"You fuck!" Lamia pulled her hand away, shaking it lightly at the sting of the impact. "Watch where you're going, ya damned drunk! Zoot's gracious gazongas!"
The man bowed deep in apology, clutching his cheek. He was a gangly fellow, his arms and legs better proportioned to a scarecrow than a living, breathing human, and his every movement seemed exaggerated and wobbly. He tipped the emptied tankard towards Lamia, as if offering some of the nothing inside to her, and she smacked it away with a curse.
Lamia tottered lightly to one side. She was standing in the Sheep's Rotten Arsehole, the cheapest pub she'd ever visited in one of the grimiest towns she'd ever seen. Despite reservations about the sooty countertops and questionable clientele she'd decided to grab herself a drink before heading to bed for the night, and though the ale was watered-down and disgusting she settled for the buzz tiptoeing through her head. The clumsy splash of beer onto her tits had killed the warmth, however, leaving her sticky, annoyed, and too aware of her drunkenness.
She pointed at the bar, finger waggling a little more crazily than normal. "Get me a drink. As a sorry. I want... the best ale they got. Not an empty fuckin' tankard. You get me? Best ale. I'll be over there."
The man, hand still pressed protectively against his cheek, nodded stupidly. After a quick glance up and down Lamia's body - not the first she'd received that night - he wandered off to the barkeep, meandering this way and that on his dizzy course, looking as though he might cover the distance within the next hour.
Weaving through a packed room of half-filled tables and hazy smoke, Lamia returned to her seat. Fidget was waiting for her, sitting in his dwarven booster seat and looking more miserable than usual. He brightened slightly as she sat down, and one of his legs 'accidentally' brushed against Lamia's thigh. She kicked him back.
Tossing her raven hair over her shoulders with some mild difficulty, Lamia glared down at her breasts. The man's booze, whatever it was, had stained her normally alabaster skin a pale yellow. Streaks of thick mead, almost as thick as honey, trickled between her tight cleavage and left her tits feeling clammy. She gathered a gob of the stuff on one gloved finger, licked, and grimaced at the strong, almost smokey taste.
"You getting drinks poured straight on you now?" Fidget asked hopefully. "Can I have some? I'm good at cleaning."
"You'll be good at cleaning the mud off my boots if you don't stop acting like a perv," Lamia snapped.
Fidget fidgeted. "Sorry. What happened?"
"Drunk splashed me," Lamia murmured. "Gimme a sec, I'll get it gone, 'n then we'll have some free drinks. On him."
Sighing, eyes darting blearily to the bar to see if the man was getting her a beer as demanded, Lamia waved a hand in the air, praying for the power of Zoot to clean her figure. She didn't call on any particular spell, just one to remove the booze.
Zoot, apparently, had better things to do, and the beer remained firmly stuck to Lamia's chest. Snarling, Lamia tried again, fingers waggling lazily in the air as she tried to recall a specific spell that would clear the mess. The alcohol lingered. Most of it was now puddled happily around the bottoms of Lamia's breasts, and some of it was slipping out the cups of her bra and down her belly. How the man had managed to so thoroughly douse her when her tits were so tightly jammed into the bra she would never know.
Lamia staggered back to her feet, jabbing a finger at Fidget. "You!"
"Me?" Fidget pointed a finger at himself.
"You!" Lamia waved a hand at the bar. "There's a guy. He looks... I dunno... a little like that lizard thing we killed a few weeks ago. But less green. He'll have beer. Wave him down and get me the beer. And then give me the beer when I come back. If you drink it on me I will fire you, because I earned that beer. My hooters earned that beer."
"Hooters," Fidget agreed.
Throwing her assistant a dirty glare, Lamia coughed once at the bank of smoke filling the upper half of the Sheep's Rotten Arsehole, looked around, and started for her room on the second floor. A cluster of men at a nearby table hooted at her as she passed, and she lifted her cape to tantalize them with a shot of her ass. They laughed, and one reached out to grab a cheek; a quick slap sent him back again. More laughs.
'least my aim is still good, Lamia thought, head buzzing. Dunno how long that'll last.
