Morningwood: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.1)

by Neven Iliev

The girl-in-the-box wasted no time and stretched out both her arms. They extended unnaturally, like rubber, covering the meter-and-a-half distance between the monster and the coins in an instant. Her tender fingers then slowly, almost reverently, scooped up the gold pieces and brought them back to the main body carefully.

  The human-looking part of the monster then leaned back against its upper jaw which instinctively retracted its teeth. It assumed a pose that looked like someone relaxing in a lounge chair. It then placed the gold coins in the valley of its cleavage. Its hands and arms wrapped around those formidable breasts, pushing them together and creating a sort of fleshy cradle for the Mimic’s new prize. A dumb smile drifted naturally onto those full, pink lips and the monster stood perfectly still, reveling in the sensation against its marshmallow-like breasts. The cold, heavy, shiny metal felt incredibly pleasant, after all.

  “M-M-M-Master?” called out Xera, but that master was currently preoccupied.

  This is it, thought the Mimic. This is right.

  A treasure chest that finally had actual treasure. Those completely normal and entirely unmagical coins fulfilled a craving the monster never knew it had. Right now, at this moment, it was satisfied. It felt content for what was probably the first time in its short life. People were tasty. Levels, Skills and Attributes were also tasty. But gold was different. It had no actual flavor, yet the Mimic thought that it was absolutely delicious!

  “Master!” yelled Xera. This time she seemed to get the Mimic’s attention. The hazy stare and dumb smile on that beautiful face disappeared. It stared at the demoness with a disgusted expression like she had just taken a massive dump in its porridge.

  “What is it, Snack?” it sent through the thought-link, “I’m busy!”

  “Why am I sticking out of Master’s jaws?!”

  That was the reason Xera was staring. The human body currently poking out of the fleshy insides of that chest looked almost identical to her. The colors were wrong, it had no wings or horns, but everything else was exactly in the shape and proportions of the succubus’s true form. She also had the disturbing thought that, if the woman-shaped part of the Mimic had gone on just a few centimeters lower, it would certainly also mirror her lower lips.

  “Snack is tasty. I needed tasty parts to enjoy delicious gold,” it replied simply.

  The merciless Mimic had eaten Xera so many times that it had absolute knowledge of her body. It was, simply put, the body it knew best. Humans all had small differences between them. The proportions, skin, hair, teeth, jaw, face - every individual was unique in various ways. So having tasted the exact same succubus-shaped fruit over thirty times made it so it naturally became the form it was most familiar with. It didn’t particularly care about pigmentation, horns or wings, which was why it came out looking like an albino half-succubus. The important thing was it could properly enjoy the weight and feel of the gold coins by borrowing Xera’s sensitive boobs.

  In truth, this new development had very little to do with its evolution into a Greater Mimic. The monster was perfectly capable of achieving this shape when it raised Shapeshift to Level 5. After all, even if it couldn’t abandon its outward chest-like appearance, the insides were a completely different story. It simply had no urge to do something like this until now. This form was ill-suited to combat and the higher center of gravity meant it would have trouble balancing on top of its favorite spider legs. The sole purpose to the pseudo-Xera was, quite simply, to have fun with it.

  Xera was dumbstruck yet again. As a shapeshifter herself, she more or less understood all of that. However, the realization that the Mimic had created a cheap copy of her just to enjoy itself made her feel oddly violated. It was almost worse than being eaten alive.

  Almost, but not quite.

  After about three and a half hours of the Mimic playing with Xera’s hard-earned money on top of Xera’s borrowed breasts, it finally seemed to have enough. It stowed the gold inside its Storage and called out to the succubus who was sulking in the corner.

  “We go now.”

  The demoness turned her head around. She was sitting while hugging her knees and facing away from her master. She had been trying really, really hard not to mind the situation behind her. It almost worked, too. Until that creature started letting out cooing noises using her own voice. So she minded it immensely. At least it was back to how it was before - a simple chest with eight black imitation spider legs jutting out from under it. It was much easier to look at than that twisted imitation of her own true self.

