Kaloranikir was an Illithid, known to the world as a mind-flayer, that most fearful of creatures dwelling within the warping influence of the Underdark. His diet was that of the most precious of things within one's body: brains. As a child, surviving the years by slaying any competitors (which included his siblings), he found that he retained their memories and all things they had learned. The first effect of this was a mild type of insanity that caused him to forget his true identity and shift into using the memories and experiences of one whose brain he had consumed. Psychic surgery had repaired that, it was a common occurrence among the more voracious of his kind, but it had missed something. While it had repaired his sense of self, the memories remained. And the more numerous his victims, the greater his learning. When he became an adolescent, a lean, tall figure with light purple flesh and eyes that glistened like wet rubies, the urge to mate came upon him and his skills at persuasion, learned at the expense of others, made females easy prey for him.
But after a while, they weren't enough. He needed something more.. exotic. And here, as his tastes became apparent, came his expulsion from his people.
He had been caught 'sampling' some female Human captives. They were small, easy to manipulate, and were much more fun to couple with. The fact that they had a tendency to either fight a lot or be totally submissive was, however, not what he sought. And when he had just found a delectable Elven female who would agree to lay with him in exchange for her freedom, someone found him. The only part of his leaving that bothered him was that he would not be allowed to take the Elf with him.
It was during his time as a young adult, roaming about the deep places of the world, he first stumbled upon a group of 'Adventurers'. Also known as 'vermin' to those in the Underdark, these fools had a tendency to wander into the depths, cause some destruction, kill a few of anything they could find, then either retreat or be destroyed.
This group was not faring well.
As Kaloranikir crept around the corner, he saw a trio of armed warrior-types facing off against a Beholder. Around the area were strewn half-a-dozen others in varying states of injury. Two had severe burns, one had been petrified and broken, and the rest simply lay still with terrible injuries. A Dwarf was tending them, and his attention upon them was total. The Illithid had been rather unlucky as far as food had been concerned, and his stomach rumbled lightly at the prospect of a meal.
It took very little to stun the diminutive creature with a blast of psychic energy, and less time to remove its helmet and feed.
New memories flooded into Kaloranikir's head, magickal incantations came to him, spells they were called, and the urge to use one came upon him. He chose one that would freeze a person in place, and the words and gestures required seemed so familiar, he could swear that he had used this spell before.
When the words and movements were complete, the trio became perfectly still. The Beholder backed away a moment, trying to figure out what had happened when one of his eyes spotted the lean, tentacle-faced figure behind his aggressors.
"Just what makes you think I needed your help, Illithid?" It asked in a gruff tone, using that strange language that was the common tongue of the depths.
"You didn't," was the reply, "favour or not, I was hungry." The Beholder, even though it ate strange things, shuddered at the thought of this creature's diet. It surveyed the situation and smiled.
"You creatures have never been known to be friendly, Illithid, but I was beginning to tire, these three will not be contained for long, shall you finish them, or shall I?"
Kaloranikir stepped forward and took the initiative. He watched as the Beholder winced, knowing what was about to happen.
Flipping the barbute-style helmet from the first, he was presented with a bald scalp; this pleased him because he hated picking hair out of his maw. Extending his neck, he wrapped the four tentacles that surrounded the circle of numerous and sharp teeth that was his mouth and took an excellent hold on his victim's head. The ring of teeth expanded, grating across the bare pate of this being, and Kaloranikir knew that despite being held by magick, the victim was fully aware of what was happening. A feeling of sadistic glee welled up inside the mind-flayer, and he bit down on the crown of his victim's head. The crunching noise was the sound of teeth pulling the top of the man's cranium away, and passing it back into the second chamber of Kaloranikir's mouth where many blunt and powerful teeth ground it into pieces to be digested. Now he was free to run his tongue across the exposed surface of his victim's brain. The taste was wonderful, this Human had accumulated many experiences and would live on as a piece of Kaloranikir's personality. The Beholder blinked and looked away as a sudden sucking sound let him know that everything this combatant had been was no longer present within his form. Kaloranikir's neck swelled as the brain was passed down safely, beyond the grinding-teeth, and into his waiting stomach. The Human's eyes glazed over, no amount of healing would ever help him. The whole affair was repeated twice more, Kaloranikir took in the brains of a Human female and an Elven male, but never did he look to their faces, they would never be remembered as anything more as meals. The Beholder became ill, and as Kaloranikir licked his teeth clean, savouring the taste of cerebral fluid and assimilating the combined memories of the three, it chose to speak again.
"Tell me, Illithid, do you desire any of their belongings, or will you just consume their brains?"
Taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of new knowledge, he swayed for a bit, then found his balance.
"I shall take a few things, a weapon or two, and perhaps a few other effects. You may keep the rest, I have no need for much riches." The two then set to dividing up what possessions the whole group had, and Kaloranikir found himself with enough gear to make do for some time. A ring that would make him invisible was pulled from a thief, another that would repair any of his wounds from a fighter. A thick tome of spells came from a wizard, and a sheaf of scrolls from a cleric would add to his repertoire. Of their clothing, he kept some mail and some finely made accessories, the bulkiest of which, a silken shirt, fit him well and felt rather nice against his skin. He took a small number of gemstones, of which the group had many, and a number of other items, most of which he would probably never use.
