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-Well...fuck! -Sahja swore right after the ceiling collapsed.

She had managed to escape the trap, darting one way while the rest of her party ran the other. She took one final look at the pile of ruble separating her from her comrades, spat and turned around, heading into the dark corridor.

Adventuring was a profession considered odd by most, mostly attracting vagabonds, brigands and lunatics. Descent folks would just pick up a craft, settle down and make an honest living. But adventurers were a different breed all together. Bards and poets claim it was the undying fire in their souls which made adventurers take on the challenges of the world. But really they wouldn't really know about that. Most of them were illiterate and uneducated either way with an average life expectancy of thirty-five due to the inherent dangers of the profession.

Now Sahja. She was different. For one thing, she possessed a sense of self-awareness, always having a slight nudge in her skull telling her that something was not right, whether it involved dungeon crawling, monster hunting, trap disarming or any other typical heroics so thoroughly intertwined with adventuring. Unfortunately for her, she did not really know what this constant feeling was, being from the uneducated breed of adventurers and not being able to exactly pin point why her life had been in constant danger for the past several years. Instead she figured it was most likely cowardice and actively and constantly subdue any such feelings, preferring to stand in the back of the party, trying to get encouraged by them in one way or another.

Sahja walked with her dagger in hand, her felines ears perked to the ambience of the tomb, weary of any and all creatures that might stalk the shadows. She repeatedly kicked herself mentally for bringing a dagger and not, let's say, a sword. But she thought herself one of the stealthy adventurers and it was customary for them to carry daggers and wear hoods. The idea was that they wouldn't need a sword, since they were stealthy enough and could sneak around. In practice, more often than not, those were the first to get killed.

She continued to walk, for what seemed like hours, constantly changing pathways, searching for traps and looking for treasure. So far there was nothing. No treasures, no traps, no monsters. A thought started to form inside Sahja's head, which was an event in itself. There was a high chance that this here was not the dungeon of a powerful lich, as the group reasoned before crashing down the marble doors, but rather just an ordinary, albeit extremely spacious, necropolis. A falling ceiling did not necessarily mean a trap. And tombs with decomposing bodies didn't not necessarily mean a necromancer's hideout. Sahja took a deep sigh, sheathed her dagger and continued forward, trying to make peace with the fact that she was a tomb raider now.

Plaques, writings, coffins, obelisks. The necropolis was quite fascinating in it of itself - sprawling for miles on end. It might as well have been an actual city. As the girl traversed the corridors, she paid special attention to anything that seemed more artistic. She examined the stone tombs, their engravings and the material they were made of. She couldn't really read what was written on them, since her reading comprehension was quite low, but she did try. She especially enjoyed the figures chipped onto to the stones. A second thing that separated Sahja from the typical adventurers was her natural curiosity. Simply put she enjoyed learning new things. She would spend hours on end at the taverns talking to the patrons, questioning them about their daily lives, their work and all sorts of minutia. More than once she had been asked why hadn't she gotten schooled. She never really had a good answer. This time around, she promised herself that the first thing she would do after getting out of this crypt was getting some sort of an education. There was a word she had learned recently. Thanatology. The study of death. How death occurs, how people deal with death and everything else relating to death. She promised herself that she would begin studying thanatology and make something of herself. She was almost twenty eight and she couldn't really keep up the adventuring lifestyle for long. It didn't really pay as well as most people believed.

Sahja stepped into an open, circular room with numerous exits. A beam of sunlight shined from a crack in the ceiling. And her self-awareness clicked once more. The ceiling earlier fell down. This one already had a crack in it. It would be best if she just hurried along. But then came her adventurer mindset. She was already there and she might as well look around.

She quickly scanned the room, finding nothing but old, dusty, clay pots. And one chest. She raised an eyebrow. There was a chest, made out of wood with iron hinges, perfectly clean. Amongst the ancient pottery.

She could just go. The object was too suspicious.

Or she could take a long inside. What if there was treasure in it? Unlike all the other chambers, which were empty, surely this chamber, filled with pottery, had to contain a treasure. Maybe gold. Maybe jewels.

Most people say that instinct was something hard to beat. Those people were never conditioned by marauding bands of vagrants to systematically check every nook and cranny for anything that remotely might seem valuable.

One chest. Just a quick check. And then she would bolt out of here. With a steady step, Sahja approached the chest. She examined it. There was nothing out of the ordinary. She cracked her knuckles, grabbed the lid and violently yanked it open.

There was nothing inside. More specifically, nothing that resembled treasure. Or the inside of a chest for that matter.

-Well...fuck! - Sahja swore.

A tentacle shut out of the chest and entered her mouth, violently stuffing itself down her throat. It was a mimic. Of course it was a mimic. What else could have been? Dungeon crawling 101: random chests are never okay.

