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"Heeeere we are."

They stepped out of the undergrowth, a sword and staff pushing the leaves apart.

"The cavern of Kinszhar, a perfect domain for gathering ingredientszh."

"You can get half your szhtuff at Oszhman'szh for like five-hundred gil," said a warrior stepping from the bush.

"Why would I szhettle for half-baked goodszh that have been congealing in jarszh when I can get the FRESZH quality?!"

Rolling his eyes the bangaa swordsman looked upon his friend, a stately-looking bishop of green mitre and flowing verdant robes, with a staff of jade topped by an azure gem. Both reptiles stared at the yawning cave sitting deep in the midst of the woods, the multitude of roots writhing across the land with giant fronds covering everything to maked a perfect hiding spot.

"I szhtill think we came a long way juszht to get flan juiszh," said the warrior.

"Balderdaszh!" the cleric stomped his cane. "My remedieszh rely on pure ingredientszh, not your baszhic szhtore-bought amenity!"

"Well you gotta szhop szhmart, not in the middle of the Feywood."

"That iszh why we are here Bartok," the bishop patted his friend, "now come along, that flan won't jar itszhelf!"

The warrior took a deep breath and rolled his fingers across his sword, himself in a basic steel armour with chainmailed legs and a red dewrag around his head. Following his companion into the depths, they felt the howling shriek of the forest winds descend into the cavern, as the cleric lit his staff with a charming blue gleam that soothed their spirits. The walls turned bright with minerals glinting in the depths, as they travelled further from the safety of the woods.

"Szhalikawood waszh real quiet," muttered Bartok.

"Muszht be the migratory szheaszhon."

"I don't think monszhterszh migrate, Gavin."

"Well szhome of them do!"

"Oh yeah which?"

"Well...birdszh?"

Bartok glowered at him with a dismissive stare.

"Thiszh iszh why you failed biology."

"I did not fail," Gavin waved his finger, "I reszhieved a passzhing grade."

"Barely, the loweszht in your classzh."

"And I exzhelled at thaumaturgy!"

"That waszh the ONE classzh you did well in!" cried Bartok, grabbing his shoulder. "Everytime you gotta bring up thaumaturgy!"

"I got top markszh!" the bishop turned, spreading his arms. "No different from your szhwordplay."

"I beszhted my trainer, you had a fluke and blew out the damn roof!"

"Of which I reszhieved top markszh, I do not szhee the problem here, I thought you wanted adventure!"

"Yeah when it matterszh, not hunting flanszh in the fucking foreszht."

"We have to make money szhomehow."

Gavin shrugged in a half-apology, the warrior sighing with a nod as he relented, before stepping deeper into the cave. The lack of monsters worried him, the gasping winds rising to a crescendo, a cold subdermal chill that crept through their scales as they soon found themselves in a large room with shining crystals that lit the walls. Pure glistening shards of cyan cast shadows across the stone, the gale starting to fume and swirl in the hall like a centrifuge.

"Turn off your wand," muttered Bartok.

"It iszh a szhtaff, not a wand-"

"Turn, it, off," the warrior drew his blade as his ears stiffened, "szhomething'szh coming."

The cleric turned off his staff as they slinked close to the wall, the sound of something slithering in the murk as they braced their weapons firm. The wind soon departed, a deathly silence fell over the room as a squishing slippery sound turned thick. Gavin grinned as he rattled his fingers down his staff, creeping forth to find a thick glossy slime of shimmering blue, rich as the sea and glistening like morning dew, wobbling at a height of around 5 feet.

"There it iszh," he whispered, "goodnesszh what...a perfect little thing."

"Not that little," Bartok muttered, "lookszh bigger than a nu-mou."

"Well I need hiszh body to make a good mint, I can make the perfect balm for heatszhtroke with him."

"Alright..." the warrior rubbed his chin, "you DO have fire magic, right?"

"What?"

"I mean, that'szh an ice flan."

"...oh, bugger." Gavin clapped his face. "I knew I forgot szhomething, I meant to grab szhome grenadeszh before I left-"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?!"

His voice came too loud as the flan turned towards them. What it had for a face was a sunken gap that formed a pair of eyes and a vague drooling mouth. It slobbered towards them as Gavin charged up his staff, and stepped forth with a spell that fluttered his robe.

"VENTURAS!"

A violent breeze shot towards the flan, punching it with a gusty slash that made it quiver in stinging pain, before it continued to advance. Bartok readied his sword and went charging, timing his footsteps to dodge just before the flan could reach, when it formed a huge fist of jelly from its head. The warrior crouched under the swipe to slam the flat of his sword upon its head, to try and stun its neural senses. The bishop focused on his next spell, waggling his fingers in a small chant as he shot out a piercing holy light, lancing through the dessert's gooey shape as it trembled with a snarling hiss.

