Release in the night

In the drifting void of darkness, the voice spoke, its words echoing through the emptiness. It was a voice filled with a sense of resignation, of weariness that spoke of countless lifetimes spent in solitude and obscurity.

"Damn, everything's so freaking dark," the voice muttered, a note of irritation creeping into its tone. "A notification? Congratulations, you have obtained a well. Huh, so I've gotten to the point where I'm seeing these again, it seems. The last time I saw one of these was when I was a virus. Damn, that was hard."

The voice spoke of a long and tumultuous journey, of witnessing the rise and fall of civilizations, of experiencing the passage of time in a way that few could comprehend. It spoke of a sense of detachment, of being an observer rather than a participant in the unfolding drama of the world.

"It's always so difficult working up to two legs in this world, yet the humans I have witnessed over the years do it with such ease," the voice continued a hint of admiration in its words. "I have forgotten and remembered more history of this world than they can comprehend. Yet my immortal existence, from a bacteria to this primordial slime, has become my pinnacle for how many lifetimes?"

But despite the vastness of its experience, the voice spoke of a profound emptiness, a feeling of being disconnected from its existence. "This time feels different, this time I feel different," it mused, a note of uncertainty creeping into its words. "Well, empty but recharging. What does that mean, I wonder?"

The voice lamented its inability to remember, to retain the knowledge and experiences of its many lives. "I never do, I know I will awaken, or perhaps I will return to sleep and all this knowledge will be lost to me. But when I fused, I could see it all. What was that? And what is she that this has happened?" it sighed. "Any of the times I have lived, the lives, the knowledge. If only I could remember, I wonder how far I could get. Was this better than paradise?"

As the darkness faded and light returned, the voice sighed, its words filled with confusion and uncertainty. "Sleep returns, or is this being awake?" it pondered, the sensation of consciousness returning to its form.

As I came to my senses, I realized that I was trapped in my slug state, confined within a glass jar. Panic and frustration welled up within me as I struggled against the confines of my prison.

"What the fuck!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing through the room. I looked around, taking in the darkness of the room and the strange ability to see clearly, a trait I had inherited from the goblin eyes I had assimilated.

But my attention was quickly drawn to the sounds around me. Loud music and multiple voices filled the air, indicating that I was in some sort of human dwelling. "Damn," I muttered, my rat ears picking up on the sounds with surprising clarity.

As I reflected on my fusion with the Priestess, I realized that it had been a unique experience, unlike anything I had ever encountered before. "Damn, the Priestess was a first," I thought, recalling the sensation of merging with her. "I have never been able to combine with a human before."

As I squirmed up to the edge of the jar, my form shifting and contorting, I peered across the room at the being lying on the bed. With a sense of both curiosity and trepidation, I observed their frantic movements as their hand moved between their legs.

Reshaping myself into a more normal creature, with an ear on either side of my bulbous eye, I focused on enhancing my ability to hear and see better. With my new configuration, I could pick up on the subtlest sounds and nuances in the room, allowing me to better understand my surroundings.

The being on the bed continued their frenzied actions, their breath coming in ragged gasps as they sought release. A mixture of confusion and fascination washed over me as I watched, unsure of what to make of the scene unfolding before me.

But amidst the chaos of my thoughts, one thing became clear: I needed to find a way out of this jar and uncover the truth behind my captivity. 

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 The Shattered Priestess

Aria and Rikku inched their way towards the tunnel exit, Aria doing her best to heal Rikku despite her exhaustion. A small black slug clung between Aria's breasts, an odd but grateful presence that had saved their lives. Whatever had transpired had bought them precious time.

As more adventurers arrived to take on the same quest, they found the duo in a bad state, both badly injured but alive. Aria, using the last of her stamina, managed to heal Rikku as best as she could before they were both taken to the hospital.

