''WARNING THIS IS A FURRY CUB GAME FEATURING FICTIONAL UNDERAGE CREATURES IN A VARIETY OF SEXUAL SITUATIONS. THIS GAME FEATURES RAPE, TORTURE, WATERSPORTS & SCAT. THERE ARE NO GUARDRAILS IN THIS GAME, AS THE PLAYER CHARACTER YOU WILL LIKELY EXPERIENCE BEING TORTURED, MAIMED, CASTRATED, RAPED, USED AS A LIVING URINAL AND YOUR STOMACH WILL SERVE AS A LATRINE PIT. NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER. BE ADVISED! THIS GAME IS A WORK OF FICTION AND FANTASY. IT DOES NOT AND SHOULD NOT REPRESENT ANYTHING IN THE REAL WORLD! [[I AM OVER 18 YEARS OF AGE AND UNDERSTAND THIS WARNING->Commish]]''This game was commissioned by Sepfy, thank you very much for commissioning me ^^ [[ALL HAIL THE COMMISSIONER->Opener]]The sounds of battle still ring out in your ears. The clamour of arms, shouts of anger, whimpers of fright, roars of rage, screams of agony. The combined forces of the Drow city of Claw-Chasm and the Duergar city of Firestone clashed with the army of your home city, Orlo'o'rhonas. Or rather, the home city of your master, the illithid wizard whose abode you reside in. The dark elves and the deep dwarves have been at war with the mind-flayers for close to a year now. What began as raids and minor pitched battles has escalated to field armies of thralls and slaves and the Drow, Duergar and Illithids who lead them. Your master differs from the other mind-flayers. He keeps his slaves in higher regard, feeds them better, trains them better, even hold some of them as pets. Such as yourself. And it was you, the gnoll Zennobas, the svirfneblin Helazzin and a crack squad of slave soldiers that saved the day when it seemed the front line would buckle. The duergar had fitted a dozen hulking ogres in well-crafted adamantite plate, the behemoths smashing through the line with highly enchanted weapons that clove through even magical armour. Your master opened a portal then, at the back line of the opposing army, and led a charge alongside you and the others, pushing for the well-armoured ogres to stop their advance. The desperate strategem worked out and none of those you care about were hurt severely, with you even managing to pilfer off a heavy, steel dagger that shone with its magical imbuements. That weapon is now in your bag of holding secured at your waist. Zennobas coughs loudly and you are suddenly aware of where you are again and your back goes rigid as you stand to attention. [[Look around->War Council]]You are inside a large tent which is lavishly decorated befitting the leaders of this force. Standing behind the chair where your master is sitting, you are almost shoulder to hip with burly gnoll Zennobas who smells like blood and sweat. Not letting your nostrils betray you, your golden eyes cast about, noting the other illithids that are sitting at the round table. The two who stand out the most is the head cleric Barnabos and your master's rival the wizard Absalum. Barnabos looks drawn and tired, his lifespan coming to an end, his tentacles flaky, his once-broad shoulders slumped forward. Still, the old mind-flayer is more than strong enough to wield the heavy mace he carries in his belt, especially once his two acolytes have imbued him with divine strength and endurance. And he wears his splint mail as if it was his second skin. One of your ear-rings have the power to see magical auras. (link:"Check out the head-cleric's mace")[Without a word you activate your ear-ring and have to turn your face away from the intense brightness that Barnabos' mace casts off. The weapon is //extremely// potent! His mail shines bright as well, but is completely overpowered by the radiance coming from the mace. Bllinking tears away from your eyes, you deactivate the ear-ring.] Opposite your master sits his rival Absalum. The wizard has magical runes imbued on his tentacles and a broad-shouldered surface dwarf stands behind him, holding in his hands a magical staff horizontally. The mage wears a robe of eyes, a garment adorned with a myriad of eyes of different colours, from different species, imprinted upon it. Levitating close to his head are a couple of oval stones that slowly circle around him. You smirk and cast your gaze at your master, an Ioun Stone, as they are called, circling his head as well, spoils from your intrusion into his rival's tower. (link:"Check out Absalum's gear")[You did this once before, and are ready to endure the almost blinding lights that are cast by his rune-engraven tentacles, that shine almost as powerfully as the staff his slave holds out. The Ioun Stones that levitate around shine somewhat softly, and you smirk as you look at the one hovering over your master's head, observing how it's brightness is much more potent. Eyes fluttering, you deactivate your ear-ring.] The mind-flayers are talking telephatically to one another, which is evident in the gestures from their three-fingered paws and the way their tentacles wriggle around. As you observe the conversation, something begins to prod at the very edge of your sense of hearing. It's almost like whispers. The conversation? No, preposterous! You are not psionically gifted! And yet... It seems as if those whispers corrospond with the various hand gestures and wiggling of tentacles, and you strain your senses, almost leaning forward in an attempt to listen in and you can suddenly hear their voices. Muted. As if behind a door or underwater, but still intelligible. [[Listen in->Convo]] "//.....2400 slaves dead, 139 of our own kin slain...//" The words come from the only warrior among the mind-flayers, clad in golden mail adorned with motifs of the screaming faces of surface-folk. He's supposed to be the general, but Zennobas has proven to be the real brains behind the battle-field strategy of the army, the illithid too cruel and loose with the slave-soldiers' lives to see the path to victory. "//IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR THE TIMELY CHARGE OF ME AND MY MINIONS.//" The voice of your master, booming in your head even as you struggle to hear what the mind-flayers are projecting at one another. "//The lesser races have intensified their efforts to bring us down, this is an affront to our Gods!//" The head cleric, tentacles waggling about in agitation, zeal making the wrinkles on his bulbous forehead crinkle. "//GODS OR NO, THEIR COMBINED FORCES OVERMATCH US.//" He projects it as a fact, but the other illithids gasp, their tentacles writhing furiously at that thought. "//HERESY!//" Barnabos practically shouts psionically. "//Have you lost your mind? Has the softness you extend to your thralls extended to the wider Underdark?//" This biting remark comes from Absalum, the wizard's rune-engraven tentacles lighting up in the visible spectrum. Despite yourself, your head whips back and forth as the bickering turns into a mental shouting match, your master re-stating that his actions and those of the dwellers of his abode had wrestled victory out of the jaws of defeat. "//You speak the truth. He speaks the truth!//" The general says, acting as a mediator. "//We must not underestimate the lesser races lest they best us and drive us out of our city!//" Once again shocked gasps and wigglings of tentacles course through the room, more mental shouting following. You tune out, hearing nothing again, except for Zennobas' heavy breathing. Turning your head slightly, you look at the hulking gnoll and take note of his disheveledness. The fighting was the culmination of almost a week's worth of smaller skirmishes, and neither of you have had scant time to rest or groom yourselves. (link:"Sniff for his scent")[Your whiskers twitch as you seek out his scent, and you feel a heavy blush on your cheeks as it impacts you squarely on your smell receptors. There is blood and well-oiled steel, yes, but underneath that is the heady smell of a superior male who has gone unwashed for too long. Heck, you haven't even have time to service him with your muzzle, and your tongue droops out of your mouth as you pant heavier, imagining his smell and his taste once your get under his probably //very// stained breeches. Zennobas coughs then and you note his eyes have turned in their sockets, sending you a stern rebuke, and you pull in your tongue, standing to attention again, hoping no one noticed your antics. [[The meeting ends->Going Back]]]Your master rises, as does the others, and the meeting is over. Following two steps behind him, you and Zennobas exit the tent and head over to your part of the war camp. "WE WILL DEPART FOR ORLO'O'RHONAS, TO PICK UP MORE OF MY SOLDIERS. THE RANKS HAVE BEEN THINNED AND THEIR BODIES ARE NEEDED TO FILL THE GAPS." Your master turns to face you and he leans down, tentacles waggling in agitation. "AS SOON AS WE ARRIVE YOU MUST RESUME YOUR TRAINING, EVEN IF YOU FEEL TIRED FROM THE BATTLE. A LITTLE FATIGUE SHOULD NOT PREVENT YOU FROM FULLFILLING YOUR DUTIES." He then turns to look at Zennobas. "YOU WILL AS WELL, MY MOST PRIZED WARRIOR, KEEP SEPF TO THE GRINDING STONE AND..." At that he gives a court sniff. "EVEN I CAN SMELL YOUR SCENT. AFTER THE TRAINING YOU MUST HEAD FOR THE BATHS." You can almost feel the burly gnoll roll his eyes. The muscular male has gotten quite accostumed to regular bathing and grooming, oftentimes oiling his fur to a shiny sheen, denying you the delicious tastes of his unwashed prick. With a stirring in your loins, you realize that today might be your lucky chance to feast on his musky canine cock. You, Zennobas and a few others are brought together, and your master makes the passes of a complicated spell that takes many seconds to conclude. Try as you might, your eyes cannot keep up with his spellweaving, but you are not surprised when the world blinks your guts feel as if you are falling into a deep chasm, before everything turns right again and you are standing right in front of your master's abode. "Put away your possessions, young cub, I will meet you at the training room," Zennobas says, giving your rump a hard smack as you enter the corridor leading into the residence of your master, his slaves, and his pets. [[Go to your room->SepfRoom]]You are in your room. It's a simple chamber, with a bed, a desk and a wall you have been allowed to put wooden boards onto, where you hang your trophies. Hanging behind the desk is a tall mirror, so you can make sure your headfur turfts in //just// the right way when using the washbasin in the mornings. (if:(history: where its name contains "SepfRoom")'s length <= 0)[You pull out the heavy dagger you managed to pilfer today. It's made for an ogre, so it's more of a broadsword to you. Activating your ear-ring you can see a fairly potent glow of enchantment. Turning it in your paws you can feel a subtle warmth and you check the blade for any inscriptions of an activation word. There are none, but flames crawl up both sides of the blade, etched with acids into the steel. (link:"Say \"fire\"")[You speak the word "fire" in undercommon, then in drow, then in abyssal, then in common. The dagger doesn't light up.] You decide to hang the dagger on your trophy wall. There's a nice spot right... //there// and you hang the dagger on two metal nails by its handguard.] [[Check yourself in the mirror->SepfSelf]] [[Check out your trophies->Trophy]] (if:(history: where its name contains "Corridor")'s length <= 0)[[[Put away the belongings you don't need and head out the room->Corridor]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "Corridor")'s length >= 1)[[[Leave the room->Corridor]]] You take a moment to look at yourself. Despite the toils of warfare, your jet-black headfur fluffs up just the way you like it, but you cannot help but give it a few strokes with your paw to make it stand up just right. Your golden eyes look fairly tired. The numerous skirmishes, being awakened while sleeping more than once, the lack of time to enjoy a meal properly, it has left a mark on you, there are even slight bags under your eyes. Your ears flutter at that thought and you take into account your face's appearance. Bluish-grey fur is your main fur colour, although the inner fur of your ears is creamy white. Your left ear has a tuft of jet-black fur at its tip, the same colour as your unruly headfur. It has three ear-rings put through it, granting you various abilities. On your right cheek, just below your eye, is the imprint of a five-pointed star with the two lower points elongated, the mark of your master. It looked red when he burned it into you, but now the scar looks off-white in colour. It holds a powerful contingency spell. You look down your body. It is currently covered by a set of sleek leather armour that has been enchanted to make your footsteps as light as that of a cat. Or an assassin. Strapped to your belt is your shortsword, Spark, a dagger hanging from the opposite side. At your right thigh three throwing knives are strapped in tightly, and you have a blade or three concealed elsewhere underneath your armour, as well as small daggers down the inside of your supple boots. [[Back->SepfRoom]] You smile as you take in the sight of your trophies. Since you were a street-urchin, you have always felt an allure for magical items, scrolls, enchanted weapons and the like. Gawking as you saw them worn by others, eventually stealing spell scrolls and teaching yourself some rudimentary magecraft. Currently there's a short spear hanging there, the big dagger you pilfered during the battle as well as certain dagger you brought down from the surface. (link:"Check out the big dagger")[You take down the dagger. It's made for an ogre, so it's more of a broadsword to you. Activating your ear-ring you can see a fairly potent glow of enchantment. Turning it in your paws you can feel a subtle warmth and you check the blade for any inscriptions of an activation word. There are none, but flames crawl up both sides of the blade, etched with acids into the steel. (link:"Say \"fire\"")[You speak the word "fire" in undercommon, then in drow, then in abyssal, then in common. The dagger doesn't light up.]] (link:"Check out the spear")[You smile as you take down the spear and stab it through the air a couple of times. It is simple looking, but has a nice heft. Your ear-ring allows you to see the shiny blue enchantment it is imbued with, not a paltry weapon at all!] (link:"Check out the other dagger")[You smile grimly as you retrieve the dagger that once belonged to you childhood rapist, a liger named Rylan. Your master allowed you to travel to the surface world to clear your mind of your inner demons, and killing the gang-leader is something that often happens in your dreams these days. The dagger has a silvery edge and black handle, it itsn't even magically imbued, just well-crafted. You spin it above and below your palm a couple of times, its balance impeccable.] [[You are done checking out your trophies->SepfRoom]]You are in the corridor outside your room. The walls are made of stone and the occasional low-burning, magically enchanted torch cast flickering shadows. It's truly not needed, most who live here can see in the dark, but your master occasionally show small mercies to his pets and slaves in ways like this. Having been instructed to go to the training area, that is where you will go. Disobedience in the abode is punished severely. In that regard, the mind-flayer is //not// merciful. (link:"Head for the training area")[As you make your way down the corridor, you hear the sounds of mating coming from Helazzin's room. Pleasure is often found in the abode for those who seek it, at least for one of the parties, but this sounds passionate, twin moans and groans, one higher pitched, one lower pitched. You feel a stirring in your loins, imagining who it is the svirfneblin rogue is rutting with, but unfortunately there is work to be done. (link:"You get near Scrae's chamber")[After a T-cross in the corridor where you turn left, you almost wish to stick your head into the kobold's chamber and say hello, although it's quite probable that he isn't there, the wizard often spending his time in your master's study, perusing ancient tomes and esoteric texts, expanding his repetoire of arcane might. (link:"Your ears perk up as you hear screams coming further down the corridor")[As you get further down the corridor, you get near your master's study. From inside the door, which you know is heavily enchanted, you hear almost blood-curling screams of agony. You cannot stop yourself from listening in, ears perking forward, your senses acute due to your heritage and your extensive skulking. It's Scrae. His screams go up an octave, and you now hear the timbre of arousal in his voice. Certain that your master is catching up with his favorite pet, the kobold a true masochist who he never has to hold back with, you shudder as you step away, thankful that the most cruel desires of the illithid are turned against someone other than yourself. [[Go to the training room->Training]]]]]You are in the training room. The drow weapons master Sonzo'azzar is currently teaching Zennobas the gnoll an advanced martial form. The 8-foot-tall humanoid's longsword slides through the air with precision and speed, mirroring the drow's actions down to minor shuffles of his footpaws, twists of his hips, angles of his blade. The gnoll has told you he was a cheiftain of a tribe in the northern lands and now he leads the slave-soldiers your master owns. Not only does he have a keen insight into warfare, magical augmentations have expanded his intelligence, and he will sometimes study historic texts of this battle or that, or treatises on warfare, expanding his skillset. In the training room, he is a true monster, a better fighter even than the drow weapons master you would guess. Yet his power and his pride does not prevent him from taking in new knowledge and the relentless drilling Sonzo'azzar puts him through. As he finishes the form, plate mail creaking, he notices you staring. "Good, you're here," the gnoll rumbles, his voice deep and gravelly, his yellow eyes lighting up as he sees you. "I'll leave you to it," the drow says and you note that his red eyes are slightly moist, face puckered. This man doesn't like the smell of a dirty gnoll quite as much as you do. (link:"Exchange your metal weapons for wooden ones")[You put your scabbards away and pick up a wooden shortsword and a dagger, keeping them in the regular guard, dagger in your off hand. As always, you feel the desire to flip it to a hammer-grip, but the weapons master would likely object. Hammer-grip is for sneaky murder, but in a proper fight the leverage is all wrong and you keep the tip pointed upwards just like you have been taught. Zennobas picks up a wooden longsword and you face off. [[Spar->Spar]]]As always, the burly gnoll stands still, letting you attack. It's the smart move, he has the reach on you, any move you do will leave you open for a counter. His guard is low, the tip of his sword extended out directly at your face, the weapon just a single point in your vision. He keeps it oriented perfectly in your direction, legs lightly squatted, ready to move with a split-second's notice. (link:"Attack")[You dash in, dagger and shortsword a blur as you beat at his blade with the sword and try to hit his wrist with the dagger. The gnoll grunts as he shifts his weight, absorbing the attack, stepping out of reach of your dagger-strike, then stepping in and making a swing of his own, forcing you to tumble away to the side. He steps in with an overhand strike and you pirouette away, barely evading it, short sword striking out from low to high //nearly// impacting his wrist, Zennobas grunting as he retracts his strike with just an inch to spare. He has the reach and the strength, but you are much more graceful and fast, courtesy of your training as a rogue as well as the ear-ring which grants you the finesse of a cat. Back and forth it goes, and even with your attributes, it is clear that you will have a hard time landing a winning strike on the gnoll, even if he has a hard time getting you cornered so that he can deliver one of his own. "Stop running and face me like a man!" He bellows as another one of his strikes is dodged by you tumbling away, and you feel the training bout coming a head. Your muscles are dead tired, one of the issues with your fighting style relying on speed is that it wears you out, sweat dripping into your eyes. Whereas Zennobas is barely breathing heavily, having mainly defended, not wanting to run around the room chasing you. It is time to bring this to a conclusion. You have one advantage and now is the time to use it. [[Cast mage-hand and flick his ear->SparFlick]] [[Cast silent image and rush in just behind the illusion->SparImage]]]Your trusty spell mage hand is something you have practiced with extensively, to the point where you can pick locks at a distance with it. It has been prepared to be cast with no somatic components and Zennobas is surprised as you quickly chant and //will// the magic to lightly flick at his ear. You can't hurt him with it, just distract him. The gnoll huffs and his eye flicker for just a second, which is enough for you to dart in, managing to go under his guard, pushing his longsword away with your dagger and plunging the short-sword straight ahead, at the opening on the plate on his thigh where it meets the stomach. The wooden tip clangs into the opening and the gnoll takes a step back, hissing in pain, nerves and muscles impacted by the blunted tip, and you dart back with a huge grin, evading his riposte. "One touch for Sepf!" Sonzo'azzar calls out. You give Zennobas a cheeky grin, but the proud gnoll doesn't reciprocate, opting to get serious, his longsword a blur as he chases you down. [[The sparring ends->Bathtime]]The silent image spell has been prepared to need neither verbal or somatic components. The fake Sepf appears right on top of you, twin images the gnoll cannot see yet, and you concentrate and move it forward, keeping yourself right behind. Zennobas strikes out with a horizontal blow and you tumble forward, your stature small enough that you can roll between his legs while the illusion vanishes as his wooden sword makes contact with it. You spin around, striking at one knee with the short-sword, stabbing forward with the wooden dagger. The impact of the sword is enough to buckle his knee, but the blunted tip of the dagger strikes true, digging into the link between his upper and lower leg, causing the gnoll to take the knee. It would have been a crippling strike in a real fight. "One touch for Sepf!" Sonzo'azzar calls out, the weapons master sounding pleased. You step back as the burly gnoll turns to face you, face scrunched up slightly from the pain radiating at the back of his knee. He scowls, then presses his attack. [[The training concludes->Bathtime]]After getting serious, Zennobas fully dominated you in the sparring match. As you got more and more tired, his strikes had an easier time reaching you, and you are now covered in bruises from your thighs, to your stomach, to your shoulders, with a welt growing below your right ear to boot. Still, you cannot help but feel proud of yourself, rarely getting a chance to best the gnoll, even if you had to use underhanded means. "Let's go to the baths." Zennobas suggests and you agree, having worked up quite a bit of sweat, your leather armour clinging wetly to your fur. The gnoll managed to get sweaty as well, and the severe stink that emanates from his armour-clad form is enough for your whiskers to twitch continously as you walk out the training room towards the baths. (link:"You arrive")[The baths is a cavernous expanse of shallow and deep pools, both hot and warm, with stone benches arrayed here and there to sit down on. Both you and the gnoll begin to undress, helping each other with tight straps that have been fastened for far too long during the campaign, you and Zennobas alike grunting as they are released, fur underneath flattened and itchy. You are working at the codpiece at his crotch, huffing in his heavy scent when he puts a paw on your head and ruffles your matted fur. "That was a nice trick, pup," he says, the closest the proud warrior will get to praising you, and you feel a slight blush creep up on your cheekfur, even as you unclasp the last strap and pull the codpiece off his crotch with something akin to a wet slurp. Underneath is his cotton leggings, absolutely drenched with his sweat, a thick and yellow stain at its center. He shuffles his legs, pulling down on the garment, and you are greeted with the sight of his half-formed erection sprouting out of his fat sheath. [[Dig your nose in->BathZenno]]]You dig your nose in, the gnoll sitting down on a stone bench, taking off the thick cotton that covers his torso and arms. The smell is as intense as anything you have smelled off him bar the first time you ever serviced his thick cock. Sweat makes his stomach fur damp and the canine tip that pokes out of his sheath is glistening with off-white and off-yellow slime that fills your nose with its heavy and //very// pungent stench. It makes your eyes flutter even as a slight gag makes it out of your throat. (link:"Lick")[Feeling your cock harden, untrapped by leather and cloth, you blush heavily as you begin to lick off small amonts of the stinky slime. Zennobas murrs out, stretching his arms above his head with loud crackles and pops, as your tongue makes passes over his red rocket, slowly scraping off the build-up on his meaty cock. It throbs as you service it, growing harder, veins popping out, the red colour growing more purplish from arousal. The taste is out of this world, salty piss, bitter, fermented precum, cockslime, all marinated inside his bulging sheath that now shows his knot inside. You nom further down his shaft, digging your tongue in at the opening of his sheath, obstructed as it might be by his growing knot, and the intense slime you drag out makes the tip of your tongue prickle, even as you feel surges of raunchy horniness course through your body. Moaning like the musk-slut you are, you lick him more firmly, planting your lips on his shaft, dragging them up and down, your entire muzzle filling with his filthy and deeply masculine scent. Bestial even. It's enough to make you moan out again and again as his slimes become fluids that travel down your maw, your whiskers twitching as you draw in deep huffs, fully expanding your lungs with air inundated with his heavy musk. There's a lewd pop as his knot exits his sheath on its own accord, growing thicker and more bulbous and you whine as you lick at it, lick underneath it, the richest tastes found where it meets the sheath, a new bouquet of aromas and tastes washing over your tongue and olifactory receptors. "My ass itches something fierce. Why don't you help me out?" Zennobas pushes your protesting muzzle away from his fat cock and stands up, short tail wagging as he moves to support his body with his elbows on the bench, strutting out his muscular rump, revealing his moist backside to you. [[Clean his ass->ZennoRim]]]Most other males, if presenting like this, would look almost submissive. Not so the proud warrior. His back is arched and his head is high, turned to look at you, yellow eyes narrowed in domination as you step in to service his ass. Fuck. It's an utter mess. With scant time to groom or wash, the gnoll's backside is coated in a shiny layer of emulsified scat that streaks out from his tailhole to encompass the clefts of his buttocks. You gag as the smell hit your nose, even as your knotted cock surges, the depraved act you are about to commit making your heart flutter in your chest. Stepping close, you can see the small bits and grits of his previous meals smeared in his rump-fur, the outer circle furthest away from his asshole crusted up, light brown in colour, the mess getting a deeper shade of brown as it gets to the center. "It's a shame I took a dump before the battle, else I would stuff you full of my shit!" The gnoll says with a grin, wagging his tail from side to side, enticing you in. (link:"Clean him out")[With a horny whimper you lean your head in and start cleaning him from the outside, staring at his right butt-cheek. Dried bits get into your mouth and your spit has to moisturize them before you can swallow them without the grit scraping your throat. Slowly you nom and lick and the fur on his buttock, using your teeth to pry off stubborn pieces, his tawny fur getting more wet with your spittle. Then you turn to his left ass-cheek, doing much the same, occasionally sputtering as your nibbling teeth pry off tufts of his fur, all of it going down your gullet. (link:"Lick off the moist scat")[Your knotted cock, coloured the same jet black as your headfur, trembles in your grasp as you get really dirty, putting your snout in between the burly gnoll's ass-cheeks. The emulsified shit goes down much smoother, although a hefty layer sticks to your tongue, pressing against your taste-receptors to the point where all you can taste is the earthy and nasty flavours of his feces. You go wild, murring and moaning as you lap up and down, dragging your snout and your tongue all over, cleaning him the best you can, swallowing on repeat, your stomach slowly filling with the mess. It sticks to your throat and you constantly have to suppress gags, each contraction of your stomach sending lighting to your knotted cock, to the point where you have to let go of it lest your shoot your load prematurely. Finally you get to the center, muzzle utterly soiled already, and you are rewarded with a more firm nugget that sticks out of his sphincter. Putting your lips directly on the orifice, you suck at the bulging tailhole, dragging your tongue in, sucking and munching on the firm piece of shit. You are somewhat dissapointed that is all there is, as the explosions of putrid flavours between your molars make you shiver in raunchy revulsion, but you finish your job, finally pulling back with a long strand of brown slime connecting your tongue to his asshole before it falls to the stone floor with an audible *plop*. "Ahhh, that was nice, young one." Zennobas says as he stands up tall, his member even more hard and erect, pointing straight at your face. [["Get on the bench, shitmuncher!"->ZennoFuck]]]]Before you comply, you take a moment to bask in the glory of the big gnoll's muscular body. His tawny, spotted fur leads to more lighter shades at his crotch, where his canine erection stands proud and his heavily-laden nutsack dangles underneath. When you look at yourself in the mirror, it feels like you have grown a head taller in the soon-to-be 4 years you have lived in the abode. However, when you stand in front of the gnoll, it still feels like you barely reach his crotch, the 8-foot-tall creature with the visage of a hyana complete with a mohawk-like headfur that trails down his back and ends between his shoulders dwarfing you. The same can be said for his massive cock, as long and as thick as your arm, his knot as wide as your paw three times over. You stop your ogling, feeling that stirring in your ass, desperate for his huge member to go up your bum. (link:"Get on the bench")[You crawl up, brown spittle trailing your muzzle, pooling on the bench as you take the position of a bitch, knees and elbows, tail strutting up to show off the white fur between your rump-cheeks. Zennobas surprises you by leaning in and giving your hole a nice lick, a rumbling purr heard from the big male as he dominantly rims you, sticking his canine tongue deep inside your rectum, lathering you up with his spittle. He then steps up, his slime-coated cock aided by a few globs of spit he harks up, the saliva mixing and emulsifying the gunk you didn't manage to clean off, turning his member utterly slick. He puts the tip of his cock to your tailhole, grabs your puffy tail firmly and begins to push in. (link:"Moan")[It's been several days since you had anyone up your tailhole and you moan out in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he stretches you out, the burly male quickly inserting more of his length, not really the type to hold back and let you adjust. The twinges of pain in your ass turn to a heavy burn as he rocks his hips, several inches cramming up your snug hole, a whimper emitting from your muzzle even as you blush heavily and your cock spasms as it grinds against your prostate. He pulls back and shoves his hips forward, embedding even more of himself inside your passage and you whimper loudly, tears forming in your eyes as he crams his meat deeper still, stretching you out uncomfortably fast. Still, the heavy thrust causes a squirt of precum to jet out of your prick, and your tears slide down over heavily blushing cheeks. The warmth is especially noticeable in the star-shaped scar your master imprinted on you. Zennobas pulls out until only his tip is inside and you hear his knuckles popping as he tightens his grip on your tail. He then pushes forward, growling deep in his chest, his length sliding inch after agonizing inch inside you, the arms-length worth of cock close to being embedded in your backside, aches growing in your stomach as your organs are shuffled around by his massive girth. You cry out as he pulls back, thrusts forward, and begins a proper rutting, grunting and growling as he slams his cock inside on repeat with no regards to your comfort. Not that you truly mind. Your brain feels hazy with lust as you feel his enormous knot pushing against your tailhole, his length utterly slick, the knowledge of his slimy dirtiness being scraped off inside you, marking you as his bitch, more than enough for your cries to turn to sultry moans. (link:"His knot pushes inside")[Like a feral beast, Zennobas has one thought on his mind, to lock you tight and spray you with his seed. His paw on your tail isn't enough, although he pulls at it savagely enough to make it feel like he's breaking bones inside, and he lets go, instead putting a massive paw on each of your hips, his fingers long enough to cross one another on your stomach. He grips you like a fuckdoll and //slams// his fat knot against your hole again and again, opening you up more and more. Your cries get louder, almost turning to feral yelps as you feel your sore sphincter stretch and burn, probably bleeding now, your black-skinned cock dangling and shooting preseed like a fountain. Zennobas crams you onto his thick cock and massive knot on repeat and you feel yourself opening up further, until suddenly you are at the point of no return, that lovely moment where time slows down. He pulls as hard as he can, your ribs crackling from his strength. His hot-blooded knot crests your sphincter and the pain turns to agony, then to torment. In that moment, time stretches out to infinity, and then Zennobas roars, paws crushing your stomach as he pops in it with a sound loud enough to make echoes ring out in the baths. (link:"Scream")[You scream out in pleasure as he finally knots you, his length surging and throbbing deep inside you, the burly gnoll filling you with his seed, fat knot grinding against your prostate. You climax, your own knotted cock spewing its cum over the stone bench, the semen pools numerous and large as your tailhole clenches up, miling the bestial tool for all its worth. Zennobas keeps rocking his hips, grunting and murring as he fills you up, and you feel the prick on the inside of your stomach as his tip pushes against your white fur there. [[Zennobas lifts you up->ZennoBath]]]]]]Like a wounded animal, you grind your head against the stone bench, smearing it ever more brown with the shit that has been deposited in your facial fur. The stench is immense as you take in deep and gulping breaths, feeling asphyxiated as if the gnoll's big cock is constraining your lungs. Zennobas leans forward, huffing as well, and he rears his head down to give your ear a teasing lick, before he coughs and pulls backwards again. "You stink, little pup..." He murmurs, taking a step back, his knot pulling at your hole and thus your body, sweaty fur sliding along stone as he grabs you under your arms and lifts you up. "We both need a bath!" He says, pulling you up fully, your armpits burning as they take all your weight, his knotted cock wobbling about your tight confines, pushing painfully at this and that organ, tailhole spasming in pain as the bulbous and blood-filled knot grinds away. With slow steps he makes it over to the edge of the bath, at one of the many staircases that lead down, this expanse of water steaming hot. Zennobas hisses as his footpaws step in, shuddering from the intense heat, the vibrations felt throughout your body, but he presses on and soon you give out a gasp of your own as your legs and then your backside comes underwater. (link:"He sits down and pushes you under")[There are many "benches" under the water, some closer to the surface than others, to accomodate the various inhabitants of the abode. The gnoll sits down on one that befits his stature, the water going up to just below his breast, and just about at the height of your throat. You feel a rumbling laugh and then you are pushed forward, flailing, the gnoll spreading his legs, letting you dump into the water with a *yelp*, connected by his knot, his big paws on your back, holding you underwater. Before panic sets in, but after the painful twinge in your rectum, you surmise that he wants you to scrub your shit-stained face, and you hurriedly mash your paws about, imagining a cloud of brown dispersing in the hot water. There's a bit of panic in your breast as you keep on scrubbing yourself, slowly feeling more asphyxiated, but the big gnoll grabs you painfully by your tufty headfur and drags you up, spitting and coughing. And clean. At the edges of this pool wooden buckets have been put down at regular intervals, and the big gnoll takes the biggest one he can reach and fills it with water, dropping the steaming liquid down over the both of you. He then ruffles his headfur and dumps another bucket, then another. He would probably usually get fully submerged, but it's a bit difficult with you stuck on his knot. Additionally, it gives him the oppurtunity to grope and pinch your body, scrubbing you down with his massive paws, occasionally grabbing at your spent junk, your black-skinned cock still out its sheath due to the //massive// pressure on your prostate. Hot water is good for the circulation of one's blood, and you feel the big gnoll's cock surge and throb within you, and soon enough Zennobas grabs you with one paw on your throat, the other arm around your chest, and he begins to lift you up and down, hips buckling, humping your very sore backside. [[Bathtime's over->ScraeTime]]]2 orgasms later, one for each of you, his knot finally deflates to the point where you can be pulled off, a huge cloud of white pouring out into the hot water. There might be a bit of red there, you're not sure, but your ass doesn't feel fully destroyed, only incredibly sore. You feel dead tired now, and want to find your chamber and your bed, and you wave goodbye to the big gnoll after you've towelled yourself dry, Zennobas opting to stay in the water, having found the fur-oils he so much likes to smear himself with. (link:"Head for your room")[You pass by your master's study on the way back, ears perking as you try to listen for any sounds. It's silent. The door is closed, which means your master does not wish for company unless specifically called for. That thought makes your mind wander a little. The abode is both in this realm and in others at the same time. You master calls it "pocket dimensions" and you have a hard time wrapping your head around such things. What you //do// know is that the abode is much, much larger on the inside than what one might think watching the stone-cut entrance on the outside and knowing the layout of the tunnels nearby. By all rights, the baths should be in the middle of one of the tunnels that lead away from the city! As you walk further, you feel a heavy throb coursing through the entire structure. This happens occasionally, the mixture of psionics and magics all bound to a single being pouring back and forth inside the stone walls. Those pulses are //much// more significant, if //alien//, out in the illithid city, as the psionic forces there play haywire with the senses of their slaves and mind-thralls. When you are almost at your room, you feel another throb pass through the abode, and then your master's voice speaks to you. "//SCRAE IS IN THE LABORATORY. MEET HIM THERE AND SUFFER HIS TUTELAGE.