"Hefty little lad, iszhn't he!?"

"Szhtop calling him little!" Bartok cried as he blocked another fist.

"Well I mean, it'szh not a BIG flan!"

"How big you szheen one for Faram'szh szhake?!"

"Well the one at the mountain feaszht, that waszh a blaszphemy in itszhelf!"

"ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OR WHAT-HNRNRGH!"

The flan punched his chest to send him rolling across the ground, as Gavin rushed over to place his hand on Bartok's chest. A cure spell seeped from his fingers, nursing the bruised belly and healing it away.

"Hoo, thankszh," the warrior stood back up, "that li'l baszhtard'szh really packing."

"NOW who'szh calling it little?" Gavin grinned. "Wait...what'szh it doing now?"

The creme brulée suddenly crowed, raising its mouth and ululating a terrible sound that shook through the cavern. The crystals resonated with its song as the bangaas simply shrugged, until they heard something huge creep from the darkness. A large shuddering mass, that sounded like a forest on the move with six-dozen roots crunching the earth. They almost imagined it was a ball of serpents, hissing together with some strange gaseous eminence. But then came the smell, and Bartok's tail stiffened with fear.

"Ohhhhh szhit."

"Wh-what, what iszh it?" the mage gulped.

"It, uhhh...he brought a friend."

"Wh-what...what iszh that, it lookszh like a-H-HRRRKH!"

They both covered their snouts, coughing from the stench as they watched the monstrous fiend emerge from the depths. Whilst the blob of jelly was certainly a good size, the giant mouth that greeted them was terrifying, a vast horrible tree that stood 10 feet tall and 7 feet wide. A myriad of tentacles crept and shuddered, with what felt like hundreds of eyes staring upon the intruders. Then there was the smell, that foul odour that made their eyes water and their lungs shrivel before the monstrous malboro.

"Oooookay," Bartok wrapped the rag round his snout, "I'll take the big guy, you keep fighting the flan."

"Right," the cleric wrapped a cloth over his face in turn, "no time for gallantry, we fight to szhurvive!"

"RAAAAAAARGH!"

Charging the maw of teeth, the swordsman swung his blade up high to try and strike the malboro's face, its larger tentacled "legs" swinging out for the bangaa's knees as he leapt over one before he felt another crunch his thigh. With a hard slam to the floor, he felt the fiend swing its tendril for his face as Bartok rolled fast to slash in recovery, pulling himself up to stab into its side before it wrapped one of its tentacles around his sword.

With shocking strength there came a tug of war, as bith wrestled with the blade. The malboro then pulled back its mouth with a surging breath, as Bartok released his sword and ran round to behind the monster. Soon it would belch a fuming smog of thick acrid breath, a vile concoction of a sickening fog that could melt trees at a single touch.

"You juszht HAD to pick thiszh cavern!" shouted Bartok. "You had to pick the ONE CAVE, with a FUCKING MALBORO!"

"I thought we could manage!" shouted Gavin. "How waszh I to know it had them?!"

"THISZH ISZH THE FEYWOOD, THAT'SZH WHERE THEY LIVE, THISZH ISZH WHY YOU FAILED GEOGRAPHY!"

"SZHTOP BRINGING UP MY ACADEMIC RECORD!"

Against the flan, Gavin tried to focus as he summoned another gale, a savage gust that tore through the flan like a sea of daggers and cut pieces of its blobby hide. It shuddered with a trembling rage, then formed a fist from its belly to crunch the cleric's face, and send him tumbling to the floor. As the flan crawled closer towards him, Gavin took a deep breath and clutched his staff, waiting for it to come in range before he thwacked it across its face. With a rolling swing, he pushed himself away and bludgeoned its head, hard enough to form a V-shape between the eyes.

"BeGONE you damn desszhert!"

He slammed his staff into the dirt and caused a crackling burst of stone from the depths, breaking the earth apart to form jagged fingers that stabbed through the flan, and almost separate it completely with a quivering gasp. But it managed to overcome, pulling itself back together with a suckling groan as it impaled itself ontp the piercing plinths, crawling over the rock to slither half its body down one stone, and its "foot" soon following after.

"GET DOWN!"

"Wha-A-AAAAGH!"

Hurling towards Gavin was the sword the malboro had taken, lancing through the air like a javelin as the wizard fell to his side, and rolled cowering under the spearing blade that the warrior rushed after. He grabbed it when it landed near the flan, as the bishop found himself staring up towards the great malboro, that snarled with poisonous drool.

