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Problems with Plundering

For Morris Wolf

By Draconicon

Making one's way through a dungeon was rather dangerous, even if one did so after it had been cleared by a larger group of adventurers. Morris wasn't so worried about running into other scavengers like himself, considering his own skills, but rather about running into traps that the original adventurers hadn't triggered.

The white-furred wolf shook his head as he walked around one of the petrified men that had been part of the original party, grateful that that particular trap had already been dealt with. Statue traps were never fun, and they were very, very hard to avoid triggering if you didn't know they were there.

His pink-tipped tail twitched, shifting from side to side as he poked his head around one corner after another. He looked into abandoned armories, into old treasure rooms, and into rooms that might as well have been a morgue for all the dead bodies in them. In none did he find a sign of treasure until he was deep in the dungeon.

There, he finally found something promising. Three chests that were still locked amidst five others that had been opened, and only one was moving in the way of a mimic. Morris shook his head, tossing a potion vial into the room.

As soon as it hit the breathing chest, the thing lunged to its feet, opening its trunk mouth and extending a tongue longer than the wolf's arm. It hissed and screamed, looking for the source of its pain.

It ended up having the pain come to it as Morris loosed an enchanted crossbow bolt.

As the mimic hit the floor, burning from the combination of a fire arrow enchantment and an alcohol-soaked body, the cold-faced wolf looked between the other two chests. Neither one moved like a mimic, expanding and contracting as if breathing, but that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Unfortunately, it also meant that he had to get closer.

The wolf stopped several steps away from the nearest chest, reaching into his belt pockets before pulling out a larger potion vial. Glowing green, the vial contained acid, and a strong one, at that. If the chest moved, then it was a mimic. If not, either it was a real treasure chest, or it was a dead mimic. One way or the other.

He uncapped it and tilted it slowly, the green slime falling down on the top of the chest. He waited for three seconds, half-expecting it to leap up and attack him.

It didn't.

Kicking the side, he flipped the lid open to find a bunch of gold staring back at him. Not a bad haul, when it came right down to it. Probably a few hundred, maybe even a thousand gold pieces with assorted jewelry. Possibly even some enchanted gems.

And now...

Thankfully, he'd reserved enough acid to make sure that the last one was safe, too. Morris stood back from it, just like before, and tilted a bit of acid down on top. Once again, he waited three seconds, and the chest didn't strike back.

Smirking, he knelt down and opened the lid -

"FUCK!"

The wolf jumped back, but not fast enough. A golden slime leaped from the inside of the chest at him, splitting into five different tentacles. It was hissing from inside the chest, obviously injured, but it wasn't dead. Not by a long shot.

Morris managed to get a hand on his knife, pulling the curved blade from his hip, but it was too little, too late. Tentacles grabbed for every limb, including the one with the knife, and he barely managed to keep it free for a few seconds longer than his legs and his other arm.

The tentacles pulled him back from the chest, the slime inside pushing out with a grumbling bubbling sound. It continued to hold him aloft, keeping him from touching anything that might give him the leverage to pull free. All he could do was ride along and hope that it wasn't going to do anything -

"HEY!"

Morris shouted as one of the yellow tentacles started to slide up the legs of his trousers. He squirmed, trying to kick it, but as it was the same tentacle that held him pinned in the first place, there wasn't much he could do. He could just feel the slime moving up his limbs, making its way further and further up his body.

It reached its peak humiliation when the tentacles of gold slime reached his rump and his cock at the same time. They ground against both, sliding along and leaving a hint of dry slickness behind. It was...strange, but he was very thankful for it a moment later.

"NNNGH!" Morris gasped through clenched teeth as he felt the sudden pressure against his rump, against his ass, before the pressure turned into a wide-spreading presence inside his hole. He gasped for breath as it pushed deep, working further and further inside of him as it went.

It was wriggling, too, slithering like a snake as it opened his rump up, pushing him open, forcing his anal walls to expand and give the thing room to move. Every little ripple hit that little pleasure button inside, forcing his cock harder, forcing him stiffer.

Stiffer.

He didn't realize it at first, but there was something else going on. His limbs, his tail, even his cock felt stiffer than they should have been. The wolf grimaced, shaking his head. This wasn't...

On instinct, he flicked his wrist, throwing the knife in his hand at his pants. It was an expert throw, cutting through the fabric and exposing what was underneath. He even managed to score a little gash along the tentacle that was fondling his cock.

But it was what he found beneath his clothes, what the tentacles were doing to him, that brought real shock to his face.

Gold, he thought, staring at the yellow that was slowly creeping down from the tip of his shaft. It's turning me...turning me gold...

Morris stared at his penis as it slowly started to turn into the valuable metal, the slow petrification running down from the head to the base. Little veins of the golden color were running in streaks down his shaft, and the feeling of dripping from the tip was nothing more than a phantom illusion, his cock frozen in time, his hard-on forced to stay at that state.

By the time that it hit the base of his cock, he realized that it was going to stay that way forever unless he found a way to remove the curse, unless he found a way to get away from the tentacles on him. He had to find a way free before his legs were completely frozen in their new metal form.

Before he could try kicking or anything, another tentacle rose up, holding itself right in front of his mouth. Morris glared at it, shaking his head.

The tentacle in his ass responded, rippling about in such a thrashing movement that it managed to both slap his ass and slam his prostate in the same movement, and it did both of them hard enough to make him yelp.

"Ah - mmmph!"

And just like that, his throat was as invaded as his other parts. He groaned as he felt it thrusting down his throat, holding his tongue pinned as it turned his face into another fuck-hole. The wriggling, twisting, living feeling of the tentacle fucking his throat made it somehow so different from sucking a cock, reminding him of what he was suffering.

As if the golden color on his muzzle wasn't enough of a notice of what was happening, or the reddening of his nose towards a scarlet ruby tint. His mouth was forced to stay open, his teeth starting to change, too, going from white to gold, still having the same shape but becoming a bit more soft in the process.

Turning me...turning me...into a statue...

Morris fought, but his struggles were getting slower and slower. He could feel his balls no longer swaying, merely hanging down in a single direction no matter how much he got turned around by the tentacles restraining him. Their weight, their sensation was still there, but they were frozen in place.

The gold spread across his face, hardening his mouth and muzzle into an open look. Other tentacles were rubbing along the sides of his face, as if considering whether to attack his ears or something else. Others were rubbing along his cock, teasing him with pleasure that could no longer reach a full climax.

Even his struggles were slowing down, his tail becoming a weight against his spine, his legs no longer kicking. His knees felt like they had gone completely solid, and he couldn't even wiggle his toes anymore.

No...not like...this...

The slime was pushing into him, too, filling him, taking up space inside. As his rump solidified, spread apart so that his asshole was still exposed, he felt the slime pushing into him, taking up space to become a trap again, ready to take down anyone that tried to remove the latest treasure of the dungeon.

As it slid down his throat into his stomach, as his face solidified into a gold statue with gem eyes and gemstones along his throat, he knew that he would be a tempting treasure to anyone that came through later. The question was, would anyone be able to understand what he was so that they could reverse the curse?

Would any adventurer that came in the way that he did, following in the wake of the bigger, more powerful parties, even take the chance?

Morris would have groaned if he could have made any such sound. As it stood, he couldn't even breathe. All he could do was stand there, stare out at the hallway, and just exist. Those were the options of a statue.

Pretty bad options, he thought.

Nobody was there to correct him.

The End