floor 2)

​Down on Floor 2, the tragedy continued, though it was less violent and more... moist.

​Luma was floating in the center of the main thermal pool. Usually, this water was crystal clear. Now, Reed stood on the edge with a bag of garden soil.

​"I’m sorry, Luma," Reed said. "This is going to hurt more than it hurts you."

​"Please no," Luma bubbled, forming a sad face on her sli surface. "I just filtered myself! I’m sparkling! Look at my pH balance!"

​"You’re supposed to be a scary dungeon sli, Luma. Not a brand of mineral water. We need ’Stagnant Swamp.’"

​Reed dumped the dirt.

​The brown cloud blood in the pristine water. Luma shrieked—a sound like a draining bathtub—and dissolved, churning the dirt until the entire pool looked like a murky, uninviting pond.

​She surfaced, now a murky brown color. She looked miserable.

​"I feel gritty," she complained, spitting out a pebble.

​"You look dangerous," Reed lied, kneeling by the edge. "Co here."

​Luma flowed over, resting her chin on his knee. She looked up at him with big, watery eyes.

​"Do I still look pretty?" she asked, her voice wobbling.

​Reed smiled. He reached out, plunging his hand into her gel-like head to pat her core. It was a weird sensation: wet, warm, and tingling.

​"You look like a survivor," Reed said softly. "And survivors are hot."

​Luma turned a deep shade of muddy purple. She wiggled happily, her sli body expanding to engulf his hand up to the elbow.

​"Okay!" Reed pulled his hand back with a wet schlock sound. "Let’s... keep it PG until the Inquisitor leaves. Scatter so bones. Make it look like things died in here."

​Luma spat a plastic skeleton femur onto the tiles with a wet thwack.

​"I hate this plan," she gurgled. "But I love the headpats."

​

The Ceiling (Floor 1)

​High in the rafters, the final negotiation was taking place.

​Riva was clinging to a stalactite, clutching her Flash-Harness to her chest like a baby.

​"No," Riva said.

​"Riva," Reed called up, craning his neck. He was still covered in drying mud, looking like a swamp creature in a torn tunic. "We talked about this."

​"It’s mine!" Riva screeched. "It sparkles! It makes fast! It makes Shiny Bird!"

​"The tal lady hates sparkles," Reed explained patiently. "If she sees it, she’ll think you stole it. She’ll arrest you."

​"Bird peck tal lady!"

​"We can peck her later. Right now, I need ’Sad Bird.’ Co down here."

​Riva hesitated. She looked at Reed. She looked at the mud covering him.

​"Boss dirty," she observed.

​"Boss is camouflaged," Reed corrected. "Co get yours."

​Riva swooped down, landing on his shoulder. She poked his muddy cheek with her beak.

​"Tasty?" she asked.

​"No. Dirt."

​Reed reached into his pocket (which was full of grit) and pulled out a pepperoni stick. "Trade?"

​Riva snatched the at, swallowing it whole. She dropped the harness into his hand.

​"Now," Reed said, scooping up a handful of muck from the floor. "Wings out."

​Riva grumbled, but she spread her snowy white wings. Reed worked the mud into her feathers. It was a delicate process; he had to be careful not to damage the flight quills. He grood her, smoothing the dirt over her back, under her wings, and down her tail.

​Riva leaned into it, closing her eyes. She let out a soft trill, vibrating against his chest.

​"Good preen," she whispered. "Boss has good claws."

​"I have hands, Riva," Reed muttered, wiping sli on her head to ss up her crest. "There. You look like a wet rat."

​Riva puffed up, inspecting herself in a puddle.

​"Sad Bird," she croaked miserably.

​"Perfect," Reed said. "She’ll pity you. And pity is safer than suspicion."

​The Final Touches

​By midnight, the dungeon was unrecognizable.

​The walls were scuffed. The air slled of "Eau de Despair" (Maira’s goblin sweat perfu). The lighting was flickering and weak.

​And the staff? They looked like wrecks.

​Reed stood in the entrance hall, looking at his handiwork. He was caked in mud, his tunic torn, his hair matted with sli.

​Standing next to him, Seraphine looked like a rusted statue, Grika looked like a grease-gremlin, and Riva looked like she had lost a fight with a chimney.

​They looked miserable. They looked pathetic.

​And they were all leaning on him.

​Seraphine’s tail was wrapped around his ankle. Grika was leaning on his hip. Riva was perched on his shoulder, asleep. Even Elara was hovering close enough to chill the sweat on his neck.

​They were a ss. But they were a tight ss.

​"Okay," Reed whispered, the System clock ticking toward the siege hour. "Operation Ugly is a success. We look like trash."

​"I feel like trash," Seraphine muttered, picking at a rusted chainmail poncho Reed had forced her to wear.

​"Good," Reed said, squeezing her muddy hand. "Hold onto that feeling. Because when Kaelen walks through that door, we need her to underestimate us. We need her to see victims, not monsters."

​He checked the ti.

​[TI UNTIL DAWN: 06 Hours]

[Enemy Status: Siegebreakers approaching outer periter.]

​"Get to stations," Reed ordered softly. "Rest while you can. Tonight, we get dirty for real."