"O-o-ohhhh godszh, no, NO, G-GET BACK!"

"DON'T LET IT BREATHE ON YOU!" shouted Bartok.

"I know that, Bartok!" he cried back, getting on his feet. "The szhmell iszh already bad enough I don't plan to kisszh it!"

"No, you REALLY don't, szho get out the way!"

"I have a plan!"

Gavin rolled up his sleeves to cast another spell. Bartok braced himself with his sword against the flan, as he tried to whack it with the blunt side but the jelly cared little. Circling around him, he saw the mage stand before the malboro with arms spread wide.

"What are you DOING?!"

"I'm going to freezhe hiszh tongue!" he cried.

"WHAT?!"

"Truszht me!"

"THAT WON'T WORK!" shouted the warrior. "DON'T BE IN FRONT OF IT!"

"I can't hit itszh tongue anywhere elszhe!"

"GAVIN NO!"

In his moment of distraction, the flan tripped him up with a sweep of its amorphous foot, slapping Bartok's knees from behind and sending him head over heels. The gel loomed over him, before its eyes flashed with a piercing light that burned in his brain and cracked his vision sharply, causing him to stumble when he tried to get up.

"S-SZHIT, SZHIT, GAVIN, GAVIN MY HEAD'SZH RINGING!"

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!" he shouted back. "I...almoszht, TALEM GLASZHIERA!"

With a blasting froth covering the length of the malboro's face, a bitter cold dappled over its tongue and froze it with a steady hue of piercing white. Gavin smiled as the monster seemed to slow in its advance, shaking its head and smacking its huge lips from the frigid taste. But its throat was still open and ready, as it reared back and the cleric tried to run, when the monster blasted him with a malevolent smog.

"A-AAARGH, GHHRRRKH, KHHH-KHHHRRH!"

"DAMMIT GAVIN, I TOLD YOU!"

"HRRKH, A-AAGHRR-RHHHH!"

The fog smothered him in a living stench, a cloud that wrapped around his body and burned his eyes then dripped down his throat it with a suffocating thickness. He fell to his knees as he clutched himself, the cleric's mind turning hazy as his vision started to swim, the world fracturing in a sickly jade mist as he tried to shriek. He then dropped his staff, and in a fit of maddening desperation, tried to punch the malboro's thick warty hide.

Were the malboro more sentient, it would have laughed at such efforts to fight before it wrapped its long tentacles around the bishop's weakened body. Slimy cold tendrils slipped underneath his robe, and started to press against his taint causing Gavin to yelp silently, a dumb look drawing upon his face that slowly crept into a weird grin.

Something thick pushed against his pucker, strangely wet as it slithered inside and caused him to bend over, clutching against another tentacle that held him firmly. The wizard gasped as the tendril slipped further within and tickled his anal walls, writhing and twisting to make his legs buckle weak.

"G-GAVIN, GAVIN SZHTOP! GET AWAY FROM HI-U-URRHKH!"

Bartok fell when he tripped on his own feet, his sword lost from the ensuing fracas as the flan crawled on top of him with its thick sluggish foot, and dripped its ooze through the chainmail. Slowly but surely the links would separate in fragile little bonds, as the bangaa swordsman struggled beneath the thickening weight. Then he felt the same sensation that Gavin was feeling, his pucker spreading open from a biting cold that filled up his hole and spread him so easily, despite his shivering gasps.

Another set of tendrils slipped round his front, fondling over his slit beneath the armour and teasing him gladly. The icy touch of the flan's "fingers" pried into his nethers, and squirmed around his cock which started to peek out from the sensations. His state of confusion turned worse with a vapid grin, slowly but surely losing himself to the smallest inclination of lust, that the flan molested him with.

"Nnnnhhh...nnnyaaah...h-haaaah, j-juszht, a-a little, more, right there haaah!"

With the two bangaas now trapped in heat, the monsters savoured their taste as the malboro's tongue soon defrosted, dragging its thick odious vessel across Gavin's head and coating him in thick drool. The bangaa simply giggled, the tentacle fucking him deep as he spread his legs to let the fiend go in further, until it was tickling his prostate and making his own shaft slip out. The beast soon dragged its tongue across the length, the stench making his mouth as hot as a deep jungle.

All Gavin could think of was wanting more, and were it not for his silenced status, he would be begging even worse as the malboro picked him up with an impaling tentacle through his spread-open rear. He dangled over the gargantuan teeth, his long reptile ears flopping down as the monster lowered him into his maw, where his fat venomous tongue became a bed that caressed the bishop's body.

