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A Word of Caution

Welcome to the realm of the Unseelie Court. Feel free to wander and browse, but know that the content you will find here is not for the faint of heart. The visions portrayed are often darkly erotic, even disturbing, and should be traversed only by those with the appropriate character and mental age.

You have been warned.


Peleial peered over the spellbook she was studying when the little bell above their door chimed-in a visitor. The Dryad’s Dream had been surprisingly quiet of late, even for the off-season in Holsfield. It was a great time to work on the lessons in magic that Wendel had given her, but the lack of patrons was brutal on business. She watched as Briddle greeted the tall figure, ever the happy host. Her infectious optimism and warmth were hard to resist, and the half-dryad really did seem to enjoy her new profession. Of course, almost anything would be an improvement over her former station.

She saw the girl take the figure’s coat, while pointing in her direction. A lanky man with spectacles was somewhat nervously making his way over to her table. With a soft sigh, she let her feet slide off the chair that had been propping them up, and marked the page in her book.

“Are… are you a wizard,” asked the man, stuttering slightly. He had the appearance of someone who had spent much too much of their life behind a desk. The slight bow of his back, the glasses, his smooth and unmarred hands – all spoke of someone who preferred a life of quiet over one of violence or adventure.

“Wizard in-training,” she answered, smiling. It still felt odd to her, to hear the title. Learning magic was the last thing she expected to be doing with her life, but here she was. Her sister Lawen was always the bookworm. “My name is Peleial. I’m afraid Master Wendel is away on business. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m not sure. Forgive me, I’m not at all familiar with the realm of magic.”

“That’s alright. Please, have a seat, Mr…”

“Fobbs,” he said drawing out a chair. “Garmin Fobbs.”

Right on cue, Briddle placed two large steaming mugs on their table.

“Thanks, Bri,” she said, grateful for the girl’s natural intuition. The warm broth was just what she needed, and she smiled as the girl turned and headed back to the bar. The man was just staring at his mug.

“Oh, it’s just some clear vegetable soup to warm you up. Compliments.”

He looked surprised, and then relieved. “Sorry, I thought it might be a… potion or something.”

Peleial laughed softly. “No. Just plain old broth. No magic, if that’s what you’re worried about. Briddle is a wonder in the kitchen, but she likes to do things more… traditionally.”

Taking a small sip, Mr. Fobbs’ brows rose slightly. “It’s.. good!”

She smiled and took a drink herself. “Yes, it is. So what can I do for you, Mr Fobbs?”

“Well, I was hoping to hire the Wizard to help me with a problem. A magical problem… I think.”

“You’re not sure?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure of anything, except that whatever it is, it’s not… natural.”

Her curiosity peaked, Peleial leaned forward a bit. “I see. Well, perhaps you should start at the beginning…”

After a second sip from his mug, the man took a deep breath, which he let out slowly.

“I’m a simple man. My work is in accounting mostly, tracking various properties in the city. They hire me to assess vacant or abandoned homes and buildings. I was responsible for the transfer of ownership of this property, actually.” He looked around, smiling slightly, and then leaned-in himself so he could speak in a more hushed voice. “I have to say, I very much like what you have done here. Under Mr. Brent… well, let’s just say, his yearly assessments were never very… pleasant.”

He leaned back again. “About a month and a half ago, I was ordered to assess a two story residence out in Farling. The city had been unable to contact the owner for some time, and when the local Constable forced entry, he discovered that the single resident had apparently died naturally in her sleep many months previous.

“There was no will, and no relatives could be found. In such cases, the property reverts to the city, which is why my office was contacted for the assessment.” He stopped and took a bit more soup.

“As is my practice, I sent one of my lesser assistants over to do the preliminaries. Basic noting of assets, general condition of the property, etc. Lessa was her name. Lovely girl, I dare say not much older than your barkeep.” He glanced briefly at Briddle. “I like to give students a leg up when I can,” he added. “Some of the university hires can be… well, less than reliable. But not Lessa. She was an excellent worker. Always punctual, and took her work with the upmost seriousness.”

“‘Was’ an excellent worker?” noted Peleial.

The man sighed, sadly. “That afternoon was the last time I saw her. In fact, she hasn’t been seen by anyone since. She had no family here in the Veil, that I am aware of, so there wasn’t even anyone to contact about her disappearance.”

The she-elf frowned. “I’m so sorry…”

“Obviously, I suspected foul play, being that she was a pretty thing and all. So I called the Constable to take a look. He searched the property but found no signs of mis-doings, though he did recover her notebook, so we knew she had arrived. In fact, when I checked, it appeared that she had done her assessment of the whole house save for the attic, which is where they found the ledger.”

Peleial was sincerely touched by the man’s story. “I’m not really sure what we can do to help you, Mr Fobbs. We don’t really specialize in missing persons…” she said, sadly.

He held up his hand. “Oh no… there’s more.”

She nodded.

“I still needed to finish the assessment, so I went to the property myself to do just that, and as soon as I entered the attic, I knew something was… wrong.”

“Go on,” she prompted him.

“I can’t quite explain what I felt, except that I sensed a… presence, and had the distinct impression that I was being observed. There was no one else there – I could see that clearly enough, but I would swear on my mother’s grave that I was by no means alone in that space.”

“Hmm…” commented Peleial, rubbing her chin. “It could be a specter I suppose.”

“I know not of such things, but I left at once, terrified.”

“You did the right thing, sir.”

He sighed. “Perhaps, but I feel such shame at having run so quickly, even if just for Lessa’s sake. I know I’m not responsible for the girl, but she was under my employ, so I felt I should at least know what became of her, if only for the records.” He shook his head. “But it was all so… off.”

The elf frowned. “How so?”

“Well, the feelings, for sure, but also the air. There was even an odd smell…”

“Like wet copper and lilacs?” she offered.

He looked up at her suddenly, his eyes wide.

“How did you?…”

“Magic, Mr. Fobbs. You were smelling magic.”

He was visibly stunned. “But I… I’m not, I mean… I’m just an accountant. How can I smell magic?!”

“It’s a little uncommon in humans, but certainly not unheard of by any means. Not to worry. It just shows that you are sensitive to that realm. It’s a good thing.”