The Sheep's Rotten Arsehole was not a particularly nice pub, but the rooms of the attached inn were clean enough, and Lamia had a cotton bed to sleep on. She clicked the door open after fumbling with her key three or four times, closed the door behind her, and made for the bathroom. It, too, was not particularly nice, little more than a hole in the ground, a water basin, and a dusty old rag, but it would serve her purposes.
Lamia considered locking the door. But, she reasoned, she would only be here for a minute, only a minute, and Fidget wouldn't have enough time to sneak in and gawk at her before she'd cleaned herself. Not nearly enough. So she unclasped her bra, and, feeling lazy, she let it clank to the floor, already preparing to stoop down, dip the rag in the water, and clean herself.
None of those things happened. Not a single one.
The bra fell away from Lamia's body, but it did not clank on the ground. Instead it settled slowly, ever so slowly, suspended by a thick layer of yellow-green slime. And this was slime, oh yes, she could tell that now, not some super-thick mead, but honest-to-god goop, and had Lamia not been drunk she probably would have realized as much a long time ago.
Depositing the bra so gently that the metal didn't make a noise, the slime whiplashed back up towards Lamia's breasts, rolling over her pert nipples and lashing tendrils around the soft curves in a tight embrace. Lamia staggered back, surprised, her caped back hitting the wall. She raised her hands to her breasts, scrabbling at the slime and trying to pry it free.
The slime resisted. Already firmly anchored to the bottom of Lamia's breasts, it flowed up her fingers and tightened around them, gluing them against Lamia's nipples. She cursed, trying desperately to wriggle free, but every time she moved the slime only bound her more tightly in place. One poorly-judged movement later and she was stuck against the wall, sagging impotently.
The slime burbled what sounded like a little laugh. It jiggled lightly, and Lamia's breasts bounced in their gooey enclosure.
"Get fucked, you little shit," Lamia growled, hiccuping lightly. "Y... you... dammit, this is stupid... outdone by a wad of snot..."
~~~
"Oh, gee, I wonder who that is," Lamia growled.
Lamia turned her head as best she could. The gangly man who'd drenched her was swaying in the doorway, a wide, sly grin on his face. He quietly shut the door behind him as he stepped into the room, each move of his legs ungainly and wobbling. But his eyes were keen and hungry, and he was clearly not drunk.
"Hi." Lamia tried to flash him a grin that was both cocksure and angry. Still mostly inebriated, she wasn't sure if she'd managed either. "Got my drink, or what?"
The man sidled up beside Lamia, rubbing his head against the wall. His features, Lamia noticed, were wide and ovular, as though his mouth and his eyes had drifted just a little too widely across his skull to look entirely normal. She hadn't noticed this weirdness in the haze of the pub. He raised a hand above Lamia's entrapped breasts, and the ooze responded to his presence, lifting towards his fingers.
Lamia tried to use the opportunity break free. It didn't work, and she slapped back against the wall with a chesty wobble and another curse. The man tittered again.
"You are... sorceress..." the man croaked, his voice sloshy and weird. "Saw poster... magic... you carry good items... worth money... I will sell..."
"Like hell you will," Lamia scoffed, though her heart jumped in her chest. She did, indeed, like to carry magical items around, many of them irreplaceable. Baronesses across the land would pay handsome money indeed for her enchanted dildo collection. "All the magic I do comes from the goddess Zoot. I don't have shit. You're wasting your time."
"We'll see..."
The man dipped in and licked Lamia's cheek, his tongue a slick, yellow-pink slab that looked like a slug, and it left a trail of slime across her skin. Then, pausing just a moment to touch her hair, he stepped away and headed for Lamia's bed - and Fidget's pack, which had virtually every worldly possession Lamia owned. It wouldn't take long for him to find something of value. The slime on Lamia's hands seemed to tug in his direction, as if to follow him, but ultimately remained bound around Lamia's breasts, fixing her to the wall.
Lamia's mind raced as best it could, given the swirl of alcohol in her system. She was not operating at peak efficiency, she knew as much, but she needed an idea, something, anything, to help her get out of this stupid setup. Under normal circumstances she liked to think she never would have fallen for such an obvious con job.
