A Trap In The Dark (Golhyrr wun l'olath)

(Human Paladin to Drow Female Sorceress)

 

Methur's footsteps echoed for untold distances, his mind struggling to fill the absence of the other senses. Finally he found it. The Paladin in the sun-etched plate approached the altar carefully. This was the experience he needed. How could they doubt his dedication to the order now? Evil artifacts were everywhere in the Upper Dark and the Drow were always patrolling close by. He began chanting a cleansing spell. Dark ichor bled from its edges, but he remained in prayer. In an instant, he felt like he’d been impaled through his back as he was lifted up on the spot. What was this? Gods, arghhhhhh.

His blue eyes flickered. Fight... someone was trying to overwhelm his divine magic barrier. 
“Our pact is fulfilled Drow. I kept your memories. Now let me fight the Blood War in peace.” The almost bored devilish voice said. The altar shattered into pieces. “But remember we will have you eventually. Despite your persistent efforts.” He felt a twisting in his gut. Hate, pure hate. He felt like his own holy barrier was beginning to crush and turn against him. Something was clawing its way into his soul. "Lathander protect me!" 

Yet as he said that he felt a sense of loss. In this sunless realm, his God had a tiny presence, but he felt that kernel of something. Now he felt… like he had been abandoned. Cursed, as if he had committed some atrocity or broken his vows. How could this desolation feel normal? He felt the crushing pain again. Ugh, I can’t take it anymore. He screamed as he dispelled the barrier.  A tear ripped down as it fell into two waves of energy. He looked down as his skin crawled. His veins painfully bulging out. Fluid began to leak out of his mouth and skin as his body ate away at itself. His felt a chill all over his body as his Mithril full plate dissolved into ash. An alabaster symbol of devotion he had spent years to earn... no.  "Does the sunblind moth always fly so willingly into the dark? Your virtues are as weak as your flesh." An amused voice in his head thought, or had he thought?



He stumbled through the corridors his pale cock throbbing hard with delight. Little trickles of bloody cum shooting out as he clutched it in pain. His cropped blonde hair grew and bleached thread white. He bounced blindly into pillars as his irises burned away, and he tripped into the dust as femurs snapped and moved around, sending him to the floor. Luminescent mushrooms pulsed around him. His pelvis fractured and he let out a further unending scream. He felt satisfaction, his own satisfaction as if he was torturing himself. As if he deserved it for every good thought he had, for every moment of his life.  She was in every inch of his body, like a living venom, luxuriating in every ragged heartbeat and sensation of terror. He dragged his crippled legs behind him. New irises blared predatory, hellfire red in the dark. His lashes lushening and his eyebrows whitening.






 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After what seemed like hours, bones locked back into their sockets making him let out ragged little noises of pain. He writhed in his blistering, tearing flesh, as if his skin itself had become a constricting un-breathing tunic. His pale skin was overwhelmed by a dark onyx as the black blisters burst from head to toe, stealing from him dozens more groans of pain. His surface appearance now the same as many of the other cursed denizens of the Underdark. Magic uncontrollably burst out in waves from his body.  His muscled chest rippled as he pushed out a breast. One large beautiful breast. Veins bulged black across it. His eyes widened as shock as he gripped the one tit. Not sure what to do at first, he felt the compulsion to play with it and his need for base pleasure took over. His tongue hung out as he squeezed and excited the stiffening violet nipple. It feels as good as it looks! Hmmmahhhahh! My body obeys its true nature. Then he yelped in a mix of pain and pleasure as he cut the tit with his lengthening, sharpening obsidian nails. My... body? Yes, yours. Ours. This is the body of Methur.. or someone else?

Memories of meditating upon healing charms and blessings twisted into ones of destruction and contamination. Decimating fireballs and dominating control spells. No more! I You are not me! I help people… I… What a moronic waste of time. You can save people all you want, but you’ll receive anything back except betrayal. Not true... I saw families united. Land purged and returned to nature's glory. But I saw no personal power or riches from it. No ascension. Pathetic. Weakling. Let me show you!