He seemed to relax a bit. “What does it indicate… the magic?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Mmm. Could be a lot of things. Specters, as I mentioned, but also spells, magical items, demonic entities…”

“Demonic?!” The man visibly paled.

“Don’t worry. Master Wendel is quite capable of dealing with such nasties. We all are, actually…” she added, remembering.

He was shaking his head. “You are braver than I, miss.”

“To be honest, I suspect that it may just be a simple fear charm to keep people away from something the previous tenant wanted private.”

“A charm?…”

She smiled. “Sure. It’s a spell that activates unders certain conditions, in this case, it would be when anyone comes into the attic. It could feel exactly like what you described to me, and can even include visual aberrations to enhance the effect… You know, like visions of ghosts or monsters, or various undead.”

“Oh my goodness! I had no idea… But, that doesn’t explain Lessa’s disappearance.”

“No, it doesn’t,” agreed the she-elf. “Is it possible that she was frightened away, and just kept on running all the way to some other town nearby, or a friend’s?”

“Anyone else, possibly. But not Lessa. She might have been frightened out of the building, but I’m certain she would have come straight back to the office. After all this time, she would have at least contacted me. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, that does present a mystery,” she commented, thinking. “Tell you what, Mr. Fobbs. Why don’t I drop by the property tonight and take a look. If nothing else, I can get a feel for what we’re dealing with so that we’re prepared when my Master returns two days from now.”

“Would you really?! I can’t tell you how much that would help me sleep. I don’t care what it is, miss. I just want it taken care of. It would be nice to know what became of my assistant as well, but that is secondary to ridding whatever phantom is living in that attic. Only… Forgive my ignorance, especially as an accountant, but I have no idea how much such services cost…”

She reached out and placed a hand on the man’s forearm. “Let’s consider this a preliminary consultation. Come back on Monday, and you can work out the details with Master Wendel once we understand the nature of your trouble. But generally speaking, the costs are minimal. Sadly, wizarding doesn’t pay like it used to…”

Later, Peleial sat at the bar nursing an ale while she stared down at the small slip of paper in front of her. Briddle was wiping dry a wine glass on the other side of the counter.

“So… are you really going to go check it out by yourself,” she asked. “You could wait until Wendel returns with Taya and your sister.”

“It’s probably just a charm. I’ll be fine. If it’s anything more than that, I’ll get out of there and return with reinforcements.”

“Just be careful, okay? I know you’re trying to show him that you’re ready for more advanced work, but…”

“Don’t worry, Bri. I’ll take one of Wendel’s older staves, just in case. I’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“If you say so.”

A light snow was falling as she stood in front of the old building later that night, and the she-elf was having second thoughts. She double checked the address on the paper, and then fumbled with the keys that Garmin Fobbs had given to her to get in. With a click, the heavy wood door creaked open and she stepped inside.

Tapping the base of the too-tall staff in her hand to the ground, the top lit and cast out a soft blue light until she could clearly see all around her. It felt weird stepping into someone else’s home. Everything was exactly where the owner had left it when she died, though covered with a fine layer of dust. It was almost as though the coating was holding the place in a state of suspended animation.

Closing the door behind her, she did a quick scan of the lower floors, and then moved up to the attic. She smelled the magic even before she opened the door into the space.

“Pfew…” she said aloud, grimacing. “Whatever you are, you reek with necromancy.” She pointed the end of the staff ahead of her as she let the portal creak open. Peleial saw no strange creatures, no demons, no odd magical instruments – but Mr. Fobbs was quite right about the presence. She hadn’t taken more than a single step into the odd-shaped room before she too was certain that she wasn’t alone. The feeling of being watched was palpable, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in nervousness. She considered how she was reacting, and frowned. As an elf, she had a certain amount of natural protection from such magical influences, so if this was all the work of a charm, then it was a really good one. Maybe she should wait for Wendel…

“No,” she said aloud. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

The attic space wasn’t overly cluttered, but was obviously used for storage. There was an old roll-top desk, a pair of chairs, about a half dozen wooden crates, a large round-top chest, and a tall, full-length mirror. It was this last that she gave scrutiny first. Mirrors were often homes to specters and ghosts, and so the item was suspect. Muttering a few choice words, she lowered the staff so that it pointed at the mirror. There was a soft glow, which faded after a second or two, and then… nothing. Frowning, she moved closer, examining the frame and the base. If there were any sort of endoplasmic entity within the piece of furniture, then her spell should have revealed it.

Unconvinced, she kept her eye on the mirror while she moved on to the desk. The roll-top was open and mostly empty. There was a bottle of ink, nibs, and several sheets of paper under an undisturbed layer of dust. Apparently the owner used the desk at least a little for something other than storage.

Staring down at the desktop, it occurred to Peleial that she was quite warm, sweltering actually. She frowned and looked about. She saw no visible heat source, but the room was obviously unlike the rest of the house, which had been as cold as a tomb. Was it the magic?

Whatever the case, she was quickly becoming quite uncomfortable. The long leather coat she chose for the evening was fine for the weather outside, but up here, it was hellishly warm. Sighing, the elf wiped the worst of the dust from the top of the desk, and then slipped off the over garment. She set it atop the rolltop with her gloves, and was considering what to do next, when she noticed the dust in the air.

In the blue light of the staff, it looked surprisingly like the falling snow outside, including the way that it gradually settled back to the ground. She followed the tiny specks and gasped. On the floor she could clearly see the bootprints she had made since she entered. The heavy leather soles made distinct marks in the soft covering. But she could also see another set of much lighter prints. A good deal of dust had fallen since they were made, but perhaps if she could study them more closely, she might be able to determine what had happened to Mr. Fobbs’ wayward apprentice.

The second set of prints were pretty dim, which presented a problem. If she were going to get anything from them, she was going to have to get closer. But in doing so, her own boot prints would disturb the scene.

“The Mother’s Grace…” she said to herself. Peleial hadn’t used the old elf ability since she was a child. Once she realized her parents had other means of tracking her, the natural skill seemed a little pointless. Basically, it allowed someone of elfkind to move without leaving a trace. No tracks. While useless to hide from one’s elders, it would be the perfect solution here. Of course, it wouldn’t work with her boots on, but it wasn’t like she needed them. Her feet were swimming in sweat from the warmth anyway.

Pulling off the footwear, she set them aside and concentrated. It took her a minute to get it right – it had been decades – but smiled when she was finally able to step forward without making the slightest imprint into the dust.