  “Understood, Master,” she replied while standing up. “Where to?”

  “Back to dungeon. Something I have to do.”

  Interlude

  A Cheap Drink

  Lylandros never wanted much out of life. Just to become really famous and get all the ladies. A simple, straightforward dream. But that was then, and this was now. Thoughts of fame and fortune were so far removed from his consciousness that he questioned if he really had them in the first place.

  Right now, the only thing on his mind was whether he would be able to afford to pay his bar tab. That was all he wanted to think about. That and the thing right in front of him - a glass of Rotgut. This vile, brown, murky concoction was an alcoholic drink so strong it could knock out even a dwarf in about four shots. It was also incredibly cheap, which was convenient for the poverty-riddled elf. The downside was that it tasted horrible. That much was to be expected considering it used goblin ears as an ingredient. The flavor was so bad that no sane person would try it more than once. Just the rank smell was more than enough to discourage a lot of people.

  However, Lylandros knew the flavor of Raela’s brain matter. In the past, he had jokingly said he’d love to have a taste of that buxom elven Druid, but he didn’t mean it literally. Compared to that, this mixture was as delicious as honeyed mead. He mentally cursed himself for remembering that taste, and plunged deeper into depression and revulsion. If only there was something around to help him forget.

  Oh wait, there was.

  He screwed up his courage and determination, then downed his drink in one go. The pungent taste and high alcoholic content hit him almost immediately. It felt like a horse had kicked the side of his head.

  [You are intoxicated. The effects of the AGI, DEX and WIS Attributes have been reduced by 50%.]

  He slammed the glass back on the counter with enough force to crack a less sturdy receptacle, and panted heavily, but one drink wasn’t enough. The unwanted thoughts were still in his head.

  In his mind, he knew he made the right call. His common sense told him he had no chance against that monster. It had magic powerful enough to kill a person in one hit. There was no way he could have matched up to such a creature. He felt that even if the four of them were completely rested and fully prepared, they could never have hoped to take it down. And having heard how the subjugation Quest he set in motion concluded, he was definitely right.

  His mind knew that, but his heart refused to accept it. Dark thoughts welled up from within every time he had a moment to himself. Which, incidentally, was pretty much all the time.

  I abandoned them.

  Why was I the only one spared?

  I should have died with them.

  “Ah, crap,” he mumbled. His mind had drifted off in that particular direction again.

  The elf seriously doubted he would be able to sleep at night if he wasn’t blackout drunk. Even if he managed to calm himself enough to doze off, he would always be beset by nightmares and wake up a few hours later in a cold sweat. And so, even if it tasted like ass, even if it was slowly poisoning him, even if it made his breath horrible enough to peel paint off the walls - he would still drink his ‘medicine.’

  But first, he had to get a refill. He lazily raised his arm towards the barkeep. The rough-looking gentleman with the bald head and black goatee went over to his customer.

  “Let me guess,” said the barkeep, “another shot of Rotgut?”

  Lylandros simply nodded i
n return with a “Yesh.” He was the spitting image of a habitual alcoholic who had given up on life. The barkeep didn’t judge or belittle the elf for that, though - he knew better. These people would latch onto him the instant he treated them as anything other than a source of revenue. They’d one-sidedly pour out their sob stories and either take up his valuable time, or get rowdy when he tried to ignore them. The best solution to those awkward situations was to avoid creating them entirely. The man had long ago run out of fucks to give, so he kept relations between himself and his customers strictly professional.

  “Sorry, twiggy,” he said, “but that lady over there bought the last bottle.” He pointed to the woman sitting in the corner. She was wearing a blue robe and had long, straight blonde hair tumbling down her back. Her sizable breasts were visible from behind, poking out slightly from either side of her narrow back.

  “If you want some more, you’re gonna have to take it up with her.”

  “No more… more battles? Bottles?” asked Lylandros. He was already struggling to form sentences after just one shot.