//" You almost whine as you hear the command in your mind, but there is no disobedience in this place that isn't punished severely, and your tired shoulders slump further down as you turn around and head for the laboratory. [[You meet up with Scrae->LabTraining]]]The laboratory is where your master and his pets craft magical items and potions. It's an expansive room, rectangular, with long tables filled with glassware filled with hissing and bubbling liquids, coupled with silver and steel tubes and holders. Alongside the walls glass cabinets are placed, in which even more equipment is stored, as well as components for spells, precious gemstones, bones of exotic monsters, pickled eyes and much more. At the very back of the room is a huge desk with a plush chair behind it. On the desk sits Scrae, squat legs flutterkicking underneath his wizard's robe. The kobold is your master's favorite pet. A creature that looks like a blend of dragon and fox, his vulpine heritage most prevalent on his furred crotch and his knotted cock, his red-scaled body otherwise reptilian, although his face has the same narrow features as a fox would. His horns have grown in while you have lived here at the abode, now some 3 inches long, jutting up from his skull and curving backwards like two half moons, the bone a deep ivory hue. Scrae jumps down from the desk and meets you in the middle of the laboratory, glassware filled with bubbling liquids of all the hues of the rainbow casting strange lights to your right and left. With Zennobas you feel like you haven't grown at all, but standing in front of the mature kobold it is easy to note your growth spurt, as you stand close to a head taller than him by now. Still, you make a nod of deference. You have been his apprentice in the magical arts for years now and the reptilian wizard is a very powerful spellcaster. (link:"He rummages with his belt")[The red-scaled kobold rummages with one of the pouches on his belt and procures a single flask and puts it on the table to your right. It's a potion of healing. //Oh...// "How many spells do you have in your mind, Sepf?" He asks. There's still a few, the wild chaos of the battle earlier today didn't allow you to do much spellcasting, all your focus was on stabbing the knees and necks of your master's enemies. "Great. I have been commanded to train your focus. Your mind often gets distracted by minor things such as pain and we need to keep you to the flame, so to speak." At that his fangs glimmer as he smiles grimly. Scrae might be a masochist, but when it comes to those under him he can be as savage as your master. "Now strip!" [[Get naked->LabTort]]]You hesitate, wondering what the crafty kobold has in store for you, but his command over you is as absolute as your master's and your leather armour is soon put in a neat pile on the stone floor. Scrae steps in and lets his paws rummage over your body, circling to your back and spreading your buttcheeks, poking a clawed finger at your aching tailhole, noting its puffyness. He then sniffs and grunts, stifling a sneeze as the residual gnoll musk tickles his nose, before coming to your front again. "Control, Sepf. Absolute control. Even while under duress, even when in pain, even with an arm cut off. Your spellcasting must never be interrupted." You nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you know these things already and consider yourself adept at controlling your responses to pain. "Cast a defensive spell," Scrae then instructs you. (link:"Cast Blur")[Your paws begin to weave and you chant out the words to the spell, then croak up as the kobold grabs your white-furred nutsack very tightly and simply pulls down. Powering through the pain, turning the croak to its proper cadence, you keep casting and then Scrae //yanks// down hard enough for your stomach to make somersaults. The arcane energy fizzles from the surprise abuse when your voice rises an octave and the chanting turns to a cry of pain. Scrae steps back, sniffing his paw, then licking the fingers that just stretched your scrotum to its limits. "Try again," he says with a devious smile, casting first, his paws imbued with sizzling lighting before you can even get your bearings. (link:"Cast Mirror Image")[Voice quivering, you begin to cast again, eyes worriedly following the kobold as he steps near, the lightning-imbued paw getting close to your pouch. Then he surprises you by stepping around, jabbing a finger into your rectum dry, not releasing the electrical current yet. You keep up the casting, the chanting rising in volume, and then Scrae allows the lighting to dissipate into your tailhole, making it clench in and unclench in a rapid rhytm that makes it feel like you have the runs. His arcane might allows for him to change the power of his spell to exactly his liking, and he pokes his finger further inside, your eyes scrunching up as you keep up your casting, ignoring the burn, but finally losing it as he torments your prostate directly with a discharge that makes an audible //zap!// through your innards. You cry out and jump forward, only for the devious mage to put a paw on your thigh, keeping you in place as he lets the full force of the lightning electrocute your prostate, causing you to yip and scream in agony as your pleasure button is burned to what feels like cinders. The kobold pulls out his finger and steps in front of you, an aroma of sizzling meat wafting up in a tiny plume of white smoke. Tears fall from your face and you almost reach for the potion of healing, before Scrae commands you to cast again, this time imbuing his paw with lighting that then turns to a low-burning fire, the wizard skilled enough to change the elements of his spells on the fly. (link:"Cast Stoneskin")[Even as you begin casting, your voice a quaver from the agony in your rectum, you cringe as the kobold steps close, burning paw nearing your genitals. He wraps the flame-filled digits around your nutsack and squeezes hard, compressing your stones almost as painfully as the fire that begins to burn off fur there. Somehow, the pain in your ass collides with the new and throbbing pain in your stones and they somewhat nullify each other, allowing you to keep up the chanting, not missing a single arcane word. Scrae grins and yanks down, but you bear it, not losing the cadence, finishing the mystical passes and enjoying a brief respite from the burning paw as the spell takes hold. Then the magic powers through the Stoneskin and you whimper as you feel the fur start burning again. "Impressive..." Scrae says, stepping back, waving his smoky paw around, the stench of burned fur causing your whiskers to twitch. The dual burn both within and without suddenly hits you, the focus on spellcasting leaving your mind letting you fully experience the pain of your compacted stones filling out their shape again, the blistered skin on your nutsack oozing clear liquid that drips to the floor. With a scream you collapse to your knees, the stoneskin not protecting you from damage already done, the awful smell of your smoldering fur causing you to retch. "Cast an evasive spell now, try to get away from me." Scrae says, stepping in, putting his paw firmly on the back of your neck, the fur there standing up from the magical energies that crackle from his palms. (link:"Attempt to cast Misty Step")[A short range teleportation spell seems like it fits the bill and you begin to cast Misty Step. On your knees, with tears blurring your eyes, it is only your training that allows your voice to dance with the rhytm of the spell, throat clenching up as the kobold discharges electricity into your neck, currents going both down to rip at your lungs as well as coursing through your brain. You stammer a bit, then power on, eyes twitching, your left eye loosing focus and going side-winded. Despite it all, you manage to finish the spell and silvery mist wafts over your skin before you teleport away. [[You re-appear->LabTort2]]]]]]With your eyes out of focus, instead of landing in front of the table at the back of the laboratory, you land on top of the glassware to your left, crashing into it with a scream, burning liquid running in rivulets over your body, shattered glass puncturing your left leg and arm and buttock. Scrae is yelling angrily as you desperately push yourself off, the combined pains and aches making you lose your dextrous nature, plopping down on the stone floor amidst shattering glassware and more burning liquids that make your fur sizzle all over, some even spattering to impact your throat. Frantically pushing yourself away, embedding more glass in your paws, Scrae arrives, planting a solid kick right in your crotch. "Try to get away again!" He hisses as he stands over your crumbled up form, the wind knocked out of you, burned-nutsack hurting more than ever before. (link:"Try and cast Misty Step")[The last of these spells begin to empty from your mind as your broken voice tries to cast it and the kobold steps in, making passes of his own, to a spell you know yourself. Melf's Acid Arrow. He reaches down for your crotch, and despite it all, you remember that this is all part of your training, mandated by your master, and you don't try to evade him as he puts his clawed fingertip right at the opening of your sheath. You can't see the magic missile pushing into your opening, but you feel it, knowing the green goo that splashes around your cock is a potent acid. The sting begins, turns to a horrendous burn and your voice turns to a scream as your spell fizzles, your cock slowly liquifying from the caustic substance. Your teenage voice breaks fully and you roll around like a feral animal that has been mortally wounded, screeching in agony as the acid keeps on burning your cock inside its sheath, some of the substance leaking out, sizzling already-burned fur as it drips down your tortured nutsack, renewing your torture there. Nothing can be done by you at this point, the agony so immense that you merely huddle up, clutching your glass-wounded paws above your crotch, not daring to touch it, the pain bursting and waning as the acid runs its course. [[Faint->LabEnder]]]Your mind withdraws into itself and the world turns black, mercifully shielding you from more pain. But only for what feels like a second. Cool and savory liquid is poured into your mouth and you feel your body responding, wounds healing, cock-skin solidifying, burned fur re-growing. Your eyes shoot open and stare directly into the unreadable expression of Scrae. "This was a failure, Sepf, in a fight you should be able to endure pain and keep on casting!" Easy enough to say for a masochist, but you dare not speak that thought out loud. "Yes master," you say instead, deferring to his position as your tutor in the magical arts. He extends a paw and helps to haul you on your feet, the kobold wise enough to have dragged you away from all the shattered glassware. "//The// master expects your company now in the study. Leave. I will take care of this mess." Scrae says, patting you down, ruffling smaller pieces of glass out of your fur before sending you away. (link:"Grab your stuff")[If you are going to your master it doesn't make sense to dress up, and your body is still singed and burned and hurting from all the abuse. So you opt to just pick up your leather armour, holding it in front of your crotch for modesty, with your weapons on top. Your palms still burn. The potion might have pushed the glass-shards out, but the skin is still delicately tender with pinpricks still bleeding. Your legs are shaky as you make it into the corridor and you head to your master's study, the occasional goblin or orc making jeering remarks as you meet them. Blushing like a maiden you hurry up, not wanting them to ravish you at this time, getting a firm slap or three on your buttocks in the process, before you make it to your master's study. The door is open. [[Enter->MasterTime]]]Your master's study is a tall room that begins in a rectangle and then opens up at the back to a half-circular area where his scrying orb is located. At the entrance door, running some 3 yards left and right, glass cabinets fill the space until the walls turn 90 degrees, that store prized items, tomes and knicknacks. The rest of the rectangular space is fitted with bookshelves adorned with new and old tomes and parchments and scrolls, the occasional display-book presented on its own little stand, some of them softly glowing with magical energy. The room is tall, impossibly so. Like with the rest of the rooms here, the space exists in a so-called pocket dimension, this one tall enough that the very top of the shelves stand higher than a giant. The depth of this first half of the study is some 20 yards, with large tables in the middle for studies and comparisons and near the scrying-room stands an ingenious contraption that allows for multiple books to be placed which can rotate them up and down in a circular pattern. (link:"Head through the library to the scrying orb")[Your passing makes stale winds pass through the air, the currents enough to make this paper or that parchment slightly flutter in your wake. The smell here is... //Distinct//. There is the pleasant aroma of paper and parchment, but also heavier and darker notes of blood and offal, some of the tomes here treatices of demonic summoning, necromancy and worse. Just before you get to the scrying area you put your belongings on the last of the wooden tables, heading into your master's view in the nude. The scrying orb is a ponderous thing, its width and height the same as your master, who is currently standing in front of it with both his three-fingered hands pressing on its surface, the orb seemingly filled with clouds from your point of view. (link:"Observe your master")[With him occupied, you take some moments to take in his visage. Like yourself, he's naked, his bluish-purple body shining with the mucus his kin naturally produces to keep their clammy skin moisturized. His eyes are opaque, staring squarely into the scrying orb, and the tentacles that make up the lower part of his face lazily waggle back and forth, all four of them undulating through the air. He is a mind-flayer, a creature detested or hated by almost everyone else in the underdark, yet also feared for their psionic might and hateful disregard of what his species consider to be lesser races. You cannot help but check out his crotch, his humanoid member is currently soft, his pouch hanging low and heavy. To your trained eye it looks as if he hasn't climaxed yet, a surprising fact due to the intensity of the action your listened in to earlier. (link:"Take a glance around the room")[With a slight stirring in your loins, you cast your gaze away and check out the rest of the half-circular protrusion to the library. Arrayed along the wall are several soft and hard chairs, some padded and reclining, others with straight backs and sparse furnishing. There's also an ottoman couch at either end of the half-circle just before the shelvings begin, for lying down on his left or his right side. [[Announce your presence->MasterTime1]]]]]"I am here, master." You announce, your voice taking on the deeper tone that has come with your maturing body. The mind-flayer shudders and then breaks eye-contact with the orb, letting his fingers trail off its surface, before slowly moving his gaze to you. "//SEPF. IT IS GOOD THAT YOU ARE HERE, I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU TO TRY.//" As always, his voice booms inside your head compared to the voices of the few other mind-flayers that have spoken to you over the years. You give a swish of your bushy tail and lick your lips as you look at his crotch, hoping he wants you to suck it up from limp, an enjoyable sensation. "//WORK FIRST. COME HERE, SIT WITH ME, WE MUST WORK ON YOUR DIVINATION.//" Ugh, more work, you are already dead tired and now that you feel that weariness, you also feels the sharp aches and pains from your burned and blistered genitals. Still, you follow his command, the mind-flayer moving a padded chair close to the orb, settling himself down and patting his knee. (link:"Sit on his knees")[Now you //really// feel how the years have passed, as your master grunts when your weight is put on his knees and you feel his breath directly on your neck instead of blowing over your headfur. He instructs you to scry on his rival's abode, adding his own hands next to your palms, and the misty image quickly becomes clear. Your eyes grow wide as you realise it has been moved! How such a thing is possible you do not know, but Absalum's tower is now strutting out very near the cave wall of the inner cave where it resides. The top of the tower has somehow elongated and melds into the ceiling of the cavern. At the bottom an entrance has appeared, and there is even a small courtyard like on a castle or a drow compound. [[Your master grabs you sheath->MasterFun]]]You whine as his three-fingered hand grabs your sheath and tugs at the sensitive skin. "//DID YOU MANAGE TO CONTROL YOUR RESPONSE TO PAIN?//" "N-No," you stammer out in a quivering voice, thinking about how your spellcasting was interrupted and went awry. "//THEN IT WAS A GOOD LESSON. IN COMBAT YOU WILL BE RILED UP, YOUR MIND MORE RESISTANT TO DISTRACTIONS, YET THIS TRAINING WILL IMPROVE YOUR ABILITY TO CAST SPELLS UNDER DURESS.//" "Yes, master." Your ears splay backwards, this kind of training not exactly to your liking. You whine out loud as he gropes your sheath harder, with intent, your knotted cock slowly forming despite the residual aches and burns that have been administered to it. When your master lets go, it quickly softens again. "//GET ON THE FLOOR AND PLEASE ME.//" (link:"Hop down and suck his cock")[Happy to avoid undue attention to your wounded genitals, you get on the floor and get on your knees, the mind-flayer's humanoid cock quickly rising to attention. His cock wafts a strange aroma of both mollusk and vanilla, an off-putting combination, but one you have been acclimatized to extensively. In fact, in its own way, the glistening member is as musky as Zennobas' was, the natural mucus of his species mixed with the sweat of battle and sour piss. Naturally, you put your lips over the cockhead and suckle it like it was your mother's teats, the tastes exploding on your tongue, slime dissolving quickly and sticking to the roof of your mouth. You take him deeper, your master groaning in appreciation as you take his shaft down close to the hilt. His cock is fairly thick and long, and it's a struggle, but your gags and retches are easily suppressed and your cram your head down and his prick down your throat again and again. Soon enough, he directs you to pull off, and you sit there gasping, with drool and throatslime running down your chin, his musky taste all over your fur and mouth. He then stands up and points at the chair. "//BEND OVER.//" [[Put your paws on the chair and present ->MasterAnal]]]You feel apprehensive as you bend over, the deep ache of the earlier fucking from the burly gnoll very much a concern. And yet you feel arousal surging from the imagined rutting you are about to recieve, your master rarely holding back when in the throes of his passion. The illithid grabs your tail in a firm grip and aligns the tip of his cock to your backside, your spit and throatslime more than enough lubrication for your well-used hole to accept his girth. Still, it burns as it enters, the earlier knotting having left your tailhole sore and raw, and you whimper and clench your teeth as he sinks himself in all the way to the hilt in a forceful shove that just //oozes// dominance. He's claiming you with no regard, just as always does, treating you like the property you are. That thought makes your cheeks burn with a healthy blush even as he pulls back and crams himself inside again just that more forcefully, then doing it again. And again. Your whimper turns to a puppy-like squeak as his pace increases, the burn immense, yet the pleasure building, your knotted cock surging painfully and popping out of its sheath. He fucks you properly now, railing you, heavy-laden nutsack smacking against your own, raw, pouch, eliciting whimpers and moans of pain. Still, the relentless pounding of your prostate makes your cock harden up fully and you can feel the blistered skin bursting open here and there, agony making you scream out. (link:"Your master leans in")[The firm grip on your tail is released and the illithid grabs your shoulders instead, leaning forward, the pistoning of his cock hitting new depths within you as his tentacles wrap around your head, his beak-like mouth nippling at the base of your skull. It is a most intimate display of domination. He could eat your brains right here and now, tentacles suctioning tight, one of them wiggling into your screaming muzzle, down your throat, silencing your screams of pain from your magically-burned member. You feel his beak scratch at your skin, as if nibbling on a morsel, and he speeds up, thrusting the tentacle in your mouth deeper, making you gag and retch and grow light-headed from the lack of air. (link:"He cums")[His grunts turn laboured as his heavy thrusts go out of rhytm and you feel his thick shaft pulsing within you, painting you with his seed, your own cock spasming in painful pleasure as your prostate is hammered. Your vision begins to flicker, and you almost consider biting down to let him know you are getting close to fainting, but he doesn't pull the tentacle out, opting to keep hammering, and letting one of his three-fingered hands reach down to touch your member, squeezing it tightly, sputtering gags emitting from your throat from the extreme pain. And yet the firm grip also allows your pleasure to surge and he keep on pounding even as you know his balls has been emptied, using his cock to pleasure your prostate enough for your mind to overcome the agony of your burned cock and you gag around the tentacle lodged in your throat as you climax, spattering his chair with your seed. Just as your vision darkens, the tentacle slithers up and out and you fall forward, gagging and heaving for air, your master unceremoniously pulling his cock out with a lewd slurp and then wiping it on the fur of your buttocks. Your legs shake as you get your bearings, and you keep your standing position with your upper body resting on the chair, not willing to move about as all the pains hit you harshly, your puss-oozing cock burning as hot as when the acid arrow was stuck inside your sheath. [[He heals you->MasterHeal]]]]With the headspace you are in, you have not even realised that your master moved away and has now returned, bringing with him his prized rod with the figure of an angel at its top. You cry out as he touches it to your cock and then divine magic courses through it, healing the burns, mending the skin, the flow of magic making the burned fur on your nutsack regrow as well. The ache in your tailhole is not mended though, and as he pushes two fingers inside you in a harsh shove, you whine out, grinding your head against the seat of the chair. His semen aids his fingerfucking well enough, and he soon pushes another one inside, delighting in your cries of pain, before he pulls back, apparently satiated for now. "//SEPF REI ENNUI LUPIAN, ON THE MORROW I HAVE NEED OF YOUR SKILLS.//" Sensing that you can move from your position, you stand up, cringing from the pain in your rectum. You turn to face him, ears splaying forward curiously. "How can I help, master?" Your voice comes out mostly even, trying your best to keep the residual pains from making it quaver. "//ABSALUM'S TOWER. YOU MUST INFILTRATE IT, FIND A TOME HE HAS ACQUIRED AND BRING IT TO ME. I HAVE DIVINED ITS LOCATION AND WILL TELL YOU ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW COME THE NEW DAY.//" [["Of course, master." ->BeginnerEnd]]The mind-flayer dismisses you with a flick of his hand, then returns to his scrying orb. The full weight of the day hits you all at once and you almost swoon. The battle. The training and subsequent rutting with Zennobas. The pain-endurance training with Scrae. The hard fuck you have just recieved. Wounds made and wounds healed, tailhole aching, leaking cum. You stumble as you go to pick up your belongings and your steps are heavy as you go to your chamber, collapsing on the bed with a satisfied groan, drifting off to a heavy slumber within seconds. [[Fall asleep->BeginnderSleep]]Your dreams are vivid this night, full of fighting and fucking. You wake up once and have to use your chamber pot, almost pissing the bed as your cock is too well-used to harden properly despite your almost bursting bladder. The smell tickles your nose and makes your whiskers twitch, reminding you of other, more powerful males' scent, the memories enough to make your cock harden and jut out of its sheath. However, there are more interesting ways to get off than by your paw, and you are still exhausted, so you crumble up on your bed again. [[Wake up the next day->D1SepfWake]]Up to Update 2: 36089 words BrigthAlley: 315 X 3 = 945 DarkAlley: 306 X 3 = 918 EroMimic: 2871 X 3 = 8613 MistyDoor = 324 Repeater Total = 10830 Game - Repeater = 48404 GameTotal = Approximately 12000 words You are in your room, having been woken up by the thrumming psionic call that emanates from the center of the mind-flayer city. Every morning it courses through stone and brick, alerting the denizens here that a new day begun, even the slaves and the mind-thralls. It's a simple chamber, with a bed, a desk and a wall you have been allowed to put wooden boards onto, where you hang your trophies. Hanging behind the desk is a tall mirror, so you can make sure your headfur turfts in //just// the right way when using the washbasin in the mornings. [[Check yourself in the mirror->D1SepfSelf]] [[Check out your trophies->D1Trophy]] [[Head into the corridor->D1Corridor]] You take a moment to look at yourself. Despite the toils of yesterday, your jet-black headfur fluffs up just the way you like it, but you cannot help but give it a few strokes with your paw to make it stand up just right. Your golden eyes look fairly tired. The numerous skirmishes, being awakened while sleeping more than once, the lack of time to enjoy a meal properly, it has left a mark on you, there are even slight bags under your eyes. You think of the additional tasks and fuckings and grueling training you received yesterday. Your ears flutter at that thought and you take into account your face's appearance. Bluish-grey fur is your main fur colour, although the inner fur of your ears is creamy white. Your left ear has a tuft of jet-black fur at its tip, the same colour as your unruly headfur. It has three ear-rings put through it, granting you various abilities. On your right cheek, just below your eye, is the imprint of a five-pointed star with the two lower points elongated, the mark of your master. It looked red when he burned it into you, but now the scar looks off-white in colour. It holds a powerful contingency spell. You look down your body. It is currently covered by a set of sleek leather armour that has been enchanted to make your footsteps as light as that of a cat. Or an assassin. Strapped to your belt is your shortsword, Spark, a dagger hanging from the opposite side. At your right thigh three throwing knives are strapped in tightly, and you have a blade or three concealed elsewhere underneath your armour, as well as small daggers down the inside of your supple boots. [[Back->D1SepfWake]] You smile as you take in the sight of your trophies. Since you were a street-urchin, you have always felt an allure for magical items, scrolls, enchanted weapons and the like. Gawking as you saw them worn by others, eventually stealing spell scrolls and teaching yourself some rudimentary magecraft. Currently there's a short spear hanging there, the big dagger you pilfered during the battle as well as certain dagger you brought down from the surface. (link:"Check out the big dagger")[You take down the dagger. It's made for an ogre, so it's more of a broadsword to you. Activating your ear-ring you can see a fairly potent glow of enchantment. Turning it in your paws you can feel a subtle warmth and you check the blade for any inscriptions of an activation word. There are none, but flames crawl up both sides of the blade, etched with acids into the steel. (link:"Say \"fire\"")[You speak the word "fire" in undercommon, then in drow, then in abyssal, then in common. The dagger doesn't light up.]] (link:"Check out the spear")[You smile as you take down the spear and stab it through the air a couple of times. It is simple looking, but has a nice heft. Your ear-ring allows you to see the shiny blue enchantment it is imbued with, not a paltry weapon at all!] (link:"Check out the other dagger")[You smile grimly as you retrieve the dagger that once belonged to you childhood rapist, a liger named Rylan. Your master allowed you to travel to the surface world to clear your mind of your inner demons, and killing the gang-leader is something that often happens in your dreams these days. The dagger has a silvery edge and black handle, it itsn't even magically imbued, just well-crafted. You spin it above and below your palm a couple of times, its balance impeccable.] [[You are done checking out your trophies->D1SepfWake]]Your master said he had a task for you, so it makes sense to head for his study at once. As you approach, you note that the door is open and you venture inside. Standing at his massive scrying orb, the illithid is peering into its cloudy depths, his three-fingered hands dancing about as he divines. Next to him stands Scrae, the kobold noting your appearance with a toothy grin. "How is your crotch today, Sepf?" He asks. "It's alright.." You squirm a bit, adjusting your healed package, still remembering the burns and the shocks and the acid he administered. "GOOD MORNING SEPF. COME JOIN US AT THE ORB." (link:"Approach the orb")["PUT YOUR PAWS ON IT." You do as instructed, and the cloudiness disperses somewhat. Divination is not your strongest discipline, but you can feel the power of your master and the kobold wizard as they lend their strength until the image you see is crystal clear. "ABSALUM'S TOWER HAS BEEN MOVED AND EMBEDDED IN THE STONE. THE ENTRANCE IS NOW A COMPOUND MUCH LIKE THE DROW WOULD BUILD. YOU MUST BREACH HIS TOWER, FIND HIS SANCTUM AND STEAL THIS BOOK." The world inside the orb shifts and a book is now shown, an old, brown thing with golden hinges, four circles joined together in the colours blue, red, grey and brown standing out in the center of the cover. "I MUST HAVE IT, SEPF. MY DIVINING SHOWS THAT ABSALUM NEEDS THIS TOME, BUT NOT FOR WHAT OR WHY. I MUST SEE IT WITH MY OWN EYES AND DIVULGE ITS SECRETS!" Your master's voice is excited and also apprehensive. His rival owning some magical tome beyond his understanding obviously rankles him. (link:"\"Yes Master.\"")["THE ENTRANCE IS LIGHTLY GUARDED AND MOST OF HIS SLAVES AND THRALLS ARE AWAY WITH THE MAIN FORCE. HOWEVER YOU MUST BE WARY, THERE WILL STILL BE POWERFUL ENEMIES AND WIZARDRY ABOUND INSIDE." He moves close to you, Scrae circles the opposite way and you cannot help yourself but take a step back as the two cruel beings come close. "The contingency our master embedded on your cheek will not suffice." The kobold says. "WE MUST MAKE IT STRONGER." Your Master states, showing you an object, a branding iron which he pulls from his robes. Both wizards begin to make incantations, with Scrae casting several flame spells that heat up the metal until it shines red, then white, then so hot that you cannot bear to look at it, the light so potent that it even burns through your eyelids, making them flutter and causing tears to pour out. [[Their chanting increases in volume->D1Burned]]]]You can //see// the flickering white light in front of you, casting enough light to make your face feel like you are standing in the desert sun and more, and the two voices rise and fall in complicated spellcasting that is far beyond your own skills. The chanting reaches a crescendo and the heat approaches your face. Naturally, you stoically keep your position, although your cannot help but tense up and tuck your tail underneath your body. The sizzling and the smell of burned fur and flesh hits your nose before the immense agony of the magical branding and you yelp, cry and whimper as the skin draws together and then bulges out, the pain seemingly running from tip to tip of the star-shaped mark on your right cheek. At once it is over and the light dissapears with a flicker, the pain subsides and you finally open your eyes. Right in front of you stands the mind-flayer, a tentacle from his face reaches out to touch the brand and follow the tips of the star. He huffs, then leans back. "YOU WILL NOW TELEPORT RIGHT INTO MY STUDY SHOULD GREVIOUS HARM COME TO YOU. THE MAGIC IS NOT INFINITE, BUT IT WILL SERVE FOR THE TIME BEING. TRY NOT TO FAIL, I HAVE IMPORTANT DIVINING TO DO AND IT WOULD BREAK MY CONCENTRATION HAVING TO SAVE YOU FROM YOUR FAILURES." You understand his meaning. He has the magical scepter to heal you with, but as with everything else in the Underdark, it's resources are limited, as is the magic imbued into the branding on your cheek. "I will try not to dissapoint. Master." He nods and you bow and leave. [[Head outside his study->D1Exit]]Just as you exit the study a hand wraps around your neck, pulls, twists, a leg goes behind you knee and you are suddenly bent halfway backwards, supported by a dark-skinned arm. "Helazzin!" You gasp, heart thumping hard. "Sepf my boy, seems like you let your guard down!" The svirfneblin says in a friendly voice, dragging you around for a little piroutte, all the while keeping an expert grip on your arm, his leg constantly pressing against your knee so that you have to follow until he lets off and you take a couple of stumbling steps before being able to face him. His eyes glitter mischeviously in the magical torchlight as he gives a little bow. He's all decked out in black leather, much the same as you, several blades of varying lengths strapped here and there on his body, a drow-made hand-crossbow fastened to his belt. "To Absalum's tower, I'm told.." the man says, his face growing more serious. "This time I have not been instructed to keep an eye on you just in case things get dicey, I'll be there to keep a lookout. Just in case our master's rival returns home unexpectedly. I think you know the way already..." You do. The scrying imbued you with that knowledge. You give him a nod. "Well, better pack your gear and let us head off, get this task done with sooner rather than later. Might be we could have time for some... fun of our own." He gives you a wink. The dark gnome is one of your greatest indicators of your time here. He used to be about your height, now he's almost a head shorter it seems. With quite the lean body... You shake your head. Mission first. Fun later. Unless you manage to find some fun along the way! [[You gather your gear and venture out->ATEntry]]With your weapons strapped, your bag of holding filled with trinkets and potions, your armour and boots on, you are ready to leave your master's abode. Both of you drape yourself in heavy cloaks to obscure yourselves from prying eyes, no need to look like foreign assassins while a war is going on. Despite that, every patrol you meet on your way to the second-most inner cave regard you with overt suspicion and hostility. It is only the psionic wards your master has put upon you, as well as the marks of ownership, visible or otherwise, that keep you from being attacked. And even then, the mind-flayers seem to keep wary eyes on you. They know who own you, and your master is //not// the most popular character in town with his strange ways and his non-enthralled slaves. The city itself, Orlo'o'rhonas, is a strange sight compared to the surface world city you grew up in. Reality itself seems to bend and throb in tandem to the emanations that come from the inner-most cave where the elder brain resides. Strange fungi grow, some bioluminecent, some puffing out mind-altering spores. Pools gather here and there of purplish matter that call for you to jump in an be dissolved and turned into some mindless beast or other. Packs of devourers, disgusting-looking monsters, are always on the prowl to feed on a hapless slave, but they give you a wide berth. Luckily enough, as both you and Helazzin are small enough to be threatened by these creatures. This outermost cave of the mind-flayer city is where the foreigners dwell, as well as those illithids of lesser standing, or those who are ostrasized. The second inner-most cave is the proper home of the psionic humanoids. Here terrasses, compounds, towers and strange, leaning buildings adorned with fearie fire and glowing softly in several spectrums of light have been constructed and are lived in by the mind-flayers and their slaves. (link:"You approach Absalum's tower")[Even after seeing it in the scrying orb, your eyes widen as you see the new location of the wizard's abode. Great furrows have been dug in the ground where the tower itself has been dragged through, indicating its previous location and the //immense// work of arcane might it must have been to relocate it. The tower has fused to the edge of the cavern, to the point where the parapet at the top cannot be seen as it has melded into the ceiling of the cavern. What can be seen in a partial cylinder of mortared stone and then the new out-building, a compound in the drow fashion. "This is where I leave you." Helazzin says, looking furtively over his shoulders before he procures a small item which he taps twice, the bauble expanding into the size and shape of a giant mushroom which encapsulates him. "I'll keep a watch from here, Sepf, be careful." Comes his muffled voice from inside, the mushroom beginning to glow with fearie-fire to blend in. It's a short way from his position to the entrance to the compound. You know it's a basic rectangular structure with an open area in the middle that leads to the entrance to the tower. The rooms in the compound are ostensibly populated by slave soldiers acting as guards, but you know there is a skeleton crew from the divination. There's a squad of goblins currently sleeping and a squad of goblins guarding the inner gate. But first, to gain entry you must pass the outer gate. (link:"Use your ear-ring to check for magic")[The gate is closed with a large ring to clang with to get the attention of the guards. It does not seem to be enchanted, neither does the walls. A strange oversight, but maybe your master's rival was in haste when making these constructions before heading off to the war. [[Use the Knock spell to open the gate->D1Knock]] [[Use a grappling hook to scale the low wall->D1Grappling]] [[Use your immoveable rods to scale the low walls->D1ImmoRods]]]]You know the spell Knock, which will open most closed doors. Quickly, you recite the incantation and something clicks on the inside, the gate opening just a fraction, allowing you to sneak through. [[Check out the courtyard->D1Gobbos]]Your grappling hook catches on the inside of your bag of holding due to its four spikes angled in the four directions of the compass. It takes a moment to get it out and to un-wind the rope attached to it. Only one throw is needed to attach it on the wall with barely a scrape and you climb up as easy as a spider. After storing it again, you jump down, your enchanted boots enabling you to land with barely a whisper. [[Check out the courtyard->D1Gobbos]]You have three immoveable rods. You fetch them from your bag of holding. Each one will, once set, never move out of place unless great force is exerted against them. You set the first in place, then the next a bit higher, climb up, affirm the third, reach down for the first, climb up higher, set the first one above the last, and so on. Soon you are over the walls, your footpaws a whisper as they impact the stones of the courtyard inside. [[Look around->D1Gobbos]]The walls are tall enough around the compound so that the area is cloaked in shadows, although you, as well as most inhabitants here can see in the dark. The courtyard is some 20 by 40 yards, with the guards posted right in front of the new gate that leads into the tower itself. There are 4 goblins standing guard. They are clad in leather armour and trousers, one of them with much more well-crafted armour than the others. They have a brazier lit and stand near it, enjoying the heat, one of them turning some spits, a nice smell of grilled meat entering your nostrils. Using your ear-ring, you can see that right behind them is an enchanted bell, something you must ensure they cannot ring lest the entire household is alerted of your presence. Some of the leader's gear also light up, as well as all of their weapons. [[Attack the goblins head on->GobboCharge]] [[Attack them with magic first->GobboMagic]] [[Sneak close and use your skills to take them out before they even know you are there->GobboSneak]] [[Attempt to seduce the goblins->GobboFucker]]Four goblins might scare off someone else, but you have practiced swordfighting with the best of them and you are confident you can handle them in a straight up fight. You make a dash for the guards, throwing a dagger at the leader, then another at the bell, the blade catching him on the chin, the other dagger severing the rope with a silent hiss. The goblins shout and turn to face you, two spears, a sword and the leader drawing twin daggers, one of them curved and wicked-looking. With a slide, you get under one of the spears, cutting a hamstring, then jabbing your short sword through