“Alright… talk to me,” she said to the marks on the floor.

It wasn’t easy. Peleial had never been a stellar tracker, and it didn’t help that she had already mucked up a good section of the scene. She cursed herself for not thinking things through. Wendel would be disappointed. But, there was nothing for it and she applied herself to the task, gradually seeing the patterns.

She could tell that the girl Lessa had entered the room and gone straight to the desk, probably to set down her notebook. There were a number of other tracks right near the door that probably belonged to Fobbs and the Constable. Fobbs had been scared off before he even entered, and the lawman had simply walked to the desk as well, probably to recover the ledger. Everything else on the floor was either her tracks, which were fresh, or Lessa’s.

She recreated the girl’s path in her mind, following her from the desk, to the crates, to the mirror. She probably took a moment to admire herself in the large reflector before finally moving to stand in front of the chest.

There the tracks stopped.

“Son of a bitch…” she whispered. Was she in there? The girl would certainly be dead after six weeks… and it didn’t explain how she could lock herself in. A poltergeist perhaps? There were no other tracks on the floor, so either she did it herself – not impossible, but unlikely – or there was another entity at play that was also capable of moving without leaving tracks.

There was only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Peleial moved up in front of the chest. It was quite large, but otherwise unremarkable, and had a single massive turn-clasp at the front, which looked scuffed and slightly rusted. Trying it, she found she could only get the mechanism to move about a quarter turn before it stuck. She sighed again, and placed the staff against the crates just to the right of the chest so that she could use both hands.

The second she returned to the latch to renew her efforts, she felt the change. The smell of magic grew suddenly stronger, and before she could react, something warm and wet whipped around each of her wrists.

“AHHH!” she screamed, and would have jumped straight into the air if not for the fact that her hands were neatly trapped in what appeared to be coils of dark pink flesh. Like long tongues, the tentacle-like appendages extended out of what she saw was the now open chest, and wound several times around her wrists before slithering halfway up her arms. The top of the chest continued to open slowly on its own, and Peleial’s heart sank into panic and despair. She knew what this was.

“Shit!… A fucking Mimic? Here?!”

She pulled to free herself from its grip without success. No surprise there. The fel creatures weren’t exceptionally fast or intelligent, but they were quite strong, and utterly relentless. They used magic and deception to lure their prey close enough to grasp them. Once captured, it was exceedingly difficult to break free. A victim would be slowly pulled inside the living artifact where they were suffocated and then gradually digested like any other meal. Once within the creature, there was rarely any hope of escape.

She cursed herself for not seeing what was so obvious now. Granted, most Mimics were highly resistant to detection, even by magic, but there were plenty of clues that should have tipped her off. All that was irrelevant now, of course. If she couldn’t get herself free in the next few minutes, then she was as good as dead.

She twisted and pulled at the fleshy ropes, but they only slipped further up her arms, locking her in – and they were starting to pull.

The lid of the “chest” opened further until it was nearly vertical, and Peleial found she had a very up-close view into the rest of the creature. It was a glistening sack of flesh and sinew within, with an abundance of smaller nubs and tendrils that all moved independently in a mesmerizing dance. A wave of humid warm air blew up from the faintly luminous innards of the box, and Peleial gasped. A second later she realized that to be yet another mistake, since she instantly felt dizzy and weak. She’d expected the inside of the creature to smell foul, like death or rotting flesh. Instead, it was a fragrant collection of intoxicants. Everything from wildflowers to cinnamon to freshly baked bread. She was several breaths in before she understood the tricky little bit of magic was designed to cause her to do exactly that. She would smell whatever she found the most appealing in order to get her to breathe deep. Now, she drew back in disgust and fear, but was distracted just enough to miss the second set of tentacles that had reached around her feet.

“Ahh! NO! Not good… Come on, Pel, figure this out!”

She watched in horror as the glistening limbs stretched out from somewhere along the outside edge of the chest, and continued to climb around her legs. Now she was doubly stuck. Even if she managed to get her hands loose – a prospect that seemed increasingly unlikely – it could still still keep her from getting away completely. Her eyes rolled back momentarily as the creature’s sweet poison settled into her lungs, and she fully understood how critical it was that she get out of range fast.

To her right, sitting tantalizingly close, was Wendel’s staff. But it might as well have been back at the Dryad’s Dream for all the good it would do her now. Unfortunately, almost all the magic that she had learned to date, required either a staff, or full use of her hands. Since she had neither, she was virtually helpless where spells were concerned.

She was just considering whether any of her learned magic could be cast by chant alone, when something tugged at her hip. Looking down, she saw that at least one of the long tendrils of flesh from below, had reached up and around high enough to hook over the side of her pants. She didn’t understand what it was doing until a second tendril started playing with her belt buckle. She watched with her mouth open as the creature’s extended limb nimbly pulled her belt loose, and then joined the other in trying to work the garment over her hips.

“Are you kidding me!?” exclaimed the she-elf as she helplessly watched her pants and panties slide slowly down her legs. “There are sixteen different variants of you fuckers, and I get the perverted one?… That SO figures…”

More tentacles joined in at her arms, reaching right up her limbs until they started to snake around her neck and shoulders. She felt the cooler air on her chest and cursed. Smaller tendrils had climbed her arms like vines and grasped hold of her shirt. The garment was drawn up her bent body until it was slipped right over her head, leaving her naked save for a bit of jewelry. And then the creature once again resumed its slow and irresistible pull as it sought to gradually drag her within itself.

“Shit… shit…” the elf muttered in quickly building panic. She tried to forestall her forward motion by grasping the edge of the ‘chest’ with her hands, but the creature was ready for this and not only pulled her hands away, but moved them individually outward so that the rest of her head and torso could be secured and used against her.

“Oh gods… no… NO!” she cried as she was bent over the edge of the chest, her upper body now leaning right over the dark, wet maw of the Mimic’s innards. Her knees pressed against the front of the beast, even as her head was pulled down. She could feel the moist heat of its glistening flesh as more of the cursed air rose up and filled her lungs, weakening and disorienting her yet again. The Mimic curled her so that her center was leaning dangerously over the edge… and then released her feet.

