Author's notes: Sorry for the huge gap in stories, life's been busy. I'm not sure how often I'll upload in the future but I still plan to write. As always, feedback is welcome!
Story Tags: Tentacle, monster, nonhuman and aphrodisiac
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Orthar prepared a firebolt spell as he stood at the threshold of the mansion. He and his adventuring partner, Jerald, had been hired to investigate the elegant estate. The townsfolk suspected that the owner had been experimenting with dark magic before he died. Being humble adventurers, the promise of gold and chance of finding magic items was far too alluring to resist.
Orthar was a younger adventurer with a relatively frail body and long black hair. His clothing was tattered and muddy from traveling with Jerald, while the cleric's armor was in pristine condition. Jerald was tall, for a halfling, standing about 4 foot 2. His plate armor gleamed in the evening light. His curly brown hair was covered in an expensive plate helmet. He had a stocky build, leading most people to assume he was a dwarf.
The door creaked open as Jerald pushed the door open, the cleric was ready to face the horrors that could dwell within the rumor shadowed manor. Instead of blood-covered walls, candles arranged in pentagrams or ancient relics of antediluvian evil, was a Victorian style foyer. A dark crimson rug covered the floor below an ornate chandelier. Several paintings of nature and prominent local figures covered the walls. Strangely the room gave off a pleasant and homely feeling.
"Orthar, you want to check the ground level? I'm going to check upstairs." Jerald phrased the question like a command.
"Split up? Are you sure?" The young wizard asked.
"Oh please, it'll be fine. I'll just be upstairs. If you find any monsters, just scream and I'll be right down. If I find anything, just listen for the sounds of terrified creatures." Jerald said with a cocky smile.
"O-Okay." Orthar stuttered.
The cleric marched up the stairs, his plate armor clanging with every step. Orthar loathed his partner's arrogance. Jerald's parents were renowned adventurers and had paid for all of his equipment. He, on the other hand, had to claw tooth and nail for his gear. Magic did not come naturally to him. He was too scrawny to even lift a great sword. In fact, Orthar barely grasped the many concepts of magic. However, he had learned enough to get him accepted at a mage's guild which saved him from living in the slums.
The two had ended up as travelling companions by mere chance. They had both stumbled on a family in a covered wagon being attacked by wolves. While Orthar didn't like Jerald's attitude, he didn't like getting injured more. At least Jerald could take a few more hits and keep most enemies distracted.
Orthar grumbled to himself as he searched the kitchen. Finding only a couple coins, he went further into the house. The owner had died a few weeks ago, yet people claimed to hear bizarre animalistic noises coming from within the house. Oddly, nothing was disturbed to indicate monsters but there was also a lack of dust so it appeared as though the mansion was still in use.
Then the young wizard opened a heavy wooden door. It must have been the owner's personal study. The walls were covered with hand carved, wooden bookshelves that held ancient tomes. A leather, high back chair was facing towards a massive fireplace. A small table of red wine and an empty wine glass rested on the fireplace mantle. A bearskin laid in front of the fireplace. Orthar immediately went towards the books and looked at the titles. This was much closer to what he was expecting, studies in dark magics, necromancy and occult rituals, but one book piqued his interests. The tome was titled, "Mimic Taming". Orthar scoffed, knowing mimics couldn't be tamed. Nevertheless, he pulled the book from its place. Sitting down in the high back chair, he opened the book and sipped the wine from the bottle. The book certainly had interesting theories that Orthar hadn't ever considered.
"Mimics, or Mimicus Bolaria, are known for disguising themselves as chests, doors or other everyday objects people are drawn towards. However, most believe mimics eat the victims...while in reality, they drain the victims of semen before releasing them after they've had their fill. As such, if someone offers a mimic seed regularly, they can be tamed..." Orthar read aloud.
Orthar sat, confused for a moment as he took another sip of wine.
"This guy was fucking insane. Who would just give up to a mimic?" The wizard thought aloud.
As he spoke, he briefly saw a large tentacle wrap over his eyes before his vision briefly went black. He naturally gasped, faintly smelling something sweet. His skin immediately heated up and cheeks flushed. Every inch of his body felt sensitive. His breathing became deep and ragged. Euphoria crept throughout his body, emanating from his spine. The thought of yelling for help didn't cross his mind as the stimulation flooded his mind.
Orthar slumped in the chair, the tip of the mimic chair's tongue gently parted his robes. The tongue exposed his flaccid manhood and gingerly licked his balls, making him moan softly. Unbeknownst to the wizard, he was sitting on the beast's tongue. Two tentacles unfurled from their concealment as the chair's arms. They wrapped around Orthar's wrists, eliciting a sharp gasp. It had been weeks since the monster had been fed and it wasn't going to risk its prey fleeing.
The mimic slid two more tendrils from the back of the chair, they went to work undoing the various buttons and straps of Orthar's clothing. With the mimic's every curious touch, the wizard squirmed in pleasure on its long, flat tongue. After he was disrobed, the tendrils traced circles around Orthar's nipples. He gasped at the overwhelming stimulation. His skin tingled as the slimy appendages slid over his flat chest, restraining him further. The tendrils finally coiled around his erect nipples. All the while, the mimic's skilled tongue licked and flicked his balls. He was already hard, his member swollen and twitching with excitement. It was begging for release.
Another tentacle slid out from the mimic, its tip resembled a mouth, with 3 smaller tendrils extending from the sides. The tendril positioned itself in front of his face. Orthar could only feel the slimy appendages trace over his face. The wizard shuddered with anticipation. He should have been terrified but all he could think about was the excitement of what this appendage was going to do to him. He got an answer quickly, the tentacles wrapped around his face, pulling the tendril's "lips" to his. They tasted like a mix of honey and strawberries, Orthar didn't even try to resist the urge to passionately kiss the faux mouth. His tongue danced with what he assumed was a mimicry of a human tongue. A thicker tentacle wrapped around his neck, lightly choking him. A muffled groan could be heard as the mimic's tongue traced from his sack to his shaft.
Orthar's hips bucked instinctively as his body begged to feel the mimic's tongue on his cock. The tongue slowly licked up his shaft, traced down to the base and licked upwards. The tongue wrapped around his tip before uncoiling, making Orthar moan lustfully. The flood of sensations was too much, Orther writhed and twisted in the mimic's embrace as the pleasure of release rocketed through his body. Orthar's eyes rolled up and his head felt like it was spinning as the mimic's hunger went into overdrive. The wizard's seed shot into the air and landed on his chest and waist with a soft splat. Anywhere his cum touched, the mimic greedily lapped it up. The young human sighed passionately as the mimic licked his body.
The young wizard had never felt this level of pleasure in his life, he moaned loudly into the mouth tentacle. Their tongues sliding over one another, making lewd slurping noises. The mimic's real tongue glossed over Orthar's body, eagerly drinking his cum. It then returned to his manhood, snaking around his still throbbing member. Its licking forced the young man to pant with every breath and moan with every lick. His will was snapped like a twig as he lost himself in the sexual haze of the mimic's oral onslaught.