  “Nope. That was the last of it.”

  Although Rotgut was technically a drink, it was only ever ordered either as a prank, as a form of punishment or, in some cases, out of morbid curiosity. But even then it was only ordered once - people who actually ordered a second or third shot were extremely rare. With so little demand, the barkeep only kept one or two bottles in stock at any given time. So given the choice between a pretty lady who paid upfront and a filthy twig with a tab, it was obvious which one was the more valued customer.

  “FFFFffffuck,” let out Lylandros.

  He got up from his stool and ambled in her general direction. The elf had one goal in coming to this establishment - to black out for the night. Even if she didn’t want to share the drink, he’d still find a way to accomplish his mission. There were more ways than one to lose consciousness, after all.

  “Hey now,” the barkeep called out to him. “Don’t get violent with her, alright? I’ll have you thrown out of here with both legs broken if you try something funny!”

  Lylandros turned around unsteadily and mockingly saluted him. “Aye aye, cap’n!”

  The barkeep just sighed to himself with a mumble of ‘bloody twigs’ before signaling the security he’d hired to keep an eye on the elf. The over-two-meter tall goon leaning against one of the walls nodded in response that he understood his job was to keep the elf from causing any damage to the owner’s establishment.

  “S’cuse meh,” said the suspect in question to the woman in blue. “Could I bother you fro-for a drink of that?”

  The black-haired beauty turned her head. Her blue eyes locked with his hazel-colored ones. They then followed his outstretched arm that was pointing at the drink on her table.

  “Haaah. Why not?” she said with a sigh. “Have a seat, stranger.”

  “Ohhh! Thanks kindly, ma’am!”

  “Don’t mention it,” she said with a bit of a bitter smile. It was the sort of face that clearly said she had far bigger problems to worry about than some random elf crashing her one-woman drinking spree. She poured some of the Rotgut into the glass in front of her and passed it to Lylandros.

  “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” he replied while staring intently at the drink.

  Downing this thing was no easy task. He had to swallow it fast so his tongue and nose would not have a chance to react. Such a feat took a certain amount of mental fortitude and bravery. So when the elf lifted his gaze and saw the girl chugging directly from the bottle in big gulps, his body reacted before his drink-addled mind could. And he threw up on the floor.

  The goon saw that and, after silently confirming with the bartender, went to work. Less than a minute later, Lylandros was thrown out into a dusty alley through a side entrance. He fell on the ground hard, like a sack of day-old laundry. The bouncer yelled something about a ‘final warning’ at the poor sod before walking back inside the bar.

  Lylandros just chuckled to himself. Tonight was a failure, it seemed. This was the only place he knew of that both served Rotgut and would allow him to keep a tab. He really had nowhere to go, so he just lay there on the cobblestone alleyway. He decided he might as well try to sleep right here. It was already way past sunset, so there was nobody around to disturb him anyway.

  Or so he thought. Less than a minute later he heard footsteps and felt someone looming over him.

  “Where do you live?” asked the gentle female voice. His eyes fluttered open and barely made out her face in the darkness. It was that pretty girl who so kindly offered him some of her drink. She bent down and extended an arm towards him, which caused her breasts to sway in a pendulum-like motion.

  “Come on,” she beckoned as he tore his eyes away from her hypnotic cleavage. “I’ll get you home.”

  “Th-thank you,” he said, weakly. He really did not expect her to actually care, but he wasn’t stupid enough to turn down help when it was offered. In reality, this was the first time since that day someone had ever treated him as anything other than a burden. He gripped her tender hand with no hesitation. After helping the poor man to his feet, she lent him her shoulder. The two of them then trotted off into the night.

  Whether it was the drink, the oddly romantic moonlit atmosphere or, most probably, the soft breasts pressing against his side, Lylandros felt he rather fancied this girl. He made a small pass at her, commenting on how beautiful she was. The girl simply smiled demurely and blushed slightly, saying he was rather handsome himself. One thing led to another and by the time they reached Lylandros’s hovel, they were already passionately kissing. They barely made it past the front door before their clothes started slipping off their bodies almost by themselves. Not even their undergarments remained by the time they made it to the bed.