his neck from the side, electrical sparks flying as your weapon discharges. A parry, another parry, knife to shortsword, shortsword to spear-shaft. You have to dive left as the two goblins press at you, the leader circling around from the other side, blood spattering from the wound on his face. They bellow and charge in at once and you squeak out, dancing to the side, then feinting a stumble which turns to a roll, another hamstring cut. Then you are up again, shouting as you make a jumping attack, knife turning spear just to the side, but not enough to avoid a burning graze under your ribs. You fall directly onto the goblin, making him fall backwards from your weight which is reduced into two point as your folded legs allow your knees to impact his chest. With supreme agility you remain on top of him as he impacts the stone floor and you dagger flashes in the brazier's light once, twice, thrice, cutting his throat open in sputtering gashes that drench your lower arm with blood. (link:"The leader jabs at you")[The wicked-looking serrated knife cuts out and gets you just underneath the eye, drawing a line down your left cheek as you stumble backwards with a pained *yelp*. You make a backwards roll and come up, weapons at the ready, the goblin charging in yet again, head on. It is almost too easy to batter the curved dagger out of the way and lean in with a gut-thrust, the goblin wheezing as you follow through on the cut, ripping his stomach open, his guts spilling out in a nasty splattering pile in front of him. He whines, just standing there looking at the bluish-purplish entrails and you step behind him, dragging your dagger across his throat, the creature collapsing on its knees, then floundering on its side as its lifeblood leaves its body. That just leaves the straggler, holding his spear in two hands, greenish skin looking pale as his wide eyes observe you. Feeling a bit nonchalant, you quickly cast magic missile, and three glowing missiles dart out from your paw, smashing into the goblins body, killing him on the spot. You huff a bit, taking stock of yourself and the cuts you received. Thankfully, the wicked-looking dagger, which you pilfer and put into your belt, wasn't imbued with poison it seems, just strongly enchanted. You reach for a healing potion and the bleeding stops, after which you check out the goblins, the only thing worthwhile to take with you being an amulet around the leader's neck which seems to be the key to opening the door to the tower. [[Head into the tower->D1Tower]] [[Explore the compound->D1Compound]]]Starting the fight with a bit of magic seems like the best course of action. To confound the goblins, you mutter under your breath as you cast Minor Image, a clone of yourself appearing close to the goblins. One of them, holding a spear, sees the "you" and shouts, the others turning to face the illusion. Sneaking close, you get behind the leader, who is reaching for the alarm bell, but your dagger strikes true, right up the base of his skull, shutting off the lights in his eyes as your blade pierces his brain. He collapses with a wheeze, but none of the others notice as they get close to the illusion, one of them jabbing out with a spear, causing it to flicker out of existence. A throwing dagger catches one in the neck, causing him to collapse, spear rattling on the stone floor, and the two remaining goblins shout and curse at you in undercommon as they charge. A spear comes in first, straight at your body, and you step to the side, letting it fly close, the goblin getting your short-sword through his gut. The enchanted blade crackles as lighting sparks inside his body and he flies backwards, eye-sockets oozing smoke as he collapses in a heap. Disregarding his dead companion, the last goblin, who's wielding a short-sword, charges forward with a ghastly howl. Which turns into a whimper as you block with your own sword and thrust your dagger into his groin, twisting it, then pulling it out in a gush of blood before you step close, swords grating together, his blade caught on your crosspiece, and you stab-stab-stab his abdomen, his cries turning to pained moans to soft whimpers as his guts are perforated again and again. He sits down on his butt, looking down at the myriad of holes in his stomach and you step close, jabbing into his shoulder, pushing down, cutting his heart and ending his life. With a distasteful curl to your lips, due to the smell of offal, you step back and use your ear-ring to check out the corpses. The only thing interesting to you is the leader's knife, a wicked, serrated blade, which is strongly enchanted. You put it in your belt, and then pilfer a necklace from him, eyeing it up and noting its magical hues are the same as those on the gate to the tower, ostensibly the key to entering Absalum's abode. [[Head into the tower->D1Tower]] [[Explore the compound->D1Compound]]You sneak close, the goblins preoccupied with bickering over their sizzling meat. Due to your enchanted armour and your boots, it is almost as if you are cloaked in invisibility, and you get behind the leader, who's also the closest to the alarm bell. Your blades are out and you jump in, hammering your short sword through his back, through his armour, right through the heart. It snatches on his ribs and you make a split-second decision to let go of the handle, drawing another knife and charging the other goblins, who are still only just realizing your presence. A slash and a throat is cut, a clang signals a parry which you turn into a thrust, putting the next goblin on his back foot. You step in, feint low, stab high and your knife enters his eye, bursting it as you hammer it through, pulling it out of his skull with a nasty *slorp*. The last goblin, the one furthest away from the alarm bell, turns to run, and it is child's play to throw a knife into his back. He yowls as he falls from the impact, grubbing in the dirt like a maggot, trying to pull it out and then you are there, carving a bloody smile through his neck with enough force feel his vertebrae scrape against the blade. You remain in a fighting crouch, looking all around for enemies, but none are coming, your sneak attack a success. You retrieve your short sword, then loot the corpses. (link:"Loot the goblins")[Your magical ear-ring allows you to see the hues of the enchantments on the goblins' weapons, and nothing is really interesting other than the leader's knife, a wicked-looking serrated blade with a sharp curve at the end, enchanted more powerfully than the others' weapons. Around his neck hangs an amulet, and in your enchanted vision, you can see its hue is the same as the gate to the tower. With a new dagger in your belt and the amulet around your neck, you are ready to explore the tower. [[Head inside->D1Tower]] [[Explore the compound first->D1Compound]]]Using the same tactic you used to get close to Rylan seems somehow fitting. With the goblins distracted by their cooking, and a fair amount of ill-tempered bickering, you get out of your armour, exchanging it with a swishy, pink, frilly thing that would be fitting on a surface-world courtesan. There's a bottle of fragrance down there... Somewhere.... Ah, there it is! You give your tail and your armpits and your neck a couple of puffs of some //quite// femininely smelling liquid, which already makes you feel more demure and submissive. Unarmed, with just the bag of holding in your paw, you saunter near, whistling at the goblins as you approach. "Who's there!" One of them barks in undercommon, brandishing a spear your way, a compatriot joining, the spear tips glowing with magic in your augmented sight. "Looks like a girl!" The leader says, waltzing forward with his greenish paws on his hips, eyeing you up and down, then spitting to the side. "Though this ain't no such thing." "A faggot, eh?" Another goblin says. "A fucking //tailraiser//..." The leader says with scorn in his voice. (link:"Make a show of your self")[You waggle your butt from side to side, ensuring that your blue-grey tail swishes as far to the sides as possible, lifting it up on the return strokes, making sure to show the inner, white fur. "My master sent me as a gift," You coo, hoping to distract the goblins from the fact that they didn't let you in the front gate, "he wanted me to make //your// master happy." At that you are within reach, stepping close to the leader, turning around and swishing your tail around so that it slides across his body, marking him with the flowery smell. "Our master doesn't fuck whores I don't think," one of the other goblins remarks, scratching his nose. "Oh, I'm not a whore, I'm a pleasure-slave!" You say, licking your lips, getting close to the greenskin who almost pokes you with his spear, before aligning it to the side, letting you get all close and personal, showing him your eager grin, your paw reaching down to rub at his package. Suddenly, a firm hand is on your shoulder, turning you around. The leader is standing in front of you. You are eye-level, his body a fair bit wider than yours, his brown eyes boring into yours. "Our master is away. Off to fight the mind-flayers' war. There is no work for you here." [[Get on your knees and nuzzle his crotch->GobboFucker1]]]The door to the tower opens without a sound and you head inside, ears perking, senses alert for any signs of an alarm of approaching enemies. It seems as if the amulet marks you as a member of the household and nothing happens, allowing you to pass through, shutting the gate behind you with a soft clang. Inside you are facing a corridor that goes straight ahead. You remember from your last adventure that there is a spiral staircase at one end of the tower which goes all the way to the top. However, from where you are standing, you cannot see it. You begin to move forward slowly, testing each step, making sure there are not any traps or unwelcome surprises, but the corridor just goes on and on. After a few minutes of walking you begin to worry, as well as become a bit annoyed. //Pocket dimensions.// You don't understand the magic behind them, but you understand their effects. This tower is both here and elsewhere at once and what might have seen a simple task of finding a staircase appears to be more complicated than that. There are probably activation words or magical items that will unlock access to various parts of this space, but you know none and have none, so you simply have to venture forth and hope for the best. Eventually you make it to a wide set of stone stairs that go //down//. [[Head down the staircase->TowerMaze]]You decide to explore the compound. It consists of an array of buildings, including a latrine, what looks like a kitchen with benches for seating adjacent, as well as a stables. You hear animal sounds from the stables and check it out. Inside are several pens where riding lizards are located, thick irons around their neck, keeping them in place. They note your presence and hiss and croak angrily, trying out their chains. 6 riding lizards in total, probably spoils of war, two of them ostensibly female as they are guarding a cache of big eggs. Further around the compound is the sleeping quarters or barracks. The building can hold a hundred troops, but only three goblins are sleeping there. Deeply asleep, the area utterly dark and you can only see it, peering through the door, due to your master's magic. Your ear-ring tells your there is nothing interesting here. Only issue is the goblins. They are sleeping tightly, but they might pose a danger at a later time if you have to make a hasty escape and some kind of alarm goes off. [[Kill them->CompoundKiller]] [[Let them sleep->CompoundLiver]]This guy is no fun and all business, and you feel like you have to press the issue. You lift up the girly dress so that you bare knees impact the stone as you kneel and you lean forward, stroking your muzzle against the leader's crotch. His scent is potent. Mouth-watering even. Enough to make your cock begin to poke out its sheath. You sniff loudly and needily, a whine starting at the back of your throat. The goblin clears his throat, and you feel something stirring underneath his trousers, something nice and //fat//. The thought makes you whine out and shuffle closer, your tail wagging back and forth, sweeping the stones with loud whooshes and a clattering of debris, and the other goblins begin to get rowdy, one of them stepping close. "Might as well use this slave for what he's trained for, don't you think Ur-Ruk?" The leader lets out something between a sigh and a groan as you nuzzle in again, your nostrils flaring as you take in his unwashed scent, the goblin's fat cock hardening further, growing down his trouser leg. (link:"Nibble at his cockhead")[Through the fabric, you can clearly see the indentation of his mushroom-shaped cockhead, and you put your lips on it, nomming at it through the garment, moaning as a heavy musk fills your nose as your spit seeps through and begin to work on his gunk. "Let me just..." He un-clasps his belt and pulls his trousers down, revealing a thick five-inch piece of humanoid meat that smells like it hasn't been washed for days. You whimper as you seek it out with your mouth, whiskers twitching as you get a full blast of his scent, before your black tongue caresses its underside, leading it into your muzzle. It tastes like piss and sweat, but not much of cum, and you reach up to caress his nuts, murring as you feel their heavy weight. You take his humanoid cock to the base, gurgling around its thickness, suckling on it, a squirt of pre already making its way into your mouth. Then you yelp out as the other goblin smacks your rump, lifts your dress and ogles your well-shaped buttocks, a calloused and curious finger soon prodding at your well-used tailstar. "This slut's so loose..." the goblin muses as he sticks his finger inside with no lubrication, the digit slender enough for it to barely hurt other than a slight scraping sensation. In fact, the anal pain kind of turns you on and you push back until he's embedded to the knuckle, the goblin chuckling as he adds another finger, brusquely jabbing it inside making you whine out and your ears splay backwards. (link:"The leader grabs your head")["Use some spit, numbskull!" The owner of the fat cock barks out, before he grabs the back of your head and begins to fuck your mouth, his plump cock oozing out drop after drop of sweet preseed, his musky scent all over your tongue. "Lil' bitch likes it rough methinks!" The other goblin responds, still fingering you, your anal juices at least partially aiding the rough action. Then you moan as you feel him squeeze your hardness through the frilly dress. "Boy's got a hard-on and all!" "Fucking tailraiser!" The leader growls, pumping his cock harder into your mouth. You moan out at that, letting your tongue in on the action, suckling and slurping, your uvula squeezed by his cockhead everytime he bottoms out, making you slobber and gurgle around his shaft. You then feel the fingers exit your tailhole and wiped off your buttock, before your fluffy tail is grabbed and you feel a throbbing warmth pushing against your asshole. A hark of spit is aimed true at your hole and the cockhead smears it around. [[The other goblin fucks you->GobboFucker2]]]]It's by far not the biggest cock you have taken, nor the longest, but the creature makes up for it in speed, hammering away at your backside from the get-go, his pelvis plapping against your butt, his nutsack smacking against your own pouch. You moan out between the cock in your mouth and the goblin leader redoubles his efforts, cramming you down on his thick meat, your nose grinding into his crotchfur again and again. His scent is all around you, his cock is inside, his greenish hands are wrapped around your neck and skull. He //owns// you right now. You gurgle happily at that thought, then whine with need as your aching tailhole is used with reckless abandon by the other goblin, who is already going out of rhythm. (link:"Clench your sphincter")[There's more cock to be had, and you are happy to clench your sphincter intentionally, milking the thrusting gobbo's cock, making him moan out in pleasure, his rhytm growing even more haphazard. He climaxes up your tailhole, a big volume too, you can feel his member throbbing and the copious load of seed he shoots inside you, his paw clutching your tail in a painful grip as he gives it his all and short-thrusts his way through his orgasm. "Runt." The leader says with scorn in his voice, although when you look up his expression is pleased. He begins to gyrate his hips even faster and you hurk up throatslime as his fat cock slams into your uvula on repeat, the added lubrication making his cock squelch as it is pumped into you muzzle. He leans back then, cramming you fully down, squeezing your nose tightly against his crotch-fur and all you can smell and taste and hear and feel is fat goblin cock and reeking goblin musk as he shoots his load down your gullet. You swallow as fast as he cums, but the incessant pressure on the back of your throat makes you retch, and your nostrils sting as goblin cum shoots through them to mark the front of his leather armour. Still, you control your stomach and keep up your swallowing, making sure to milk him for every drop, your paws reaching up to grope at his deflating nutsack. Eventually he pushes you back and the two remaining goblins come close to claim their prize. "I'll take his ass," one of them says, this one with a jagged scar across his right eye which divides his eyebrow in two. "He can take mine then," the last one says, the smallest of the lot, red eyes staring hungrily at the bulge underneath your pink dress. "Faggot." "Runt!" "Fucking tailraiser!" "Ain't none of you complaining when you stick it in me!" He says, sounding a bit hurt and a bit scornful, before he gets in front of you, pulling at his trousers. He then turns around and looks back at you, red eyes horny and raunchy. "Get me nice and slick first, will ya?" [[Rim the goblin while the other fucks you->GobboFucker 3]]]He spreads his cheeks and bends over and you almost recoil. His backside is soiled with a brown coating that reeks all the way over to your nose, colliding with the pleasant fragrance of the skewered, roasting meat, making you gag despite yourself. And then the horniness takes over. The goblin at your back clutches at your hips, but you crawl forward, burying your nose into the greenskin's crack, your black tongue darting out and making long licks like a feral dog would. *Slorp Slorp Slorp* The other goblin makes a sound of protest, but the one you lick out moans happily, wagging his butt, clutching his buttocks even wider, letting you scrape off the filth with your mud-coated tongue. The taste is revolting. These slave soldiers, bound with psionic wards that will kill them if they try to escape, are fed the worst of the worst. You cannot even decipher what kind of food he has eaten, but not much meat, and all of it spoiled or rotten. The sulphrous notes burn your nostrils and your tongue and your stomach rebels, but you soldier on, licking and lapping the waste until only a hairy, green ass can be seen. *Gulp* The goblin claps his left cheek then and you dive deeper, letting your tongue penetrate his asshole, finding his insides empty and his sphincter loose, the hole soon well-lathered enough for a fucking. "Done with all that nastiness?" The other goblin asks, and you turn your head and stick out your muddy tongue, belching, before looking ahead again, lifting your tail and strutting your creampied butt. "Fucking hell..." Despite his reservations, he shuffles forward, goblin cock pressing against your ass, his compatriot getting on his knees and shuffling backwards, forcing you to embrace him as he wiggles into place. [[Pull your dress up far enough for your cock to see some action->GobboFucker 4]]It's the one from behind who begins the action, a girthy 4incher spreading you out all the way to the base, his pelvis rocking your hips forward, your black-skinned cock penetrating the goblin in front of you. All of you moan out at once, your own voice the loudest and the shrillest as you are both penetrated and penetrate, the goblin-bottom's hole clenched tight against your length as it slides inside, cresting the bulbous part in the middle, then sliding down to your knot. He squeals out then, as your knot pushes at his openening, and you can feel his heartbeat through his leather armour as he throws his head back like a proper bitch. The one from behind begins to thrust heavily and your own head draws back on its own accord, two bitches moaning into the air, two tailholes clenching almost in tandem as they are fucked. The added stimulation of the girthy goblin cock up your ass makes your nutsack draw up and you begin to pant and whine, rocking your hips backwards to slam harder against the prick, while the goblin's forceful fucking makes your own member rocket inside the other goblin, who moans and squeals as your knot comes close to popping into his well-practiced ass. It only takes a few minutes of this and you begin to yip, squeezing the other gobling hard, his hands wrapped around your blue-furred forearm, gripping you tightly as you put effort into your mating, the basic instinct of locking him tight guiding your body. He almost kisses you over the shoulder, but then recoils from the stench of his own shit, and you instead feel the primal drive to bite down on the nape of his neck while your hips slam against his, a loud pop emanating from your coupling bodies, knot sinking deep inside his rectum. You whine and groan as your seed pumps into the goblin, your own tailhole clenching up as you orgasm, and this causes the other goblin to speed up, his pelvis jackhammering against your ass at full force, quickly arriving at his own orgasm, adding his load to the other goblin's. (link:"Wind down")[You all huff and groan and moan, you the loudest, the knotted goblin the most shrill as you ride out your orgasms, the one impaled on your cock having climaxed, his seed glistening on the stone floor. The one behind then pulls out rather roughly in a gush of semen that splutters down on the floor, your tailhole failing to clench at the moment, and the goblin leader then steps in, presents his recuperated hard-on and sticks it right in. He //slams// his hips forward and you moan as his //fat// cock spreads you out. In this position, partially sitting up and embracing the other goblin, his thick cockhead impacts your prostate everytime he hilts you, and you shoot fresh jets of precum inside the other goblin, who has begun to whine and complain from the extensive knotting and the wild motions the rutting is putting him through. "Ah-ah-ah, it's so big!" He complains in a whine, obviously never having taken a canine cock before, surprised by its girth and how he's locked tight. Not that you will let him go, as your muzzle clenches down on his neck again, tongue licking over his delicate skin there, making him feel even more like a bitch even as you are fucked hard and fast by the biggest cock of them all. The leader hammers away at your prostate and you yip and moan, throwing your head back again, blowing out shit-tasting air as his fat prick re-arranges your insides until he cums, his big nuts still having enough of a load to be felt as it shoots up your innards. Unfortunately, the rutting was too short for you to climax again, and you almost feel blue-balled as he pulls out in an even bigger splutter of goblin cum and your knotted cock begins to soften. [[Your cock pops out->GobboFucker5]]]"Ah! Fuck..." The bitch-gobbo complains as your knot pops out in a gush of cum that spatters your knees, the greenskin falling forward and then crawling towards the brazier, where some pelts have been laid out. He gets into the fetal position and clutches at his well-stretched backside, a few tears showing in his eyes, although his expression seems pleasured when he seeks out your eyes. The two other goblins also opt to sit down, shoving away cum-stained cocks into their trousers. Only the leader steps in front of you, dangling his softened, meaty cock in your face. (link:"Clean it off")[You are certain you can taste the three different flavours of the three goblins' cum as you clean him off, his foreskin revealing a thick layer of the off-white substance for you to devour and to wash down the taste of filth from the dirty rimjob. He pets your head slowly, looking slightly cross-eyed and woozy, and you take your time to drag your muzzle underneath, worshipping his stones through the musky skin that keeps them in, a stray hair or two getting stuck in your teeth. Once he's satisfied he moves over to the brazier and then curses. "The meat's charred!" He pulls off the skewers and the meat is, as he says, very charred on one side. Still, the grill-aroma is delicious and you feel a bit hungry after all this action. Your bag of holding has been left on the floor and you pick it up, rummaging for a bottle you know is... where is it... there! A small bottle of drow-made mushroom wine. Making a big show of it, you procure a set of small, bronze cups, pouring in the wine, slight-of-handing a sleep potion into four of them, keeping the fifth for yourself. The goblins' stomach growl, but they are in a good mood now and accept the unspoken proposal, handing you a few morsels of stringy meat of some kind, accepting the half-full cups of wine. The meat is charred, slightly spoiled, but also satiates your hunger after the intense fucking and you all eat and drink with gusto, before the goblins begin to look even more tired. "Curses. Gotta use the loo, keep watch will ya?" The leader asks, getting up with a frown on his face as his compatriots fall asleep one by one. He turns and gives you a suspicious look, then looks at the front gate, then the gate to the tower. [[Tell him he doesn't have to use the latrine when he's got you->GobboFucker 6]]]"You don't have to leave your post to take care of your business," you say, lying down on the floor, shuddering from the cold. You point at your maw "You can do it right here!" He gives you a look of disgust, then looks at his sleeping compatriots, then back at you, going slightly cross-eyed from the effect of the sleeping potition. Then he scrunches them up, bending over, a loud fart coming from his rear. "Just squat down and do your business. I'll even tongue-clean you afterwards!" You say, giving the disgusted goblin a wink, and he finally relents, pulling down his trousers, stepping over your body and squatting down so that he's facing your front. "Never heard about toilet-mouth-faggots..." He muses, reaching for your erection which is hardening underneath the pink dress, making you moan, causing you to eagerly reach up with you muzzle to lick at him, but his trousers are draped over your throat holding you back and you almost whine, forced to simply look at his hairy, green butt and the dirty crack which opens up as he squats deeper. He grunts and a poof is emitted and then his pucker bulges, a soft-serve piece of shit oozing out and plopping into your mouth. (link:"Gag")[Ugh. It's the same taste as the other goblin, vile and putrid, poor and spoiled food digested by a wretched creature. It slides over your tongue, electrifying your tastebuds and you gag heavily as it hits the back of your mouth. Then you swallow with your mouth open as more is already pouring out, the shit soft enough for you to work it down your gullet without chewing it. The next piece is longer and even mushier, making a *splat* as it impacts your mouth, small bits and globs spattering around inside your muzzle, painting the roof of your mouth a nasty coat of brown. His soft, yet still big prick begins to mark you with his strongly scented piss, washing over your chest and stomach, pooling underneath you and seeping into your fur. (link:"Swallow")[Once again, you are able to swallow with your mouth open and the goblin gives a disgusted sigh, even as he rubs a bit at your bulge, causing you to whimper as you choke down his nasty shit. His pucker winks a couple of times and then it sputters, a //very// soft muck pouring out in a quantity so great it fills your mouth until there's a small mound sticking up, mushy scat running down your cheeks. "Fucking tailraiser..." He whispers groggily, rocking a bit back and forth on his feet as you slurp at the muck, easily ingesting it, although your stomach is rebelling something fierce, abdominal muscles tightening again and again as your body tries to override your own horniness. You whimper through your nose, slurping down more of the muck, buckling against the goblin's calloused hand and he rubs you a bit harder. (link:"Climax")[He farts again, but nothing comes out, and you are now in a good rhytm, making choking swallows while your hips are lifting off the ground into his hand, your dress seeped through with precum. You buckle harder and he rubs you with intent, the goblin groaning out a tired yawn as he sits his ass down on your face, cramming your muzzle wide open, allowing your to finish your task by letting your brown tongue lick and lap at his backside as you see moon and stars, yipping muffledly as you cum, shooting through the dress and making his green hand all sticky and white with your semen. He then sort of topples backwards with a groan, his rump making a sucking sound as it leaves your mouth, and he lies there on his back, trousers down at his ankles, snoring softly. In the afterthroes of your orgasm, you lick at your teeth, lazily swallowing down the remaining shit, before you finally get on your feet. The dress is ruined now, and you pull it off, using the garment to clean off your crotch and butt and mouth, before bundling it up so most of the stains are on the inside and trying a knot on it, before finding your bag of holding and putting it inside. You reach for a bottle of water and swish it around, spitting out mucky water, drinking some, until you feel like the worst has been removed. There's a cloth somewhere.. There! You use it to soak up most of the piss that has been embedded in your fur, the rag so yellow you simply throw it to the ground. With your senses full of cum, shit and piss you don't how much you smell, but you surmise it's a great deal. Hopefully you won't have to hide from a creature with a strong sense of smell. Then you reach for your gear, slowly getting your armour, your belt and your weapons and the rest in place, so that you are ready to continue. Now all that remains is to loot the goblins. With your magical ear-ring, you can see that the leader has a knife, serrated knife which glows brightly with magic. You pilfer it, alongside an amulet which you can see serves as a key to the door to the tower due to the hues. Now all that remains is to decide what to do with the goblins. The sleep potion's effect will last for hours, that much you know. [[Murder them in their sleep->GobboKiller]] [[Leave them be->GobboLiver]]]]] You feel regret for the task at hand, but even if they gave you a good time, you must kill these goblins just in case they wake up and hinder your mission. It's easy and bloody work and soon four goblins are thrashing in their death-throes, blood pouring out from their slit throats. Now it's time to move forward. [[Head into the tower->D1Tower]] [[Explore the compound->D1Compound]] ($AlignmentChange:-10)These goblins are just guards. Sleeping guards at that, who gave you a nice pounding. You leave them be and continue your exploration. [[Head into the tower->D1Tower]] [[Explore the compound->D1Compound]] ($AlignmentChange:5)Can't take the risk, you think as you sneak inside, practically silent due to your gear and your training. Cutting their neck is easy enough, their straw-filled matresses soak up their blood. [[Head for the tower->D1Tower]]You leave the goblins behind. Heck, even if they wake up they won't be a danger to you. [[Head for the tower->D1Tower]] (if:visits <= 4)[(if:visits is 1)[For some reason the temperature rises as you step down gingerly, testing each step, allowing your senses to wash out the best they can to detect traps, magical ear-ring looking for the arcane, finding neither. Although everything inside the tower glows very, very faintly, but that doesn't help you. At the bottom you come to a section where the corridors divide, and you can go left, straight ahead or to the right.] (if:visits >= 2)[You are at the bottom of the staircase. This place feels like a maze] [[Go left->MazeLeft]] [[Go straight ahead->MazeStraight]] [[Go right->MazeRight]]] (if:visits >= 5)[This place //is// a maze. You stand there for a while, feeling very confounded. Divination is not your strongest discipline, but you remember a passage from a book Scrae once made you read. "Always follow to the right." So that's what you will do. Keep always to the right. If you meet a dead end, go back and turn right. Eventually you must find a way through this. [[Go right and keep right->MazeMino]]]You head left. The corridor continues for a while, then branches out. You take a branch, move further, ther's another branch. You walk and you walk and never see a single room, just endless corridors. Suddenly you are back at the staircase. [[Staircase->TowerMaze]]You go straight ahead. The corridor seems to ebb downwards, then curves to the right. Then you come to a junction, move to the right, head on further. Then the gradient goes upwards. You never see a single room, only endless corridors in a layout that makes no sense to you. You even try to double back and it now seems the layout is different, you are sure there was a T-cross here, but now it's just a sharp turn. Suddenly you are back at the staircase. [[Stairs->TowerMaze]]You take the right corridor. After a minute of walking, the corridor curves to the left and you follow it, keeping your steps slow and steady, all senses on alert for traps or enemies. You come to a junction, go left, then come to another, go right. It seems to dip down sharply, and you are aligning your body backwards to not slide on the rock. Then another twist and another turn, a T-cross and then another. Suddenly you are back at the staircase. [[Staircase->TowerMaze]]You try to solve the maze by walking to the right and keeping right. It seems as if you traverse corridors you have seen before, going uphill, then down, then through the curved corridor, all the while keeping to the right with all your senses on full alert. Eventually you make it to a place you haven't seen before, passing through an arch where you suddenly stop, sensing a trap. (link:"Disarm the trap")[Your ear-ring helps you out, letting you know it's magical in nature, and you are happy with your arcane knowledge as you follow the runes that have been engraven into the arch, which would have released a burst of fire right on your head had you passed through without the proper keyword, which is... Hmmm.... The language is... (link:"Put your paw on it")[//Illithid//! You only know a few words of their written language, taught to you by Scrae, it seems the word is... "//Open//". The stones shimmer and you pass through unmolested. Now the corridor goes straight ahead, the stones warm to the touch, and you hear a snuffling sound and a great scraping from heavy, booted steps coming close from around a bend. Quickly, you procure a potion of invisibility and quaff it, allowing you to get the jump on whichever creature is about to turn the corner. It comes into view with loud steps, iron-shod boots clanging against the stone and a massive monstrous creature is revealed. It is a shaggy creature, walking on its two //hooves// that are iron-shod. Standing some 8 feet tall, it towers over you, coarse, brown fur covering its wide and muscle-bulging body. Especially its crotch is heavily furred and you can barely see the outline of its pouch, its sheath fully covered. It's head is that of a bull, with two long and curved horns that have been tipped with some kind of metal, imbued with magic you can see. Strong magic. Through its nose a golden ring has been fastened, and it dangles about as the minotaur takes in great sniffs. It's torso is covered by enchanted plate, it's lower arms and shins covered with steel bracers. Dangling loosely in its big paw is a greataxe, with a long handle and two edges that shine with enchantments. [[Attack the minotaur head on->MinoFight]] [[Fire off some magic first->MinoMagic]] [[Attempt to sneak close and deliver a coup de grâce->MinoSneaker]] [[Try to seduce the beast->MinoFucker]] ]]You decide to charge headlong at the brutish-looking creature. He bellows and does the same, lowering his horns on your approach. Being 8 feet tall, he's far from the ground, and you let yourself slide under him, under his magically-glinting horns, letting your blades slash against his calves, cutting him open. Then you are behind and you are quick to plunge Spark into the back of his knee, the electrical discharge and the sharpness cutting it wide open, hamstringing him. Then comes his massive axe circling around, the minotaur roaring with pained rage and you catch it on your blade and your dagger, the impact hard enough to send you crashing to the wall with an *Ooooffff*. Still, he's too wounded to make use of the opening and you clear your head and dart in, avoiding an axe-swing, slicing at his roaring muzzle, scoring a deep gash on his cheek and knocking out several teeth which clatter to the floor, his open and roaring muzzle now partially split, revealing the rows of teeth inside in a gruesome fashion. He strikes from above and you side-step neatly, your shortsword cutting off his paw, limb and axe clattering to the floor together. Then you step in, double-thrusting at his neck, just above his breast-plate, and a shower of blood washes over you as the monstrous creature drops to its knees, gurgling as it dies. You strike down twice, cutting off his horns, put them into your bag, then take his axe as well. There is nothing else of value on him. [[Onwards->PostMino]]Under your armour, on the outside of your thighs, are two sets of double chevrons, one set on each thigh. You activate the runes on your right with a command word and suddenly 5 Sepf's are facing the beast, standing shoulder to shoulder across the corridor. With a thought you let them mingle, yourself walking to the side as well, so that he cannot know which is an illusion and which is the real you. The minotaur bellows and charges, holding its axe in a two-handed grip and making a wide sweep that pops off three of the images in one fell swoop. That was all the opening you needed and you come up from below, shouting as you jump, flying high and true, your short-sword crashing into his throat almost to the hilt, the electrical discharge partially blowing his neck off his shoulders, his shaggy head lolling sideways, a burst of blood flying up and to the side, painting the ceiling and the wall with his sanguine fluids. You step back to avoid his death throes, which only last a few seconds as his spine is severed, and your vanquished enemy now lies dead. With a mighty strike, then another, you cut off his horns for trophies. You take his enchanted axe for good measure, it will look nice on your trophy wall. [[Onwards->PostMino]]Silenty, you pull out your blades and sneak closer, hoping to be able to make a sneak attack on the brutish creature. It stands there, brown eyes narrowed, nose huffing again and again, and it begins to snort like an above-world bull. You can see it beginning to be enraged and before you get close enough it bellows loud enough to make painful echoes resound in the corridor and it charges forward, lowering its head, pointing those enhanced horns right at you. "I can smell you, intruder!" It roars in undercommon as its iron-clad hooves thunder down the corridor. [[Dodge to the side->MinoGorer]] [[Cast Grease quickly->MinoGreaser]]Something about that shaggy crotch and the low-hanging balls which you can barely see makes you salivate and you step forward, calling out to the minotaur, dispelling the invisibility. "Don't attack me. Please! I have an offer for you." He snorts, rearing up, axe glinting as he makes a trying whoosh through the air, and you scabbard your blades, showing your empty palms. "Your master is not here. There is no reason for us to fight." You say as you step closer, the minotaur eyeing you with suspicion. Still, he doesn't charge or strike at you, even when you are within distance, instead, the ring in his nose wobbles as he takes in your scent. "You smell like a runt, pup." He gives another sniff. (if:(history: where its name contains "GobboFucker")'s length >= 1)["And of goblin too!"] "That's right. I'm just a runt," you say, stepping even closer, at eye-height with his crotch. Your paws reach for it, parting the shaggy fur, revealing his sheath underneath, "I smell weak and frail, just wanting for a stronger male to mark my fur..." You stick your snout against the opening of his sheath, huffing in the unwashed, smelly, bovine musk of the bestial creature. He rumbles in his