Meanwhile Bartok's moans resounded through the room as the flan prepared its dinner, opening its "mouth" to pull the bangaa's head in. It felt like being pulled under an icy lake, but with an oddly soothing subdermal heat that kept his temperature stable. With a flexible morphing body, the jelly devoured him in plain sight, with Bartok's body soon curling up inside, when his shoulders were pulled in.

"N-nnnngh...h-haaaah...m-more, more pleaszhe, don't szhtop!"

Swarmed and consumed by the flan's thickening gel, his rump was on full display with a long tube fingering inside and spreading his cheeks. His legs twitched with pleasure, and his throbbing meat pressed against the flan's lips before it started spurting pre down its front, the bangaa's tail shivering in heated pleasure. His thighs pressed against its body as the flan gorged itself on his meal, pushing them further in where the warrior tumbled inside.

From outside, one could see a bangaa's shape, his colours muted as the flan gurgled with a gulping sound, patting its now larger belly full of reptilian meat. The gooey insides fondled its prey, as Bartok felt more tendrils slithering into him, an endless void of icy blue where dozens of slippery lengths stroked and fondled his most intimate parts.

"M-mmmph...nnnnnph! H-haaah, f-fuck, fuck me, godszh fuck me!"

On the other side of the cave, the malboro was savouring its meal with its thick rancid tongue, constantly shifting to grind its tastebuds against the cleric's face. His panting smile was drunk on blissful confusion, as the tentacle kept pumping his ass to keep him wracked with pleasure, his feet hanging carefully between its jaws.

Gavin started humping without even realising, grinding his cock hard against the tongue that flapped and plucked with a hissing shudder from the malboro's tasting. A thicker pre spittled down its tongue when Gavin tried to grab its meaty folds, with slimy fingers and whimpering sputters before the beast had enough.

Soon it would lift its head back, swallow with a single gulp. Down into darkness the cleric went, sullied and confused with eternal silence as the creature's throat clenched round his body, a deafening gulp rumbling his brain as powerful muscled sucked against his robes, and pulled at his meat.

Then he fell into the stomach, a sloshing pool that was much bigger than he expected, if he were in any mind to be conscious enough to comprehend his state of affairs. In the darkness of the beast, Gavin started to stroke himself, feeling the hot juices tickle his feet and sizzle on his cock, making him frazzled all the more with excitement.

"M-MMMMPH, mmmmmph, mmmrrrrrph!"

From the malboro's constant teasing, Gavin did not have long to last, jerking himself off hard as he pushed back against the stomach walls and even fingered himself beneath the pool of steaming acid. Pumping his fingers hungrily into his gaping pucker, he rode on his digits with a spurt onto his robes.

His legs soon spasmed, his eyes closed and his smile grew when his heart began to race, and his internal testes tightened up with a spittling drool down his length. When he finally came, a sudden gasp escaped his lungs as the malboro's stomach clenched with bliss at the constant motions of its new feast, along with its new flavour of rich holy seed that Gavin painted himself with.

"NNNNrrrrgh! Hnnnnngh! Hhaaaahhhhh..."

The cleric wasn't the only one trapped in pleasure, as Bartok winced with spasms of joy from the constant ministrations of the flan's thickening gut. One could easily see him being molested, his writhing body where tendrils wrapped round his member, and stroked him faster whilst his rear was spread open with a seemingly-invisible tentacle.

His mouth stayed open with muffled grunts as he sucked on the flan's other tendril, spitroasted inside with his body turning constantly inside the blob's interior, like floating in space where white strands trickled out faster to spill over the surging mass, of slithering digits that kept him at bay. His throat pumped faster, deepthroating with gulps and shivering moans as he was fucked harder and thicker, with twitching thighs and quivering feet.

"N-NNNMMMMPH! MMMMMMMRRRRRRPH!"

Bartok came with an unrepentant scream, spraying himself with fat wads of jizz that coated his body, and added an extra taste for the flan that gurgled with happiness. The tentacles kept on fucking and jerking out all of his sweet bangaa milk, the warrior soon delirious with a placid smile, until he laid out unconscious inside the blorb. It scuttled off well-fed and much thicker in mass, heading back into darkness with a sloshing, groaning blorp from the bangaa's shuddering body, with his cock still spurting away.

The malboro joined too to retreat back to the cavern, leaving behind a sword and a staff that glimmered softly on the floor beneath the crystal light. Beyond that, there was not a trace of the two bangaas left to be found, gurgling away in their own cummy juices within the beastly stomachs. And still they would pleasure themselves, for as long as they stayed awake with pumping fingers, and covering themselves in a richer cream.