He saw himself kneeling before a wounded child in a sunlit village, murmuring a prayer as golden light mended broken bones. His hands, strong and calloused from years of swordplay, had always been a force for healing—gentle when they needed to be. But then the memory twisted.The child’s face contorted in pain—not from injury, but from him. His fingers weren’t cradling anymore; they were clawing, sinking into tender flesh as dark magic surged from his palms. The glow of Lathander’s blessing curdled into malevolent violet energy, the child’s whimpers turning to shrieks as their bones snapped instead of mending.

Never! The Sorceress burgeoning consciousness was relentless, unstoppable. She twirled her still lengthening hair and moaned as she felt her sense of self. No longer confined to a void. No longer a lost desiccated corpse beneath an altar. The devil had brought her back to life by filling this male human’s head with her memories. His jaw narrowed, bones slid with dislocations and cracks. Hands shot to the trauma. His cheekbones sharpened, casting shadows across features that could never belong to a man.. And his muscles softened to a deadly grace. She didn't need this bulk. His chapped lips prickled, swelling into a fuller, crueler shape, the perfect smirk already curling at their edges without his permission. A high, aristocratic nose replaced his blunt human one. Cruel symmetry that could only belong to a noble Drow.

Further memories of charity and consideration began corrupting into ones of cruelty. Rupturing with evil intent.  Saving children from Orcs turned into beating and bending Elven child slaves to his will.  Something in him began to become excited... no... aroused at doing the same. His first duel—honorable, glorious, fought with mercy in his heart-shattered-blood dripped from his fingers as he stood over the broken knight, savoring the way his foe's fingers twitched. "Beg," he murmured—no, she murmured—in a now intimately familiar, cruel voice. And when the fool obeyed, she rewarded him with a dagger through the eye. He uncontrollably massaged the large sleek soft tit. Go on... touch yourself properly. Does it hurt worse knowing you're enjoying this? The farmer he'd saved from bandits—now the farmer groveled at her feet, her boot on his neck, her magic carving runes of torment into his flesh. The temple he'd defended—now its stained glass littered the ground, he stood over a gutted priestess, her golden robes in tatters, his fingers sticky with her entrails as the altar blazed with black flame. Every act of virtue recast as depravity. Every proud moment rotted into atrocity. Isn't this fun? Do you see? THEY giggled.
She enjoyed it all, and now, so did he.

The other tit swelled to join her sister, decimating his will as his pleasure peaked again.  Gods why did it feel so good? Hmm.. big enough to make a Menzoberranzan Matron proud.  His back arched, spine curving in shameless display. "More," the traitorous part of him begged, the word slipping out in a breathless moan. Defiance withers before flesh! Touch yourself like a wanton bitch! She screeched. Did your holy vows every make you tremble like this? "You remember, don’t you?" The voice whispered, growing memory from pleasure. "The way they worshiped you? The way you rode them until their moans fed your darkest hungers". Imagery of orgies with male slaves filled his mind. He saw her body in its full naked glory, and fell in love. I'm perfect. I'm in love with myself. My breasts, my curves. But... partner-less is loveless. A horrible way to live. Hmhehe, but so much pleasure! More visions came of nipples and teeth worshiping her breasts, biting into a concubine's shoulder as she took him, her long silver hair sticking to sweat-drenched breasts while other slaves waited their turn, already hard for her. No! Hedonistic and an affront to duty! I.. can not! I must not give in! Hm, but for how long was this our pleasure? Decades? Centuries. Two souls struggled over ownership of right or wrong in the same flesh, as he dug his talons into his temples, as if he could tear her out. I am... I am..Met..Mel'vyrss? Thurmel? I can't remember my name. Monster. What did you do with my name?  A priest once told him that names held power—that to forget one’s own was to surrender one’s soul. Now he understood. But then, I suppose it was so inelegant. Not worth remembering. Not the beauty and several practicality of Drow. His ears stretched, cartilage popped, the lobes elongating with wet cracks into graceful points, tapering to delicate tips that twitched at the sound of his own whimpers. At the skittering of every vermin.