chest, arms going down his sides, and you sniffle your way down his sheath which is plumping up a bit, arriving at his hairy orbs. The smell is divine. Bestial and powerful, like Zennobas', but distinctly bovine and //other//, yet still potent and animalistic, making you salivate and your member throb underneath your armour. (link:"Suckle and undress")[You take in one of his hairy orbs into your mouth and suckle on it, gulping down fur and stinking musk as you suck on his nut, murring out as you absentmindedly reach for the buckles of your armour, slowly opening them up one by one. You turn to worship the other one, raising your arms as your pull off the top piece, briefly letting off with a slurp, pulling the armour off, discarding it, then going right in, huffing and snuffling as you suck on both balls at once, their massive size making your cheeks bulge as you worship them. You then lean under, getting a //strong// whiff of his unwiped ass, lapping as his taint, making the balls dangle this way and that, marking the top of your snout with his scent. Then you are at it again, licking and slurping, occasionally spitting out a stray hair, the minotaur rumbling, a big paw coming down to hold the back of your skull. With a firm grip, he hoists you further up, and between his shaggy fur a tapered, veiny erection is now strutting out of his sheath. "What is this deal you propose?" He says in his deep voice, guiding you lick at his shaft, sour piss and stale crotch-sweat and animal musk transplanting to your black tongue. "I service you and you let me pass without a fight." You say in a moan, twisting your head to the side to engulf the shaft between your lips, rocking your head up and down, suckling and slurping on the organ which just grows and //grows//. "I'll take that deal..." He rumbles. [[He grabs onto your shoulders->MinoFucker1]]]The corridor is too narrow, and the minotaur's sense of smell too great, you try to hunch up against the stone wall but the creature bellows and angles its horn right at you as it charges in. "Oooooffff!" The impact knocks the wind out of you, magically enchanted horn ripping through your armour and tearing into your abdomen. The pain starts slow and builds up with nausea then bursts into excruciating agony. You are impaled on the horn and the mighty beast rises its head up, then shakes it from side to side until your body is fully impaled, gore splattering out as your stomach tears open, organs ripped apart, magical energy burning against your innards. The creature then throws you off and you slam into the corridor wall opposite, a smack and a splat emitting as your guts spill out underneath you. Panic sets in and you rummage with your pouch for a potion, but then something glints and the minotaur's axe whistles through the air, straight at your skull. [[He hits you->Disappoint1]]As quickly as possible you cast the Grease spell, and the floor fills with a slippery substance that causes the monstrous creature to whoop and slide, overbalancing and slipping backwards, impacting the stone floor with a loud crash. You quickly dart in, short-sword trained at its neck, and you score a deep gash, his head snapping to the side from the electrical magic. Then he roars and swipes the greataxe in your general direction and you shout in fright, jumping over the strike, landing on the opposite side and darting in with your dagger, plunging it through his bale-filled eye straight to the hilt. You let go of the dagger and fall back as the minotaur flounders about in agony. He gets to his hooves, pulls the dagger out in a gush of blood and a bit of brainmatter, which oozes down his face. His other eye is enraged and he bullcharges forward. The loss of an eye impacts his coordination. Unlike you he has not been forced to fight with partial of full blindfolds for hours at a time, and it is easy to dodge his charge, bending low and ripping your short sword through the tendons at his knee, the electrical discharge making him jump and then fall to the side with a crash. Now he's too slow to stop your pounce, and you climb his back, avoiding his wildly swinging horns, and you plunge the blade into the back of his neck, discharging lighting straight into his brain. Huffing from it all, you step back from your slain foe, then strike down at his head. Hard. Twice. Two magically augmented horns struck loose. You pick them up and put them in your bag of holding. You take his axe as well. It's too big for you, but will look nice on your trophy wall. [[Onwards->PostMino]]There's a burning, blinding, crushing flash of light as the axe-head crushes into your skull, popping an eye-ball, lodging halfway into your brain. Your thoughts are dispersed. Who are you? Why are you here? You try to move an arm. To say something. Nothing comes out. No motions can be made. Then, a sickening lurch in your stomach, your cheek burns, and you are suddenly somewhere else with someone you think you might know. Think. Know...??? (link:"Something touches your head")[You gasp as your thoughts return, the agony of your deathwound impacts your senses and then divine magic finishes its course through your mangled body and you are hale and whole again. You look down at your paws, somehow still holding on to your blades, then up, into the frowning face of your master. "AN IMPRESSIVE WOUND, SEPF. LESS IMPRESSIVE TO RECIEVE SUCH A BLOW." "I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I....." You still cannot form a sentence. "WHICH CREATURE DEALT THAT BLOW?" "A-A-A Minotaur." Your tongue finally unlocks. The mind-flayer scoffs then waves his three-fingered hand dismissively. "GO BACK TO THE TOWER. BRING ME THAT TOME!" "Yes, Master." You head back, covering yourself in a heavy cloak, hoping the smell of blood on your armour won't alert any patrols of your misdeeds. You pass the Helazzin-mushroom, a tinkling laughter following you as you scale the walls and head into the tower again. The maze is easy to traverse now and you are soon at the section where the minotaur resides, quaffing another potion of invisibility, even though you know he can smell right through it. He lumbers into view, sniffing the air. [[Attempt a sneak attack->MinoSneaker]] [[Attack the minotaur head on->MinoFight]] [[Fire off some magic first->MinoMagic]] [[Try to seduce the beast->MinoFucker]]]You move cautiously onwards for some 10 minutes through a corridor that turns left, then right. The space then opens up to a room perhaps 6 yards wide and some 20 yards deep, with supporting columns on both sides made out of exotic woods, each set of columns its own colour from greyish black, to deep red to the darkest brown, all well-cared for and almost shining to your eyes. Someone is here! You quickly dart behind one of the coloumns, blades ready. "It seem as if we have an intruder, brother." "So it does. So it does." "He looks small." "Weak." "Frail." There is a silence, potent and rich with danger, footsteps come closer, two pairs, somewhat heavy but not as heavy as the minotaur's. (link:"Check for magic")[Using your ear-ring, you check for magic, the haloes of the two creatures' gear lighting up behind the coloumn. One of them is obviously a warrior, you see the outline of his armour and the heavy sword in his hands, the other one might be a spellcaster of some kind, he's holding an enchanted staff and is staying behind the fighter. Their gear is fairly potent, not bright enough to make your eyes water, but enough to make you squint a little. Silently you dispell the ear-ring's effect and mutter out a curse, paws shivering slightly as you ponder your actions. [[Jump out and charge the warrior->WarriorAttack]] [[Use Misty Step to get behind the spellcaster->SpellcasterAttack]] [[Run around the coloumn to buy some time and get an overview of the situation->Circling]] [[Holster your weapons and attempt to negotiate->DoubleTheFun]]]You yelp as his axe clatters noisily to the floor and his great paws grab onto you, lifting you up, twirling you around like you weigh nothing, then grabbing your ankles and pushing you against the wall of the corridor. His shaft is right in front of your face and you open wide, the minotaur thrusting forward. It's as long as Zennobas', perhaps a bit thinner, but still a hefty cub-breaker, and the tapered shaft slides into your maw and upwards, plunging into your throat, the motion of his hips making your skull crack against the unforgiving stone. You yelp and then gurgle as your throat is plugged, lifting up your paws to grab the back of your head, protecting you from being knocked unconcious, and the minotaur picks up speed, thrusting savagely into your throat. His member spasms and throbs, growing bigger by the minute, the length now longer than Zennobas', the girth almost the same sans the knot. It brutalizes your throat and your hurk and gag as he thrusts it in to the hilt again and again, your face fully buried in the potent stench of his shaggy ballfur. He keeps it up for a while, and you begin to get lightheaded from being upside down as well as from the lack of air, as the bovine monster shows no regard to your wellbeing, thrusting harshly like a feral stallion, impaling your throat on repeat. (link:"He turns you around")[You squeal, a trail of throatslime and salive centrifuged through the air as he flips you around, one big paw on your throat, the other under your tail. "I know you can take it, runt." He grumbles as he aligns his slimy cock with your hole and let you attempt to put your legs around his armour-clad torso. The metal makes your boots slide down and he grins, hoisting under one knee, the other paw keeping your throat firm against the stone, and he //thrusts//. (link:"Cry in pain")[He's lubed up well enough, but you are not stretched out well enough, and you cry out in choking pain as he rams his cock inside almost to the hilt, the angle of your upheld knee making the tip scrape against your insides in a painful manner, your sphincter tearing at the violent rut. As with your throat, he fucks you hard and fast, full thrusts that make you cry and whimper everytime he pushes in and gasp and groan every time he pulls out. All the while your head begins to hurt from the choking of his massive paw. You grab onto his forearm with two paws, but he doesn't not relent, merely snorting, his nosering bobbing as he continues fucking you. He climaxes as hard as he fucks, great pulses that fill up the depths of your bowels with his bestial cum and you groan weakly, gasping for air as he short-thrusts with //hard// buckles of his hips, making your back scrape painfully against the stone wall as his pelvis lifts you up and down. The minotaur then pulls out and lowers you down, switching grip to your black headfur, plunging his softening member inside your maw. He pumped deep enough to scrape out some shit, and you taste your own waste as he uses your muzzle as a rag, big paw clamping around your maw, hissing slightly as your teeth scrape off shit, cum and weeks-old smegma. Finally, he pushes you away, your head clanging against stone and you sit there on your knees, spit trailing from your muzzle, heaving in great gasps of air. Your own erection was un-tended to and you feel dissapointed, but at least you held up your part of the deal. (link:"Piss washes over you")[A powerful stream of extremely potent urine washes over you. "Gotta make you smell like a real male!" The minotaur says with a laugh as he coats your fur, marking you as his bitch. You surprise him by opening your mouth, seeking out the hot and sour piss, and you gulp it down with relish. The hot liquid washes down your throat and warms your belly and you paw yourself off, the minotaur helpful enough to aim downwards, the hot spray on your meat pushing you over the edge and you whine out in pleasure as you shoot your load, your puppybatter spurting out to mix with the expanding pool of yellow urine. After coming down, you look up at the bestial male and he has something akin to a frown on his face. "I was tasked with guarding this passage. I may get punished for this infraction..." "But wasn't it worth it?" You ask hoarsely, your throat still sore from the abuse. He cocks his head to the side, nosering bobbing, then he smiles savagely. "That it was, pup. Now get on your way!" You gather up your gear, but don't bother putting it on until you are out of eye-sight of the minotaur. From your bag you procure a rag and wipe yourself down, although his potent stink will only come off with a bath and a bar of soap. Your tailhole is blown out and bleeding, drops of semen and blood mixing on the floor. You feel a sucking sensation in your gut at the sight, reaching down with your paw and feeling up your torn pucker. With shaky paws you reach for your bag of holding and procure a healing potion, after drinking it down the bleeding stops, although you still feel quite sore down there. A few minutes later you have geared up. You are now ready to venture further into Absalum's abode. [[Onwards->PostMino]]]]](set: $Alignment to 50) <!-- Starting value for the player -->\ (set: $LeaningEvilThreshold to 40) <!-- These four affect how $AlignmentText and other macros work -->\ (set: $LeaningGoodThreshold to 60)\ (set: $EvilThreshold to 25)\ (set: $GoodThreshold to 75)\ \ (set: $FC to (macro: int-type _val, int-type _delta, [ (set: _result to _val)<!-- This macro allows percentage-like adjustments of a value, with a bias towards reaching 50% --> (if: _delta <= 0)[ (set: _result to (round: _val + (_val*(_delta/100)))) ](else:)[ (set: _result to (round: _val + ((100-_val)*(_delta/100)))) ] (output-data: _result) ]))\ (set: $AlignmentChange to (macro: int-type _change, [ (set: $Alignment to ($FC: $Alignment, _change)) (output:)[] ]))\ (set: $IsFullyGood to (macro: [(output-data:$Alignment >= $GoodThreshold)]))\ (set: $IsLeaningGood to (macro: [(output-data:$Alignment >= $LeaningGoodThreshold and not ($IsFullyGood:))]))\ (set: $IsAnyGood to (macro: [(output-data:($IsLeaningGood:) or ($IsFullyGood:))]))\ (set: $IsFullyEvil to (macro: [(output-data:$Alignment <= $EvilThreshold)]))\ (set: $IsLeaningEvil to (macro: [(output-data:$Alignment <= $LeaningEvilThreshold and not ($IsFullyEvil:))]))\ (set: $IsAnyEvil to (macro: [(output-data:($IsFullyEvil:) or ($IsLeaningEvil:))]))\ (set: $IsNeutral to (macro: [(output-data:not ($IsLeaningGood:) and not ($IsLeaningEvil:))]))\ (set: $AlignmentText to (macro: [ (set: _o to "neutral") (if: ($IsFullyEvil:))[(set: _o to "evil")] (else-if: ($IsFullyGood:))[(set: _o to "good")] (else-if: ($IsLeaningEvil:))[(set: _o to "leaning evil")] (else-if: ($IsLeaningGood:))[(set: _o to "leaning good")] (output:)[_o] ]))\ Here's how to use this alignment system! The alignment score (in the variable $Alignment) starts at 50, and can range from 0 to 99 (but keep in mind it can be hard to get below 10 or above 90). You adjust it by calling $AlignmentChange with a value indicating how large of an adjustment you want. Think of the value as a percentage; 5 would mean a small adjustment, and 50 a really big one, and 90 is huge. Down below I put some examples so you can test this passage and see how the math works out. In the [[Setup]] passage I defined some convenient macros for working with it. In a passage where you want to adjust the player's alignment, you do that with ($AlignmentChange:10). Use positive numbers to adjust towards goodness, and negative numbers to go to the dark side. You can get a text string for the player's current alignment with ($AlignmentText:), or check their alignment 'tier' using the custom macros you can see in the IF statements below here. Those three all work by using the variables $GoodThreshold and $EvilThreshold to detect 'good' and 'evil', so once you've got the alignment changes integrated into the game, changing the values of those variables in the [[Setup]] passage will be one way to tweak and tune how easy or hard it is to become good or evil. (The other is to change the weights on the alignment changes in the game.) And for blocks of text: (if:$Alignment < 45)[ This block of text is shown if the player's alignment is under 45! ] (if:($IsFullyGood:))[ This block is shown only to players who are fully good! ] (if:($IsLeaningGood:))[ This block is shown only to players who are leaning good! ] (if:($IsAnyGood:))[ This block is shown to players who are leaning good, OR fully good! ] (if:($IsNeutral:))[ This block is shown only to neutral players! ] (if:($IsLeaningEvil:))[ This block is shown only to players who are leaning evil! ] (if:($IsFullyEvil:))[ This block is shown only to fully evil players! ] (if:($IsAnyEvil:))[ This block is shown to players who are leaning evil, OR fully evil! ] (if:($IsNeutral:) or ($IsAnyGood:))[ This block is shown to players who are neutral, good, or leaning good! ] (if:not ($IsAnyEvil:))[ This block is ALSO shown to players who are neutral, good, or leaning good; it just defines the logic differently, by saying "anyone who isn't any level of evil" instead of "neutrals and anyone who is any level of good". ] ---------------- Adjusting by 10: Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:-10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 23) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:-10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 72) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:-10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 48) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 10 points ($AlignmentChange:-10)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) ---------------- Adjusting by 5: Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:-5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 23) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:-5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 72) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:-5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 48) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 5 points ($AlignmentChange:-5)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) ----------- Adjusting by 25: Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:-25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 23) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:-25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 72) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:-25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) (set:$Alignment to 48) Our alignment is $Alignment, which is ($AlignmentText:)! change up by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) change down by 25 points ($AlignmentChange:-25)and now it's $Alignment (($AlignmentText:)) --------------- You figure that if you can keep the warrior between you and the spellcaster you can finish him off first. Speaking the activation word, the chevron-rune you yourself have tattoed onto your right ankle glows and imparts its magic into your body, the spell of Haste. With a fighting roar you jump out and make a mad dash towards your enemies. They are only a few yards away, the spellcaster behind the warrior. You see that they are orcs, although their eyes don't seem to have that dull glint of stupidity that most greenskins are born with. The orc in front of you, protected by chainmail, wielding a longsword, bellows out a warcry of his own, not at all surprised by your mad dash and he swings it about in a wide and horizontal arch that has you yelping and jumping to the side, parrying the blade which shines bright with magic even in darkvision, lighting up the area around him. He's fairly stocky, some six feet tall, with a muscle-bound frame that lends a lot of strength to his blow, the parry making your wrist ache a little. You shout out and attack again with lightning speed, making sure to keep the big orc between you and the spellcaster who is moving slowly to the side to get a clear shot at you, his hands up in the air ready to fire off a spell. Despite that speed, the big orc uses attack as defence, his sword directed at where you need to be to make an attack of your own, forcing you to parry several times instead of getting your strikes in. (link:"A spell is cast")[The other orc begins the mythic passes of a spell and you curse as the warrior steps to the side, his sword darting out towards your head, making you duck and parry while the spellcaster's hands glow. Then five magic missiles fly out, small glowing darts of pure magic that hone in on you and impact your body like dagger-blows, one after the other making you gasp and curse. The distraction is enough for the bigger orc to land a solid strike, a gash opening up in your leather armour from the right side of your chest down to your navel, blood pouring out from your sliced-open skin. You cry out and attack, surprising the orc, batting his blade to the side, getting a thrust into his ribs that pierce through his chainmail, before something glows fiercely in the edge of your vision. Three burning missiles are flying your way and you manage to duck one but take the other two to the face and chest, enchanted flames bursting, cooking your skin, burning off your fur. You scream out in pain and the warrior makes an expert cut to your paw, then the other, disarming you. He then grabs on to you and you try to reach for a dagger, but now the mage joins in and the two of them have the strength to hold you down, ropes being produced, a rag put into your mouth as an improvised gag while twine is roped around your muzzle, trapping it shut. [[They take you away->OrcBadEnd]]]You begin to chant the incantation to the spell as you step out from the column. The two creatures are orcs, the warrior in front realising he has to move fast. He bellows a warcry and jumps forward just as the magic takes effect and you are whisked through the air in a puff of mist, re-appearing behind the mage. There is a split-second of confusion as your perspective change, but you have practiced this move with Helazzin countless times, the deep gnome particularly happy with the potential for an impromptu sneak attack. Like now. Time seems to have slown down as the orcs cast their heads from side to side, and then Spark is driven into the base of the skull of the mage. A loud crack echoes inside the room as lightning flashes inside the brain of the creature, and he collapses to his knees then flops forward, skull smacking against the floor, smoke pouring out of his lifeless eyes. (link:"The warrior roars and charges")["BROTHER!" The orc bellows and charges in, rage evident in his features. Something strange is happening with the mage's corpse, but you are too busy fending off the powerful strikes that are coming your way, dagger and shortsword crossed as the take the impacts. He's strong, the vicious cuts make your wrists ache and your shoulders burn as you parry one attack after the other, not able to make a riposte. He drives you backwards, enchanted edge gleaming as it almost cuts your face, and you have to think fast before he disembowels you. [[Throw your dagger at his face->DoubleOrcThrow]]]Before you make a run for it, you reach into your bag of holding an fetch out a bottle of Alchemists Fire. Then you dash to the side, opposite of their approach, and you see that the two creatures are orcs, although their facial expression are different than what you are used to seeing, these two not slack-jawed idiots like most greenskins. You throw the bottle towards them and it explodes on the ground, filling the air with smoke and sparks as the alchemical concontion bursts into bright, hot flames. "Destroy the intruder, brother!" The warrior shouts and the mage begins to make mythical passes of his hands as you run down the hall, a ball of flame whooshing out of his palm to fly towards you. You cry and tumble as the fiery projectile explodes, a muted *whump* ruffing your fur as flames wash over your body, but your quick reaction means that you recieve nothing more than a few singed strands of hair for his efforts. The warrior is circling around the flames from the potion that keep on burning and you take the time to fire off a spell of your own, three magical, green missiles that hurtle through the air to impact the spellcaster, who scream in pain as the acid arrows pierce his robes and inject their content into his body. While he is busy shouting and beating at his blistering skin the warrior is now able to make his charge, and he bellows loudly, enchanted longsword glinting as it hurtles through the air to take your head off. [[Parry and engage->OrcBadEnder]] [[Use Misty Step to re-appear at the spellcaster->CircleWinner]]"I don't want to fight!" You call out, sheathing your weapons, stepping out of the coloumn, facing the two creatures. They are orcs, the warrior broadshouldered, looking suspicious, the spellcaster cocking his head to the side. You show them your empty palms. "Your master isn't here and I have no quarrel with you guys." You try to look as non-threatening as possible, giving them a good look up and down, the warrior especially catching your eye and you briefly imagine his big, burly, hairy arms wrapped around your body as he pounds you senseless. They both remain silent and you make a quick pirouette, flashing up your tail, trying to speak to their baser instincts. "Please let me pass. I'll make it worth your while~" "It seems we have a lusty sneak on our hands." The warrior says, lowering his blade but not putting it away. "A //special// kind of sneak, brother.." The mage says, stepping closer. They share a look and you suddenly feel uncertain. There is a surprising amount of intellect in their piggy eyes and it is almost as if they are having a conversation without speaking. The warrior then turns to you, eyebrow raised suggestively. He pats the front of his mail, where his junk is hidden underneath. "Are you willing to service this?" You simply nod, feeling a blush grow on your face as you step forward. He sheathes his sword. "Get on your knees, bitch." (link:"Drop to your knees in front of the hunky orc")["Good boy..." He coos, grabbing your headfur, cramming you against his crotch, your whiskers twinging with pain as they get stuck in the mail. The scent is rich with metal and oil and a hint of his musk. The spellcaster steps near as well. "Are you going to have all the fun for yourself, brother?" "You can take his ass while I ride his mouth." "An enticing arrangement," the mage says, getting behind you. (link:"A paw is put on your shoulder, another on your throat")[The mage kneels behind you and you oblige him by strutting out your butt and rummaging with the buckles that hold your leather armour together. He reaches for your shoulder and your throat, keeping you in place, the warrior's grip on your headfur tightening. Then he squeezes. Hard. You choke and sputter, and the grip on your headfur turns to iron, the warrior's other hand grabbing your other arm. Trapped! You try to struggle, but they have the strength and you a kneeling and now both your arms are pinned while you are choked out. You try to horsekick backwards, but the angle is wrong and you don't have the leverage. The crushing grip on your throat makes your vision flicker, then darken. [[Pass out->OrcBadEnd]]]](if:(history: where its name contains "OrcBadEnder")'s length >= 1)[You wake up with a splitting headache and deep residual pain in your entire body from the impact of the Lightning Bolt. Everything is dark. You are blindfolded. Someone slaps you several times and you feel a burn in your cheeks as if you have been slapped //a lot//. Glass it shoved into your mouth and you are forced to drink whatever content it holds by fingers trapping your maw and blocking your nose. It slides down easily and warms you from the inside, the aches and pains going away. A healing potion! The blindfold is then taken away from your face and you blink as you take in the surroundings. A surge of nausea makes your stomach cramp up as you realise that you are in a torture chamber, complete with rack, cross and shelves and tables full of "tools". You are tied with manacles on both wrists and ankles, your shoulders burning from hanging there, just the tips of your toes touching the cold, stone floor. They have undressed you and you are naked and helpless to whatever they might do to you. [[The warrior steps up to you->DGBadEnder]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "WarriorAttack")'s length >= 1)[You are dragged by the two orcs to a room the sight of which makes your heart sink deep into your stomach. It's a torture chamber, with racks, crosses, tools, burning braziers, the whole nine yards. You are stripped and then manacled so that you hang from the ceiling, wrists hurting, shoulder aching as you can just barely touch the floor with your tiptoes. The smell of burned fur is sharp in your nose. And you feel blood and puss run down your face, the results of the mage's fiery attack. The slash down your chest is gaping widely, and a pool of blood is forming at your footpaws, rivulets of your sanguine fluids running your down body then down your leg. A healing potion is presented to your maw and you are made to drink it down, your wounds healing up, leaving you hale and whole again. [[The warrior steps up to you->DGBadEnder]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "DoubleTheFun")'s length >= 1)[You wake up with a headache from being choked out. You are blindfolded and panic, rattling chains as you try to move. Steel is biting into your wrists and ankles, manacles, and you are suspended by your arms, your shoulders aching from taking the brunt of your weight as only the tips of your toes touch the cold, stone floor. Air currents wash over your body and you become intimately aware that you are naked. [[The mage steps up to you->DGMager]]] With a flick of your left wrist you send your enchanted dagger hurtling through the air, the point of it driving into the cheek of the orc, burying itself almost to the hilt. He shouts in pain, grabbing at his face, pulling the knife out in a gush of blood. This was all the opening you needed and you are darting forwards, slipping under his guard, Spark cutting deep into his thigh, the electrical discharge making his leg spasm and he's thrown on his back with a startled yelp. However, as you jump in to deliver the finishing blow, he lashes out with his sword and you have to dance back to avoid its gleaming edge. The orc grunts as he gets back on his feet, rage and pain simmering in his eyes and you make a quick glance towards the corpse of the other one, eyes widening as you see the body has transformed into some other kind of being with smooth, grey skin. "I'll skin you and wear your fur as a pelt!" The warrior spits out, before charging again, the cut on his thigh not deep enough to restrict his movements. (link:"Fire off a spell")[With rapid speed you recite the incantation and make the gestures for Melf's Acid Arrows. Three of the green projectiles hurtle through the air, all of them impacting the orc, two in the chest, the last one flying straight into his bleeding face. He bellows in pain, slapping at the green objects as they pump acid into him and this is all the distraction you need. With a shout you make a jumping attack, driving the tip of your shortsword through his eye-socket, frying his brain with the electrical imbuement. The orc falls to the ground, shuddering, face melting from the acid, an acrid stench filling the air as the caustic magic makes his blood boil and then he lies still. After only a few moments his body begins to change shape. The chainmail grows loose on him as he becomes more slender, his skincolour changes from greenish to pure grey and his head becomes somewhat bulbous, his remaining eye large and sticking out of its socket. A doppelganger! You have read about these creatures. Shapeshifters with the ability to read minds, oftentimes serving as spies or assassins for whoever can afford their services. You wonder why Absalum would have not one but two of these creatures in his service, as the mage has reverted back to his natural form as well, burned-out eyes standing out on his greyskinned face. The warrior's sword has a nice heft to it. You try swinging it through the air a couple of times before putting it into your bag of holding. Then you retrieve your dagger, wiping it off the mage's robes, before you pick up his staff. It's fairly potent! You take a moment to decipher the engravings and get a feel for its magical aura. Not only is it enchanted enough to strike ghostly creatures it also holds charges for firing off the spell of Lightning Bolt. Neat! You store it away and dust yourself off before venturing forth. [[Exit the room->PostDobbel]]]You shout in defiance, meeting steel with steel, wrists quickly turning numb from the orc's powerful attacks. Spark darts out, hitting him in the lower arm, and the electrical discharge makes him yelp, the warrior now attacking with one-handed strikes as his fingers twitch madly from the residual effects of the lightning. Fully focused on his blade, you dart in, steel scraping as you push Spark against it, the dagger in your offhand driving towards his neck. Then something white-hot comes at you from the edge of your vision and you are too committed to your attack to evade it. A Lightning Bolt streaks through the air and impacts your body solidly. Your vision flickers, all your muscles tremor, the blades fall from your shuddering paws as you are thrown backwards from the powerful magical attack. Then the warrior is on you, manhandling you. You try to fight back, reaching for another dagger, but he slaps your paw away, then punches you in the temple, rocking your skull against the hard, stone floor. He punches you again. Then again. Again. [[Your vision fades to black->OrcBadEnd]]With not a second to spare, you manage to cast Misty Step and dissapear in a fog of vapour, re-appearing behind the mage. There is a split-second of confusion as your perspective changes so rapidly, but you have practiced this move with Helazzin, the svirfneblin always impressed with your arcane trickster skills. The spellcaster's back is wide open and you make a hard chop, lopping of his head which thunks wetly to the floor and rolls a couple of paces before lying still, twitching eyes looking at his brother. The body sags sideways and falls to the ground, blood spurting from the severed arteries, a pool of the orc's sanguine fluids quickly spreading out. Smoke is in the air, but the Alchemist Fire has burned out now, leaving sootened stains behind on the stony floor. With a maddened roar, the warrior charges forward and you have the time for one last trick, quickly casting mage-hand, making its semi-solid finger do a flick into his eye. He stumbles and curses in surprise and then you are at him, Spark thrusting into his sternum, angled upwards. The lightning enchantment flares up and fries his heart and he falls to the ground. Dead. Something strange then happens. The greenskins' bodies are shifting and turning, muscles imploding or bulging, faces changing shape. They becomes more slender, their skin colour changes from greenish to pure grey and their heads becomes somewhat bulbous, their eyes large and sticking out of their sockets. Doppelgangers! You have read about these creatures. Shapeshifters with the ability to read minds, oftentimes serving as spies or assassins for whoever can afford their services. (link:"Take their gear")[Huffing with exertion, sweat running down your face, you take a moment to gather yourself before looting the corpses. The warrior's longsword is a fine addition to your collection, shining in the visible spectrum with its enchantments, and the mage's staff is of particular interest. For a few moments you let your paws wander over its surface while you attune yourself to its magic. Wow! It shoots Lightning Bolts! And the activation word is engraved with a couple of drow glyphs that you luckily know. You store both items into your bag of holding and then venture onwards. [[Exit the hall->PostDobbel]]]You are in a corridor that leads further into the enchanted tower. On both sides are a couple of doors. It makes sense to check them out before venturing forth. [[Check the first door on your left->PostLeft1]] [[Check the second door on your left->PostLeft2]] [[Check the first door on your right->PostRight]] [[Check the second door on your right->PostRight2]] (if:(history: where its name contains "PostLeft1")'s length >= 1)[You have gathered valuable intel and feel ready to move on. [[Move further into the enchanted tower->DobblerEnder]]]Up close, the bulging physique of the orc is almost overwhelming. He still has his chainmail on, but his scabbard has been put away and he puts his hands on his hips as he looks you over. "Gave us a hell of a fight, this one did." He muses. "A surprising opponent to be sure." The mage says, stepping in as well. He is more lanky, but still has the bulging muscles befitting an orc, with both of them having hairy bodies and protruding tusks sticking out of their mouths. "You think he will talk?" Says the mage, putting his a finger to his chin as if in deep thought. "We will make him talk." "They always talk." "//Always//." Both of them give you cruel leers and then their faces distort, skin bulging and rippling, before settling down, a most eerie and scary sight. (link:"\"Who are you?\" ")["W-W-Who are you?" You manage to stammer. "That is not for you to know." The mage says. "Who are you?" The warrior says then, grabbing your throat to the point where your breathing is wheezing. "I'm nobody." You say inbetween gasping for air. "A nobody?" "Someone without even a name?" Says the mage "Seems improbable." The warrior says with a frown, his grip getting so tight that you cannot breathe at all, your lungs burning from the lack of air. "Unlikely." "Implausible." You are then released, gasping and hacking and then the burly orc's fist is rammed straight into your solar plexus. [[Dangle->DGTort]]]"Such a squirmy little pup," the mage says in a singsong voice as he removes the blindfold. You blink a couple of times and the orc's face is right in front of yours, his somewhat sour breath washing over you, making your whiskers twitch. Lurking behind him is the warrior, who has his muscular arms crossed, his head cocked to the side and a wide smile on his face. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach as you take in the rest of the room. It's a torture chamber. There are crosses and racks and shelves and walls packed with the tools of the torturer's trade. A hand then grips your scrotum, trapping both sheath and balls, and the mage pulls hard, making you yelp out as your genitals are abused. "Such a lovely voice." He says. "Bet it would sound lovelier if we had taken up his offer." The burly orc replies, cocking his head to the other side, his smile almost deranged. "A shame he holds no interest for me." The mage tugs even harder and it almost feels as if he will tear your balls or your sheath away from your body. "Me neither." The warrior steps close and cups your face, forcing you stare into his eyes through your own scrunched up ones. Then something strange and unnerving happens. The skin of his face begins to ripple, it bulges out and pushes in like a pool of water being agitated, his eyes bulge out further from their sockets and are then sucked in again and he suddenly looks as he did before, although there is a malicious glint in his stare as he takes in your reaction. (link:"\"Who are you?