sex is something you do with your teeth

You pitch an idea to the captain. Perhaps disarming the trap would be considerate for the next party. Plus, there would be no chance for anyone to trip into it by accident. You feel weird in your stomach bringing this up, like you're explaining it to your parents. Nervousness wells within you as you continue to justify yourself. The captain speaks:

"Why do you keep insisting we try to "disarm" this genderbending trap, dude? We literally mapped out this whole dungeon floor during the meeting, so we can just walk around it... Come on, man, I know what I'm talkin' about!"

Of course it was stupid to ask. You knew the captain wouldn't budge on it. He's always been stubborn. Recoiling, you gingerly step around the pressure plate. Your gaze lingers on the symbol inscribed on the tablet. Venus. The runes are too hard to memorize, but you don't really know why you're trying to anyway. Somone snickers at you under their breath. Not the first time. Your mind wanders as you trudge down the halls, occasionally interrupted by the odd squeal of a dungeon pest being casually snuffed. Would it be so bad...? The armor wouldnt fit you anymore, you think, but you never liked it anyway. Too flashy for your tastes. You prefer to keep it subtle, so people don't look at you that much. The cloak helps a bit, but its this gaudy red color. Captain insisted upon it even since the–

"Whoa watch it bud!" A gruff gauntleted grip tugs your shoulder with force, pulling you back from a dark recess in the floor full of these writhing things, glistening with black slime. "If I hadn't caught you you would have fallen straight into that pit of tentacles! Good thing I stopped you when I did, huh?" It barely registers to you as you nod automatically, common practice among his company. "Lets keep going, and watch your step next time, bro!" A less assured voice pipes up "Heh *snrk* yeah, bro. Don't be a liability!" You feel uncomfortable in your own skin. Typical dungeon at this point.

Another while later, some mimic encounters are dealt with handily. Sneaky little things like to hide in plain sight, so its a good thing you found them all in this dilapidated living quarters. Though, oddly, this ornate wardrobe seems to be out of place. A thought crosses your mind. Maybe if this one is a mimic too, it might have some actual clothes inside. And with carvings that detailed and fancy, who knows what kind of royalty it stole from. Perhaps a princess, or a well-off mistress of a house..... It might be worth salvaging the clothes for a price, you tell yourself. The thought of a nice dress sticks in your mind. Reminds of you of the things your ex girlfriend would wear to the bar. Or the maid's uniform of that particularly sweet lady at the manor you helped clear of bats that one time. Suddenly, you feel a set of teeth latch onto you, as the wardrobe pulls you in!

"Oh shit, get him out of there!" decrees the captain in an irritated fashion. Your theory was correct, as it happens, and the mimic begins slipping its appendages through gaps in your armor, feeling around for belts to loosen and clasps to undo, all the while holding some kind of ratty dutchess's attire. As it places a frilly headband with bows onto your now exposed head, you feel the mimic's body crash into the wall, and faux-wood splinters all over. You quickly reach up to hide the headband, for some reason, and grope around for your helmet as one of your guildmates yanks you up by your chestpiece.

"C'mon, bro, that one was so obvious! I thought for sure you were just fucking with us. Guys like you are never gonna make it in the guild if you cant grow some balls and be a knight." Another voice interjects, the captain being uncharacteristically kind. "Oh, relax, would you? He just didn't know, no need to be so harsh to the man. We are just glad you're alive." And with that, you don your helmet again and proceed to the deepest chamber. The headband is stashed haphazardly into your armor plates, and when you think no one is looking, you move it to your bag. You don't think about why you didn't just throw it on the floor, and move on. You don't think about it.

She opens her mouth to speak, eyes glowing a deep red and fangs laid bare. "Foolish AND greedy, I see. Very well. Do your worst, you poor whelps." The battle ensues, thralls clamber out of the hallways either side of our party, and the baroness is tough as nails. The rest become distracted with hogging the action against the thralls, having to be reminded multiple times to use nonlethal force since these "poor souls" are commonfolk under her spell. In the meantime, for just a brief moment, you see her eyes again. A flash of red gives way to a dull throbbing pink light, and a voice slithers into your head.

"Let's see what we're working with...."

Something, presumably the baroness, is rummaging around in your mind. You grow anxious at the prospect of being seen so deeply, and then realize you should probably be worried about getting mind controlled instead.

"Your priotities are certainly interesting, little one. Don't fret. My thralls are treated well here, despite the brutes who come to pilfer my coffers."

She speaks again, softer than she did out loud. Almost...... comfortably. Soothingly. You quickly cover up the thought of being overheard or interrupted.

"Tsk tsk," she chastizes you for keeping secrets (or trying to), "You ought to know that wouldn't stop me. So to ease your mind, I have your ,"friends" occupied just fine. Besides, this is all in your head, little morsel."

She crosses an arm over her chest to rest a finger on her chin, tilting her head to take you in even further. You feel naked, and in a way that confuses you more than frightening you.

"I see. You're more interesting than i thought. I think I've taken a liking to you, O Brave Knight. Come find me again once you're alone. Don't be late~"

Her eyes dim and you feel someone shaking you awake. "Oh good. Man, if I was just a few minutes late that vampire baroness would have hypnotized you and made you her thrall or something! Good thing you can always count on me, ey bro?"

Now that you've been released, you notice that the vampire's forces are overwhelming the party. Hastily, you all retreat up a ladder in the back of the room, and come out in a shady alleyway nearby the guild hall. "Sure was a close one, right? Cmon let's get going, the next round's on you since we didn't get any of her loot." You all make your way to a bar, battered and beaten. You order your usual apple cider, quietly and under your breath to the barkeep. The boys have been encouraging you to drink beer, and you don't wanna deal with their shit tonight. The barkeep is informed that you're footing the bill, by an overly rambunctious guild captain. Not worth committing to memory.

In bed, later that night, you lie awake and stare into the headband you swiped from that mimic. Frilly, black and white, little pink bows on the sides, surprisingly good condition for something in a mimic's stomach. You haven't put it back on yet. You're still afraid that it will fit you perfectly. The baroness's words bounce around in your head. Being called little should make you angry! Being favored by a vampire, a monster, should make you want to repent. But whether it be by magic or by your own mind, it doesnt sound so bad to be hers.

In the night, you sneak out with your bag. Sword at your hip, armor doffed long ago, alcohol in your system, and a mental note of that dungeon's back entrance engraved on your mind. You have to know what she meant. What she wants.

A (cropped) commission for an anonymous patron