There was only one thing for it, really.
Arching her back as sexily as possible, given her sticky situation, Lamia raised her ass and spread her legs, planting her boots firmly on the floor. Then, summoning every bit of lustfulness she possessed, she offered the man a deep, throaty moan, as though someone had pressed into her most intimate of areas. The man stopped, one hand on Lamia's bed, and she moaned again, licking her lips for good measure.
The man turned, eyes wide with suspicion, but he, too, licked his lips, the bulk of his inhuman tongue leaving a smear on his face. Lamia noticed for the first time that there was an indent in his cheek, with three obvious fingerprints impressed just below his eye. Right where she'd hit him.
Lamia knew this wouldn't be the most convincing argument, but without her magic or her normal collection of wits she didn't have much choice. "Fuck me."
The man cocked his head, stooping slightly. He looked as though he expected an attack at any moment, but he kept his eyes on her, investigating the silhouette of her body beneath her cape. "What?"
"Fuck me," Lamia insisted. She waggled her hips at him invitingly. "C'mon. You know you wanna. I can't stop you, so why not? Fuck me."
Taking one cautionary step away from the bed, the man looked at the door, then back at Lamia. "Is... trick. Or trap. No."
Lamia moaned again, biting her lip and laughing as seductively as she could manage. "What, you think I planned on getting my tits stuck to the wall? I look like an idiot. It's a bad trap if it's a trap at all. Which it ain't. So fuck me already."
Abandoning caution in the face of her odd logic, the man slid in close. With delicate gestures he plucked the cape from Lamia's back and draped it down her side, revealing her curved back and rounded hips. As though fearing she might burst into flames he slowly settled a hand on her side, testing her with a few gentle pats, then dragging his fingers back to caress her ass. His fingers played with the drawstring of her armoured thong -
- and he gasped as Lamia winked, and the thong undid itself and slid down her legs. It was the best magic she could manage, but she suspected it would be enough. The slime around Lamia's chest and hands twitched and writhed, which was a good sign.
The man hesitated a moment longer, both hands now on Lamia's ass, one sliding between her legs to caress her pussy. His touch was slick and sticky, like the slime on Lamia's breasts, and she felt a trickle of cold, thick liquid oozing down her right leg. One of his fingers slipped between the lips of her cunt, and Lamia gasped, working her mild surprise into another moan. The man's finger slipped in and out with contemplative slowness, and his nasal breathing became a desperate rasp.
"C... cunnie..." The man rubbed the seat of his pants against Lamia's ass. It felt almost gelatinous, the fabric of his pants seeming to squish around Lamia's skin. "Human... cunnie..."
"Lots of time," Lamia insisted, smirking. "Lots of time for a - "
Abruptly, and without warning, the man drove a second finger into Lamia's pussy. She shrieked and pressed herself against the wall as the man's squishy, probing digits slid into her, the tips stretching and sliding against the subtle sponginess of Lamia's cunt. Lamia felt heat rising in her cheeks as the man's fingers expanded, filling her, seeming almost to tickle her with pleasure.
The man leaned over and around Lamia as he finger-fucked her, rubbing his face against her cheek, his wide, wild eyes inspecting her lips. Breathing hard, she winked at him. He opened his mouth, and his ghoulish tongue slid out to coat her lips in slime. Bracing herself, Lamia wrapped her own tongue in his. It tasted smokey and strong, just like the goop pinning her to the wall.
But not for much longer, Lamia thought, scowling inwardly. I got you now, you bastard.
The man pressed his face to Lamia's, tongue wriggling into her mouth and smoothing itself along hers. His lips squished clumsily against Lamia's, and slobbery ooze trickled down her chin. His finger-fucking intensified, the rhythm sloppy but pleasurable, and despite herself Lamia felt the onset of climax warming in her pussy. His fingers were too fat and too filling, too large, too -
And then, abruptly, they were gone. So, too, was the man's squishy mouth. Lamia opened her eyes, surprised she'd closed them in the first place, and spotted the tips of his greasy hair as they retreated out of sight. Two firm hands grasped Lamia's backside, and something slimy slid between the cheeks of her ass.