\"")["Who are you?" You blurt out and the strong pull on your scrotum is released as the mage steps back with a grin. "The little whore comes in here, armed to the teeth, and asks us who //we// are?" The warrior sneers. "Very impolite of him." The mage grins as he hears your whimpers from your pain of your aching balls. "It is more fitting that we should ask the questions, is it not?" "That seems like the best course of order." The mage says. He then snarls, eyes cruel and focused on your crotch and he lands a heavy punch to your stones. [[Dangle->DGTort]]](if:(history: where its name contains "DGBadEnder")'s length >= 1)[Your pained gasps are accompanied by the rattling of chains as you shudder, the manacles digging deeply into your wrists. The punch to your chest was precise and hard and you almost pass out, drool falling from your quivering lips as you struggle to control your body.] (if:(history: where its name contains "DMMager")'s length >= 1)[You emit a squeak that turns to a high-pitched yowl as the full force of his punch is felt throughout your whole body. His fist has compressed your stones to the point of near-fracture and you whimper weakly, the chains rattling as you sway about, drool falling from your lips to spatter against the floor while you try to get your bearings.] "Now tell us who you are!" You don't know who's speaking. "Tell us who sent you!" A slap rattles your face and makes your body sway harder. "Tell who you are!" Another slap. "Who sent you?" A punch to the ribs. "Who are you?" A knee to the crotch. You vomit sour bile that spills down your body. Then a hand grabs on to your headfur and yanks you sharply forward, until both ankles and wrists burn from how harsly the manacles bite into them. "Look at me!" "Look at him!" (link:"Try to focus")[You blink rapidly, trying to clear the tears from your eyes and what you see is your reflection. Wait? What?? "Ohhhh, look at me, I'm a stupid little puppy dog~" What sounds like it might be your own voice speaks to you, but it is much different than you would have imagined it. A harsh punch then impacts your ribs coming from the warrrior orc, you feel the crunch, feel a couple of them breaking, splintering, digging into your flesh. The face of yourself in front of you screams out in exactly the same pitch as you do, and you cannot close your eyes to make it stop, it is just too bizarre to watch unfold. You. Or. The other Sepf then lets go of your headfur and smacks you face several times, the burning sting is minor compared to the agony of your broken ribs. Sepf's...? Your's...? The //creature's// face then shifts and wobbles and flutters, microticks turning to waves of rippling flesh and the orc spellcaster's visage is now facing you, his features twisted in sadistic rage. (link:"*Ooooffffff*")[The warrior has moved around you and his fist now crunches into your opposite ribs. Once. Twice. The two punches breaking bones, the second one digging them in so deep it feels like your lung is pierced. "Want another one?" The burly orc says, clenching his hairy fist in front of your eyes. He doesn't wait for an answer an delivers another blow, even harder than before, and you feel bone jutting inwards //at least// a couple of inches. You cough, the spasm turning your lungs to agony and you try to manage your crying because each sob wracks your body with unimaginable pain. "Can you still speak like this?" The mage asks. "Answer him!" The burly orc shouts, digging his fingers into your eyes, threatening to pop them. (link:"\"YES!\"")[You scream out the affirmative, terrified that your eyes will be destroyed and the warrior harrumphs and lets off, his fingertips now trailing down the top of your snout in what is almost a caress. "Answer our questions then! Who sent you? Who are you? This is only the beginning, we will torture you until you at the cusp of death, pour a healing potion down your throat and start all over again!" "ANSWER!" The mage roars and he stomp-kicks your ribs, where the most damage has already been done, splinters of bone piercing this way and that making you scream hoarsely. The burly orc rummages with your belongings while you whimper-cry in agony, taking your own dagger, the enchanted blade as well-honed as possible. He sets it on your chest, then digs the tip into your skin, making a circle all around your right nipple, digging the tip deep, cutting into the muscle beneath. You feel your lifeblood trickle out and then notice the same sensation on your side where broken ribs have pierced your chest and blood is trailing your fur there. All the while you are crying and begging for him to stop but he just smiles wickedly, only stopping once the circle is complete. "I will let you do the honours." He says to the mage, who steps in, pinches your nipple and //pulls//. You cannot help but look down to see how the sliced skin sort of collapses inwards as your nipple is pulled. Then it loosens, although there is still connective tissue under the nipple itself. "Let me help." The burly orc says, neatly slicing through the flesh underneath, severing your nipple and the ring of skin surrounding it. [[Scream->DGTort1]]]]] You scream hoarsely, agony wracking your body as the mage carelessly throws the useless flesh to the floor with a muted splat. The warrior then digs the tip of your dagger directly into the wound, twisting it this way and that before letting it slice down your body, tick-ticking over your broken rips, half-ovaling towards your crotch. With a neat curl he drags the dagger upwards, all the way towards your chest, letting the tip slice straight through the other nipple, the tender flesh parting, your screams of horror and agony making your broken ribs twist about, blood spattering from the wounds. The mage steps forth with a mad grin and digs his fingers into the sliced-open skin, fingernails scraping against your bleeding abdominal muscles and he gets a firm grip, his digits //under// your fur and he pulls up. There is a sickening rending sound as he parts the skin in viscious tugs. One, two, three hard pulls that dislodge more and more of it, the warrrior stepping in, neatly slicing whatever fat and gristle connects it. You scream and yelp all the while, chains rattling as you convulse in your bondage, broken ribs twisting this way and that unwittingly. When he gets to your chest, the flab of flayed fur is long enough that it reaches your face and he touches your navel against your nose with a wickedly silly "Boop!". He then lets go and your stomach fur flops down, hanging loosely, the pool of blood around your footpaws expanding ever wider. The warrior steps in then, holding the bloody dagger up to your eyes, the ruby colour shimmering. "Tell us who you are, who sent you. Or I'll rape your ass with this!" He twists the dagger from side to side and you hang there, close to passing out, the agony in your splintered ribs and flayed stomach too much to bear. You cry and shake and shiver from it all, and begin to feel lightheaded from the blood loss. [[Tell them what they want to hear->DGTortEnd]] [[Spit into his eyes->DGTort2]]Despite how many times your master or Scrae has tortured you, the agony that is wracking your body is so much that you don't see any other option other than telling them the truth. You don't even think about lying. You just want this to stop. You can't take it any more. You tell them //everything//, who your master is, the plan to steal the tome. The only thing you omit is the fact that Helazzin is waiting outside Absalum's compound. You begin to tell your life story. What feels like a gallon of blood has left your body at this point and you hang your head in defeat, welcoming oblivion, but a potion of healing is poured into your muzzle and some of your wounds stop bleeding, although your ribs are still sticking out of your body. "This has been tiresome." The mage says, stepping over to a washbasin and cleaning off his bloody hands, the burly orc following suit. "All too much work." "The runt should have told us from the getgo." "Seems like the obstinate type." The bigger orc says with a shrug, both of them returning to observe their handiwork. "I would have loved to hear his screams when the dagger was thrust into his rectum." The mage says, grabbing at your stomach fur, pulling it away from your body then letting it flop back again, causing a warbled cry to be emitted from your throat. "We can play with him later." One of your broken ribs is poked at with the bloody dagger, making you twist and whimper. "I will need to prepare the Whispering Wind spell to contact our employer..." The mage leans in, giving you a toothy and tusky grin, facial features rippling slightly before settling down again. "You hang in there little runt, we'll come back for you." [[Your torturers leave->DGTortEscaper]]You seem to have bitten your tongue at some point and reddish spit flies out of your mouth right into the orc's eyes. He curses and steps back, wipes them clean, then glowers maliciously. "You'll regret that, runt!" He moves around to your back and the more slender mage steps in with a devastating gutpunch that makes your flayed stomach skin flab about, your sanguine fluids spilling everywhere. You hang your head as drowziness overcomes you, but the spellcaster procures a healing potion and forces you to drink it, some strength returning to your body so you can stay awake for the next bout of torture. Your fluffy tail is grabbed harshly by its tip and then you feel a searing pain at its end. He's slicing through it! The orc guffaws as sinew and bone is severed and he returns to the front, holding up the last couple of inches of your tail, tickling your nose with the tip before throwing it to the ground and going behind you again. His strong paw grabs it from underneath your body where it's curled up and the mage steps in, now holding a leather baton with a lead core, the cudgel ramming into your "good" side, further breaking bones there as he gives it several hard *whomps*. Another piece of your tail is cut off. Then another. One or two inches at a time until all that is left is a bleeding stump. Your screams are high-pitched and sharp as your body part is removed. (link:"The knife pushes agaisnt your entrance")[Your body feels //wrong//. You are deeply sobbing despite trying not to as the source of your balance is gone and then you tense up, even soldiering through another bone-breaking cudgel strike, as you feel the tip of your own dagger pinching as it squeezes between your anal folds. The burly orc rams the dagger inside in one harsh shove, pulls out and rams it inside again, slicing your sphincter wide open as he repeatedly cuts your tailhole until it is a gaping, bloody mess that hangs halfway down your thigh. Your writhe and scream hoarsely to no avail, manacles biting ever harder into your wrists. He then pushes in and you scream out in agony as the crossguard grinds against your torn flesh until it pops inside, locking in place, the dagger cutting up your intestines in a gutwrenching sensation. It is then yanked out and you emit a blood-curling scream. A couple of smacks on your muzzle with the cudgel knocks out several teeth and both orcs are in front of you again, now slapping your head from side to side, another healing potion being forced down your throat to keep you from passing out. "Tell us what we want to know!" The mage says. "Who are you? Who sent you?" The bloody dagger is pushed into your nose, a paw holding your headfur tightly, the tip slicing your nostril and then slicing into the other nostril as it is further inserted. [[Tell them what they want to hear->DGTort2End]] [[Refuse to talk->DGTort3]]]A gag is stuffed into your muzzle, made out of black wood that tastes slightly of resin. You are blindfolded and with a parting touch from your dagger to your bloody ribs the two men leave you to writhe in agony. The healing potion might have mended your wounds to an extent, but the broken ribs were not set and when breathe hard you can feel your stomach skin flapping away from the muscle underneath. You shiver, feeling cold, weak and exhausted, but you have a burning need to escape from this situation and you are lucky that you come prepared. The spell Mage Hand is activated with neither verbal nor somatic components needed and you let it pry at your headfur, where a pick has been pinned flush against your scalp. It smarts a little bit as it is pried loose and then you guide it to your wrists. You cannot see and most would not be capable of controlling the spell like this, but you have practiced countless hours to get it right, even blindfolded sometimes as per Helazzin's instructions. Picking the locks are easy and your arms burn with pain as you stumble down, kneeling and hugging yourself, touching your flayed stomach and broken ribs, getting blood all over your paws. The spell dissipates, and you have to manually pics the locks that hold your ankles. (link:"Choke down your scream")[As you try to bend over you almost pass out, hearing broken bones clattering about both inside and outside of your body. You manage to get the pick to the lock, but you are shaking so much that you cannot push it into the keyhole. Taking a deep breath, you try again, this time letting yourself whimper like a weak puppy as your bones crunch, but you manage to pry the lock open, now able to sit down on your butt (if:(history: where its name contains "DGTort2End")'s length >= 1)[which burns fiercely] and get the last one unlocked while straining against your least injured side. Most of your gear is still here, including your bag of holding, and you crawl over to the table where it's located, trailing a huge amount of blood behind you from the many wounds that have opened up in your chest as well as from the cut stomach skin(if:(history: where its name contains "DGTort2End")'s length >= 1)[as well as your dagger-violated tailhole]. You fetch out three healing potions, uncorking them and putting all three in your mouth at once, biting down on them. Then you put your paws to your sides and push inwards with a warbled scream, throwing back your head and drinking the three potions at once. You bite together so hard from the agony of your splintered bones pushing back inside that the glass vials shatter, and you hark and spit out bloody shards while your body mends, the wounds in your mouth closing up almost as soon as they have opened. Almost swooning as you get to your footpaws, you reach for another healing potion and you finally feel as if you are properly healed. The ribs are on the right side of your fur and your stomach skin is firmly attached again as it should be. The feeling of weakness from bloodloss dissipates. (if:(history: where its name contains "DgTort2End")'s length >= 1)[The stump of your tail has scabbed over and you feel a bit unbalanced, but you quickly get used to it, your dextrous nature making you acclimatize to the shift in weight rather quickly.] The washbasin holds slightly reddish water, and it is much redder once you have cleaned yourself up. Soon donning your gear. (if:(history: where its name contains "WarriorAttack")'s length >= 1)[You are pleased to see that the magical enchantment of your leather armour has mended the cut it received in the fight.] Now there is only one thing left to do. Kill the orcs. They //must// not relay the information they got out of you! Before you leave, you pull out a potion of Greater Invisibility and quaff it. You feel like you need all the advantages you can get! [[Exit the torture chamber->DGTortFinisher]] ](if:visits <= 1)[You are in a corridor. To the south is the entrance to the hall where you encountered the orcs. In front of you is a pair of doors. To your right is another door and an expanse of corridor. I makes sense to check out the rooms first before venturing further into the enchanted tower. [[Check out the left door in front of you->DGLeft]] [[Check out the door to the right in front of you->DGRight]] [[Check out the door to your right->DGRighty]]] (if:visits >= 2)[You are in the corridor. To the south is the entrance to the hall where you encountered your torturers. To the north the corridor goes further into Absalum's tower. (if:(history: where its name contains "DGLeft")'s length <= 0)[[[Enter the room closest to the hall->DGLeft]]] [[Enter the room that's further away from the hall->DGRight]] [[Enter the room next to the torture chamber->DGRighty]] ]You get close to the door and put your ear to it. Then you activate your ear-ring, trying to see if there is any magic going on inside. There isn't, so you surmise the room is safe. Slowly you push the door open, then check for traps, finding none. Inside is what looks like a sort of office, with shelves filled with stacks of vellum, a large wooden table with an abracus dominates the center. (link:"Snoop around")[You start out by checking out the shelves, picking out a couple of the scrolls, unfurling them. They are written in undercommon and detail troop movements and logistics information about the drow and the duergar the illithids are at war with. There is more information here than what you would have expected given how the fighting went when you were with the army, and you wonder if the intel is out of date or if Absalum is withholding the information to further his own goals. Regardless, as you check out another scroll, you realise that you don't fully understand the scope of all this information. Some of it dates back months, some of it just a few weeks, and you have no knowhow of managing an army and what exactly all this information would tell. Someone like Zennobas would. You take the three scrolls that are dated most recently and pocket them in your bag of holding. (link:"There's something white sticking out from under the table")[You squat down and find a sheet of paper that is imprinted with Illithid writing. You cannot read it, but find it interesting enough to pocket it to show your master. (if:(history: where its name contains "CorridorEnder")'s length <= 0)[[[Leave->DGTortFinisher]] (if:(history: where its name contains "CorridorEnder")'s length >= 1)[[[Leave->CorridorEnder]]]]]](if:visits <= 1)[You put your ear to the door and can hear grunting and clinking, like someone is working out while wearing chainmail. With your ear-ring you can see the halo of the burly orc's sword as it cuts and slashes through the air. He's currently facing away from the door. (link:"Open the door and stab him in the back")[You time your opening of the door with one of his swings and then dash forward with silent steps. (if:(history: where its name contains "DGTort3")'s length <= 0)[(if:(history: where its name contains "DGTort2")'s length >= 1)[Your balance is slightly off due to your missing tail, but you are dextrous enough to compensate for it.]] The orc doesn't see what's coming and you leap up, a paw over his mouth as Spark thrusts through his back, piercing his heart, the electrical discharge making his body shudder as he falls to the floor. You take a brief look around. This is a just a sleeping chamber with a bed and desk, nothing interesting. You keep your paw wrapped around his mouth as you give him another couple of stabs, ignoring the flaring electricity that passes from his body into your fingers. (link:"Loot his corpse")[The burly orc is frothing red at his mouth, weakly mumbling as he bleeds out and you are quick to pilfer his enchanted longsword, putting it into your bag of holding. Your knife is in his belt and his hands grab on to yours feebly as you take it and holster is at your right hip. He breathes his last and something strange happens. His skin begins to ripple and pulsate and twist in a horrifying manner. His body changes shape to be more gangly, his head bulges, hair disappearing, replaced by a greyskinned head with bulging eyes not much unlike an illithid sans the tentacles. A doppelganger! You take another good look around the room, finding nothing interesting and then you leave. [[Leave->DGTortFinisher]]]]] (if:visits >= 2)[You are in the room belonging to the slain doppelganger warrior. There is nothing interesting here. [[Leave->DGTortFinisher]]](if:(history: where its name contains "DGRight")'s length <= 0)[You put your ear to the door and hear nothing. Using your ear-ring you can see a couple of magical auras. The mage's staff is horizontal and low above the ground, as if he's sitting down there? Slowly, you pry the door open and you note that the mage is sitting crosslegged on a plush pelt on the floor with his eyes closed, facing the door. He's preparing his spells! Better take care of the warrior first before you handle the wizard. [[Leave->DGTortFinisher]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "DGRight")'s length >= 1)[You pry the door open and you are pleased to see that the mage is still meditating while preparing his spells. [[Knock him out and interrogate him in the torture chamber->SepfsRevenge]]]With footsteps lighter than whispers you sneak close and then clobber the orc mage in the temple with the pommel of your short sword. He emits a strange croak and falls over, knocked out. You drag him to the torture chamber, huffing and sweating from his fairly heavy weight, and you wonder how to immobilize him so that you can interrogate him. Ah! There's a cylindrical steel cage that is horizontal and you trap him inside it, standing there, looking down at his slack-jawed face. After a brief while he wakes up with a groan and then his eyes narrow as he realizes his situation. (if:(history: where its name contains "DGTort3")'s length <= 0)[The invisibility has worn off by now.] "Who are you. Why are you working for Absalum?" "I will tell you nothing. Runt." He glowers, then smiles widely. "I don't think you have the stomach to torture the information out of me!" You feel a lurching sensation in your stomach. This wretched creature flayed you just a little while ago and now it is you who have that power. You are not certain if you have the guts to do such a horrid act. [[Stab him through the heart->RevengeGood]] [[Torture him->RevengeEvil]]You almost feel bad enough for what you are about to do, killing a helpless enemy, but he has information that cannot be allowed to be passed on. Spark grinds as it passes through the bars of the cage and straight into the orc's heart, his body convulsing as lighting courses through him. Smoke begins to pour out of his eyes and he dies a cleaner death than he deserved. As his last breath leaves his body, it changes form to reveal his true shape. That of a doppelganger. [[Go to his room and steal his stuff->DGItems]]You gulp. Then you steel yourself. Looking around, you see //all// these tools and you definitely know how to use many of them. 20 minutes later the orc has shifted to his true form, that of a doppelganger and he's telling you everything he knows. He's bleeding, bruised and shivering in pain and fear inside the horizontal cage. Bloody wounds are all over and his robes have been sliced to ribbons, his crotch a gory and lightning-burned mess that once held his genitals. You almost enjoyed yourself at times you have to admit and you give him your widest and most predatory teenager grin as he reveals his secrets. After obtaining this information you stab him through his heart and move onwards. [[Go to the mage's room and pilfer his stuff->DGItems]] ($AlignmentChange:-25)You enter the mage's room and take his staff. It holds a potent enchantment you can feel and as you turn it in your paws you realise that it shoots lightning bolts. The activation word is even engraved on it. Neat! There's also a spellbook which you put into your bag of holding alongside the staff. The room is otherwise not very interesting, just a bed and a desk and the plush pelt that adorns the floor. Although.. There's a drawer in the desk and you find a wand! However, you cannot deduce what powers it holds and you grumble to yourself as you put it into the bag of holding. [[Into the corridor again->CorridorEnder]](if:(history: where its name contains "DGLeft")'s length <= 0)[You wonder about the room closest to the hall where you encountered the shapeshifters. [[Enter it->DGLeft]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "DGLeft")'s length >= 1)[With the doppelgangers slain and the documents in your bag of holding you are ready to venture further into the enchanted tower. [[Onwards!->DobblerEnder]]](if:visits <= 1)[For a while your thoughts dwell on the shapeshifters and their role in the war between the cities as well as their employment in Absalum’s service. However, for the moment there is nothing more to do about that, and your eyes scan the corridors you creep down, entering a room, checking for traps, lightly stepping over the stone floor that is illuminated by everburning torches that cast a flickering and strong light. The room has a heavy animal scent, feral, and you notice a shelf and desk. After quickly perusing the scrolls and books on the shelf, you figure out that all the texts relate to the care and nurturing of a variety of beasts, both magical and mundane, a few of the tomes from the surface world, showing off animals that you have seen in your childhood. Opposite where you entered is another door, and it creaks loudly as open it, revealing another trick of the pocket dimensions as what comes next is cavernous. Three alleys lead 45 degrees to your left, straight ahead, and 45 degrees to your right into the distance and loud braying and growling and hissing and scraping can be heard from all around. The smells of manures are heavy in the air, as is at least four different sharp notes of urine, all of it picked up your sensitive nose that twitches as your head goes from left to right and back again, your eyes scanning the strange space. As you step into the pocket dimension, something clacks behind you, and when you turn around the space is simply a stone wall that is solid with no sign of the door you just entered through. Uneasy, you scan the three alleys again, noting the peculiar glinting of metal. As you look closer, you can see that each of these cobble-stoned paths are flanked by metal bars on either side. Your stomach feels queasy as the geometry is all out of sync, the ceiling going taller or shorter along with the cages out in the distance. At least that is so in the alley to your left, which is brightly illuminated by one, no dozens, no.. Just one, bright, golden light that seems to mark the passing of time on the surface world as far as you can surmise from it’s position, if your sense of north and south is correct. The alley in the center is cloaked in shifting shadows and mist, and whatever light comes from above that space is dim, like the moon through clouds. The alley to the right is pitch black. Which you can see through, the black-and-white visage showing the same cages as to the left, but utterly bereft of any light source. You glance from right to left and back again, vision going from the normal spectrum to darkvision, and your head begins to spin a little from the conflicting morass of colours and their absence. Steeling yourself, you decide to head down one of these alleys to find a way out of this mysterious space, and the many living things you can hear squawking and grunting and trodding about. ] (if:visits >= 2)[You are at the central connection of Absalum's menagerie. Impossible cages sprout on either side of the three alleyways that lead away from here. The door from which you entered this space has disappeared and there is only a bare stone wall to your back. To your left is a brightly illuminated alleyway paved with cobblestones. At the center is a misty and murky alleyway where the impossible lightsource is dim, like the moon at night obstructed by clouds. To your right is a pitch-black alleyway, you have to rely on darkvision to navigate it.] [[Head down the brightly illuminated alleyway->BrightAlley]] [[Head down the misty and murky alleyway->MistyAlley]] [[Head down the pitch-black alleyway->DarkAlley]]Despite how many times your master or Scrae has tortured you, the agony that is wracking your body is so much that you don't see any other option other than telling them the truth. You don't even think about lying. You just want this to stop. You can't take it any more. You tell them //everything//, who your master is, the plan to steal the tome. The only thing you omit is the fact that Helazzin is waiting outside Absalum's compound. You begin to tell your life story. What feels like a gallon of blood has left your body at this point and you hang your head in defeat, welcoming oblivion, but the dagger is torn out of your ass and a potion of healing is poured into your muzzle and some of your wounds stop bleeding, although your ribs are still sticking out of your body and your innards and your rectum feels torn and ripped.. "This has been tiresome." The mage says, stepping over to a washbasin and cleaning off his bloody hands, the burly orc following suit. "All too much work." "The runt should have told us from the getgo." "Seems like the obstinate type." The bigger orc says with a shrug, both of them returning to observe their handiwork. "I loved his screams when the dagger was thrust into his rectum." The mage says, grabbing at your stomach fur, pulling it away from your body then letting it flop back again, causing a warbled cry to be emitted from your throat. "We can play with him later." One of your broken ribs is poked at with the bloody dagger, making you twist and whimper. "I will need to prepare the Whispering Wind spell to contact our employer..." The mage leans in, giving you a toothy and tusky grin, facial features rippling slightly before settling down again. "You hang in there little runt, we'll come back for you." [[Your torturers leave->DGTortEscaper]]You stay silent, giving the cruel orcs your best defiant glare and then you wail as the dagger pushes through your nose, slicing the nostrils all the way to the bone. The burly orc twists it, then moves around you, once again poking it against your bleeding tailhole, ramming it in, forcefully twisting and jabbing until the crossguard pops inside. Blood gushes out from your gory orifices and the mage resumes his beating of you, knocking out more teeth, hitting your face to the point where it swells and you hardly can see out of your eyes. Swaying and screaming and whimpering and sobbing, the chains holding you rattle weaker and weaker as you once again get close to passing out, but another healing potion and then another is forced down your gullet. The flesh of your rectum heals up around the crossguard of the dagger, but the sharpness within you continues to cut you open and it feels like you have diarrhea as blood splurts and trickles out there. Through your bruised eye, you see the burly warrior return with a hand sickle, the metal glinting dully as he moves it towards your crotch. (link:"Oh no..")[He sets the tip of the sickle at your sheath's entrance and then carves down, splitting the skin open, revealing your member hidden underneath. He reaches for it, tugs it painfully out of your body and puts the sickle to the base as if to slice it off. "Hold on, brother. I have another idea before you un-man the boy." The mage puts the cudgel away and returns with something you know from the forge. Steel wool. He grins wickedly as he wraps a the wool around your member. Then he "masturbates" you with it, wounds soon opening. You scream and wail, broken ribs crackling and poking about your skin and innards, ass clenching slicing your guts with the dagger as the sensitive skin of your flaccid cock is ground down until the whole thing is a bloody mess with not an inch of protective surface left. Another round of beating follows. More healing potions. More slapping. The mage cuts off your cock then, before slicing your pouch open, testicles spilling out to dangle in the air. You are past caring, even with the healing potions forced down your stomach you finally pass out. [[You hear them speak->DGTort3End]]]You are in a dreamlike state. You can feel trickles of blood running down your body from just about everywhere. No single pain stands out at this point, everything is horrible, world-shattering agony. "....Must prepare the Whispering Wind spell to contact our employer." "....Runt's stronger than he looks." ".....Tiresome." ".....Be back." (link:"Open your eyes")[You can not see. You have been blindfolded. You try to listen. Something is wrong. It's your ears. They have been cut off too. Everything is ethereal to your senses. Your mind is swimming in a current of pain so great that it gives you clarity. With neither word nor gesture you cast Mage Hand. In your black headfur a pick has been pinned flush with your skull. You use the magic, without seeing, to take it off and unlock the manacles. You wheeze as your footpaws makes contact with the floor, almost passing out, but you manage to keep the focus on the spell, using the pick to release your ankles as well. As you fall to your knees a searing pain erupts from your guts. The dagger. Right. You vomit blood and crawl forward, your lifeforce leaving your body quickly. You remember the table where the sickle was placed. That cursed sickle. Your stones are flopping around, they haven't been cut off but dangle outside your pouch, the hyper-sensitive organs scraping against your blood-crusted thigh-fur. You take the sickle and drive it into your neck. As you die you feel a surge of magic tugging at your stomach, and then you are elsewhere. [[Pass out->DGAbodeEnder]]]You wake up curled up on your master's lap. The illithid is holding you against his body, his robes utterly soiled with your blood. "THAT WAS CLOSE, SEPF." He projects into your mind. You shudder and tense up, feeling all the combined pains, re-living the torture. You tremble and then start convulsing, crying freely. You are fully healed. Nothing hurts, it's all in your mind, but you cannot stop getting flashbacks to your horrid experience. "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MY PET. I HAVE DELVED YOUR THOUGHTS. YOU STAYED STRONG. YOU STAYED SILENT. I AM PROUD OF YOU." His mental voice pierces the darkness in your brain, his approval diminishing your nightmarish flashbacks until you finally manage to open your eyes and stare into his bulging orbs. "TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE, SEPF. YOU MUST RETURN TO THE TOWER AND COMPLETE YOUR MISSION." All you want to do is to remain curled up against the comforting warmth of your master, but he gently sets you down on the floor. "TAKE THAT BLANKET AND COVER YOURSELF WITH IT. RETRIEVE YOUR GEAR. I SENSE YOUR TORTURERS DO NOT INTEND TO CHECK IN ON THEIR PRISONER UNTIL A COUPLE OF HOURS HAVE PASSED." (link:"Back to the tower")[You are sent away, naked underneath the blanket, making your way through the city, arriving at the compound. Already knowing the layout, it is easy for you to make it to the hall where you encountered the orcs. Then, you pass through, into a corridor. At the door to your right, bloody footsteps have been tracked. You surmise this is the torture chamber and you enter it. Throwing the blanket away, you don your gear, which has been set aside neatly, the only thing missing being your enchanted dagger. Fully dressed, Spark at your hip, you are ready to venture out and take care of your torturers. They must not relay to their illithid master that you have been here! [[Exit the torture chamber->DGTortFinisher]]](if:visits <= 1)[You get close to the door and put your ear to it. Then you activate your ear-ring, trying to see if there is any magic going on inside. There isn't, so you surmise the room is safe. Slowly you push the door open, then check for traps, finding none. Inside is what looks like a sort of office, with shelves filled with stacks of vellum, a large wooden table with an abracus dominates the center. (link:"Snoop around")[You start out by checking out the shelves, picking out a couple of the scrolls, unfurling them. They are written in undercommon and detail troop movements and logistics information about the drow and the duergar the illithids are at war with. There is more information here than what you would have expected given how the fighting went when you were with the army, and you wonder if the intel is out of date or if Absalum is withholding the information to further his own goals. Regardless, as you check out another scroll, you realise that you don't fully understand the scope of all this information. Some of it dates back months, some of it just a few weeks, and you have no knowhow of managing an army and what exactly all this information would tell. Someone like Zennobas would. You take the three scrolls that are dated most recently and pocket them in your bag of holding. (link:"There's something white sticking out from under the table")[You squat down and find a sheet of paper that is imprinted with Illithid writing. You cannot read it, but find it interesting enough to pocket it to show your master. There is nothing else for you here. [[Leave->PostDobbel]]]]] (if:visits >= 2)[Inside is what looks like a sort of office, with shelves filled with stacks of vellum, a large wooden table with an abracus dominates the center. You have already rummaged around and pilfered what's interesting. [[Leave->PostDobbel]]](if:visits <= 1)[You put your ears to the door, then check for traps, finding none. Inside the room you find nothing interesting. It is sparsely adorned, with just a bed and a desk. On the desk is a wetstone and a cleaning rag, you surmise this was the warrior's room. [[Leave->PostDobbel]]] (if:visits >= 2)[You enter what you guess was the warrior's room. There is nothing intereting here other than the wetstone on the desk, an item you already have in your possession. [[Leave->PostDobbel]]](if:visits <= 1)[You are in a room that ostensibly belonged to the spellcaster. It's simple, with a bed and desk and a plush pelt that covers the floor. On the desk is a spellbook which you pilfer for later study. After a bit of rummaging around you find a wand in the drawer of the desk. You try to figure out its function, but its secrets elude you, so you put it into your bag of holding with a grumble. There is nothing else here. [[Leave->PostDobbel]]] (if:visits >= 2)[You are in the spellcaster's room. It's simple, with a bed and drawer and a plush pelt that covers the floor. There is nothing interesting here. [[Leave->PostDobbel]]]You enter a torture chamber. It is complete with racks, crosses, rows and shelves of instruments and implements. Despite yourself, you cannot help but shudder, imagining the horrors that have taken place here. You do a quick search for anything interesting and leave again. [[Leave->PostDobbel]] You head down the brightly illuminated alleyway. The metal bars reveal spaces within, cages, where a variety of animals are kept. You see horses, zebras, pigs, cows, but also monstrous creatures like the goblin-like fiendish barghest and a huge, bear-like creature coated in feathers with a beak that looks about half as long as your body. It screeches and charges the metal bars, clanging chitin against steel as you pass its cage. Further down you pass aviaries, some with ground birds like pheasant and peacock, others with flying birds ranging from some smaller than your palm and others as big as dogs, with shimmering, colourful feathers. These cages contain foliage as well, shrubs and trees and flowering vines, the earthy scents of soil and the fragrant notes of flowers making their way into your sensitive nostrils. The “sun” feels warm on the top of your head and you begin to sweat a little, the intensity about the same as late spring, and when you glance up at the expanse of the ceiling, you feel like the light source is endlessly far away, but the bars of the cages stop at appropriate heights compared to the residents within them, and your stomach keeps making somersaults as the improbability of the two notions confuse your eyes. It should //feel// like you are entering a new room or hall whenever the size of these cages increase or decrease, but it doesn’t, and your ears swivel back and forth as the confusion makes you anxious. One thing is for sure, this pocket dimension is Absalum’s menagerie, where he keeps animals and monsters for experiments or out of sheer curiosity. Your master has one of his own, although its layout is much different than this. As you move down the alley, a wall appears at its end. There is nothing further to do here and you return from whence you came. [[Back->DobblerEnder]]You venture down the gloomy and misty alleyway. It reminds you of your childhood in a sense, early, chill mornings where the buildings loomed above, hidden by the clouds of low-hanging fog, sounds muted and scents coming off weak from the damp. The same is true here. As you walk past the bars that make up the sides of the cobble-stone path, you realize that this is Absalum’s menagerie, faint odours of feral excrement tickling your nostrils, far-off whinnies and barks and growls coming from the cages along the alley. The cloud cover is real, but you are unsure about the light-source, which feels like the moon, but has a certain warmth to it, a certain… //realness//, as if it marks the passage of time during the day like the sun would above-world. A sudden growl startles you, and a wolf grinds its snarling maw against its cage, feral slobber dribbling to the wet stones. You feel a chill then, the dampness creeping into your fur. The grey-furred lupine growls again and then paces its cage, once again slamming its head against the bars to no effect, a trail of blood running down its chin from its single-mindedness. It moves back, to a thin bedding of straw, lies down, then gets back up and rears its head. As it howls to the ceiling mournfully, you feel a pang of… Something. Moving on, you pass cages where bats are fluttering around, some of them hanging upside-down on branches suspended in golden wires. It seem like the cages you pass all reach the same height, just underneath the fog cover, but you see the shadow of something immense in the next cage that defies your expectations, and your stomach makes somersaults as a head five times taller than your whole body appears in front of the bars. A powerful snort has the ground quake, the head turns, and a yellowish, reptilian eye stare down at you from a green-scaled draconic face. You meep out. A green dragon! A //very// dangerous beast, and this one is scarred and enormous, it’s cage must be huge to allow its wings to flap, which you can hear and which perturbs the mist, but you see only faint shadows in the dense fog. It opens it mouth, and you are certain it is speaking to you, but something keeps its voice from your ears. As you cock your head to try to listen, the dragon realizes this, and it growls again, the feral noise passing through the bars. Its immense maw opens suddenly, and you cower as you fear for what comes next, but it just coughs up a few apple-sized globs of spit that exit its maw somewhat un-impressively, the goo sticking to the floor in front of you. It rears its head to the ceiling, and emits an ear-splitting roar, then slinks off into the shadowy mist. Satisfied that the huge dragon won’t be a threat you venture onwards, occasionally gasping as you notice this monster or that creature inside their cages. At a certain point, you notice the shadows of several somethings in the distance, //outside// of the cages, and a growly bark is emitted from one of the creatures, and you see faints glimmers as three sets of eyes turn to observe you. Another bark reaches your ears, muted, and then the three shapes move towards you with loud barks and snarls. They are some kind of canines! Hulking, dog-like creatures with grey-black fur, wide heads and muscle-bound bodies that look squat despite the closest one seemingly reaching as tall as your chest, all due to their rippling muscles that bulge out from their front and hind legs, thick necks and even thicker bodies. Their running steps are more easily heard now, and the brutish dogs are seconds away from reaching you with their slavering jaws. [[Fight them head on with your blades->MastiffBadEnd]] [[Climb up and pick them off from a distance->MastiffWinner]] [[Attempt to seduce the big canines->MastiffFuck]]The dark alleyway has your senses confounded. With your darkvision allowing you to see black, whites and greys, you can make out the bars of the cages easily, but their dimensions elude you. When you look up, it is all black, a deep nothingness that stretches to infinity and almost acts like reverse gravity on your stomach, making you queasy as you try to make out the size and shape of the space you pass through. What is certain is that this is a menagerie, much like the one your master has, but with a very different layout. On some of the cages it seems as if the bars stop abruptly at your chest-height, others at the top of your head, and then there are those where you shiver as the tallness stretches to far upwards that you cannot see their ends. The smells here are of the underdark, of liches and predatory mushroom spores, moldy excrement and the pungent stink of predator urine. A sudden whoosh has you startled as a black-in-black shape the size of a building crashes soundlessly against the bars, straining to get to you, baleful eyes glowing red in the dark. But you hear nothing else, no growls, no speech, just the eerie sound of the creature moving away at speed until you cannot discern its shape through the bars. In another section, where you can actually perceive the ceiling of the cage, you spot a trio of fungus-men, the shapes turning to watch your passing but making no movement towards the cage. Monsters and creatures small and large can be seen, some cannot though you can hear their predatory growls and the drips of their saliva impacting the stone floor. Ears swivelling, eyes darting back and forth, you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. [[There's a chest!