Peleial made only a single sharp gasp before her torso flipped straight over. She managed to tuck her head, but with her hands bound near the front, top corners of the creature’s rectangularly shaped form, the she-elf suddenly found herself sitting inside the space she had just been staring down into a moment earlier. Her hands were still trapped in long sinewy tentacles, so she could barely move, and by the time she reoriented herself and figured out what had happened, her feet had been recaptured as well. It was a slick maneuver, and Peleial had to concede, quite effective.

“Nooo…” she moaned, as her hope of escape diminished rapidly. All around her, the flesh of the Mimic was moving and shifting as it hungrily reached around her body, securing her in place. She struggled and thrashed, looking for any weakness in the trap, but she was stuck tight. More so, Peleial was now forced to breathe nothing but the toxic magic that was slowly sapping away her resistance. She could already feel her muscles relaxing as her mind drifted in and out of a euphoric fog.

But still, she fought, doing her best to stay focussed and awake. She knew that if she passed out now, she was done. The magical poisons in her blood would have worked much more quickly on poor Lessa, a human. She understood what had obviously happened to the girl, though the hindsight was somewhat useless now. Every time she filled her lungs, she grew just a little weaker, and it was with great dread and panic, that she saw the ‘lid’ of the chest slowly closing above her. With a squishy plop, the she-elf’s final scream of rebellion was cut off, and the attic of the old house was once again quiet and still.

There was nothing she could do. She was bound and utterly helpless inside living cage of flesh. No one would be coming to her rescue – they wouldn’t consider her missing for hours, maybe even days. And even once her friends did suspect something might be wrong, they wouldn’t know where to look. Enclosed within the mimic in the attic of an abandoned building, no one would hear her desperate cries for help. Just like Lessa, she would soon suffocate and be digested. She doubted even her bones would be left in a week.

Resigned to her fate, she considered the wayward girl, and what must have been going through her mind at the end. Unlike the human, Peleial could see clearly the inside of her prison. Her elf eyes gradually adjusted until every horrible detail of the creature around her became apparent. Not so Lessa, who would have spent her last few minutes of life in total darkness. A pretty crappy way to go… Not that being able to see made the she-elf any less afraid. The sinewy flesh of the Mimic was still shifting and winding around her body, slowly moving her. She didn’t understand what it was doing until she felt her feet sliding apart.

“What the hell,” she commented as the fel creature gradually pulled at her lower limbs such that her feet were pressed into the upper corners. Weakened by the toxic air, she couldn’t put up much resistance, though she tried anyway. Once there, new tendrils reached out and swirled around her ankles, locking her in place. The new position had her spread quite lewdly, and Peleial frowned. Something wasn’t right. She was just starting to wonder why she was even still conscious, when there was a feather-light brush of warmth over her left nipple, causing her to gasp sharply.

“Ahh! Hey!” she complained, looking down at her chest. To her surprise, there was a slightly thicker tentacle of flesh sliding around her breast from behind her, its end raised up above the dark peak like a snake rearing back to strike. What would have been the ‘head’ of the snake was an odd, three fingered split with a wispy-looking tangle of tiny tendrils reaching out from the center of this flower-like structure. It had been the smaller tendrils that had brushed over her nipple. Even as she watched, the tentacle moved quickly closer, allowing the head to reach forward and settle directly over the cone-like peak.

“What are you dooOOOHHH SHHIT!” she gasped again as a wave of pleasure fanned out from her chest. The thinner little tendrils lightly wrapped around the rosy flesh, while the tri-fingers tugged and pinched her incredibly sensitive nub into a hardened, tingling firestorm of erotic pleasure. Stunned, the elf realized at once that such behavior couldn’t be accidental. The Mimic had formed that appendage with the full intent of using it to arouse her sexually.

Sure enough, before she had even had a chance to adjust to the pleasure at her left tit, her right was captured in a similar way.

“Fuuuuuckk…” she breathed, trembling in near ecstasy.

Peleial knew this was bad, despite how amazingly good it felt. Fel creatures didn’t have friendly recreational sex. If the Mimic was trying to get her rocks off, then it almost certainly had a sinister reason for doing so.

“Th-that’s not f-f-fair!…” she commented, as she pulled at her trapped hands. Her breath came in sharp little gasps, and she tossed her head back and forth to try and clear away some of the arousal that was threatening to overwhelm her. It wasn’t working. The twin tentacles at her chest continued to play with her nipples, teasing and seducing her, and Peleial decided that the Mimic, though intellectually simplistic, was shockingly good at arousing her. In her current drugged state, it probably could have managed an orgasm by nipple stimulation alone, but it was clever, backing off when it sensed she was close. It did this over and over again, each time making her just a tiny bit more desperate for release.

To add to her frustration, it also started drooling.

She noticed the first few drips on her belly, and didn’t really think anything of it, but when streams of slime started landing on her thighs and chest and head, it was obvious that she was being liberally lubricated. Long runnels of the thin honey-like drool were sliding sensuously over her every curve. Not one inch of her was spared, and for a second, she considered that the liquid could be digestive juices. But, even after several minutes, there were no burning sensations.

A subtle change in the ‘floor’ directly in front of her caught her eye, and the elf’s mouth dropped open. A new appendage had formed and was slowly rising up before her apex. The paddle-like extension looked like a gloved hand, only where the palm and fingers would be, were hundreds of short tendrils, all twisting and writhing in what seemed like frenzied anticipation.

Peleial had a pretty good idea where this new appendage would end up, and she also knew that there was no way in hell she was going to keep herself from having an orgasm when it did.

“Oh sh-shit…”

As if to purposely increase the anticipation, she watched the writhing mass move closer and closer until the first few tendrils were just grazing the edges of her sex, and there it paused.

The elf whimpered in frustration. “Just get it over with, dammit!”

But the paddle only moved fractionally closer, so that the longest of the tendrils could just tickle the length of her folds. Her arousal was agonizing. It was another five minutes again before the paddle inched even closer, and her apex was bathed in the light caresses of two dozen or more of the thin fingers, each just teasing her gates. Some slipped right through her center, playfully opening her so that others could touch her more intimately before moving on. It was a maddening sexual torture, and before long, the she-elf was shaking with need, absolutely desperate for release, and just as powerless to achieve it. She was completely at the mercy of the Mimic’s cruel foreplay.