"C... cunnie..." the man breathed, voice shaky and desperate. "Must... fuck..."
The ooze on Lamia's breasts wriggled, loosening - but not enough. Lamia braced herself, even as she smiled. "That's right. Always... always time... for a quickie."
~~~
The man's cock reminded her of her favorite dildo: large, flexible, filling, and ribbed for her pleasure. Or it felt that way, anyway.
The man rammed himself into Lamia with clumsy, unrestrained speed, pushing his cock into her so relentlessly that she expected a blossom of pain. But it didn't come: the cock was too soft, despite its girth, and it compressed exactly to fill Lamia's cunt without stretching her to bursting point. She could feel it compressing and expanding inside her, as if someone had filled her with jelly, and Lamia cried out in genuine pleasure.
"Augh... huma... human cunnie..." The man sounded rapturous, as though his greatest wish had just come true, and Lamia felt a drip of his perverse drool pool onto her back. "Fucking... sorceress... cunnie..."
Rocking Lamia relentlessly, hands clutched tightly onto Lamia's ass, the man fucked. His cock coated the inside of her pussy with a cold, pleasing slime, lubricating her cunt in a way Lamia had never felt before. She bit her lip and pressed her head against the wall, struggling to maintain her arched back and tiptoe stance under the force of his eager fucking.
"You... you like that..." Lamia punctuated each thrust with a little squeal, as much out of calculation as pleasure, urging the man on. "You like... my slutty... little... cunt... baby..."
The man nodded enthusiastically, head bobbing back and forth on his neck with such ferocity that it seemed as though his spine was formed out of a spring. In response to his eager fucking the slime on Lamia's breasts tightened against her, latching onto her skin and seeming almost to suckle at her tits. The act left only a few, thin tendrils attached to the wall -
- and it released Lamia's hands almost completely. They were, after all, in the way of her nipples, which were now red and perky in the mass of yellow-green goo.
Almost there, Lamia thought. She discretely placed her hands against the wall, supporting herself more comfortably, moaning more than loudly enough to keep the man distracted. She tested the strength of the hold of the goo against the wall with a few gentle tugs, maintaining the rhythm of the man's rampant fucking, but it held fast. Almost there. Ohhh god, he's fucking gross, but he's good. Maybe...
Before Lamia could consider any sort of plan, the man's posture seemed to change. Lamia felt his pelvis drifting forward against her bare backside, his stomach seeming to topple and fold over her back, his scrawny chest press against her shoulder blades and settle there, each body part quivering with the thrusts of his cock. He folded his arms around her belly, and one finger drifted down to finger Lamia's clit.
Lamia came at once. She screamed, her legs trembled, and she slowly collapsed to her knees, taking the man down with her. He fucked her the whole way down, settling on Lamia's back, pushing her legs apart as she drifted to the floor. She reoriented herself, pushing away from the wall, arms struggling to keep her body upright. If the slime on her tits touched the floor she'd be stuck again, and she needed to be -
"I want your... your mouth... too..." The man's words were in Lamia's ear, closer than she'd expected. His tongue wrapped into her hair and oozed around her neck, caressing her jaw. His words came out as a confused mumble. "Phuck... yo mouf..."
Breathless, Lamia watched through one hazy eye as the slime clutching to her tits, suckling her tits, detached itself and plopped onto the floor. With tiny leg-like suckers the slime crawled onto the wall, raised itself to face level, and formed a thin, wiry, tentacular penis. Lamia had only a moment to admire the odd texturing of the surface jelly before the penis shot forward, jamming itself into Lamia's mouth mid-moan.
Pussy raw from the relentless fucking, her sex partner oozing down both sides of her back and pressing her into the floorboards, a gummy mouth latched onto her neck and no doubt leaving an enormous hickey, a translucent cock sliding along her tongue, Lamia shrugged inwardly. Still done weirder shit than this.
