Waking up

A few members of the audience start clapping, shuffling and clearing out of the dimly lit, dark blue tent.

An illithid is bending down and removes the iron clasps around your wrists and ankles.

An leather chocker, that was connected to the halfing-sized pole you were propped up against, helping to keep your head in place, comes off

It leaves a thick, red line across your throath.

At last a big, weighty helmet is removed from your head.

With your bright blue eyes partly open, you try to get a look at the helmet, still in a lust-filled haze that is slowly ebbing away.

It has writhing tentacles on it's inside, and a big, polished orb floating on top, not unlike a crystall ball.

You try to remember it's purpose.

It projects a huge, psionic image of whatever the wearer is dreaming about... you think?

But what were you dreaming about again?

Finally freed of your bindings and standing naked in a cold, almost dark tent, you feel a shiver and instinctively wrap your arms around you for warmth.

You feel your hands embracing an unfamiliar body.

As you look down on yourself you realize, with your eyes going wide from shock, that you have the largest, roundest breasts you have ever seen on any member of a humanoid species. And they're now being pushed up even further by you slinging your arms under them.

Not even any of the drow, that you saw in the city, had tits as big as these.

'Tits?' You've never used such a vulgar expression before, not even in your mind.

You feel your toned stomach, your plump rear, your small cock... again: 'cock?'

You're trying to get a look at it, but your massive, sun tanned chest is obscuring the entire rest of your body from view.

You experimentally try to bend forwards but almost loose balance.

You probably couldn't get up by yourself if you fell, so you're giving up on the visual confirmation.

But still. Was as it always this small?

You can't seem to remember, but compared to your other assets it certainly feels exceedingly small... small and useless.

"Wut ith gong onn?", you groggily try to demand from the illithid, who is still busy putting away his gear with routine movements.

The words come out slurred and with a lisp, in one part because you're still half asleep, in the other because you're not used to talk through thick, inflated bimbo lips.

You gasp at your own, unfamiliar, feminine voice.

The illithid doesn't answer, you swear you could hear this psychic bastard laughing in his mind.

He silently hands you a small, cubic piece of... pink?

He plants a single thought in your brain: CHEW, before he resumes his task.

You shrug, pop the pink cubic thing into your mouth, and start chewing.

It feels like an explosion of thoughts in your head, an onslaught of memories flooding in.

You are the 'bussiness partner' of this illithid, not that you had much say in the matter.

The Conclave's 'Shapers' remodelled your body, with alchemic tinctures, administered to you by that goddamn machine, forcing you into this new form.

Afterwards they planned on re-selling you to a 'Living Fuckdolls' store in Menzoberranzan, flipping you so to say. But you managed to escape their machinations, before the mind-altering process could break you.

At least you think you did... you did, right?

You were stumbling through the Underdark, fending for yourself, until you've met Asult here. You have tried to remember your spells time and time again, but it seems the machine managed to get them, before you could free yourself.

Asult is traveling with a rag tag group of artists, in a sort of 'Night Circus of the Underdark' kinda enterprise.

He 'offered' you a home and protection, in exchange for your assistance in these 'shows'. He hypnotizes you into the most outrageous fantasies, always altering your personality into that of an utter ditz.

The result this time was you being on the ground, cumswapping with a sentient flower, butt hoisted high into the air and being violated by some ridiculous parody of a unicorn.

"Twoicorn", you giggle, while absentmindedly playing with your tits... "Ugh" you scoff, noticing what you're doing.

Does some of Azul's hypnosis stay with you?

And for how long?

Doubling down on your chewing, you try to recall more memories, maybe there is an answer somewhere among them.

The deal is, you remember next, to help with the show in exchange for protection, food and a cut from the profit.

But somehow you feel like you are forgetting an important part of the deal...

Oh! Oh gods no.

Asult is now done with cleanup and towering before you, with his robes parted.

A thick, glistening, bright purple tentacle is writhing out of his crotch, level with your face.

You try to recoil in disgust, away from the shameless display, but find yourself not being able to.