Mimics were a curious bunch. A type of shape-shifter, a mimic would usually assume the form of an ordinary item and wait for someone to touch, at which point the mimic would jump out and either eat or impregnate its' victim. Now, mimics aren't exactly common. They were monsters with the intelligence of a wild animal. Even less so. They had an understanding of what a common items to people was, so they would change into things like chests, desk, doors and the like. But if one saw a desk in the middle of a crypt, they knew they would be dealing with a mimic and would usually bash it and kill it on the spot. Same went for chest mimics. They looked like ordinary chests, but if they hid amongst dozens of chest than that lowered the chances of the mimic being opened. So they would just plop themselves in an empty room. It was simple and all self-respecting adventurers, dungeoneers and spelunkers knew how to stay away from them. Sahja didn't really have that much self-respect.

As the mimic's tongue quickly wiggled inside of her, it secreted an opioid, subduing the girl's struggling and nullifying her gag reflex. Her mind in a daze, Sahja couldn't help but find her situation somewhat funny. There she was, about to get eaten or impregnated by a chest just minutes after she promised herself to quit her line of work. She felt the creature's appendage wiggle inside of her and protrude even deeper, reaching her stomach. She felt something plopping inside her belly. It was impregnation. She was at peace with the idea, the mimic's venom helping her settle her mind. Although it could have been from the sudden shock and subconscious knowledge that either way she would die that managed to put her thoughts at ease. She figured she would have been a descent thanatologist, if only she listened to her instincts once in her life.

Plop after plop after plop, she felt the eggs passing through the mimic's tentacle, through her throat, down her esophagus, slowly engorging her stomach more and more. It almost felt like it would burst.

It was fine. There wasn't a point in her life when Sahja would consider becoming parent. It seemed like too much of a hassle and she wouldn't really know how to bring up a child, especially considering her current occupation. She, as most do, toyed with the idea of finding a gorgeous lord, who would take her in her castle and they would raise a family together, said lord providing any wants and needs that she, or her child, might have. It was a fairytale she used to imagine while trying to go to sleep hungry, cold and in the middle of dark forests.

Sahja noticed a few more tentacles emerging from the monster, wrapping around her and shoving themselves underneath her clothes. Usually when someone wanted to get on with her, they would offer her a beer at the very least. She supposed that she could make an exception, considering that she would die any moment. She knew that somewhere there was something wrong with that statement, but for the life of her she couldn't exactly pin it down. Sex wasn't really a topic she well versed in. She felt a little embarrassed every time the subject had came up and she didn't have that much of an experience with it. True, there was little to do when you were stuck in a mountain and the only way to survive was to snuggle up by somebody, but considering that neither she nor her partner would had taken baths for weeks on end, it wasn't really a pleasant experience for either of them. Even in towns, when drunkards tried to seduce they weren't really that good at it. At least she hoped her final time would be a good one.

The appendages found their way to her pants, managing to rip them off and forcefully enter her vagina and anus. Sahja was unimpressed. It might have been the venom once again dulling any sensation she would usually experience, but there was something extremely ungentlemanly about your partner intoxicating you right before plowing you. She was absolutely certain that there was something wrong with the statement. And once again she couldn't figure out why.

Sahja felt the mimic's tentacles wiggle inside of her, reaching deeper and deeper. And again she felt the eggs travel through the tentacles and up her orifices. One by one, each egg stuck to her insides, causing her to swell. By this time, the adventurer figured that the mimic's venom had taken its' full affect on her as the colors around her became brighter, noises became sharper and she had the strange sense that she could just start giggling any moment.

Sahja had tried different narcotics throughout her life, as all adventurers worth their salt do. For the widely accepted such as alcohol and tobacco, to the more frowned upon options of downing a couple of energy potions at once to get a buzz, to the more sacrilege eating of mushrooms, which was usually forbidden by anyone outside of certain spiritual circles. If she had to rate this high, she would say it was better than when she got buzzed on a mixture of beer, unicorn blood and health potions, but not as trippy as the time she took psychedelic honey in the tomb of horrors.

She saw more tentacles lift from the chest. By now she was pretty sure she had been completely stuffed, but she would welcome the effort.

Time had almost lost all meaning to Sahja, feeling like at least three eternities had passed since this whole penetration thing began. The tentacles wiggled slamming one her face, sliding across it and leaving slime trails. She figured that it could have been worse. The mimic seemed almost done by now, but she never knew.

And then came the sound. She could swear that she heard her party walking down the hall, ten meters to the left and five to the right. It would be really embarrassing for her if they caught her like this. It didn't really matter, but still.

The mimic continued to pump her, even though the eggs had already been laid. Maybe it was fertilizing them, maybe it was making sure that it had gotten all of them out. Either way, it was taking too long. Sahja wondered what might her mother think if she had sawn her like this. Not approve most likely. No mother wants her child becoming an adventurer. Well, it was going to be over soon.

The footsteps were closer. It could be her heightened senses or it could be drugged up brain, but she just knew it would take them around two minutes to come into the chamber. If they were even there in the first place.

The tentacles slid across her head and stopped on her ears. Sahja tried to smile, but she could really move her lips or jaw at the moment.

She heard her party stomping down the corridor. They were going to miss out on the show. The tentacles wiggled inside her ear and pushed in, penetrating down her ear canal and through her ear drum reaching the center of her skull and pouring out the final batch of eggs.

Sahja lay limp, swollen and bleeding from every orifice. The mimic continued to pump its' tentacles inside of the cadaver.

Her last thought had been how adventuring sucks.