Between begging lamenting and cackling, the Paladin wished his god to save him or smite him dead right now. This wasn’t his fault. He had broken no vow! Don’t let evil succeed in converting me please! His holy core—ravaged, unmade—could no longer hold the light. The divine warmth that had fortified him against despair flickered… and died. He suffered, knowing the pain he’ll inflict on others. That he will do more harm to the world than he removed from it. A purposeful smirk emerged on his face.  They squeezed the tip of their now tiny lifeless cock as they pondered it being remade in her image. He screamed, and his voice broke into a rich feminine tone. The holy symbol on his neck was burning. He ripped it off, then sickened horror struck him as he realized what he had done. Wael. Drow do not beg gods for strength. We take it!

They ran their delicate hands through their soft hair. “Yeeeesss. Vith! Expunge me of this iblith, of his self-righteousness and flawed moralty.”  They said while thrusting their groin. Each wanton moan was higher and sweeter. His heartbeat raced as his pelvis began to groan. His men parts were tightening, aching. He vomited as a segment of flesh unstiched inside him. A hollow space growing to grow more Drow if needed. His heartbeat slowed down again to sync with hers. He sobbed deep inside, thinking of a few beautiful moments of love from a woman. Moments of lovemaking.
"Shhh, little sunlit fool. Liar, you never had any like this as a man. You were always meant to be empty down there. Soon it will be all gone." The voice crooned. This came with perverse familiarity, her remembered ecstasies bleeding into his torment until he couldn't separate revulsion from awakening pleasure. I played with my stolen flesh. I pinched the nipples, pleasure provided with each tantalizing flick. In their shared mind, the Drow's approval surged through. So good hmm good. I love my tits, but I need my cunt. I love the Drow who stole my flesh. I'm in love with her,  love myself...I should hate her. I hate her. But I love myself hmm.. her memories fit so much better. The Paladin tried to gather the fragments of his identity one more time. His trembling voice was lost beneath hers as her essence flooded every rebellious corner of their mind.
 "Not a slave of the Spider Queen. I’m not a scourge like you. I’m not a powerful sorceress. I’m not a beautiful female. I’m not one of the blessed of Lolth. I’m an absolutely divine second daughter. I am a powerful sorceress. I am beautiful and all female! She screamed from the seductive lips. He tried to speak, but then she realized that she was the thinker, the speaker, the taunter. One self. He had been in all roles for a while now. The Paladin's mind had twisted into what he had fought his whole life. He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, listening to a few final whispers that told his few final memories to be quiet, and disappear forever. He tried to argue one more time, but the words that came out weren't his. They were MINE. "Xal'vyrss!"  The name tasted so sweet. I dropped to the floor moaning and cackling. ME who had once danced on the ruins of my enemies' minds. Ritual blades and the splatter of infidel rivvil blood on my face. I saw all my sins finally return, and moaned in ecstasy. I giggled, my eyes glowing with amusement. Then I stood up and stretched MY fantastic body and breasts. Magnificent reconstruction. I kicked away my old sword, its sigils dull and lifeless now. My last male thoughts twitched inside of me, just like the disgusting worm between my legs. I licked the lips that had once prayed to the Dawn Gods. That had made so many offers of mercy. I was a bumbling, thick-handed thing lumbering through the world, clad in clanking armor, shouting prayers to a god of sunlight like some naïve child begging for protection. Worthless.

My human seed trailed behind me on the dust and sand. I let out one last involuntary push and gelded myself. It shrunk away and I moaned from the slick heat. Whatever disgusting  humanity it could have fathered was finally gone. That pathetic inconvenience of a life on my path to power... was gone. I stretched, pouting my thick lips and playing with my fresh cunt as I thought about the fact this body had once been male. I'd done this hundreds of times, but it was really the first time wasn't it? I gasped and howled. Amazing, how was I satisfied with such a coarse straightforward mind and clumsy human prick. Would this turn of fate amuse Lolth? I pondered how long had passed. Was my house even around anymore? No matter, my power was still extraordinary. I'll pick up from where I left off with this new body. I would prove myself to whoever needed. I clicked my fingers and a skintight black robe enveloped my beautiful curvaceous body. My hair tied itself into a ponytail and my favourite crimson make up appeared on my face. I knew I was like Lolth come to the dark itself. But I would never say that out loud. 

I laughed as I thought about the hideous little Svernfiblin village I saw on the way here. I would summon some demons and enslave every single one of them. A suitable gift for a new employer. 








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