And finally, when she was literally sobbing in frustration, it happened. With a quick rush, the mass on the paddle-like appendage moved abruptly forward and settled with a wet plop right onto her sex. The tendrils were suddenly everywhere; they slid through her folds, pressing right inside her, while at the same time sliding around her clitoris as well as teasing the entrance of her anus. They opened her, and gripped her, and sucked at her in ways that all together pushed her hard over the edge into bliss.

“AhhhUGHNNN!!” she screamed, her whole body tensing into orgasm. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She was simply drowned by the impossible pleasure that seemed to go on and on without slowing. It didn’t help that the Mimic continued to assault her most sensitive flesh even while she came. The she-elf nearly pulled her own arms out of their sockets trying in vain to escape the onslaught that punished her overstimulated body. But it was many long minutes before the creature finally backed off just enough to let her come back down to earth. With her chest heaving, and her whole form still trembling in shock at what she had just experienced, Peleial felt the unmistakable sensation of magic leaving her.

Or rather, mana – the soul essence of magic that all creatures in the Veil held within them. It was the power behind the crafting of sorcerers and wizards, the healing charms of clerics, even the innate natural abilities such as her Mother’s Grace. Mana could be found in elf and humankind alike, though her own race had a somewhat closer connection to the Veil, and so a slightly better inherent capacity to store and recover mana that was used in spellcraft. But mana, like any form of energy, could be transferred, amplified, or even stolen. It was this last aspect that Peleial realized she was experiencing.

“No…” she moaned, feeling the odd tugging, as though a thousand invisible threads were being pulled from deep inside her body through her skin. It wasn’t a painful sensation; more like an itch that she couldn’t scratch. She had felt it before of course, working with Wendel as a wizard in training. But for spells, the experience was more of a release… This time, the mana was being sucked right from her body, leaving her feeling weak and violated. She now understood why the Mimic was tormenting her sexually – it was using the pleasure as a way to link into her magical energy… it was feeding on her mana.

In a normal sexual encounter, one shared mana. You gave a little of yourself to your partner, and in return, receive something of them back. In most cases the act itself would amplify the shared energy so that both parties were enriched. It also allowed a simple bond to form, if only temporarily, since the mana essence contained very personal aspects of the individual. Every emotion – fear, love, joy – it all went into the mana pool like spices in soup. Sharing mana was like tasting another’s soul.

It was for this reason that Peleial was suddenly so frightened. The Mimic wasn’t simply going to use her physical body as food… it appeared as though it was going to drain her of her mana first, which meant that the shattering orgasm that had just been forced on her was about to be repeated over and over again until every last bit of that magical essence had been sucked out of her. Worse, not only would she get nothing back as she might in a normal sexual encounter, but each and every time she came, the Mimic would see into her soul. It would be violating her in a way that was far worse than the physical experience. Rape was nothing new to the she-elf, even at the hands of slimy fel creatures. She could steel her mind against the trauma that inflicted, even focus on just the pleasure. But this… the Mimic was taking something far more intimate. It was as though the creature were raping her soul.

Frightened as she was, Peleial realized something else. The fact that it was feeding on her in this way wasn’t entirely negative; the process would likely take a while, and every minute she was still alive, was a minute longer someone on the outside had to find her. Of course, that also meant her torture would be that much longer as well, but she liked living. She could either give up and give in; shortening her suffering, or fight for each moment and give herself a chance – albeit a ridiculously slim chance, but a chance at rescue nonetheless. She needed to try and resist.

Actually making that happen, however, was going to be tough. She was bound and held completely open to the whims of a creature that she had already seen to be quite good at arousing her. Shockingly so. Struggling did nothing but tire her physically (not that she could resist), and it wasn’t like the Mimic was going to listen to her pleas or bargaining. It was incredibly patient… which worked both for and against her. It seemed to like drawing out her pleasure slowly, which made sense. It gave her more rescue time, but the harder she came, the deeper the connection… and the more mana it could draw from her. She was considering how else she might fight against what was coming when her captor started working on her again.

The tentacles playing with her breasts had never stopped their slow seduction, but she noticed right away when they renewed their attention to her nipples. Fortunately, they were still focussing on the peaks of her breasts and not the whole of her mounds, which would have been way worse. Likewise, the mass of slippery tendrils sliding over and into her sex woke up and lifted away slightly. The Mimic was clever. It wasn’t enough to just stimulate her endlessly in the same way. Sure, it would probably get her off… a few more times anyway, but eventually she would start getting used to it. Instead, the creature was smart enough to return to the slower seduction, letting her body recover slightly so that she could be teased and tricked into a higher state of arousal. She might have grown numb to a full assault… but the slow torture bypassed her conscious mind and appealed directly to her most primal instincts. Resisting was going to be harder than she thought.

As before, it started with the lightest of touches, just slipping over her folds. She was a lot more sensitive now of course, so every tiny caress caused her to jump and twitch.

“Aww, sh-shiiit…” she stammered, her body already straining to pull away from the erotic torture. “C-come on, P-Pel… ughnn… F-Fight it!”

The thin tendrils were a bit more bold this time, some holding her flower open, while others reached within her and slowly lapped at the inside of her tunnel, sliding languidly in and out of her body independently, so that there wasn’t a single moment when she wasn’t being penetrated by the slippery fingers.

Shivering in rising pleasure, she cursed. Her body was reacting too quickly. “F-Fuck that feels g-good… ahhh… AHH!… Nooo, damnit! Not y-yet!… unghmmm… AHH!” Peleial could feel herself nearing her moment, but just when she thought she was going to come, the tendrils playing within her slowed.

“AHH… Oh g-gods!… ughnnn!”

It was teasing her again, only this time she was collapsing into a panic much more quickly. The fel beast had hardly been working on her for five minutes and she was already a shaking wreck. Its new pace was agonizing. It had taken her right to the edge, and was holding her there, building her arousal bit by slow bit until she was trembling with need, every muscle in her body tensing and straining. On and on it teased her… ten minutes, twenty. Finally unable to take it any longer, she thrashed her head back and forth and screamed at the Mimic to just take her… to let her come. She begged it to fuck her. She couldn’t stand the thin tendrils anymore, and started to envision her body being ravished by something much more phallic. She wanted to feel it come within her, filling her to overflowing with its warmth. But it ignored her pleading and continued to work her gently for nearly forty long minutes, at which time, her eyes had started to glaze over, her mind drifting into near unconsciousness. And that’s when it struck.