->EroMimic]]You feel confident that you can take on the ferals with only your sword and dagger, the trio menacing but ultimately dumb animals that can be outsmarted and outfought with the proper positioning and footwork. Letting out a fighting shout of your own, the two blades glimmer in the misty light as you unsheathe them, and the lead canine barks at its compatriots, the two slightly smaller beasts darting out to the sides to flank you. Easy. Take care of the leader, then the others. However, as you dash forward with the intent of dispatching the hulking, black-furred dog, it suddenly turns translucent, then completely invisible, it’s shape blending and blurring against the mist that is all around until you cannot see it at all. Out of the corners of your eyes, you realize that the two other canines shimmer with similar effects and you are now facing and flanked by three invisible, brutish ferals. There is no option other than to attack, and you have been trained in fighting blind, as well as fighting invisible enemies. Forcing down the urge to close your eyes to better sense them, something Helazzin would cuff you for, you instead open them wide and go almost wind-eyed, taking in the subtle movements of the mist, the sounds of the black dogs’ footpaws, and… //there//, right in front of you! The indentations of pawprints on the wet cobblestones. (link:"Stab the canine's head")[You charge ahead again, gambling on the biggest dog’s head position, hearing its growl, smelling its foul breath, and Spark is plunged through its maw, out of the back of its head, a crackle heard as lightning surges, the great beast whimpering almost like a puppy as it turns visible again, collapsing to the side. And then you are bitten. Despite the enchanted armour you are wearing, the feral that bites into your thigh has such strength in its jaws that the leather is pierced, and its long and sharp fangs bite deeply into the muscle-tissue. You yelp in agony, trying to move away, but the great dog shakes its head. Gods it’s so strong! It throws you off your footpaws and you feel skin and flesh alike tearing as a huge chunk of your thigh is torn off. Screaming in pain you stumble away in a half roll, instantly putting most of your weight on the uninjured leg as you have been trained to do, but running steps herald an attacking dog and you are pushed backwards, a weight heavier than your own landing right on your chest, forcing you to the ground with the big canine on top of you. With eyes widened by fright, you see the dog’s breath misting the air and then it chomps down at your face. You manage to fend it off with your arm, the offering limp bit, Spark rattling as it flies onto the cobble-stone path. There’s a crunch and you scream out, white-hot agony almost making you puke as your forearm-bones shatter under the immense pressure of the growling canine. A new, sharp, rending pain comes from your foot as your entire boot is engulfed by the maw of the other surviving beast and your lower body is dragged from side to side as it shakes its head, new screams coming from your throat as you feel ligaments popping, your ankle-bones crackling and then tearing apart from each other, until a sudden lightness has you gasp. And then emit a blood-curdling scream. Your foot is gone. The dog on your chest still holds you down, and your arm is mess of bone-splinters and torn flesh, the feral snuffling as it lets off and then chomps down again, this time wrapping its stinking maw around your head and biting down. You can //feel// its teeth piercing through your skull, dagger-points digging into your brain and your mind grows fuzzy as the black-furred beast shakes its whole body, digging those fangs ever deeper, static beginning to fill your vision. A resounding //crack// is heard as your whole skull snaps in what feels like three or four pieces, bone crumbling and shearing through brain-matter and your vision darkens. [[You regain consciousness->Disappoint2]]](if:(history: where its name contains "Disappoint1")'s length <= 0)[“glrhrrrrrrrrrr……” You struggle to form a word, let alone a sentence. The whole world is spinning, you can taste vomit on your lips and your arm and leg sends phantom pain through your body. "SEPFY GET UP." The command has you stumble to your footpaws in a hurry, the room spinning as it comes into focus, your balance off due to your lost boot. You look down, flex your toes, then reach for your head, feeling the wholeness there. You reek of blood though and as you look to your master, he has his arms crossed, his tentacles waggling about as he stares you down. "TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED, MY PET." You recount the encounter, and stammer as you admit you underestimated the feral canines. "A COUPLE OF SHADOW MASTIFFS SHOULD BE OF NO DANGER TO SOMEONE LIKE YOU." Disappointment is heavy in his mentally projected voice and he puts down his prized scepter, which has just mended your griveous wounds and brought you back from the brink of death. You look at your bitten arm, the armour there is torn, but already mending, enchanting leather fibers knitting themselves together before your very eyes. You feel a few tears forming on your face and the illithid changes his posture, then huffs, the beak at the center of his face clattering as he begins to disrobe. (link:"\"UNDRESS AND RIDE ME.\"")[His large cock is already surging and your shaky paws work at the buckles and clasps of your trousers, arousal surging at such a speed that you keep on the armour on your body. You tremor as he sits down, legs splayed wide, and he grunts as you climb his lap, the once distinct size difference growing less by each day that passes. Still, his precum-leaking member is more than enough to hurt when you have just been regenerated, your tailhole virginal now due to the divine magic, and when you push down and relax your body, twinges of pain collide with the immense pleasure of the stretch as your sphincter struggles to accept his girth. You moan as you take him deep, the natural mucus of his species further adding to the lubrication, and his tentacles wrap around your head, his beak nibbling at your headfur while you rock your body up and down, yipping and moaning as you pick up speed, your own black-skinned member fully formed and rubbing against his stomach. Time loses meaning as you ride him as you have so many times before, the big stretch turning less, the pleasure growing, but you don't feel like you deserve to cum, and you clench down on purpose, gritting your teeth as the anal pain magnifies, your master growling in the back of his throat as you bring him over the edge. His three-fingered hands are on your hips as he takes control, hammering you down while his load paints you insides white, and you finally rest with him fully embedded while his member shrinks. He pushes you off his lap. "TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE, MY PET, GO BACK TO ABSALUM'S TOWER AND FIND ME THAT TOME!" (link:"Get dressed and leave")[You get dressed and he chants a minor cantrip, blood vanishing from your gear. He then resumes pondering his orb and you make your way out of the abode again. As you sneak your way towards Absalum’s tower, you become keenly aware of just how much a boot protects your footpaw. Sharp stones make you wince, pools of condensed water has you shiver, and your gait is off balance. Luckily you encounter no patrols and the intellect devourers you meet on your way give you a wide berth, sensing your master’s claim on your body. The mushroom-Helazzin snickers as you pass him and you make your way into the tower, past the labyrinth, the torture chamber and finally make it to the menagerie. This time, there are only two of the shadow mastiffs and as foolhardy as it seems, you charge them head on, marking one of them with Fearie Fire and dispatching the other one with a dagger-thrust through the heart, rolling past the first, snatching up your discarded sword and lobbing off its head in a shower of sparks and a fearsome warcry. You cut them open, finding your foot, and you fight back the bile as you get the soiled boot out of the severed appendage. A cleaning cantrip later and it’s as good as new and fits snugly on your footpaw. As one last act of defiance against the ferals, you pull out their fangs, grunting as you struggle with dagger and paw to dislodge the stained, two-inch-long pieces of bone for your collection. They rattle as they end up in your bag of holding and you move onward. [[You reach the end of the misty alleyway->MistyDoor]]]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "Disappoint1")'s length >= 1)[“glrhrrrrrrrrrr……” You struggle to form a word, let alone a sentence. The whole world is spinning, you can taste vomit on your lips and your wounded arm and leg sends lightning strikes of pain through your overworked nervous system. Struggling, whimpering, your good arm lifts up to feel your head, and as your fingertips touch the area you were bitten, you find the flesh is whole, but your skull has unpleasant lumps, as if the bone hasn’t fully mended. It also hurts. A lot. You choke down a whimper, the stump of your injured leg scraping against stone and then you cry out in earnest, the pain making you shake and gurgle, more vomit pushing out of your stomach to seep out on the floor where your head is resting. A sudden, sharp, deep pain explodes in your groin and you curl up, screaming in agony as both your paws go to the area, the injured arm crackling as the poorly-mended bones scrape against each other, almost overpowering the hurt from having your master’s foot kick your exposed nuts. “GET UP, SEPFY.” You can’t. Even as you try, your amputated footpaw means you cannot find purchase and you end up on your knees, torn between cradling your fractured arm or your abused ballsack. He is standing in front of you, his three-fingered hands on his hips, tentacles wiggling back and forth in agitation. “TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.” As your maw opens, the thought process to form words has your brain seize up and you groan as the splitting headache grows worse. “SPEAK, RUNT!” His telepathic voice shatters through the hurt and magnifies it twofold, making you scream, blubbering as you finally tell the story of how you charged the canines head-on, was surprised by their invisibility and you stutter as you admit to have underestimated your enemies. “YOU CONTINUE TO DISAPPOINT ME, SEPFY, I HAVE NO USE FOR A PET THAT CANNOT HANDLE A COUPLE OF SHADOW MASTIFFS. YOUR MISSION IS URGENT, BUT I THINK I WILL HAVE TO PUNISH YOU FURTHER BEFORE RESTORING YOUR BODY.” His //will// grips you by the throat, choking you out as if it was a paw or a tentacle, the psionic crush perfect around your neck, making you croak and your headache to grow even worse. His powers lift you off the floor, almost all the way to the ceiling, and the crushing grip is released, your master’s hold switching to be around your furred nutsack as you begin to fall down. (link:"Scream")[You scream out as your balls act as a lever and your body rotates to facing down via the stretching skin that feels like it’s tearing off your body as your full weight is transferred to your pouch. Your arms and legs flail wildly, causing you even more agony as the swaying motions has your stones be compressed and pulled at even more, before your master’s will grips your limbs, holding them steady, your body descending down again spread-eagled. He steps up to you, disrobing, showing his large girth throbbing as it grows erect, the sadistic mind-flayer riled up to a point you rarely see, his tentacles waggling back and forth in an almost hypnotizing pattern. Upside down, the blood flows to your swollen brain, and the hurt there has you go wind-eyed, the pain colliding with the agony of your tearing balls, your tears dripping to the floor as they run off your screaming muzzle. Your master steps around you and his hand grips your tail, yanking it away from your snug tailhole and he leans in, one of his tentacles prodding at your sphincter. The natural mucus of his kin has his tentacle be slick enough to push inside without hurting you, although you are in too much pain to appreciate the stretch of the flexible, snake-like appendage. It is rare to have him touch you like this, as the spell Evard’s Black Tentacles would usually be the one penetrating your orifices. The tentacle slithers further inside, stroking against your prostate as it digs at your seconds sphincter, and despite the horrible pain you are in a weak timbre of lust makes it into your tortured screams. A second tentacle then digs at your sphincter. Then a third. You spit bile and slobber as you //feel// you tailhole splitting apart, the three tentacles, each with the same strength as your master’s arm, pull in three directions, deliberately tearing you open with blood beginning to run down you back. A choked scream makes it out of your muzzle as his tentacles poke in and out like three overly long cocks, rending and ruining your sphincter further, the tips digging at your innards to the point where you feel a hollow sensation in your gut as your intestines are ruptured and blood and offal begins to be dragged out of your hole. Specks of ruined flesh fall down on your back-and-forth moving head and splatters of your blood seep into the black headfur there. He adds the fourth tentacle and you feel your taint begin to rip, a scratchy, annoying sensation that grows to shards of glass as the thin fur there is parted as your master deliberately rips your whole undercarriage open. As one final act of punishment his whole body moves forward, and his undulating, twisting, //powerful// tentacles whip around in your belly, eviscerating you, pulling out in a river of gore and blood and intestines you feel sloppily splatting against your back, a part of it draping over your bushed-out tail before falling far enough to dangle next to your head, the organ slapping wetly against the side of your howling maw. Suddenly, the pressure around you ankles and wrists is relinquished, and you drop down with a screech as you nutsack takes your weight and then rips off your body, your head smacking hard against the stone floor until the tubing connecting to your body grows taut with an audible *twang*, the agony almost as bad as your scooped-out bowels and your broken tailhole. Your master allows you no respite, the tug on your exposed testicles pulling you clear off the floor and the crushing weight of his Will has your body contort in on itself like a jack-knife, so that your burning abdominal muscles has you folded up between your legs so you can see the gaping hole in your rectum, the thin tubing from your testicles quivering as your face is forced past it, the position such that you don’t have the air to scream, just to wheeze pitifully as you are forced to look at the gory hole where intestines is pulled out left, right and center. (link:"Your mind goes blank")[You pass out, too far gone and too horrified to remain awake and aware any more, but your master’s Will goes beyond the material world and your bruised brain is forced to alertness, your bloodshot eyes taking one last mental image of your ruined self and suddenly the pain is gone. He can do that. Amplify or diminish pain, though more often he does the former. The illithid steps away then, comes back and waves his prized rod, gemstones glowing in the face of the angel at its tip as divine magic courses through your body. With the pain snuffed out for now, you are lowered to the floor as the regenerative magic takes effect. Your body is still tremoring from it all, and your lips quiver as you observe your intestines move across the floor like an undulating mass of snakes, sucked in by your mending hole, the sensation of your gut re-arranging itself leaving you nauseous. An itch forms on the stump at your ankle and a fluffy footpaw begins to grow, bones crackling in your forearm as it heals up, snaps heard as your skull knits itself together and the swelling of your brain subsides. Finally, the tubing of your testicles drag the orbs across the stone, your pouch closing seamlessly, and your master’s mind-touch is removed, making you take a few shaky breaths as residual pains give way to a feeling of //wholeness//. Your punishment is complete. (link:"He rapes you")[Or so you thought. With a growl your master grabs you by the scruff of your neck and drags you towards a table, parchment and earthenware wobbling as your naked body is pushed down, planting your chest down, your rump sticking out. He’s hard and slimy, and you are fully restored, and he pushes into your ass with no regard, no foreplay, the massive stretch making you squeal as your virgin tailhole splits open. You try to push out, to enjoy the rape, but it is too hard and too fast for your regenerated sphincter, and you feel additional wetness as he causes you to bleed. The slammings against your prostate has your black-skinned member grow half-hard, but you are yelping and crying as he takes like the slave you are, completely disregarding your pleasure or your comfort. To add insult to injury, one of his three-fingered hands wrap around your throat, choking you out, making you squeeze even harder. Your hurkle as your breath is cut off, the sensations making your headache re-appear and the agony of your violated sphincter magnify twofold as your master groans in pleasure from the ripping clenchings of your body. He grunts as he climaxes, illithid seed painting your insides white and after he pulls out, eliciting a weak yelp out of you, he forces you to clean him off, cum and scraped-out shit wiped off on your tongue as casually a one might finish a visit to the privy. You look to his eyes for approval and almost choke as you see the blood and gore that sticks to his tentacles, to his face, blood dripping from its center and his beak-like mouth. “DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME AGAIN SEPF, RESUME YOUR MISSION, FIND ME THAT TOME!” And just like that you are dismissed. You almost whine, but collect yourself, quickly gathering up your stuff, lamenting the state of your leathers and wondering if you can still find your other boot. That thought makes your stomach churn and you flex your regenerated toes a couple of times, making sure they are all there. A minor cantrip cleans off the blood from your armour, and the magical nature means that the bite-holes on your forearm are mending as you look at it, leather fibers twisting and connecting and growing solid with a faint magical hue. Your master resumes his scrying, still dribbling blood, an occasional slurp heard as he suckles on this or that tentacle-tip and you feel a fresh wave of emotions as you turn to leave, your gait awkward as you are lacking a boot. That thought burns away the hurt and when you are in the corridor you wipe your eyes and clear your nostrils, bloody, foamy snot spattering on the stone. You quaff a healing potion, sighing with relief as your raped tailhole closes up and stops soiling your undergarments with blood and you head out of the abode. As you sneak your way towards Absalum’s tower, you become keenly aware of just how much a boot protects your footpaw. Sharp stones make you wince, pools of condensed water has you shiver, and your gait is off balance. Luckily you encounter no patrols and the intellect devourers you meet on your way give you a wide berth, sensing your master’s claim on your body. The mushroom-Helazzin you sneak past as well, too ashamed to have him see you skulking back again, and you make your way into the tower, past the labyrinth, the torture chamber and finally make it to the menagerie. This time, there are only two of the shadow mastiffs and as foolhardy as it seems, you charge them head on, marking one of them with Fearie Fire and dispatching the other one with a dagger-thrust through the heart, rolling past the first, snatching up your discarded sword and lobbing off its head in a shower of sparks and a fearsome warcry. You cut them open, finding your foot, and you fight back the bile as you get the soiled boot out of the severed appendage. A cleaning cantrip later and it’s as good as new and fits snugly on your footpaw. As one last act of defiance against the ferals, you pull out their fangs, grunting as you struggle with dagger and paw to dislodge the stained, two-inch-long pieces of bone for your collection. They rattle as they end up in your bag of holding and you move onward. [[You reach the end of the alleyway->MistyDoor]]]]]](if:(history: where its name contains "MastiffBadEnd")'s length >= 1)[After passing dozens of cages you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. Here, a large, ornate door is set into the stone and as you step close the light goes dim and then disappears, forcing you to rely on darkvision to make out the details. It is recently crafted, not a speck of dust, rust or grime on the images that have been carved into the enchanted steel. It shows the elements, earth, wind, fire and water in four squares, blowing or burning or crumbling or splashing inwards the center where a //massive// gold lever is located. You step in, checking for traps both magical and mundane and find none. The lever itself turns easily as you gently grab on to it, and when you turn it fully, the whole door opens with a whoosh of air blasting out, making your fur ripple in the current. [[Move onwards->BossFight]] [[Head back->BadEndAlley]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "MastiffWinner")'s length >= 1)[After passing dozens of cages you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. Here, a large, ornate door is set into the stone and as you step close the light goes dim and then disappears, forcing you to rely on darkvision to make out the details. It is recently crafted, not a speck of dust, rust or grime on the images that have been carved into the enchanted steel. It shows the elements, earth, wind, fire and water in four squares, blowing or burning or crumbling or splashing inwards the center where a //massive// gold lever is located. You step in, checking for traps both magical and mundane and find none. The lever itself turns easily as you gently grab on to it, and when you turn it fully, the whole door opens with a whoosh of air blasting out, making your fur ripple in the current. [[Head through the door->BossFight]] [[Back->WinnerAlley]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "MastiffFuck")'s length >= 1)[After passing dozens of cages you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. Here, a large, ornate door is set into the stone and as you step close the light goes dim and then disappears, forcing you to rely on darkvision to make out the details. It is recently crafted, not a speck of dust, rust or grime on the images that have been carved into the enchanted steel. It shows the elements, earth, wind, fire and water in four squares, blowing or burning or crumbling or splashing inwards the center where a //massive// gold lever is located. You step in, checking for traps both magical and mundane and find none. The lever itself turns easily as you gently grab on to it, and when you turn it fully, the whole door opens with a whoosh of air blasting out, making your fur ripple in the current. [[Head through the door->BossFight]] [[Back->FuckAlley]]]This marks the conclusion to update 3 of Dwellers Below! [[Start game from the beginning->Opener]] [[Start game from the beginning of the mission->D1SepfWake]]You are at the central connection of Absalum's menagerie. Impossible cages sprout on either side of the three alleyways that lead away from here. The door from which you entered this space has disappeared and there is only a bare stone wall to your back. To your left is a brightly illuminated alleyway paved with cobblestones. At the center is a misty and murky alleyway where the impossible lightsource is dim, like the moon at night obstructed by clouds. To your right is a pitch-black alleyway, you have to rely on darkvision to navigate it. [[Head down the brightly illuminated alleyway->BadBrightAlley]] [[Head down the misty and murky alleyway->BadMistyAlley]] [[Head down the pitch-black alleyway->BadDarkAlley]]You head down the brightly illuminated alleyway. The metal bars reveal spaces within, cages, where a variety of animals are kept. You see horses, zebras, pigs, cows, but also monstrous creatures like the goblin-like fiendish barghest and a huge, bear-like creature coated in feathers with a beak that looks about half as long as your body. It screeches and charges the metal bars, clanging chitin against steel as you pass its cage. Further down you pass aviaries, some with ground birds like pheasant and peacock, others with flying birds ranging from some smaller than your palm and others as big as dogs, with shimmering, colourful feathers. These cages contain foliage as well, shrubs and trees and flowering vines, the earthy scents of soil and the fragrant notes of flowers making their way into your sensitive nostrils. The “sun” feels warm on the top of your head and you begin to sweat a little, the intensity about the same as late spring, and when you glance up at the expanse of the ceiling, you feel like the light source is endlessly far away, but the bars of the cages stop at appropriate heights compared to the residents within them, and your stomach keeps making somersaults as the improbability of the two notions confuse your eyes. It should //feel// like you are entering a new room or hall whenever the size of these cages increase or decrease, but it doesn’t, and your ears swivel back and forth as the confusion makes you anxious. One thing is for sure, this pocket dimension is Absalum’s menagerie, where he keeps animals and monsters for experiments or out of sheer curiosity. Your master has one of his own, although its layout is much different than this. As you move down the alley, a wall appears at its end. There is nothing further to do here and you return from whence you came. [[Back->BadEndAlley]]You pass the dead Shadow Mastiffs and reach the end of the misty alleyway. The open door depicting the four elements is open and a strong current of air whooshes over your fur. [[Head through the door->BossFight]] [[Back->BadEndAlley]]The dark alleyway has your senses confounded. With your darkvision allowing you to see black, whites and greys, you can make out the bars of the cages easily, but their dimensions elude you. When you look up, it is all black, a deep nothingness that stretches to infinity and almost acts like reverse gravity on your stomach, making you queasy as you try to make out the size and shape of the space you pass through. What is certain is that this is a menagerie, much like the one your master has, but with a very different layout. On some of the cages it seems as if the bars stop abruptly at your chest-height, others at the top of your head, and then there are those where you shiver as the tallness stretches to far upwards that you cannot see their ends. The smells here are of the underdark, of liches and predatory mushroom spores, moldy excrement and the pungent stink of predator urine. A sudden whoosh has you startled as a black-in-black shape the size of a building crashes soundlessly against the bars, straining to get to you, baleful eyes glowing red in the dark. But you hear nothing else, no growls, no speech, just the eerie sound of the creature moving away at speed until you cannot discern its shape through the bars. In another section, where you can actually perceive the ceiling of the cage, you spot a trio of fungus-men, the shapes turning to watch your passing but making no movement towards the cage. Monsters and creatures small and large can be seen, some cannot though you can hear their predatory growls and the drips of their saliva impacting the stone floor. Ears swivelling, eyes darting back and forth, you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. [[There's a chest!->BadEroMimic]]As the black-furred canines get close, the largest of them swivels his head from side to side, barking, almost as if issuing commands. All three of them shimmer and then turn translucent, then invisible, their pawsteps heralding their attack. Caught off guard by the invisibility of the huge ferals, you have scant time to react as they charge you with unseen steps, and you opt to climb the nearest cage. Whatever magic keep the animals and beasts on the inside doesn’t effect you other than making your paws tingle as they wrap around the cold and wet steel. Your leather boots scrape frantically as you haul yourself further up, climbing as fast as possible, thankful for your extensive training and the added dexterity conferred to you by the ear-ring you yourself have forged. A whoosh of air tickles your ankles as the resounding clack of snapping jaws misses you by an inch and you climb high enough that the black-furred, invisible canines cannot touch you. Now that you have the time, you awkwardly reach into your bag of holding and pull out a potion of Spider Climb, quaffing it, becoming able to stick to the metal bars without using your paws. You rummage about in the bag, procuring a shortbow and a quiver, getting the latter over your back, muscles straining as you hang in an almost horizontal angle with an arrow tucked to the bowstring. Fighting blind or against invisible enemies is something you have been trained in extensively, but you always have to fight back the urge to close your eyes to better hear, instead letting them go wide, ears swivelling, nose sniffing, whiskers attempting to sense the subtle movements of air-currents from the barking and growling ferals that are pacing back and forth underneath your vantage point. //There//! Pawprints and displaced mist. You shoot an arrow, see it stick, shoot another one, the first black-furred dog going visible with a shaft sticking out from its chest. A loud, angry bark comes from its left and you shoot another arrow, missing, then fire again, hitting true, the wooden shaft serving as a homing beacon for your next five arrows, three of which hit, until the animal goes down with growly whines. (link:"Jump down and fight the last feral")[That leaves only one, and you let your self drop down, flinching as the cage is impacted from the other side by a massive paw belonging to some kind of female, monstrous creature that towers over you. The distraction almost loses you the battle as a deep growl comes from right in front of you, and the bow serves as a temporary block, snapped in half by slavering jaws and then the canine is revealed. It’s the leader, its head almost as tall as yours, it’s massive body probably outweighing you. It bays then, a deep and frightening sound that gives you the urge to run away for a split-second, and then your blades are out, swinging in first horizontal attacks to fend it off, then with Spark as the lead in a fencing thrust that takes out the massive canine’s eye. It pulls back with a yelp, growls, then attacks again in a leap meant to take you to the cobble-stone floor. You step in, jab up, and its abdomen is torn from sternum to below its navel, it’s guts falling out, the dog still attacking despite its entrails being pulled out by gravity. You elegantly jump //over// the feral, it’s one good eye glinting as it follows your path and then it is hit by the pain, yelping loudly as its footpaws scrabble on its own, gory innards. You step in then, dispatching the beast with a thrust through its neck, severing arteries, the monstrous canine bleeding out in a few dozen seconds. The other dogs are dead by now as well, and you step in to check them out, touching their fur, surprised by how //cool// to the touch they are, as if they aren’t regular warm-blooded animals. With that, you wipe your sword on the first canine you slew, sheathe it, and lament the loss of your bow, As one last act, you use your dagger to pry out the black-coated dog's fangs, keeping the bloody, inch-long teeth as trophies that clatter as you pour them into your bag of holding. [[Onwards->MistyDoor]]]You are at the central connection of Absalum's menagerie. Impossible cages sprout on either side of the three alleyways that lead away from here. The door from which you entered this space has disappeared and there is only a bare stone wall to your back. To your left is a brightly illuminated alleyway paved with cobblestones. At the center is a misty and murky alleyway where the impossible lightsource is dim, like the moon at night obstructed by clouds. To your right is a pitch-black alleyway, you have to rely on darkvision to navigate it. [[Head down the brightly illuminated alleyway->WinnerBrightAlley]] [[Head down the misty and murky alleyway->WinnerMistyAlley]] [[Head down the pitch-black alleyway->WinnerDarkAlley]]You head down the brightly illuminated alleyway. The metal bars reveal spaces within, cages, where a variety of animals are kept. You see horses, zebras, pigs, cows, but also monstrous creatures like the goblin-like fiendish barghest and a huge, bear-like creature coated in feathers with a beak that looks about half as long as your body. It screeches and charges the metal bars, clanging chitin against steel as you pass its cage. Further down you pass aviaries, some with ground birds like pheasant and peacock, others with flying birds ranging from some smaller than your palm and others as big as dogs, with shimmering, colourful feathers. These cages contain foliage as well, shrubs and trees and flowering vines, the earthy scents of soil and the fragrant notes of flowers making their way into your sensitive nostrils. The “sun” feels warm on the top of your head and you begin to sweat a little, the intensity about the same as late spring, and when you glance up at the expanse of the ceiling, you feel like the light source is endlessly far away, but the bars of the cages stop at appropriate heights compared to the residents within them, and your stomach keeps making somersaults as the improbability of the two notions confuse your eyes. It should //feel// like you are entering a new room or hall whenever the size of these cages increase or decrease, but it doesn’t, and your ears swivel back and forth as the confusion makes you anxious. One thing is for sure, this pocket dimension is Absalum’s menagerie, where he keeps animals and monsters for experiments or out of sheer curiosity. Your master has one of his own, although its layout is much different than this. As you move down the alley, a wall appears at its end. There is nothing further to do here and you return from whence you came. [[Back->WinnerAlley]]You pass the dead ferals and reach the open door at the end of the misty alley [[Onwards->BossFight]] [[Back->WinnerAlley]]The dark alleyway has your senses confounded. With your darkvision allowing you to see black, whites and greys, you can make out the bars of the cages easily, but their dimensions elude you. When you look up, it is all black, a deep nothingness that stretches to infinity and almost acts like reverse gravity on your stomach, making you queasy as you try to make out the size and shape of the space you pass through. What is certain is that this is a menagerie, much like the one your master has, but with a very different layout. On some of the cages it seems as if the bars stop abruptly at your chest-height, others at the top of your head, and then there are those where you shiver as the tallness stretches to far upwards that you cannot see their ends. The smells here are of the underdark, of liches and predatory mushroom spores, moldy excrement and the pungent stink of predator urine. A sudden whoosh has you startled as a black-in-black shape the size of a building crashes soundlessly against the bars, straining to get to you, baleful eyes glowing red in the dark. But you hear nothing else, no growls, no speech, just the eerie sound of the creature moving away at speed until you cannot discern its shape through the bars. In another section, where you can actually perceive the ceiling of the cage, you spot a trio of fungus-men, the shapes turning to watch your passing but making no movement towards the cage. Monsters and creatures small and large can be seen, some cannot though you can hear their predatory growls and the drips of their saliva impacting the stone floor. Ears swivelling, eyes darting back and forth, you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. [[There's a chest!