The first signs of the man's orgasms came as subtle twitches along his oozing body, then as pulsing gyrations. His movements against Lamia's ass slowed for a brief second, then, head shuddering like a bowl of tapioca in an earthquake, the man drove himself into Lamia as deeply and fully as he could, the tiny, jelly nobs of his dick rubbing against the inside of her pussy so hard that she thought her scream would bring the whole pub down to its foundations. Lamia came again, and again, and again, her moans of ecstasy not stifled at all by the wriggling cock in her mouth -
- and, at last, the man joined her. The weird warmth of his cock rocketed out of Lamia's pussy, replaced by a much warmer spurt of white, dripping cum. Shrieking aloud, the man jerked upward, then sagged against Lamia, the last of his body's cohesiveness abandoning him. His head dipped away from Lamia's and sank into the mass of yellow-green goo now mounded on her back, the slime penis in Lamia's mouth dropped away and splatted down her face, and the body pressed against her back began to drip onto the floor in thick, slow streams.
Fucking slimes, Lamia thought, once her head had stopped buzzing with pleasure. So easy to trick.
~~~
It took Lamia several minutes to inch her way out of the goo creature's sticky embrace, and several minutes more to clear her head sufficiently to cast a spell. Even then it took several more attempts before her shaky hands managed to weave one successfully. But Zoot answered, eventually, and when she did the entire mess lifted off of Lamia's body, floating in the air.
Laying on the ground, breathing hard, the mess of the creature's seed still dripping out of her cunt, Lamia glowered at the mass of gel hovering, trapped, before her. The creature vibrated lightly, and Lamia interpreted the motion as a snore.
Yeah, she thought, idly wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead, that's just like a guy. Fall asleep right after the fucking.
Fidget entered the room several minutes later, face painted red in concern and envy. He'd obviously heard most of the clamour and come up to check. The envy disappeared when he spotted the mass of free-floating goo, however, and it was enough even to keep his eyes off of Lamia's nude body. Only for a second, but it was measure enough of the strangeness of the situation.
"Stop gawking," Lamia barked, "and grab a jar from downstairs. A big one. With a screw top. Quick."
Fidget disappeared, and Lamia, concentration split on her spell and cleaning herself up - properly this time - washed the semen out of her crotch and put her clothes back on. When Fidget returned he was carrying a large, glass jar, not big enough for its intended load. Which, Lamia reflected, was exactly what she'd hoped.
Waving her hands, most of the drunkenness dispelled by her tumble with the slime creature, Lamia forced the mass of goo into the jar with her magic. Another prayer to Zoot reinforced the jar, allowing it to safely contain such intense amounts of slime, and Lamia screwed the top on nice and tight. It weighed almost a hundred pounds, she estimated, trying briefly to lug it off of the floor.
It didn't take long for the jar to begin shaking slightly, and a light, burbling pop issued out of the top.
"Hi again," Lamia said to the jar, kneeled beside it on the ground. "Comfy? No? Good. That's what you get for trying to steal my shit, asshole."
The jar shook so violently that it toppled over and rolled around on the ground, leaving a slight indent in the wood from the weight. But the glass and the top held strong, fortified by Lamia's magic.
"You're a hefty fuck, and you owe me a drink, so you're gonna pay for the next round. The next few rounds." Lamia grinned, licking a drip of salty sweat off of her lips. "Slimes are worth a couple hundred gold on the black market. You'll make some crusty old wizards and his experiments reeeeeally happy."
The jar hopped. Lamia stopped it with her booted foot, kicked it against the wall, and laughed at the tiny shriek that floated out of the glass. It stopped rolling, then, the slime apparently resigned to its fate.
"No one fucks with Lamia Rearadoora, bitch," Lamia said, grinning.
Fidget, standing off to one side and looking confused and sheepish, raised a finger. "Actually, uh, Lamia, it seems like everybody gets to fuck with you... I mean, technically, if we're talking about the verb - "
"Fidget?"
"Shut the fuck up. You're fired." Lamia smoothed her breasts. They were still sore from the ordeal. "Now go get me an actual drink, I need it."
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