In a rapid motion, a half dozen tendrils slipped around her clitoris, while the rest of the mass abruptly settled over her apex again. Peleial was crashing into orgasm even as the Mimic extended itself right to her deepest core where the many tendrils continued to twist and writhe around each other in a wild dance that held her in orgasmic bliss for so long, that when it did at last draw out in a rush, the she-elf went completely limp. It was at least five minutes more before her eyes finally rolled forward and she could focus again.

Her muscles were spent. Her strength gone. If the fel creature chose to open up and released her, she wouldn’t have had the energy necessary to pull herself out of the fleshy box and escape. As before, she had felt the mana leaving her, even more than before, and knew that at this rate, she wouldn’t last the evening.

Peleial just panted, trying to catch her breath. Idly, she wondered how long the human, Lessa had lasted against such terrible pleasure. Surely not more than an hour… Her meager human mana would have been depleted after two or three orgasms. Of course, she herself wasn’t on track to do much better. She just couldn’t seem to resist what the Mimic was doing to her. It was like it already knew exactly what she was up to, and the best way to break her.

Even as the thought occurred to her, she knew the answer.

“The mana…” she said aloud, her voice hoarse from her previous cries of ecstasy. Of course the devilish thing knew she was trying to resist it! The mana being sucked from her body contained her thoughts, her desires, even how she felt physically at that moment. It was a literal impression of the elf herself! Like the imprint of a key pressed into wax, the Mimic could read her magical energy and know precisely what she was thinking. It had sensed her plan to stall and had decided the best recourse was to drive her more quickly to exhaustion. Now that she was utterly spent, resistance would be a thousand times harder. It would also know how best to arouse her to achieve that goal. It had played her perfectly, stroking her flower in just the right way to drive her wild, but not push her over the edge. It knew, because she knew… because she had imagined it doing exactly that!

A new fear started to enter her mind. If she were right, then every time she came, and the Mimic drained her, the creature would be getting a better and better picture of who she was. It would eventually know her as well as she knew herself, if it didn’t already. Since it had effectively dashed her hopes of resisting it, all it had to do now was get her cumming in a way that she couldn’t stop… After a few dozen orgasms, she’d be done. And once it had sucked away every last drop of her mana, it would simply stop feeding her air, let her quietly pass into oblivion, and then treat her like any other bit of food.

She moaned in dread when she felt the slippery flesh changing again. Right on cue, the fine tendrils previously playing with just her nipples, fanned out and covered her breasts completely. She gasped. It was already happening… Too late, she understood that this was exactly how she imagined that the twin tentacles could arouse her the most. And she wasn’t disappointed in that regard. An exquisite pleasure blossomed at her chest and she involuntarily arched her back. At her hips, more tendrils were reaching in over her pelvis, tickling and tantalizing her, and between her legs, she started to feel a light touch at her rear as a new tendril began to explore that sphincter. Her mouth fell open. She recognized this. It was all her own vision of what would bring her the greatest pleasure…

“Ughnn… oh god…” she mouthed, breathlessly as she fully understood what was about to happen to her. The Mimic had read her mana. It already had the keys it needed to beat her, and was about to unleash her own desires against her.

“Nooo…. ahh! P-please… ughnn! ughnn! No no no… ughnn! Wait!… AHH! UGHNN!”

The tendril working at her rear wriggled until it gently popped past the tight ring of her anus. There was nothing she could do, she was covered in slick drool. The slippery worm-like appendage eased itself into her, slowly reaching deep within her rectum. Peleial’s eyes fluttered with rising pleasure. This was bad, really really bad. The fel creature was setting her up for a new round of ecstasy… one in which she knew there would be no coming back.

And of course, she too knew what was coming. She had already envisioned what the Mimic needed to do… what she had wanted it to do to her. As if confirming her fears, the mass of tendrils was changing again. She shook her head in denial of what she was seeing. Instead of a paddle, the tentacle thickened and coalesced into what was obviously some kind of phallic member, though its resemblance to a humanoid penis was defied by a row of pronounced nubs running its entire upper length, as well as an engorged ring of flesh that encircled the inhuman member about six inches from its smooth, slightly more human-looking tip. The she-elf couldn’t fathom what having it buried within her would feel like, but she doubted she’d have to wait long to find out. Already, the Mimic was bringing the end of the tentacle right up against her gates, but to her surprise, it started teasing her.

She expected it to simply plunge forward into her body. Instead, the creature let the bulbous end glide slowly just into her folds, moving up and down in a repeating pattern that left Peleial breathless. The mock-penis was quite large, at least for the petite elf, so it would take a lot more effort to actually penetrate her. She knew that the Mimic would get there eventually, but for now, it meant that it could press along the whole length of her slick petals, spreading her open in a tantalizing way that had her whimpering with need almost at once. The wonderful sexual torment went on and on until she was beginning to think the Mimic had chosen to merely drive her insane again. Only then did she felt it stop directly before her center. She held her breath when the smooth head inched very slowly forward with gradually increasing pressure, but released it again as a loud cry of pleasure when it had eased in just enough to slip the bulbous tip past her tight entrance with a slick pop… and was then still again.

“UGHHNN! Oh! N-n-nooo…. AHHH!!”

She felt the tense queasiness in her belly that signaled she was very close to coming, and she squirmed and shuddered, nearly begging for the creature to come deeper within her. On and on it waited, teasing her tired body until she was clenching her pelvic muscles in an involuntary effort to achieve orgasm. Only when she was rolling her head from side to side in erotic agony, did the shaft drive forward, slipping deep into her honey in one long thrusting motion.


Peleial’s orgasm caused her to see white flashes of light around the edges of her vision, and she very nearly blacked out. Combined with the penetration of her other hole, as well as the erotic torture at her chest, the elf was utterly dizzy with pleasure. Her strength had already been depleted, so she could hardly do more than shiver as she was taken, and it felt as though hours had passed before she was able to even refocus her eyes.

“Ughnn… ughnn… no…” she whimpered as she slowly came down from the explosion of ecstasy. Just as before, she felt her mana draining away, with no way to stop it. Worse, she was now fully aware how the Mimic was using it to arouse her even more thoroughly. Every time she came, it got better at breaking her.