->WinnerEroMimic]]Something about the hulking beasts elicit a reaction deep within your submissive mind and you drop to your knees, then let yourself fall on to the wet cobble-stones, turning about and presenting your stomach to the feral canines. You emit soft coo’s, as if trying to pet a stranger’s dog, and the menacing growling stops as the three beasts cock their heads to the sides, surprised and confused by your antics. The dampness instantly creeps up your back, but you constrain your shivers, keeping on making the cooing sounds, making sure to look at but not directly into the leader-dog’s eyes, knowing that canines take offense to eye-contact like that. Slowly, you worm your way towards the ferals, who then encircle you, a low growl coming from one of the smaller beasts, although that canine probably still weighs the same as you or more. Shifting your weight, slowly rotating, you present your butt to the biggest of the monstrous canines, and you squirm as you pull at your leather trousers, wiggling your rump as you pull them down, flagging your tail in invitation. There’s a growl to your side and you flinch as one of the other ferals dart in, as if it wants to bite you, but the biggest one bark sharply, almost as if issuing a command, and the canine stops in its tracks. More barking comes, then a low growl, and the attacking canine sits down with a whine, giving you a clear sight of its sheath and its massive nutsack that is partially squished against a wet cobble-stone. Your ears swivel and you look behind you, hoping to be mounted by the great beast, but it circles you instead, still more occupied with staring down its compatriots and barking and growling in a deep voice that’s amplified by its stocky and muscular body. He comes to your front and you take a gamble, crawling forward, keeping your head lower than his, and you lick at his square-faced jowls as a sign of submission. The black-furred canine huffs as you lick at his maw, and you are surprised by the strange taste of the dog’s spit. It has notes of flavours you cannot name, and his flesh is somewhat cool to the touch. You realize that this dog is not a regular feral dog, but some kind of extra-planar creature that Absalum has brought to this realms of existence. He’s not //cold// though, and as the feral begins to pant as you keep licking at his jaw, drool begins to form at the corner of his mouth and it opens, the beast’s tongue lolling out as he sits down while you show him your subservience. Emboldened, you lap at his tongue, and the stocky head turns downwards, the big feral beginning to lick back, red dog-tongue meeting your black one, slowly-warming slobber making it into your maw. He pants from deep within his chest and when you pull back after a minute, you look under his body, noting how a bit of red is poking out of his //very// plump sheath. (link:"Put your maw on his junk")[With feral saliva dribbling down your chin, you struggle to both worm underneath the black-furred dog while trying to pull your leather pants all the way down, throwing knives clinking as they are dragged over stone. The big canine stands up, giving you all the access you need, and you put your maw right on the opening of his sheath, engulfing the softer skin with your lips, tasting the beast for the first time. It’s muted and damp, just like the enviroment, but as your tongue pierces the opening, snaking around the canine shaft, you taste his feral musk clearly. There is a… spiceness to the taste, but the fullness of the flavour is canine and rich musk, dogpiss and when your tongue scrapes off the slime from his cock, your tastebuds are electrified and your dick begins to harden from the raunchy taste. The beast’s chest is expanding and contracting rapidly in tandem to his panting, and that delicious shaft beginss to throb and grow, pushing your tongue out of its heavenly confines, the sweet taste of precum shooting into your mouth. Moaning like the slut you are, you throat his expanding length, kissing his knot to the point where it pops out, and you gurgle as the canine buckles his hips, the bulbous flesh squeezing against your teeth, the tip digging at the back of your throat. You feel snufflings at your backside, but the leader barks, and you lament being unmolested, the big feral obviously wanting you for himself. His prick hardens further, making you gag at the sharper tip digs into you uvula and then further down, plugging your throat, the knot almost entering your maw. Not wanting to be choked out, you pull back and reach up with your paw, gripping the pulsing organ behind the knot, simulating a tie, the canine buckling his hips as he begins to breed your throat like it was a bitch. Moaning sluttily, you gurgle and slobber around the shaft as it shoot watery precum down your throat, breathing through your nose, his heavy scent warming up, the wet-dog smell mixing with his potent musk as the action dissolves the slimy buildup on his knotted cock, the fluids marking your lips and your face as he fucks your muzzle. You keep up the squeezing and then whimper-moan as an insistent, cold nose is pressed against the base of your flagging tail, the other feral licking at your well-used rump, dog-slobber lubing you up a little before a //heavy// weight lands on your back and the dog’s hips get into position. (link:"You are bred like a bitch")[This time the leader doesn’t warn him off, and your elbows and knees complain as a weight as heavy as your own lands on your back, muscular forelegs wrapping around your chest, the two canines panting right against one another as one fucks your muzzle and the other prods and pokes at your backside. You yelp as he slips in and begins his rut, feeling his entire length quickly entering you, the knot swelling and locking somewhat tight as his hard-on expands and grows inside you, the whole thing fully inside your body, making you feel every pulse and throb of its heart as the rapid pounding has his heavy stones impact your much smaller pouch. You cry out in pleasure as the rutting gets more intense, gurgling on dogcock, the bigger feral now shooting proper cum and you work your paw and your tongue and your lips to service him as well as you possibly can, squeezing his knot, extracting every drop of his potent and slightly spicy seed, occasionally managing to pull back a little so you can get a taste, but the vast majority simply shooting down your sore throat. He’s //big//, almost as big as Zennobas, and the welcome sensation of his pulsing shaft in tandem with the heavy rutting from the other feral has you shooting precum on to the wet cobble-stones. The last black-furred dog is circling the action, growling and whining, scraping his massive paws against the path and the two other dogs bark at him before refocusing on using you as their bitch. Slowing down, the one mounting your ass is now fully locked, its massive, apple-sized knot grinding against your prostate, and you asphyxiate yourself on the big dog cock in your maw, kissing the knot, milking it with your throat just as your sore ring-muscle milks the cock shooting its load up your rear. It’s as intense as it gets, and your visions blackens just as you climax, tensing up and gurgling as your teen seed sprays over the wet cobble-stones, milking the two canines even harder. Clench-throb-gurgle The repetition is made countless times as you lose track of how long you have been orgasming, the hands-free experience making your whole body sing and your neckfur stand up as you shiver and tremor for gods know how long until the massive organ in your mouth pops out and the biggest of the canines circle itself a few times before lying down and licking the retreating organ. (link:"The other dog tugs a your sphincter")[Yelp! You are dragged backwards by the other canine, who turns about to face away and now tries to extract his locked organ from your backside, causing you to cry out in pain as your pucker bulges outwards and your knees and elbows scrape and slide across the stones. It barks and tries again and you scream in surprised pain as its knotted cock pops out in a gush of cum, your body collapsing weakly as you try to clench up, gritting your teeth against the searing pain. A fresh back sounds from your side, and the last black-furred canine runs around you, getting into position for the mount. Naturally, you whine out and assume the position, flagging your tail up, your gaping and cum-slickened pucker easily penetrated as the brutish-looking feral jumps on your back and bites down on the nape of your neck, growling menacingly as its backside begins to gyrate. The tip enters like a hot knife and you whine, fresh tears forming as the whole cock is soon lodged and growing, although the knot pops in and out due to how well-stretched you are. These new, burning, agonizing yet also divine sensations make you yip and yelp in confused pleasure as your anal ring is brutalized until the knot finally grows big enough to stay inside, your teeth gritted as you clench up on purpose to make it happen. The strong bite on your neck has you slightly worried, but even as the canine growls, you can feel that its fangs doesn’t penetrate the fairly flexible skin, and it makes you feel dominated and helpless without causing you any real harm. Being spent, your member struggles to remain hard despite the incessant pressure that is soon squeezing against your prostate, and all you can focus on is the sensations of your stretched tailhole and how the feral’s cock grows and expands to the point where it feels like its pushing aside your internal organs, pulsing wetness announcing its climax, the big, black-furred dog panting as its seed fills your bowels. You can now finally allow yourself to rest down, the big canine turns away, knot tugging at your sphincter, but it is happy to stand still and fill you up with dogcum while you take a breather, your half-hard cock trailing cum and precum as you are kept in a state of near-to-total arousal, the black-skinned member quivering in the cool and damp air. The leader canine steps close then, and it eyes you, it’s orbs reflecting something more intelligent than a feral you would have seen on the streets of your childhood. It’s like Fluffy! Eyebrows rising, you realize that this bestial feral has some amount of intellect, perhaps as much as a small child, and a devious smile tugs at your lips as you look at its spent cock of which only the tip is pushing out of its sheath by this point. “Wanna give me a drink?” You ask him in undercommon and the canine cocks his head, then looks underneath itself as it follows your lusty gaze. “You’ve gotta be wanting to take a leak after cumming~” It almost looks like the big dog nods and then it steps close, standing above you, and it raises its hind leg, allowing you full access and your lips wrap around the opening of the sheath just as the prick erupts in a torrent of lukewarm and //very// salty dogpiss. It burns on the way down, the intensity enough to make your lips pucker and your eyes to scrunch together as you bear its acridness, and then the flavours of feral musk and marking begins to tickle your taste-receptors, your tailhole clenching making the other dog pant more heavily as fresh arousal burns through from your stomach to your now fully-hard cock. You clench again as you gag and sputter, urine trickling down your chin, the sound of pissing heard from your mouth and you whine in raunchy pleasure as the pressure on your prostate, the throbbing of the dog’s cock and the voluntary debasement has you reach something close to a full-body orgasm, though more muted, your cum dribbling instead of shooting as the black-furred canine’s piss fills up your stomach. The pleasurable, orgasmic drink is interrupted when the stimulation becomes too much for the other dog and it pulls away, dragging you, dogpiss now spattering over your face, matting your jet-black headfur and marking your leather armour with an //intense// stink that is three-fold that of a surface-dwelling feral. That pushes your stomach over the edge and you hurk and gag as the taste and smell fully collides in your brain, the acrid otherworldness much different and more intense that the canine’s semen and the dog lodged up your rear pulls back as you cough, when you are most clenched up, and you hear its claws scratch at stone, tearing itself out of your tailhole so abruptly and painfully that you collapse with a scream of pain. Piss keeps splashing over your fetal-curled form for a few more seconds, then the biggest of the canines step away and move over to the one that just exited you, sniffing at its crotch and softening member, then moving to the side and curling up on the cobble-stones. The third canine moves over and does the same, and while you whimper and whine, trying to get your bearings, the last one gets up, cock swinging, and then lies down next to the others, resuming its noisy slurping as it cleans its spent member. The damp cold makes you shiver and after a minute or two, you manage to get to your knees, semen splurting out of your gaping tailhole which feels raw to the touch, swollen, making you whimper as your paw comes away coated in cockslime and dogcum. Your paws shake as you work at your bag of holding, procuring a couple of rags, spending some time to clean yourself off. There’s a bottle of water… There. You dampen a fresh rag and try to wash out of some of the piss, but there are spots you cannot reach and your headfur won’t smell like yourself again until you have taken a bath. It takes another //two// whole rags to clean your rump and soak up all the semen that leaks out before your pucker closes completely and you stagger a few steps as you get up, woozy from the whole intense experience. After pulling up your leather pants and fastening the various buckles, you do a check of yourself and your gear, finding it all in place, and you move further down the misty alleyway, two of the canines resting with their eyes closed, although their ears swivel as you move away, the last one still noisily slurping on its member, the sloppy sounds growing more muted with every step you take away from them. The smell of feral, otherworldly canine is on your fur and there’s a faint smile to your lips as you reach the end of the misty alley, an iron door dripping with condensation showing you the way forward. [[Onwards->MistyDoor]]]]]You are at the central connection of Absalum's menagerie. Impossible cages sprout on either side of the three alleyways that lead away from here. The door from which you entered this space has disappeared and there is only a bare stone wall to your back. To your left is a brightly illuminated alleyway paved with cobblestones. At the center is a misty and murky alleyway where the impossible lightsource is dim, like the moon at night obstructed by clouds. To your right is a pitch-black alleyway, you have to rely on darkvision to navigate it. [[Head down the brightly illuminated alleyway->FuckBrightAlley]] [[Head down the misty and murky alleyway->FuckMistyAlley]] [[Head down the pitch-black alleyway->FuckDarkAlley]]You head down the brightly illuminated alleyway. The metal bars reveal spaces within, cages, where a variety of animals are kept. You see horses, zebras, pigs, cows, but also monstrous creatures like the goblin-like fiendish barghest and a huge, bear-like creature coated in feathers with a beak that looks about half as long as your body. It screeches and charges the metal bars, clanging chitin against steel as you pass its cage. Further down you pass aviaries, some with ground birds like pheasant and peacock, others with flying birds ranging from some smaller than your palm and others as big as dogs, with shimmering, colourful feathers. These cages contain foliage as well, shrubs and trees and flowering vines, the earthy scents of soil and the fragrant notes of flowers making their way into your sensitive nostrils. The “sun” feels warm on the top of your head and you begin to sweat a little, the intensity about the same as late spring, and when you glance up at the expanse of the ceiling, you feel like the light source is endlessly far away, but the bars of the cages stop at appropriate heights compared to the residents within them, and your stomach keeps making somersaults as the improbability of the two notions confuse your eyes. It should //feel// like you are entering a new room or hall whenever the size of these cages increase or decrease, but it doesn’t, and your ears swivel back and forth as the confusion makes you anxious. One thing is for sure, this pocket dimension is Absalum’s menagerie, where he keeps animals and monsters for experiments or out of sheer curiosity. Your master has one of his own, although its layout is much different than this. As you move down the alley, a wall appears at its end. There is nothing further to do here and you return from whence you came. [[Back->FuckAlley]]You head down the misty alleyway. The big, black-furred canines are still resting, the leader's head picks up, growling as he senses your presence, then sniffs the air noisily and snorts, resting his broad head down again as you pass the ferals. At the end is the elemental-motiff door, which you already opened, a strong current whooshes over your fur. [[Go through the door->BossFight]] [[Back->FuckAlley]]The dark alleyway has your senses confounded. With your darkvision allowing you to see black, whites and greys, you can make out the bars of the cages easily, but their dimensions elude you. When you look up, it is all black, a deep nothingness that stretches to infinity and almost acts like reverse gravity on your stomach, making you queasy as you try to make out the size and shape of the space you pass through. What is certain is that this is a menagerie, much like the one your master has, but with a very different layout. On some of the cages it seems as if the bars stop abruptly at your chest-height, others at the top of your head, and then there are those where you shiver as the tallness stretches to far upwards that you cannot see their ends. The smells here are of the underdark, of liches and predatory mushroom spores, moldy excrement and the pungent stink of predator urine. A sudden whoosh has you startled as a black-in-black shape the size of a building crashes soundlessly against the bars, straining to get to you, baleful eyes glowing red in the dark. But you hear nothing else, no growls, no speech, just the eerie sound of the creature moving away at speed until you cannot discern its shape through the bars. In another section, where you can actually perceive the ceiling of the cage, you spot a trio of fungus-men, the shapes turning to watch your passing but making no movement towards the cage. Monsters and creatures small and large can be seen, some cannot though you can hear their predatory growls and the drips of their saliva impacting the stone floor. Ears swivelling, eyes darting back and forth, you finally make it to the end of the alleyway. [[There's a chest!->FuckEroMimic]](if:visits <= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, enticing you to creep closer. It’s pretty big, three yards on the long side, two on the short side, with a heavy-looking wooden lid almost as tall as you banded together with mithril. There’s a padlock on it, but it is opened, and you feel a bit uneasy as you step close, your innate desire to loot trinkets and keepsakes causing you to almost put a paw on the thing before you halt yourself and give it a thorough inspection. The ear-ring gifted to you by your master allows you to see magical hues, but none are present, and you carefully move from side to side of the big chest your eyes scanning it for any visible signs of traps or obfuscated glyphs of warding. Finally, you allow your fingertips to touch the wood, trailing them along the seal of the lid, poking at the bottom of the chest, even touching the stones underneath. And still you find nothing. Maybe this chest just holds supplies for the creatures in the menagerie, nothing worth locking up? Emboldened by your lack of findings you put your paws on the lid and //push//, the lightness of it surprising you making you stumble forward, almost falling into the grand chest. Then you see what’s hidden within and you squawk as you try to pull back, but it is too late, and a dozen tentacles fly out to wrap around your arms and your neck, a larger one wrapping around your body, and you are dragged into the chest, the lid closing with a thud, and slippery, slimy, squelchy noises are all around you, warm tentacles wrapping around you even further. A mimic! You struggle to get at your scabbards, but your arms are secured, you try to bite, but several smaller tentacles wrap around you muzzle, slimy lengths forcing it shut, slippery mucus working its way into your fur. Your nose huffs in air and the musky stink of //male// fills your nostrils, alongside other notes, bestial and monstrous. And then you feel a hum inside your head, a pleased hum, an aroused hum, the mimic is getting into your brain somehow, making you relax, making your clenched fingers unfurl. Your whole body goes limp as the hum fills up everything and in the darkness you see light, which turns to energy that passes through your being in a gentle current. Before the salubrious sensations wipe away your will to resist, your mind recalls this particular breed of monster. It’s an ero-mimic, it feeds off carnal energy you have read, not blood and bones and then the undulating mass of tentacles goes to work as its mystical powers culls your resistance to its advances. (link:"You undress yourself")[Guided, but moving on your own, your paws work at your buckles and belts, unwrapping yourself like the tasty gift you are. Your boots are pulled off and writhing and slimy tentacles slither up and down your soles, tickling, but hard enough to massage, the sensation sensual and erotic. Other tentacles, these with spiny suckers, pull at your undone trousers and leather slides against fur as they are dragged off, the same happening to the armour on your body and your undergarments until you are fully naked. Your member is already poking out of its entrance, and one, then another, then a third tentacle drag their tips along your sheath, poke at your balls, tickle the tip of your cock, each touch gentle and //warm//, each tentacle leaving a bit of slick slime that seeps into your white crotch-fur or sticks to your flesh. A bigger one wraps around your head, over your eyes, and it is soft enough to press firmly against your eyelids and fill out the two depressions without being hurtful to your squeezed orbs. Smaller tentacles poke at your ears, getting into the tufty orifices, poking and prodding, making you idly fear they will penetrate into your brain. They don’t, instead squeezing themselves snugly into your ear canal, squelching sounds heard //most// clearly as they go in and out in a slow and erotic manner, almost as if licking you, slime pooling inside and making it feel almost as if you are underwater. A larger tentacle slithers across your footpaw, then the other, then wraps around your ankle and the whole bed of tentacles shifts about as your leg is forced backwards, tentacles wrapping around the crook of your knee, a similar process happening to your other leg. Even if you wanted to resist, you couldn’t, as the soft and slimy give of the tentacles hides a brutal strength that could probably rip you apart on a whim. You whimper, your muzzle still forced shut by a myriad of smaller appendages, as your hips are rotated until your footpaws are somewhat close to your head, the tentacles around your knees squelching as they rub against the ones around your arms that are then pulled at and lifted away, over your head, leaving you exposed and utterly vulnerable to whatever happens next. Your breathing is quick, all air going through your nostrils, and the heavy musk that you are forced to inhale has your mind go even more woozy and weak. (link:"They are so warm...")[What surprises you the most about this underdark-dwelling creature is the //heat// it radiates. Everything is warm to the touch, and the slippery tentacles that wrap all around your body and limbs secrete slick slime that feels almost like candle-wax as it sticks to your fur and seeps in and touches your skin. Not hot enough to burn though, the warm splotches instead feeling sensual and as distinct markings while a large tentacle slithers between your exposed rump-cheeks, making the area slick as it pokes and prods up and down and from side to side, the tip of it then breaching you ever-so-slowly, still wiggling in all directions, stretching your hole much more gently than your master would using Evard’s Black Tentacles. You yearn for a heavier stretch, whining as you struggle to impale yourself on the thick appendage, but the hum in your brain changes pitch, almost like a laugh, and the big tentacle just prods and pokes and undulates its warm length inside by a fraction of an inch at a time. Soon you are panting through your nostrils, your cock fully hard and out of its sheat, and you feel other, smaller tentacles wrapping around and about, squeezing your knot, coiling around your shaft, a tiny, wormy tentacle poking at your urethral opening. You moan out from deep within your lungs as the worm-like, slimy, warm appendage squeezes itself inside your piss-slit, the part of the ero-mimic small enough to push deep without much resistance, the slick filling of your urethra making you gasp and groan as it begins to pull out again, before dipping even deeper, other tiny tentacles tickling your cockhead, poking and prodding, trying to gain access as gently as the one up your ass, which is now deep enough to rub at your prostate. Lightning hammers through your body as the mass of warmth grinds against your pleasure spot, your moans strange and warbled to your ears as they are still being molested by other tentacles that squelch and ooze out warm slime making your eartips flutter. There is another hum, almost a laugh again, and those are removed, instead writhing across your blinded face, tickling at your nostrils. With your muzzle forced close, the invading tentacles has you clench up as breath is stolen from your lungs. The small appendages slither up your sinuses, but so warm and slick that it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even tickle the sneeze reflex, until they are past and you feel the tips of them at the back of your throat, flickering about, warm slime going on your tongue making you taste the creature for the first time. It reminds you of cock, nothing more and nothing less, delicious, unwashed, musky cock, monstrous and strange, but you are used to serving all kinds of creatures with your mouth and ass. There is a squeeze at the top of your nose, the twin tentacles pulling, others retreating from your muzzle, some going to your bottom jaw, and your mouth is pried open, the two tentacles quickly joined by another much larger one that slides across your tongue and then straight down your gullet, the quick breath of air you were allowed not enough from stopping your lungs from burning as the slime-covered appendage worms its way down your throat. It only stays there for a few seconds before retreating, and then it begins a proper throatfuck where it pulls out to the tip of your tongue and then delves deep into your gullet on repeat. You sputter and gag around the cock-tasting tentacle, but at least you can manage a breath of air here and there. (link:"The mimic stretches your holes")[The tentacle in your urethra is joined by another one, the stretch noticeable yet pleasant, that needing-to-piss-urging-to-cum sensation sending shivers through your body as they wiggle and worm themselves in and out. The one up your ass has passed your seconds sphincter and is deep within your bowels, punching your guts with that bestial strength that conflicts with the slippery softness of the tentacles’ surfaces. It then retreats and a //massive// girth pokes at your tailhole, making you whimper-gurgle as the stretch becomes unbearable. You whine and cry out as a thickness as big as Zennobas’ knot demands entry and then scream out before your throat is plugged, the new tentacle pushing inside with remorseless power, splitting your backside open to the point where it feels like you are tearing and then undulating inside much faster than the first one. Still, despite the pain, the immense grinding sensation against your prostate, the wormlike tentacles up your urethra, the constant pokes and prods against your member and the tentacle wrapped around your knot, it all has you on the cusp of orgasm and your whole body, heated up by shared warmth, begins to tremor and shake as lightning passes through your being from all the sensations. You mewl like a bitch in heat as the plug-sized tentacle begins to punch in and out, going fully out of your gaping asshole and slamming right back inside with the speed of a feral canine. Your cock erupts, but the tentacles in your urethra blocks the passage and the pressure has you howl until their bestial strength has them separate outwards, stretching your urethra to quadrouble size, allowing your seed to shoot out. A warm, wet orifice engulfs your cock just as your cum erupts, snugly squeezing together and squeezing and milking you as jet after jet of puppybatter is emptied out of your stones. Meanwhile, the hard-punching tentacle up your ass shows no sign of slowing down and the one fucking your throat keeps up the pace until it remains embedded, its tip poking at your stomach somewhere under your ribcage, choking you out, making you clench up in panic as the seconds pass by, the knot-sized tentacle hammering your ass squeezed as you convulse from the lack of air. The appendage down your throat pulls out and you take in one, phlegmy breath before you are plugged again and something //big// tears your sphincter even further open. You would have screamed in pain if you could, but instead you have to bear the sensation of your clenching sphincter being split so wide you are sure that it is damaged. Something is moving //inside// the tentacle, passed along through it, almost like an egg, and you feel the immense object pass your ring with a //plop// before another one takes its place, stretching you out all over again. The ero-mimic eggs pass your almost-ruined tailhole one after the other, the big tentacle finally pulling out and you feel the warm and musky air travel into your body before one of the eggs squeeze against your bulging opening. Even if you could squeeze, it feels too big to pass on your own, and the dozens of huge eggs that are nesting inside your colon has you whimper and moan as the tentacle down your throat finally pulls out completely, letting you gasp and cry softly in overstimulation as the wormlike tentacles down your urethra keeps sliding in and out and that velvety-soft orifice that engulfs your cock keeps on milking it to the point where it feels raw and chafed. Time loses meaning. The warm eggs up your ass seem unfertilized, just resting there, bulging out your stomach. The tentacles wrapped around your arms guide them down your body and your fingers feel your belly and the many knobs sticking out from under the fur, dozens of them, the lumps making you whimper. Your nose is vacated and you can take in the musky cocksmell again, another surge of arousal going through your body, one last drop of seed extracted from your spent cock and the orifice pulls back, the pleased and satisfied hum inside your brain growing louder as whatever it is trails down your body until it touches your gapes anus, engulfing the whole area with some kind of flattish surface and //injecting// your cum right back into you, the fluids spattering against the eggs that nest there. NOW you feel they are alive. They grow hotter. Warmer. Small tentacles breech your sphincter and undulate deep inside, making sure your semen touches every last egg, and they begin to vibrate. First gently and then furiously, your whole belly, which you are still forced to touch, feeling like a huge clump of worms that wiggle and push and prod in all directions. Then you feel a give, not in your body, but in one of the eggs, and tiny tentacles begin to wiggle and squiggle all over, making it feel like a worm infestation as the first eggs to receive your essence open and tiny ero-mimics push and prod at your anal opening from the inside. The hum in your brain grows fuzzy, almost like it is adoring the birthing as the fist-sized masses begin to squeeze out of your tailhole one after another, dragging themselves along your inner canals with their tiny tentacles, one after the other squelching out of your body until your stomach has deflated again and your gaping hole is finally allowed some rest. As this all happened, you felt gooey clumps being extracted as well, the jiggly remains of the eggs, and in the back of your head you are sure that all of the mimic-matter has exited your tailhole. (link:"The mimic pisses into your mouth")[You worry for your existence as your maw is prodded against again, the taste of your ass and your cum clear on the big tentacle, but it remains just at the tip of your tongue, oozing out its slime. This has the most potent taste yet, and it turns more watery, giving you the impression of morning piss, trickles of the fluids washing away tentacle slime, leaving a taste so sour and bitter on your tongue that your face scrunches up. You drink it all the same, letting the creature mark you, and the hum inside your brain mirrors your own budding arousal, cock still fully hard despite being emptied so thoroughly. The lid cracks open then and you a lifted outside, gently placed on the cold stone, and all of your gear is put down next to you. Even as tentacles retreat from your body, you are too exhausted to do anything other than groan weakly and as a farewell gesture the orifice tentacle appears, it slithers down to your crotch and engulfs your whole cock one last time, making you moan as it expertly suckles and squeezes every inch of sensitive skin, before it retreats back into the chest which lid closes with a solid //thunk//. Somewhat worried you eventually find the energy to touch your sphincter. It’s still very raw and sore, but there is no blood on your fingertips and you groan like an old man as you collect yourself and get on your footpaws. A cleaning cantrip gets rid of the slime and most of the musky cockstench on your gear, but it takes you a quarter of an hour to wash yourself down with supplies from your Bag Of Holding. After equipping yourself and checking that everything is in order, you turn tail to leave, very sore but also very satisfied despite how rough the ero-mimic got with you. [[Back->DobblerEnder]]]]]]] (if:visits >= 2)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->DobblerEnder]]](if:(history: where its name contains "EroMimic")'s length <= 0)[(if:visits <= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, enticing you to creep closer. It’s pretty big, three yards on the long side, two on the short side, with a heavy-looking wooden lid almost as tall as you banded together with mithril. There’s a padlock on it, but it is opened, and you feel a bit uneasy as you step close, your innate desire to loot trinkets and keepsakes causing you to almost put a paw on the thing before you halt yourself and give it a thorough inspection. The ear-ring gifted to you by your master allows you to see magical hues, but none are present, and you carefully move from side to side of the big chest your eyes scanning it for any visible signs of traps or obfuscated glyphs of warding. Finally, you allow your fingertips to touch the wood, trailing them along the seal of the lid, poking at the bottom of the chest, even touching the stones underneath. And still you find nothing. Maybe this chest just holds supplies for the creatures in the menagerie, nothing worth locking up? Emboldened by your lack of findings you put your paws on the lid and //push//, the lightness of it surprising you making you stumble forward, almost falling into the grand chest. Then you see what’s hidden within and you squawk as you try to pull back, but it is too late, and a dozen tentacles fly out to wrap around your arms and your neck, a larger one wrapping around your body, and you are dragged into the chest, the lid closing with a thud, and slippery, slimy, squelchy noises are all around you, warm tentacles wrapping around you even further. A mimic! You struggle to get at your scabbards, but your arms are secured, you try to bite, but several smaller tentacles wrap around you muzzle, slimy lengths forcing it shut, slippery mucus working its way into your fur. Your nose huffs in air and the musky stink of //male// fills your nostrils, alongside other notes, bestial and monstrous. And then you feel a hum inside your head, a pleased hum, an aroused hum, the mimic is getting into your brain somehow, making you relax, making your clenched fingers unfurl. Your whole body goes limp as the hum fills up everything and in the darkness you see light, which turns to energy that passes through your being in a gentle current. Before the salubrious sensations wipe away your will to resist, your mind recalls this particular breed of monster. It’s an ero-mimic, it feeds off carnal energy you have read, not blood and bones and then the undulating mass of tentacles goes to work as its mystical powers culls your resistance to its advances. (link:"You undress yourself")[Guided, but moving on your own, your paws work at your buckles and belts, unwrapping yourself like the tasty gift you are. Your boots are pulled off and writhing and slimy tentacles slither up and down your soles, tickling, but hard enough to massage, the sensation sensual and erotic. Other tentacles, these with spiny suckers, pull at your undone trousers and leather slides against fur as they are dragged off, the same happening to the armour on your body and your undergarments until you are fully naked. Your member is already poking out of its entrance, and one, then another, then a third tentacle drag their tips along your sheath, poke at your balls, tickle the tip of your cock, each touch gentle and //warm//, each tentacle leaving a bit of slick slime that seeps into your white crotch-fur or sticks to your flesh. A bigger one wraps around your head, over your eyes, and it is soft enough to press firmly against your eyelids and fill out the two depressions without being hurtful to your squeezed orbs. Smaller tentacles poke at your ears, getting into the tufty orifices, poking and prodding, making you idly fear they will penetrate into your brain. They don’t, instead squeezing themselves snugly into your ear canal, squelching sounds heard //most// clearly as they go in and out in a slow and erotic manner, almost as if licking you, slime pooling inside and making it feel almost as if you are underwater. A larger tentacle slithers across your footpaw, then the other, then wraps around your ankle and the whole bed of tentacles shifts about as your leg is forced backwards, tentacles wrapping around the crook of your knee, a similar process happening to your other leg. Even if you wanted to resist, you couldn’t, as the soft and slimy give of the tentacles hides a brutal strength that could probably rip you apart on a whim. You whimper, your muzzle still forced shut by a myriad of smaller appendages, as your hips are rotated until your footpaws are somewhat close to your head, the tentacles around your knees squelching as they rub against the ones around your arms that are then pulled at and lifted away, over your head, leaving you exposed and utterly vulnerable to whatever happens next. Your breathing is quick, all air going through your nostrils, and the heavy musk that you are forced to inhale has your mind go even more woozy and weak. (link:"They are so warm...")