You can't take your eyes off of it, it's vulgar form twisting and turning... your lips part slightly and your asshole starts twitching.

Do you seriously wonder how it'd feel?

Asult cuts in, planting a word in your mind in capital letters: DEAL.

"Uuugh fiiiine" you groan, pretending to just give in for the sake of the deal, rolling your eyes while chewing on your memory gum.

You turn around and try to hop onto the crate Asult has loaded the equipment into, but you can't quiet get up and almost slip down again. Now your tits are on top of the crate, pressing into your face and blocking out your view again, great, you must look ridiculous.

Blindly roaming your hands across the lid, you're trying to reach the two iron handles you know are somewhere front of you, maybe you can use these to pull yourself up.

The rest of your body is hanging in front of the crate, standing tip toed, straining to gain just a few inches.

You yelp in surprise as strong hands are squishing into your bubble but, four clawed, wiry digits on each, and give you a much needed push.

Finally up, you're laying down on the crate's surface and onto your stomach, letting your legs dangle down, leaving your anus on full display.

Your tiny cock is being pinned between you and the crates solid surface, hardening from the sensation, and your firm breasts are keeping your upper body somewhat elevated.

You stretch out your arms to both sides, grabbing the handles for support.

You perk up your shapely rear towards Asult, wiggling it a bit.

"But make it quick.", you try to make it sound like you're in charge.

Again you could swear you'd hear Asult's inner snickering, as he positions himself behind you, placing his sharp claws on your jiggling butt again, holding it in place while spreading your cheeks.

He probably won't make it quick.

You inhale sharply as a cold, slimy, wriggling tentacle enters your anus, making your stiff cocklett twitch against your abdomen.

He produces his own lube, you think, trying to your best to look ahead, chew gum, and seem disinterested.

Well that's a plus at least.

"Are you gonna move anytime soon? We've got places to be."

But Asult doesn't move, it doesn't seem like he has to, as the tentacle, now warming up thanks to your body heat, begins slowly squirming in and out of your anal entrance by itself.

Asult is just standing behind you, holding you in place, remaining motionless.

After a short while of the tentacle slipping in and out of you at alternating speeds, your ass starts to become numb and a tingling sensation is spreading from your anal ring and through your lower body.

Your micro stiffy is now continiously leaking clear pre, lubricating it and your abdomen, leaving wet spots on the wood beneath you.

Hoping Asult won't hear them, you let small, stifled, high-pitched moans escape your lips.

This admission of pleasure, when paired with the contrast of Asults complete lack of a reaction, irritates you to no end.

You are a proud and learned halfling, a master of the mystic arts and an arcane prodigy.

You would never find joy in such base degeneracy.

But are you still a halfling, you think, as you recall the way you look now.

Your dolled up and oversexed body, it's entire purpose to trigger the primal urge of reproduction in anyone who lays eyes on you. Perfect for inserting cock.

Useless for anything else.

And are you still learned?

The Conclave must have altered your brain after all, otherwise you would never **** yourself like this, right?

Yes, now you are sure.

It's not like you can do anything about it, the illithids did something to you, and now you are just a poor bimbo fuckpuppet, getting off on slimy tentacle cock reaming your ass.

You proudly admire your own self-awareness, as you absentmindedly start to push your shapely butt into Asult, matching the rythm of his tentacle dick.

Behind you, the mindflayer has registered your willingness to relief his sexual urges, and takes his claws of your ass.

Your sun kissed bubble butt is now rippling and jiggling, all the while his cock is pistoning in and out of you, sending jolts of tingling pleasure deep through your lower body.

If it was in an illithid's nature, it would have been his turn to roll his eyes in bemusement, having read your train of thought

And it would have been his first actual reaction since he started fucking you.

But it isn't in his nature.

Instead he is towering menacingly over your small body, hands folding behind his back, tentacle cock now going at frantic speeds.

It's making gulching noises, as it executes one pinpoint attack on your prostate after another, your moans turning deeper and more guttural.