Once it was all done, the rest was unceremoniously into a few sacks and the Beholder dragged them away, choosing to leave before his accomplice turned to feed upon the fallen.
And feed he did. A youthful Gnome had been possessed of an inventive mind, and Kaloranikir found himself with a headful of designs, each with many moving parts. An older Dwarf had little more of value than a dozen rousing songs meant for taverns and bawdy houses. A Halfling had granted him a thousand recipies, each of which was for a kind of food he could never properly digest.
But it was a leather-clad Half-Elven female who gave him the most. His mind was filled with images of violence, the crack of a whip against the back of a restrained victim, the feeling of control over another, and a hundred different encounters with different males and females of a dozen species, each one more debauched than the last. His arousal was so powerful, he failed to sense a presence behind him until it was too late.
A dagger zipped past his head and hit the far wall, falling to the floor with a metallic clatter and Kaloranikir's head spun around.
There, in the darkness, scarcely visible, was a Drow. And better still, a female.
She never knew what hit her, the Drow's mind exploded in pain and she crumpled to the floor of the tunnel, writhing in agony.
Kaloranikir surged forward, imagining a myriad of ways he could enjoy her, but choosing one that seemed the most interesting. He tore the few things she wore from her black-fleshed body and snatched her up as she reeled, barely conscious, and unfastened the simple loincloth he wore, letting it fall to the floor.
He spun around and sat upon the floor, leaning against the wall of the tunnel, holding the female close. She realized her predicament and began to panic.
Here she was, naked, held by arms thicker than her thighs, with her exposed sex resting against a thick, purple shaft of flesh. She was about to kick and thrash when a voice behind her spoke.
"Be still, Drow, or I'll kill you right here!" Four thick tentacles wrapped themselves about her head and she felt a circle of sharp things lightly graze her scalp.
"W..what do you want, Mind-Flayer?" Her question came from trembling lips and her whole body was covered in goosebumps from fear.
"I want your body, Drow, not your mind." The voice was unchanged, but this time, instead of coming to her ears, it was heard inside her head. "Give yourself to me, and I will not harm you." The purple shaft throbbed visibly, hot against the ebony lips of her sex, and she understood.
"Then, as vile a creature as you are," she said with mock bravado, "I will let you despoil me." The thick arms slowly retreated, only to grip her slender waist instead. Her legs spread and she slowly reached down to that thick member which was hot and hard in her hands.
She raised herself some, and tried to bend him a little so he could enter but had difficulty due to the fact she was held so tightly by her head. She could only watch as one hand came forward to grab the tip as the other held her higher still. Slowly, the head came in contact with her pussy, and as she was lowered, it sank into her body.
For Kaloranikir, this was incredible; it had been so long since he had enjoyed the body of another, his lust threatened to overtake him. The Drow was warm and tight against him, and she squirmed as she took his length. His ears were gifted with light squeals and he enjoyed the way her movements felt against the silken garment between them. It took a few minutes, but soon he was sheathed within the confines of her body completely.
Slowly he began to rock her back and forth, just a little bit at time, feeling the friction of flesh on flesh deep inside the Drow's tunnel; she would gasp when she was brought down over him and moan slightly with each withdrawal. After a few minutes, the tempo increased and they both began to sweat. Kaloranikir grunted with each stroke as his length drilled into her, his captive moaned and wailed as she was forced to reach up and hold his thick neck.
But Kaloranikir did not work on just her body. As the Drow writhed and moaned, the Illithid began to work on her mind, stripping away the layers of racial hatred she held towards him and replacing them with a desire to obey. This was only some of the psychic surgery he had learned in his time, and once this Drow was his to control, he would plant whatever concepts he wanted into her psyche. As well, he plumbed the depths of her memory as he plumbed her fantastic body. Her name was Aialnodrel of Kurophur, a youth seeking some adventure of her own as a break from the scheming and backstabbing ways of her kin. Kaloranikir would give her much to be thankful for in the future.
As he finished, he could feel his climax nearing; hers he could sense via her breathing and body language. Clearing all other things from his mind, he released her head from his grip and drove her up and down atop himself. She shrieked in extacy as she thrashed, and Kaloranikir felt her walls close in on him in orgasmic spasms. He let go and pulled her down hard, filling her with his meat, then giving into his own climax, filled her belly with his seed.
For many minutes, they remained there, slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and enjoying the afterglow. When the Drow came to her senses, she felt a strange desire to serve this Illithid's every need, and she was unable to figure out where that desire came from. She felt strong hands lift her up, she felt her.. her master's member slide from her now cream-filled vagina and felt strangely empty when it was gone. Kaloranikir stood before her, towering high, and when one thick hand was placed softly on her shoulder, she felt the need to be near and her arms went round his lean waist and she embraced him.
The Illithid stored away the process of her subversion for later use and once she was outfitted properly the two of them disappeared into the darkness, far below the surface, to seek out new prey.
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"I was saddened to see my master pass on, but Elves live long past anything and anyone they hold dear. I don't know how he did it, but he lives on in my memories.." From the Diary of Aialnodrel Flayerslave