[What surprises you the most about this underdark-dwelling creature is the //heat// it radiates. Everything is warm to the touch, and the slippery tentacles that wrap all around your body and limbs secrete slick slime that feels almost like candle-wax as it sticks to your fur and seeps in and touches your skin. Not hot enough to burn though, the warm splotches instead feeling sensual and as distinct markings while a large tentacle slithers between your exposed rump-cheeks, making the area slick as it pokes and prods up and down and from side to side, the tip of it then breaching you ever-so-slowly, still wiggling in all directions, stretching your hole much more gently than your master would using Evard’s Black Tentacles. You yearn for a heavier stretch, whining as you struggle to impale yourself on the thick appendage, but the hum in your brain changes pitch, almost like a laugh, and the big tentacle just prods and pokes and undulates its warm length inside by a fraction of an inch at a time. Soon you are panting through your nostrils, your cock fully hard and out of its sheat, and you feel other, smaller tentacles wrapping around and about, squeezing your knot, coiling around your shaft, a tiny, wormy tentacle poking at your urethral opening. You moan out from deep within your lungs as the worm-like, slimy, warm appendage squeezes itself inside your piss-slit, the part of the ero-mimic small enough to push deep without much resistance, the slick filling of your urethra making you gasp and groan as it begins to pull out again, before dipping even deeper, other tiny tentacles tickling your cockhead, poking and prodding, trying to gain access as gently as the one up your ass, which is now deep enough to rub at your prostate. Lightning hammers through your body as the mass of warmth grinds against your pleasure spot, your moans strange and warbled to your ears as they are still being molested by other tentacles that squelch and ooze out warm slime making your eartips flutter. There is another hum, almost a laugh again, and those are removed, instead writhing across your blinded face, tickling at your nostrils. With your muzzle forced close, the invading tentacles has you clench up as breath is stolen from your lungs. The small appendages slither up your sinuses, but so warm and slick that it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even tickle the sneeze reflex, until they are past and you feel the tips of them at the back of your throat, flickering about, warm slime going on your tongue making you taste the creature for the first time. It reminds you of cock, nothing more and nothing less, delicious, unwashed, musky cock, monstrous and strange, but you are used to serving all kinds of creatures with your mouth and ass. There is a squeeze at the top of your nose, the twin tentacles pulling, others retreating from your muzzle, some going to your bottom jaw, and your mouth is pried open, the two tentacles quickly joined by another much larger one that slides across your tongue and then straight down your gullet, the quick breath of air you were allowed not enough from stopping your lungs from burning as the slime-covered appendage worms its way down your throat. It only stays there for a few seconds before retreating, and then it begins a proper throatfuck where it pulls out to the tip of your tongue and then delves deep into your gullet on repeat. You sputter and gag around the cock-tasting tentacle, but at least you can manage a breath of air here and there. (link:"The mimic stretches your holes")[The tentacle in your urethra is joined by another one, the stretch noticeable yet pleasant, that needing-to-piss-urging-to-cum sensation sending shivers through your body as they wiggle and worm themselves in and out. The one up your ass has passed your seconds sphincter and is deep within your bowels, punching your guts with that bestial strength that conflicts with the slippery softness of the tentacles’ surfaces. It then retreats and a //massive// girth pokes at your tailhole, making you whimper-gurgle as the stretch becomes unbearable. You whine and cry out as a thickness as big as Zennobas’ knot demands entry and then scream out before your throat is plugged, the new tentacle pushing inside with remorseless power, splitting your backside open to the point where it feels like you are tearing and then undulating inside much faster than the first one. Still, despite the pain, the immense grinding sensation against your prostate, the wormlike tentacles up your urethra, the constant pokes and prods against your member and the tentacle wrapped around your knot, it all has you on the cusp of orgasm and your whole body, heated up by shared warmth, begins to tremor and shake as lightning passes through your being from all the sensations. You mewl like a bitch in heat as the plug-sized tentacle begins to punch in and out, going fully out of your gaping asshole and slamming right back inside with the speed of a feral canine. Your cock erupts, but the tentacles in your urethra blocks the passage and the pressure has you howl until their bestial strength has them separate outwards, stretching your urethra to quadrouble size, allowing your seed to shoot out. A warm, wet orifice engulfs your cock just as your cum erupts, snugly squeezing together and squeezing and milking you as jet after jet of puppybatter is emptied out of your stones. Meanwhile, the hard-punching tentacle up your ass shows no sign of slowing down and the one fucking your throat keeps up the pace until it remains embedded, its tip poking at your stomach somewhere under your ribcage, choking you out, making you clench up in panic as the seconds pass by, the knot-sized tentacle hammering your ass squeezed as you convulse from the lack of air. The appendage down your throat pulls out and you take in one, phlegmy breath before you are plugged again and something //big// tears your sphincter even further open. You would have screamed in pain if you could, but instead you have to bear the sensation of your clenching sphincter being split so wide you are sure that it is damaged. Something is moving //inside// the tentacle, passed along through it, almost like an egg, and you feel the immense object pass your ring with a //plop// before another one takes its place, stretching you out all over again. The ero-mimic eggs pass your almost-ruined tailhole one after the other, the big tentacle finally pulling out and you feel the warm and musky air travel into your body before one of the eggs squeeze against your bulging opening. Even if you could squeeze, it feels too big to pass on your own, and the dozens of huge eggs that are nesting inside your colon has you whimper and moan as the tentacle down your throat finally pulls out completely, letting you gasp and cry softly in overstimulation as the wormlike tentacles down your urethra keeps sliding in and out and that velvety-soft orifice that engulfs your cock keeps on milking it to the point where it feels raw and chafed. Time loses meaning. The warm eggs up your ass seem unfertilized, just resting there, bulging out your stomach. The tentacles wrapped around your arms guide them down your body and your fingers feel your belly and the many knobs sticking out from under the fur, dozens of them, the lumps making you whimper. Your nose is vacated and you can take in the musky cocksmell again, another surge of arousal going through your body, one last drop of seed extracted from your spent cock and the orifice pulls back, the pleased and satisfied hum inside your brain growing louder as whatever it is trails down your body until it touches your gapes anus, engulfing the whole area with some kind of flattish surface and //injecting// your cum right back into you, the fluids spattering against the eggs that nest there. NOW you feel they are alive. They grow hotter. Warmer. Small tentacles breech your sphincter and undulate deep inside, making sure your semen touches every last egg, and they begin to vibrate. First gently and then furiously, your whole belly, which you are still forced to touch, feeling like a huge clump of worms that wiggle and push and prod in all directions. Then you feel a give, not in your body, but in one of the eggs, and tiny tentacles begin to wiggle and squiggle all over, making it feel like a worm infestation as the first eggs to receive your essence open and tiny ero-mimics push and prod at your anal opening from the inside. The hum in your brain grows fuzzy, almost like it is adoring the birthing as the fist-sized masses begin to squeeze out of your tailhole one after another, dragging themselves along your inner canals with their tiny tentacles, one after the other squelching out of your body until your stomach has deflated again and your gaping hole is finally allowed some rest. As this all happened, you felt gooey clumps being extracted as well, the jiggly remains of the eggs, and in the back of your head you are sure that all of the mimic-matter has exited your tailhole. (link:"The mimic pisses into your mouth")[You worry for your existence as your maw is prodded against again, the taste of your ass and your cum clear on the big tentacle, but it remains just at the tip of your tongue, oozing out its slime. This has the most potent taste yet, and it turns more watery, giving you the impression of morning piss, trickles of the fluids washing away tentacle slime, leaving a taste so sour and bitter on your tongue that your face scrunches up. You drink it all the same, letting the creature mark you, and the hum inside your brain mirrors your own budding arousal, cock still fully hard despite being emptied so thoroughly. The lid cracks open then and you a lifted outside, gently placed on the cold stone, and all of your gear is put down next to you. Even as tentacles retreat from your body, you are too exhausted to do anything other than groan weakly and as a farewell gesture the orifice tentacle appears, it slithers down to your crotch and engulfs your whole cock one last time, making you moan as it expertly suckles and squeezes every inch of sensitive skin, before it retreats back into the chest which lid closes with a solid //thunk//. Somewhat worried you eventually find the energy to touch your sphincter. It’s still very raw and sore, but there is no blood on your fingertips and you groan like an old man as you collect yourself and get on your footpaws. A cleaning cantrip gets rid of the slime and most of the musky cockstench on your gear, but it takes you a quarter of an hour to wash yourself down with supplies from your Bag Of Holding. After equipping yourself and checking that everything is in order, you turn tail to leave, very sore but also very satisfied despite how rough the ero-mimic got with you. [[Back->BadEndAlley]]]]]]] (if:visits >= 2)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->BadEndAlley]]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "EroMimic")'s length >= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->BadEndAlley]]](if:(history: where its name contains "EroMimic")'s length <= 0)[(if:visits <= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, enticing you to creep closer. It’s pretty big, three yards on the long side, two on the short side, with a heavy-looking wooden lid almost as tall as you banded together with mithril. There’s a padlock on it, but it is opened, and you feel a bit uneasy as you step close, your innate desire to loot trinkets and keepsakes causing you to almost put a paw on the thing before you halt yourself and give it a thorough inspection. The ear-ring gifted to you by your master allows you to see magical hues, but none are present, and you carefully move from side to side of the big chest your eyes scanning it for any visible signs of traps or obfuscated glyphs of warding. Finally, you allow your fingertips to touch the wood, trailing them along the seal of the lid, poking at the bottom of the chest, even touching the stones underneath. And still you find nothing. Maybe this chest just holds supplies for the creatures in the menagerie, nothing worth locking up? Emboldened by your lack of findings you put your paws on the lid and //push//, the lightness of it surprising you making you stumble forward, almost falling into the grand chest. Then you see what’s hidden within and you squawk as you try to pull back, but it is too late, and a dozen tentacles fly out to wrap around your arms and your neck, a larger one wrapping around your body, and you are dragged into the chest, the lid closing with a thud, and slippery, slimy, squelchy noises are all around you, warm tentacles wrapping around you even further. A mimic! You struggle to get at your scabbards, but your arms are secured, you try to bite, but several smaller tentacles wrap around you muzzle, slimy lengths forcing it shut, slippery mucus working its way into your fur. Your nose huffs in air and the musky stink of //male// fills your nostrils, alongside other notes, bestial and monstrous. And then you feel a hum inside your head, a pleased hum, an aroused hum, the mimic is getting into your brain somehow, making you relax, making your clenched fingers unfurl. Your whole body goes limp as the hum fills up everything and in the darkness you see light, which turns to energy that passes through your being in a gentle current. Before the salubrious sensations wipe away your will to resist, your mind recalls this particular breed of monster. It’s an ero-mimic, it feeds off carnal energy you have read, not blood and bones and then the undulating mass of tentacles goes to work as its mystical powers culls your resistance to its advances. (link:"You undress yourself")[Guided, but moving on your own, your paws work at your buckles and belts, unwrapping yourself like the tasty gift you are. Your boots are pulled off and writhing and slimy tentacles slither up and down your soles, tickling, but hard enough to massage, the sensation sensual and erotic. Other tentacles, these with spiny suckers, pull at your undone trousers and leather slides against fur as they are dragged off, the same happening to the armour on your body and your undergarments until you are fully naked. Your member is already poking out of its entrance, and one, then another, then a third tentacle drag their tips along your sheath, poke at your balls, tickle the tip of your cock, each touch gentle and //warm//, each tentacle leaving a bit of slick slime that seeps into your white crotch-fur or sticks to your flesh. A bigger one wraps around your head, over your eyes, and it is soft enough to press firmly against your eyelids and fill out the two depressions without being hurtful to your squeezed orbs. Smaller tentacles poke at your ears, getting into the tufty orifices, poking and prodding, making you idly fear they will penetrate into your brain. They don’t, instead squeezing themselves snugly into your ear canal, squelching sounds heard //most// clearly as they go in and out in a slow and erotic manner, almost as if licking you, slime pooling inside and making it feel almost as if you are underwater. A larger tentacle slithers across your footpaw, then the other, then wraps around your ankle and the whole bed of tentacles shifts about as your leg is forced backwards, tentacles wrapping around the crook of your knee, a similar process happening to your other leg. Even if you wanted to resist, you couldn’t, as the soft and slimy give of the tentacles hides a brutal strength that could probably rip you apart on a whim. You whimper, your muzzle still forced shut by a myriad of smaller appendages, as your hips are rotated until your footpaws are somewhat close to your head, the tentacles around your knees squelching as they rub against the ones around your arms that are then pulled at and lifted away, over your head, leaving you exposed and utterly vulnerable to whatever happens next. Your breathing is quick, all air going through your nostrils, and the heavy musk that you are forced to inhale has your mind go even more woozy and weak. (link:"They are so warm...")[What surprises you the most about this underdark-dwelling creature is the //heat// it radiates. Everything is warm to the touch, and the slippery tentacles that wrap all around your body and limbs secrete slick slime that feels almost like candle-wax as it sticks to your fur and seeps in and touches your skin. Not hot enough to burn though, the warm splotches instead feeling sensual and as distinct markings while a large tentacle slithers between your exposed rump-cheeks, making the area slick as it pokes and prods up and down and from side to side, the tip of it then breaching you ever-so-slowly, still wiggling in all directions, stretching your hole much more gently than your master would using Evard’s Black Tentacles. You yearn for a heavier stretch, whining as you struggle to impale yourself on the thick appendage, but the hum in your brain changes pitch, almost like a laugh, and the big tentacle just prods and pokes and undulates its warm length inside by a fraction of an inch at a time. Soon you are panting through your nostrils, your cock fully hard and out of its sheat, and you feel other, smaller tentacles wrapping around and about, squeezing your knot, coiling around your shaft, a tiny, wormy tentacle poking at your urethral opening. You moan out from deep within your lungs as the worm-like, slimy, warm appendage squeezes itself inside your piss-slit, the part of the ero-mimic small enough to push deep without much resistance, the slick filling of your urethra making you gasp and groan as it begins to pull out again, before dipping even deeper, other tiny tentacles tickling your cockhead, poking and prodding, trying to gain access as gently as the one up your ass, which is now deep enough to rub at your prostate. Lightning hammers through your body as the mass of warmth grinds against your pleasure spot, your moans strange and warbled to your ears as they are still being molested by other tentacles that squelch and ooze out warm slime making your eartips flutter. There is another hum, almost a laugh again, and those are removed, instead writhing across your blinded face, tickling at your nostrils. With your muzzle forced close, the invading tentacles has you clench up as breath is stolen from your lungs. The small appendages slither up your sinuses, but so warm and slick that it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even tickle the sneeze reflex, until they are past and you feel the tips of them at the back of your throat, flickering about, warm slime going on your tongue making you taste the creature for the first time. It reminds you of cock, nothing more and nothing less, delicious, unwashed, musky cock, monstrous and strange, but you are used to serving all kinds of creatures with your mouth and ass. There is a squeeze at the top of your nose, the twin tentacles pulling, others retreating from your muzzle, some going to your bottom jaw, and your mouth is pried open, the two tentacles quickly joined by another much larger one that slides across your tongue and then straight down your gullet, the quick breath of air you were allowed not enough from stopping your lungs from burning as the slime-covered appendage worms its way down your throat. It only stays there for a few seconds before retreating, and then it begins a proper throatfuck where it pulls out to the tip of your tongue and then delves deep into your gullet on repeat. You sputter and gag around the cock-tasting tentacle, but at least you can manage a breath of air here and there. (link:"The mimic stretches your holes")[The tentacle in your urethra is joined by another one, the stretch noticeable yet pleasant, that needing-to-piss-urging-to-cum sensation sending shivers through your body as they wiggle and worm themselves in and out. The one up your ass has passed your seconds sphincter and is deep within your bowels, punching your guts with that bestial strength that conflicts with the slippery softness of the tentacles’ surfaces. It then retreats and a //massive// girth pokes at your tailhole, making you whimper-gurgle as the stretch becomes unbearable. You whine and cry out as a thickness as big as Zennobas’ knot demands entry and then scream out before your throat is plugged, the new tentacle pushing inside with remorseless power, splitting your backside open to the point where it feels like you are tearing and then undulating inside much faster than the first one. Still, despite the pain, the immense grinding sensation against your prostate, the wormlike tentacles up your urethra, the constant pokes and prods against your member and the tentacle wrapped around your knot, it all has you on the cusp of orgasm and your whole body, heated up by shared warmth, begins to tremor and shake as lightning passes through your being from all the sensations. You mewl like a bitch in heat as the plug-sized tentacle begins to punch in and out, going fully out of your gaping asshole and slamming right back inside with the speed of a feral canine. Your cock erupts, but the tentacles in your urethra blocks the passage and the pressure has you howl until their bestial strength has them separate outwards, stretching your urethra to quadrouble size, allowing your seed to shoot out. A warm, wet orifice engulfs your cock just as your cum erupts, snugly squeezing together and squeezing and milking you as jet after jet of puppybatter is emptied out of your stones. Meanwhile, the hard-punching tentacle up your ass shows no sign of slowing down and the one fucking your throat keeps up the pace until it remains embedded, its tip poking at your stomach somewhere under your ribcage, choking you out, making you clench up in panic as the seconds pass by, the knot-sized tentacle hammering your ass squeezed as you convulse from the lack of air. The appendage down your throat pulls out and you take in one, phlegmy breath before you are plugged again and something //big// tears your sphincter even further open. You would have screamed in pain if you could, but instead you have to bear the sensation of your clenching sphincter being split so wide you are sure that it is damaged. Something is moving //inside// the tentacle, passed along through it, almost like an egg, and you feel the immense object pass your ring with a //plop// before another one takes its place, stretching you out all over again. The ero-mimic eggs pass your almost-ruined tailhole one after the other, the big tentacle finally pulling out and you feel the warm and musky air travel into your body before one of the eggs squeeze against your bulging opening. Even if you could squeeze, it feels too big to pass on your own, and the dozens of huge eggs that are nesting inside your colon has you whimper and moan as the tentacle down your throat finally pulls out completely, letting you gasp and cry softly in overstimulation as the wormlike tentacles down your urethra keeps sliding in and out and that velvety-soft orifice that engulfs your cock keeps on milking it to the point where it feels raw and chafed. Time loses meaning. The warm eggs up your ass seem unfertilized, just resting there, bulging out your stomach. The tentacles wrapped around your arms guide them down your body and your fingers feel your belly and the many knobs sticking out from under the fur, dozens of them, the lumps making you whimper. Your nose is vacated and you can take in the musky cocksmell again, another surge of arousal going through your body, one last drop of seed extracted from your spent cock and the orifice pulls back, the pleased and satisfied hum inside your brain growing louder as whatever it is trails down your body until it touches your gapes anus, engulfing the whole area with some kind of flattish surface and //injecting// your cum right back into you, the fluids spattering against the eggs that nest there. NOW you feel they are alive. They grow hotter. Warmer. Small tentacles breech your sphincter and undulate deep inside, making sure your semen touches every last egg, and they begin to vibrate. First gently and then furiously, your whole belly, which you are still forced to touch, feeling like a huge clump of worms that wiggle and push and prod in all directions. Then you feel a give, not in your body, but in one of the eggs, and tiny tentacles begin to wiggle and squiggle all over, making it feel like a worm infestation as the first eggs to receive your essence open and tiny ero-mimics push and prod at your anal opening from the inside. The hum in your brain grows fuzzy, almost like it is adoring the birthing as the fist-sized masses begin to squeeze out of your tailhole one after another, dragging themselves along your inner canals with their tiny tentacles, one after the other squelching out of your body until your stomach has deflated again and your gaping hole is finally allowed some rest. As this all happened, you felt gooey clumps being extracted as well, the jiggly remains of the eggs, and in the back of your head you are sure that all of the mimic-matter has exited your tailhole. (link:"The mimic pisses into your mouth")[You worry for your existence as your maw is prodded against again, the taste of your ass and your cum clear on the big tentacle, but it remains just at the tip of your tongue, oozing out its slime. This has the most potent taste yet, and it turns more watery, giving you the impression of morning piss, trickles of the fluids washing away tentacle slime, leaving a taste so sour and bitter on your tongue that your face scrunches up. You drink it all the same, letting the creature mark you, and the hum inside your brain mirrors your own budding arousal, cock still fully hard despite being emptied so thoroughly. The lid cracks open then and you a lifted outside, gently placed on the cold stone, and all of your gear is put down next to you. Even as tentacles retreat from your body, you are too exhausted to do anything other than groan weakly and as a farewell gesture the orifice tentacle appears, it slithers down to your crotch and engulfs your whole cock one last time, making you moan as it expertly suckles and squeezes every inch of sensitive skin, before it retreats back into the chest which lid closes with a solid //thunk//. Somewhat worried you eventually find the energy to touch your sphincter. It’s still very raw and sore, but there is no blood on your fingertips and you groan like an old man as you collect yourself and get on your footpaws. A cleaning cantrip gets rid of the slime and most of the musky cockstench on your gear, but it takes you a quarter of an hour to wash yourself down with supplies from your Bag Of Holding. After equipping yourself and checking that everything is in order, you turn tail to leave, very sore but also very satisfied despite how rough the ero-mimic got with you. [[Back->WinnerAlley]]]]]]] (if:visits >= 2)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->WinnerAlley]]] ] (if:(history: where its name contains "EroMimic")'s length >= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->WinnerAlley]]](if:(history: where its name contains "EroMimic")'s length <= 0)[(if:visits <= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, enticing you to creep closer. It’s pretty big, three yards on the long side, two on the short side, with a heavy-looking wooden lid almost as tall as you banded together with mithril. There’s a padlock on it, but it is opened, and you feel a bit uneasy as you step close, your innate desire to loot trinkets and keepsakes causing you to almost put a paw on the thing before you halt yourself and give it a thorough inspection. The ear-ring gifted to you by your master allows you to see magical hues, but none are present, and you carefully move from side to side of the big chest your eyes scanning it for any visible signs of traps or obfuscated glyphs of warding. Finally, you allow your fingertips to touch the wood, trailing them along the seal of the lid, poking at the bottom of the chest, even touching the stones underneath. And still you find nothing. Maybe this chest just holds supplies for the creatures in the menagerie, nothing worth locking up? Emboldened by your lack of findings you put your paws on the lid and //push//, the lightness of it surprising you making you stumble forward, almost falling into the grand chest. Then you see what’s hidden within and you squawk as you try to pull back, but it is too late, and a dozen tentacles fly out to wrap around your arms and your neck, a larger one wrapping around your body, and you are dragged into the chest, the lid closing with a thud, and slippery, slimy, squelchy noises are all around you, warm tentacles wrapping around you even further. A mimic! You struggle to get at your scabbards, but your arms are secured, you try to bite, but several smaller tentacles wrap around you muzzle, slimy lengths forcing it shut, slippery mucus working its way into your fur. Your nose huffs in air and the musky stink of //male// fills your nostrils, alongside other notes, bestial and monstrous. And then you feel a hum inside your head, a pleased hum, an aroused hum, the mimic is getting into your brain somehow, making you relax, making your clenched fingers unfurl. Your whole body goes limp as the hum fills up everything and in the darkness you see light, which turns to energy that passes through your being in a gentle current. Before the salubrious sensations wipe away your will to resist, your mind recalls this particular breed of monster. It’s an ero-mimic, it feeds off carnal energy you have read, not blood and bones and then the undulating mass of tentacles goes to work as its mystical powers culls your resistance to its advances. (link:"You undress yourself")[Guided, but moving on your own, your paws work at your buckles and belts, unwrapping yourself like the tasty gift you are. Your boots are pulled off and writhing and slimy tentacles slither up and down your soles, tickling, but hard enough to massage, the sensation sensual and erotic. Other tentacles, these with spiny suckers, pull at your undone trousers and leather slides against fur as they are dragged off, the same happening to the armour on your body and your undergarments until you are fully naked. Your member is already poking out of its entrance, and one, then another, then a third tentacle drag their tips along your sheath, poke at your balls, tickle the tip of your cock, each touch gentle and //warm//, each tentacle leaving a bit of slick slime that seeps into your white crotch-fur or sticks to your flesh. A bigger one wraps around your head, over your eyes, and it is soft enough to press firmly against your eyelids and fill out the two depressions without being hurtful to your squeezed orbs. Smaller tentacles poke at your ears, getting into the tufty orifices, poking and prodding, making you idly fear they will penetrate into your brain. They don’t, instead squeezing themselves snugly into your ear canal, squelching sounds heard //most// clearly as they go in and out in a slow and erotic manner, almost as if licking you, slime pooling inside and making it feel almost as if you are underwater. A larger tentacle slithers across your footpaw, then the other, then wraps around your ankle and the whole bed of tentacles shifts about as your leg is forced backwards, tentacles wrapping around the crook of your knee, a similar process happening to your other leg. Even if you wanted to resist, you couldn’t, as the soft and slimy give of the tentacles hides a brutal strength that could probably rip you apart on a whim. You whimper, your muzzle still forced shut by a myriad of smaller appendages, as your hips are rotated until your footpaws are somewhat close to your head, the tentacles around your knees squelching as they rub against the ones around your arms that are then pulled at and lifted away, over your head, leaving you exposed and utterly vulnerable to whatever happens next. Your breathing is quick, all air going through your nostrils, and the heavy musk that you are forced to inhale has your mind go even more woozy and weak. (link:"They are so warm...")[What surprises you the most about this underdark-dwelling creature is the //heat// it radiates. Everything is warm to the touch, and the slippery tentacles that wrap all around your body and limbs secrete slick slime that feels almost like candle-wax as it sticks to your fur and seeps in and touches your skin. Not hot enough to burn though, the warm splotches instead feeling sensual and as distinct markings while a large tentacle slithers between your exposed rump-cheeks, making the area slick as it pokes and prods up and down and from side to side, the tip of it then breaching you ever-so-slowly, still wiggling in all directions, stretching your hole much more gently than your master would using Evard’s Black Tentacles. You yearn for a heavier stretch, whining as you struggle to impale yourself on the thick appendage, but the hum in your brain changes pitch, almost like a laugh, and the big tentacle just prods and pokes and undulates its warm length inside by a fraction of an inch at a time. Soon you are panting through your nostrils, your cock fully hard and out of its sheat, and you feel other, smaller tentacles wrapping around and about, squeezing your knot, coiling around your shaft, a tiny, wormy tentacle poking at your urethral opening. You moan out from deep within your lungs as the worm-like, slimy, warm appendage squeezes itself inside your piss-slit, the part of the ero-mimic small enough to push deep without much resistance, the slick filling of your urethra making you gasp and groan as it begins to pull out again, before dipping even deeper, other tiny tentacles tickling your cockhead, poking and prodding, trying to gain access as gently as the one up your ass, which is now deep enough to rub at your prostate. Lightning hammers through your body as the mass of warmth grinds against your pleasure spot, your moans strange and warbled to your ears as they are still being molested by other tentacles that squelch and ooze out warm slime making your eartips flutter. There is another hum, almost a laugh again, and those are removed, instead writhing across your blinded face, tickling at your nostrils. With your muzzle forced close, the invading tentacles has you clench up as breath is stolen from your lungs. The small appendages slither up your sinuses, but so warm and slick that it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even tickle the sneeze reflex, until they are past and you feel the tips of them at the back of your throat, flickering about, warm slime going on your tongue making you taste the creature for the first time. It reminds you of cock, nothing more and nothing less, delicious, unwashed, musky cock, monstrous and strange, but you are used to serving all kinds of creatures with your mouth and ass. There is a squeeze at the top of your nose, the twin tentacles pulling, others retreating from your muzzle, some going to your bottom jaw, and your mouth is pried open, the two tentacles quickly joined by another much larger one that slides across your tongue and then straight down your gullet, the quick breath of air you were allowed not enough from stopping your lungs from burning as the slime-covered appendage worms its way down your throat. It only stays there for a few seconds before retreating, and then it begins a proper throatfuck where it pulls out to the tip of your tongue and then delves deep into your gullet on repeat. You sputter and gag around the cock-tasting tentacle, but at least you can manage a breath of air here and there. (link:"The mimic stretches your holes")[The tentacle in your urethra is joined by another one, the stretch noticeable yet pleasant, that needing-to-piss-urging-to-cum sensation sending shivers through your body as they wiggle and worm themselves in and out. The one up your ass has passed your seconds sphincter and is deep within your bowels, punching your guts with that bestial strength that conflicts with the slippery softness of the tentacles’ surfaces. It then retreats and a //massive// girth pokes at your tailhole, making you whimper-gurgle as the stretch becomes unbearable. You whine and cry out as a thickness as big as Zennobas’ knot demands entry and then scream out before your throat is plugged, the new tentacle pushing inside with remorseless power, splitting your backside open to the point where it feels like you are tearing and then undulating inside much faster than the first one. Still, despite the pain, the immense grinding sensation against your prostate, the wormlike tentacles up your urethra, the constant pokes and prods against your member and the tentacle wrapped around your knot, it all has you on the cusp of orgasm and your whole body, heated up by shared warmth, begins to tremor and shake as lightning passes through your being from all the sensations. You mewl like a bitch in heat as the plug-sized tentacle begins to punch in and out, going fully out of your gaping asshole and slamming right back inside with the speed of a feral canine. Your cock erupts, but the tentacles in your urethra blocks the passage and the pressure has you howl until their bestial strength has them separate outwards, stretching your urethra to quadrouble size, allowing your seed to shoot out. A warm, wet orifice engulfs your cock just as your cum erupts, snugly squeezing together and squeezing and milking you as jet after jet of puppybatter is emptied out of your stones. Meanwhile, the hard-punching tentacle up your ass shows no sign of slowing down and the one fucking your throat keeps up the pace until it remains embedded, its tip poking at your stomach somewhere under your ribcage, choking you out, making you clench up in panic as the seconds pass by, the knot-sized tentacle hammering your ass squeezed as you convulse from the lack of air. The appendage down your throat pulls out and you take in one, phlegmy breath before you are plugged again and something //big// tears your sphincter even further open. You would have screamed in pain if you could, but instead you have to bear the sensation of your clenching sphincter being split so wide you are sure that it is damaged. Something is moving //inside// the tentacle, passed along through it, almost like an egg, and you feel the immense object pass your ring with a //plop// before another one takes its place, stretching you out all over again. The ero-mimic eggs pass your almost-ruined tailhole one after the other, the big tentacle finally pulling out and you feel the warm and musky air travel into your body before one of the eggs squeeze against your bulging opening. Even if you could squeeze, it feels too big to pass on your own, and the dozens of huge eggs that are nesting inside your colon has you whimper and moan as the tentacle down your throat finally pulls out completely, letting you gasp and cry softly in overstimulation as the wormlike tentacles down your urethra keeps sliding in and out and that velvety-soft orifice that engulfs your cock keeps on milking it to the point where it feels raw and chafed. Time loses meaning. The warm eggs up your ass seem unfertilized, just resting there, bulging out your stomach. The tentacles wrapped around your arms guide them down your body and your fingers feel your belly and the many knobs sticking out from under the fur, dozens of them, the lumps making you whimper. Your nose is vacated and you can take in the musky cocksmell again, another surge of arousal going through your body, one last drop of seed extracted from your spent cock and the orifice pulls back, the pleased and satisfied hum inside your brain growing louder as whatever it is trails down your body until it touches your gapes anus, engulfing the whole area with some kind of flattish surface and //injecting// your cum right back into you, the fluids spattering against the eggs that nest there. NOW you feel they are alive. They grow hotter. Warmer. Small tentacles breech your sphincter and undulate deep inside, making sure your semen touches every last egg, and they begin to vibrate. First gently and then furiously, your whole belly, which you are still forced to touch, feeling like a huge clump of worms that wiggle and push and prod in all directions. Then you feel a give, not in your body, but in one of the eggs, and tiny tentacles begin to wiggle and squiggle all over, making it feel like a worm infestation as the first eggs to receive your essence open and tiny ero-mimics push and prod at your anal opening from the inside. The hum in your brain grows fuzzy, almost like it is adoring the birthing as the fist-sized masses begin to squeeze out of your tailhole one after another, dragging themselves along your inner canals with their tiny tentacles, one after the other squelching out of your body until your stomach has deflated again and your gaping hole is finally allowed some rest. As this all happened, you felt gooey clumps being extracted as well, the jiggly remains of the eggs, and in the back of your head you are sure that all of the mimic-matter has exited your tailhole. (link:"The mimic pisses into your mouth")[You worry for your existence as your maw is prodded against again, the taste of your ass and your cum clear on the big tentacle, but it remains just at the tip of your tongue, oozing out its slime. This has the most potent taste yet, and it turns more watery, giving you the impression of morning piss, trickles of the fluids washing away tentacle slime, leaving a taste so sour and bitter on your tongue that your face scrunches up. You drink it all the same, letting the creature mark you, and the hum inside your brain mirrors your own budding arousal, cock still fully hard despite being emptied so thoroughly. The lid cracks open then and you a lifted outside, gently placed on the cold stone, and all of your gear is put down next to you. Even as tentacles retreat from your body, you are too exhausted to do anything other than groan weakly and as a farewell gesture the orifice tentacle appears, it slithers down to your crotch and engulfs your whole cock one last time, making you moan as it expertly suckles and squeezes every inch of sensitive skin, before it retreats back into the chest which lid closes with a solid //thunk//. Somewhat worried you eventually find the energy to touch your sphincter. It’s still very raw and sore, but there is no blood on your fingertips and you groan like an old man as you collect yourself and get on your footpaws. A cleaning cantrip gets rid of the slime and most of the musky cockstench on your gear, but it takes you a quarter of an hour to wash yourself down with supplies from your Bag Of Holding. After equipping yourself and checking that everything is in order, you turn tail to leave, very sore but also very satisfied despite how rough the ero-mimic got with you. [[Back->FuckAlley]]]]]]] (if:visits >= 2)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->FuckAlley]]]] (if:(history: where its name contains "EroMimic")'s length >= 1)[At the end of the pitch-black alleyway the space opens up to a half-circular stone wall that is dotted with underdark lichens and slightly glowing mosses that has tiny feelers that ripple in the subtle currents of this area. Furthest away, a square chest stands, which you know contains an ero-mimic and its spawn which you birthed. You feel queasy about that thought and turn to leave. [[Back->FuckAlley]]]