  The elf was pushed down on the bed by the woman whose name he didn’t even know. She slowly climbed over him, letting her bare nipples drag along his skin. Intoxicated by the erotic situation, the poor virgin could do little else but hope he wouldn’t bust a nut immediately. It was a very real concern as the nude body before him felt like it existed for the sole purpose of rousing men’s lust. Not that he was complaining.

  She straddled his waist and ground her moist lower lips along his already stiff member. She let out a few moans that were positively dripping with passion. After making sure both of them were as aroused as possible, she reached down and grabbed it. The elf watched in awe as she raised her hips and guided his manhood towards her special place. She bit her lip and slammed her hips downwards, taking the entire length inside her all at once, popping the proverbial cherry of the young elf.

  But, alas, the young man could not resist the onslaught of pleasure and came immediately. He grabbed her flared thighs and thrust his hips upwards without thinking. He committed spurt after spurt of semen to her innermost depths while his partner simply hummed delightedly.

  About fifteen minutes later his orgasm finally ended. The woman let out a small, satisfied sigh. It was her first real ‘meal’ since she was contracted to that moronic box. She dismounted her partner and got off the bed. Despite accepting copious amounts of bodily fluids, not a single drop ran down her thigh.

  Xera snapped her fingers. The discarded blue robes on the ground leaped up in the air and flew at her as if being pulled in by an invisible wire. They splashed against her naked body like goop and began shifting and transforming into their previous appearance. Having completely ‘clothed’ herself in seconds, the succubus retrieved the bottle of Rotgut she brought with her and poured the last of its contents down her gullet.

  “Aw man, they really dilute this stuff nowadays,” she complained to nobody in particular after finishing it off. “This swill isn’t enough to even give me a buzz! Sometimes I really hate this body’s constitution!”

  Since her flesh was a magical construct, it did not need food or water. Even her ‘feeding’ just now was nothing more than scratching an itch. Technically, it
had the effect of restoring HP and MP, but since she was already full on both accounts the whole affair amounted to little more than a midnight snack.

  It wasn’t quite as satisfying as she’d hoped, though. She preferred the taste of big burly men rather than these scrawny virgins, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Right now, her master was sleeping due to its Rank Up, but she had no idea how long her short vacation would actually last. Under these circumstances, was it really any wonder she eagerly gobbled up the first suitable victim she found? That elven lad had no resistance to her Demonic Seduction whatsoever and nobody of note would really give a shit if he died. He was not ideal, but good enough.

  “Damn. I really need something stronger. I wonder if I can find some Firebrand Whiskey around this place?”

  She tossed the now-empty bottle of Rotgut away and made her way out of the filthy hovel to seek her next victim.

  As for Lylandros, all that was left of him was an emaciated corpse. A body that was little more than skin and bones with a wide, creepy smile on its hollowed out face.

  Chapter Four

  Urges

  Part One

  The Red Zone of the Litigar Dungeon Complex was undoubtedly the most inhospitable place around the city of Monotal, as expected of the most dangerous part of the only dungeon in the area. Still, not many adventurers past their first two or three months on the job would find this place particularly dangerous. It was certainly not that bad when compared to the majority of other dungeons strewn throughout the world.

  Unlike the cave-like systems of the Green and Yellow Zones, the Red part looked more like a crypt or mausoleum. Stone brick floors, walls and a dark ceiling that seemed to go upward forever. Stone gargoyles could be seen lined up at random along the walls and creepy carvings could appear and disappear from the floor and walls seemingly at random. Pale blue torches bathed the corridors in an eerie light, just enough to keep one’s eyes from adapting to otherwise profound darkness. The air was heavy with the stench of death and carried a faint strawberry-like flavor. The latter would be a side effect of the slightly thicker concentration of mana. The former was caused by the denizens of this place.