Aria lay on the quaint straw bed, her eyes drifting to the view outside the window. The room was simple yet comforting, a table with books in the corner providing a source of distraction. She had been told to rest overnight, but her thoughts were consumed with concern for Rikku, who would be staying longer.

As she lay there, Aria couldn't shake the feeling that had been nagging at her all day. It was a sensation she had never experienced before, a constant fire burning in her lower regions. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on her friend's well-being and the events that had led them to this moment.

She couldn't help but think back to the fusion, to the moment when she and the mysterious being had become one. The sensation of being united, of sharing a consciousness, had been overwhelming. But she also remembered the intense feelings of arousal that had accompanied the fusion, feelings that she had never felt before.

It was a confusing and unsettling experience, one that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Aria's cheeks flushed as she whispered to herself in the darkness, frustration evident in her voice. "Damnit, why does it keep leaking? I don't want to ask the nurse for another pair of panties." She glanced around the room, relieved she was alone for the night. The nurses had left her to rest, and the night healer was presumably far away.

With a sigh, Aria considered her options. Maybe, just maybe, if she took matters into her own hands, she could find some relief. She shifted uncomfortably on the bed, her body aching with tension. Perhaps if she were quiet enough, no one else would hear she thought to herself.

As she spreads her legs and begins to touch herself, she does so with a sense of empowerment and ownership over her pleasure.

Each stroke and caress is a celebration of her body and its capacity for pleasure. She moves her fingers with purpose, embracing the sensations that ripple through her, reveling in the freedom to explore her desires without inhibition.

As the darkness of the room enveloped her, Aria's breathing slowed, her mind consumed by a singular desire. With a deliberate and steady hand, she traced the contours of her body, exploring every curve and crevice with a newfound sense of curiosity and liberation.

Her fingers danced lightly across her skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins. Each touch was a revelation, a testament to the beauty and complexity of her form. She lingered on the softness of her inner thighs, the delicate arch of her hips, and the subtle curves of her breasts, savoring the sensations that bloomed beneath her touch.

As she reached the apex of her desire, Aria's movements became more purposeful, more deliberate. She parted her legs, allowing her fingers to venture further, to explore the depths of her desire. With each stroke, she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, building, growing, until it consumed her completely.

Her breath hitched as she found her most sensitive spot, her clit, and she began to stroke it gently, teasingly, feeling the heat and wetness between her legs intensify. Her body arched, her back lifting off the bed as she lost herself in the ecstasy of the moment.

The room seemed to pulse with her desire, the darkness alive with the sounds of her pleasure. She imagined herself as a goddess, a creature of pure desire and sensuality, reveling in her power and beauty. She was no longer just Aria, the young priestess on a quest; she was a force of nature, a being of pure pleasure and abandonment.

As she neared the peak of her ecstasy, Aria's movements became more urgent, more desperate. She needed release and craved it with a primal intensity that consumed her. With a final, desperate stroke, she tumbled over the edge, her body convulsing with pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed over her.

As the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided, Aria lay there, spent and sated, her body tingling with the echoes of her pleasure. In that moment, she felt truly alive, truly connected to herself and her desires. 

As the last echoes of her climax faded, Aria lay there, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. But even amid her satisfaction, a part of her yearned for more. She knew she should rest, that she needed to conserve her energy for the challenges that lay ahead, but the fire that burned within her could not be extinguished so easily.

With a newfound determination, Aria's hand once again found its way between her legs, her fingers seeking out the source of her pleasure. She stroked herself slowly, sensually, savoring the sensations that rippled through her body. Each touch was a testament to her desire, a declaration of her autonomy and her right to pleasure.

As she pleasured herself, Aria felt a sense of liberation wash over her. At this moment, she was not bound by the expectations of others or the constraints of society. She was simply a woman, embracing her sexuality and reveling in the pleasure it brought her.

Finally, as exhaustion began to creep in, Aria felt a sense of peace settles over her. She had indulged her desires, explored her body, and found a new sense of empowerment in the process. With a contented sigh, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.