The strange penile member was still buried within her, and for the moment, unmoving. She didn’t understand what her fel tormentor was waiting for, but she doubted it was going to work to her advantage. The shaft felt both familiar and utterly alien in her sex. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t taken odd lovers before, some with much more unusual reproductive organs to be sure. It was the human-like quality of the Mimic’s thick shaft that disturbed her the most. It would have been more comfortable had it sported a head of wiggling tendrils, or pulsed like an eel. She didn’t understand until she realized with a start that aside from the two glaring changes, the phallus was remarkably like that of Wendel’s when he made love to her.

“No… ughnn… oh goddess… no… I…”

Her face grew hot with renewed arousal, and Peleial marveled at how well the Mimic had read her. Instead of something that might have disgusted her, the creature was modeling the sex of a known and cherished lover… something she wouldn’t want to resist!

As if it were waiting for this realization, the Mimic’s mock penis gently eased out about three-quarters of its length from her body. Even this slow motion was enough to cause the elf to cry out, gasping in nearly overwhelming pleasure. It was the little nubs. Quite unlike Wendel’s manhood, the subtle additions seemed perfectly positioned to lightly brush her clitoris as the shaft moved in or out of her sex. Slow pace or not, the effect was staggering.

“You c-c-clever fuck,” she said in a gasping, half-lidded whisper, right before the stiff member thrust forward again. Peleial’s world tumbled. The nubs hitting her tiny jewel in rapid succession, as well as the deeply satisfying motion, finally sent her into yet another violent and devastating orgasm. Lost to time, she was hardly aware that the creature continued to fuck her with long, slow strokes. Nor did she notice the thicker tentacles reaching out around her upper thighs and hips.

When she was at last able to come down enough to grasp her situation again, many minutes later, she was faced with two new problems. The first was of course that the Mimic hadn’t stopped fucking her. Its methodical pistoning of her quim was no less stimulating, and it wouldn’t be long at all before it forced her back into unconscious ecstasy again. There was simply no resisting anymore.

The second problem was that the warm member wasn’t the only thing moving now. The tentacles around her thighs and hips were shifting her forward and back, moving her entire lower body in a deep and slippery erotic undulation that helped drive the phallus into her and made it look like she was the one doing the fucking. She was stunned by the simplicity of the Mimic’s seductive trap. It was making her participate in her own dissolution!

“Ughnn… ughnn… ughnn… damnit!… ughnn!… nooo… ughnn!” She could do nothing to stop or even slow the quickly rising pleasure, and the elf wondered how much mana she had left. How many more times could she come before the Mimic drained her dry and moved on to the second course? Ten? Twenty? It was taking her longer and longer to come down from those moments of bliss, and the time between them was mere minutes. It was learning how best to arouse her very quickly…. Too quickly, if she was going to give her friends any chance at all of rescue.

The constant rhythm of intercourse was taking its toll, and her belly was starting to coil up.

“Ughnn… Ughnn! ohgodohgod… UGHNN… UGHNN… Wha?… UGHNN! UGHNN!”

The strokes were deepening, the Mimic’s phallus thrusting further than it ever had. But what had caught her attention was a number of strange bulges traveling down the length of the tentacle. When they reached the more human part of the phallus, the creature made one final hard thrust that put the fel member deep enough that the fleshy ring that encircled it disappeared beyond her gates with a squishy sort of snap, and was then still. The inner muscles of her vaginal canal reacted by clamping down, effectively locking the phallus within her beyond the ring. At the same moment, the first bulge pulsed down the length of the monster’s shaft. Peleial felt something coming, but only had time for one quick, panicked breath before a rush of thick, warm fluid was ejaculated into her. It was too much. Her eyes wide in blissful shock, the elf came hard enough to draw blood from her palms as she clenched her fists in an orgasm which went on and on… and on.

Five seconds in, she was hit with another blast of the strange fluid, and then again after ten long seconds. Even in her state of euphoric arousal, she could tell that the fluid wasn’t semen. It was something much more sinister. Again and again the Mimic pumped her with the viscous liquid, until it was forced around the flesh ring and out to the floor of her prison in a widening offwhite puddle. It was also driven into every last millimeter of her quim, and probably right into her womb. To her surprise, she felt smaller pulses of liquid filling her rectum as well. Whatever it was, it had a profound effect on her orgasm, stretching and enhancing it until she started to understand that there was no indication that the crippling pleasure was ever going to stop, in fact, it seemed to be increasing. Whether through the more direct connection with the blood flowing through her sex, or some kind of magic spell didn’t really matter. Whatever had been put inside her seemed to have taken control of her orgasm… and made it a permanent condition. The longer she remained locked in ecstasy, the more mana flowed out of her body to be absorbed by the Mimic. Still struggling just to draw breath, Peleial realized that instead of the hours she thought she had for her friends to find her, she would be drained completely of her magical essence in mere minutes. Which, she also now understood, was the Fel creature’s intent all along.

With an almost mocking glee, the Mimic reduced away the fleshy ring pinning its member within the she-elf’s depths, gripped her pelvis, and then slowly began to gently piston her trembling body forward and back, relishing the pleasure it added to the essence as it quietly fed.

“Peleial… Peleial, wake up.”

The voice sounded far away, even though she knew it had to be close. With a great effort, she opened her eyes. Her twin sister, Lawen was staring down at her.

“About time. I was starting to think I was going to need to use a stronger spell. You had us worried there.”

“Where?…” she asked, her voice hoarse and breaking. Lawen lifted her head slightly and gave her a drink of water. She groaned. Every muscle in her body burned with strain and overuse.

“You’re still in the attic. Don’t worry, Wendel took care of the Mimic,” she added when she saw the other’s eyes widen. “We didn’t want to move you until we were sure you were okay.” Just over her sister’s left shoulder, Peleial saw Taya who was smiling down at her as well.

“Welcome back, Pel,” said the tall warrior.

A moment later, Wendel also appeared.

“Scamp,” he quipped, half grinning. “We need to have a serious talk when you’re recovered. Going off on your own like that… I should box your lovely pointed ears.”

She knew he was kidding… kind of. But the sight of her human lover, and the thought of how the Mimic had used her memories of him to seduce her, caused the she-elf to blush clear down her body, which she noted was still naked and completely covered in slippery drool. Lawen wrapped a cloth around her wet hair, and then spread a thick blanket over the rest of her.