After two hours of fucking, most people would forget all about the words "making love", as a possible synonym for sex, could they witness the brutal, animalistic, entirely instinct driven act, in which your battered body is currently engaged.

Your knuckles have turned white, your hands are gripping the iron handles as tight as you can, holding on for dear life.

It's all you can do, not to get knocked off of the crate.

Luckily, the lid is fastened onto the crate with clamps, which are now creaking and bending, threatening to come off.

You and the crate are being rocked wildly by the long, forceful motions, with which Asult's tentacle pushes inside of you, making it look like it could topple over any minute now, taking you along with it.

Your long, blonde hair has whipped forwards and is hanging over your face, hiding a mewling, gibbering mess behind it.

Your gum has long tumbled out of your mouth and disappeared over the crates edge, you've lost interest in it a while ago.

The numb tingling, that has steadily built up deep inside your lower regions, is now spreading across your entire body.

You lay your head on the side, close your eyes, and oncentrate on nothing else but this feeling.

Something is there, deep down, a point that you need to reach, you're chasing it... almost...

Your legs start shaking uncontrollably, making your thick thighs jiggle and quiver.

Your tiny shemale clitty is shooting spurts of girlcum under you, while beads of sweat are running along your entire suntanned body, pooling together in the valley of your back.

You have long stopped caring if Asult, or anyone else in the circus, can hear you, they'd have to be deaf not to.

Everyone probably knows Asult is fucking you in your downtime anyway.

Asult is approaching climax as well, you notice, his usually squishy tentacle is getting more riggid inside of you, it's movements becoming erratic.

But you don't want it to end, you don't want to face reality yet.

All is well when you are being dominated by a powerful cock up your ass, that much you know.

When someone else is in control of your useless bimbo body, and all you have to care about is spreading your legs and chasing this tingling feeling.

But what about the time, when nobody is fucking your sex-crazed mind senseless?

What comes after, when the lust wears off?

You're scared. Scared to find out just how much of your mind will return, once clarity catches up with you, and what you will then see in the mirror.

Will you shrug it off? Maybe throw your head back and laugh?

Delicately take your tiny she-prick between your manicured fingers, and start stroking it to the image of your own body?

Kneading your massive breasts, running your tongue along you O-shaped, juicy lips, barely able to reach their borders, as you're shooting streaks of white across your own, perverted reflection?

Or will you scream in horror?

You don't want to find out, you decide, and as if on cue, the last piece of memory clicks into place.

You let go of the crate's handles, feeling your fingers tingle from the blood rushing back in.

The rocking stops, Asult has now resumed a more moderate pace and is observing with distant interest, what you are up to.

You place your hands under yourself, and begin to lift your upper body off of the crate. Whimpering and grunting in the process.

You try to arc your upper body into an upright position as best as you can, pushing out your tits in front, feeling trails of sweat uniting along the hot skin of your back and converging between your buttocks.

They mix with the sexual fluids on the mindflayer's cock, before disappearing inside of you.

You whip your head sideways, to turn back at Asult, with an exhausted but determined look on your flush face.

Strands of hair are clinging to one side of your mouth, dryed drool and sweat having created a sticky surface.

He tilts his head slightly, regarding you through cold, alien eyes.

He doesn't stop fucking you, but at least you have his attention.

"Please do it." you whisper, barely audible.

Your voice hoarse from hours of moaning.

You gulp and plead again "please..."

Asult nods knowingly, and begins to bend over you, his tall frame obsuring yours.

His clawed hands come forward, and tenderly close around your slender arms, carefully pulling them out to the sides while supporting you, making you lay back into your own sweat and cum, that has pooled beneath you.

He lowers his face onto your head, tentacles gaining hold of it, gaining hold of everything that is you.

And your world goes white.

Asult's cock stops moving, as it begins to flood your inner walls with sticky, gooey ayer cum.

But you don't really notice anymore.

The illithid's tentacled mouth is covering the upper half of your head, underneath it is a stupid grin, slowly spreading across your face.

You are back in Bimboland, and it's a sunny day.

-Wizard's Normal End-