“The intoxicants it brought against you are still partially active in your blood, and probably will be for several hours,” he said, as though reading her mind. “They will fade. In the meantime, we’re going to float you to a carriage we have downstairs and take you home.” He waved his hand, and she suddenly felt weightless.

“How did you find me?” she asked, grateful for the blanket covering her. Her nipples still felt so hard they ached.

He smiled. “You can thank Briddle for that. When you didn’t return promptly, she suspected that you might be in trouble and sent a runner to meet us with the address of this building and a brief note. We came straight here.”

She was amazed. “But… how did she know where I was?!”

“Our little dryad is a lot more observant than you give her credit for,” he explained simply. “Once I understood what Mr. Fobbs had requested of you, it didn’t take too long to find you, though it was Taya who finally discovered the Mimic masquerading as a chest.”

“What do you mean? I thought it was pretty hard to miss…”

He shook his head. “Lawen walked out twice. Not her fault, mind you. Both times she checked, the chest was absent.”

“But… The place reeked with magic!”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “That was before it fed on you, my dear. It had been in that attic a very long time… long enough to deplete most of its mana reserves. Without which, it would be vulnerable.”

She was considering that Lessa might not have contributed much mana to the fel beast after all, when something else he said clicked.

“Wait, the chest was absent?”

“Mimic’s can be very hard to detect. Especially when they don’t wish to be seen at all…”

She had a sudden realization. “It was cloaking itself with an invisibility charm!”

“Yes. We might not have found you at all, but for the fact that Taya caught the scent of your own magic. Revealing the hidden creature was a bit complicated, but once exposed, I performed a simple stun spell to immobilize it.”

They were wrapping her up against the cold outside.

“I thought that Mimic’s were resistant to magical attacks,” she said, enjoying the feel of the heavy blanket and real human hands pressing around her as she floated down the stairs and hall, weightless on a stretcher of sorts.

“Hmm? Not all magic, only magical detection. If your whole existence depends on attracting prey while hiding from predators, you tend to get very good at deception. We’ll get you settled at home, then I will come back to dispose of the creature properly.”

The frigid winter air took her breath away after having been trapped in a flesh sauna for Goddess knew how long. She was actually about to ask Wendel the time when his words caught up with her.

“Wait! Don’t kill it!”

They all stopped.

“Why on earth not,” asked Wendel with concern. “We can’t just leave it in the attic. It’s a dangerous creature.”

“Can you move it to the Dryad’s Dream?”

The man frowned, trying to understand. “Pel, love… You do understand that it almost certainly killed Mr. Fobbs’ assistant, and very nearly you as well, yes?”

“Only because there was nobody there to stop it.”

Peleial was laid out in the back of the carriage, and Lawen and Wendel climbed in to sit on either side of her. Taya took the reins up front.

“I’m not sure I see…”

“I want to give it a job, Wendel.”

The man just blinked at her. “Er… I don’t think I understand.”

She grinned. “Lover, you’re a really smart guy, but sometimes you just don’t consider all the angles.”

“I’m not the one who was nearly eaten by a monster today.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Okay, touché. But think about it for a second… That Mimic feeds by stimulating its prey to orgasm over and over and feeding on their mana stores. And I gotta tell you, Wendel, it’s really really good at it. Sure, I was scared shitless, and totally thought I was going to die the whole time, but man, what a ride! There have got to be people who would pay a lot of money for that experience… without the risk of being digested at the end, of course.”

He looked surprised.

“Are you saying that you want to offer it up as an erotic… amusement?”


He was speechless. Lawen was just shaking her head.

“That’s my sis,” she said. “Nearly gets buggered to death by a perverted box, but instead of being mad or vengeful, she just wants to pimp out its services.”

“Why not?” said Peleial, shivering against the cold that had slipped in under her blanket.

Wendel made a complicated motion with his hand, and an orange light seemed to melt into Peleial’s cover. The elf sighed contentedly at the magically toasty warmth.

“I think I might even be able to train it,” she added.

“Hmm? To what end?” asked the wizard.

“Well, to not eat people for starters. Sure, we could stop it with a stun when it has drained a patron of all their mana, but it’d be way better if it simply diddled them into unconsciousness and then released them.”

Both her sister and the wizard stared down at her in disbelief.

“And you think you can train a Mimic to do this, how?” asked Wendel. “It’s a mindless beast, love.”

She was shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Granted, it’s more like a dog than a person, but it was damn clever, magic man. It not only managed to work my buckles and get me naked, but it also pulled some really tricky moves that took planning and precision.”

“But, any form of training requires at least the most basic communication. I don’t think you speak ‘mimic’.”

“Sure I do!” she exclaimed, smiling.

“Again, I’m at a loss…”

She looked to her sister and rolled her eyes before speaking again to the human.

“The mana, Wendel! It feeds on mana, and when it does, it gets a perfect impression of the prey; everything that they’re feeling at that moment, their emotions, even their thoughts. I experienced that first hand. I’m telling you, after it started feeding on me, it knew what I was thinking. It even changed tactics and adjusted how it was stimulating me based on that knowledge so it could break me faster. And it worked!… Oh goddess, did it work.”

The wizard raised one eyebrow as he considered her. “Why would it allow itself to be trained, love? What could it possibly get out of the deal?”

“Are you kidding? You said it yourself… A mimic spends its whole life trying to attract prey while hiding from predators. I’ll offer it a safe place to hang out, free of enemies, all the physical food it needs, and as much mana as it can diddle out of me and anyone else who wants a go. Talk about the perfect pet!”

He sighed. “You amaze me. Very well. I shall extract the Mimic and place it in the spare room we have been using for random storage. That door has a lock, and it’s already warded to prevent any of the working girls from accidentally wandering in. You can ‘train’ it when you have free time and are not also working on your wizarding studies, for which you will require your mana stores. But you have to agree to one rule…”

“Never go alone?”

He nodded. “Exactly. At least one other person must be with you who knows how to perform a stun spell. No exceptions. Agreed?”

“Yes!” The elf would have clapped her hands in glee if she’d had the strength. “Thank you, thank you!”

Turning to her sister, she added, “We’re going to have SO much fun.”