Monteblanc and the Bandits
Monteblanc, Moogles, Bangaas, gil, and Final Fantasy Tactics Advanced are all Copywritten by SquareEnix
Monteblanc And The Bandits
Monteblanc held his rod firmly in his hands. His long ears twitched to the sounds of bushes rustling all around him. An ambush was waiting for him; he knew it from the top of his pompom to the tips of his toes. 'Times like these I wish I was a part of a clan,' the moogle thought to himself.
Monte took another step further into the woods. A twig snapped underfoot as the foliage signaled the bandits. Four bangaas in heavy armour sprang out of trees and underbrush, brandishing their swords and spears at the lone mage. "Give usss your gil, and you'll walk." The largest of the reptiloid canines hissed at the frightened moogle, leveling an enormous claymore to his nose.
"I-I've spent all mine on the last inn," the moogle muttered, staring cross-eyed at the point threatening to open his skull, then up to the one eyed demihuman carrying it. The bandits laughed, circling and approaching the mage. The moogle knew that he had to make a break for it, lest his brother be short one older brother. Monteblanc's eyes shifted to the right and left, seeing that his left was guarded by the weakest of the three he could see. The moogle bit his tongue for a moment before exclaiming, "Qualtz verata infernium!" extending his arm across his body towards his target. A pillar of flame descended from the skies, knocking the templar to the side, giving the moogle enough time to rabbit away from the bandits.
The bangaas were only momentarily surprised by the fluffball's display of valour, but were soon upon the chase. Their strong legs letting them jump from tree to tree, keeping up with ease with the mage stumbling through the brush. Monteblanc skidded to a stop and flourished his rod, making another incantation to evoke lightning upon his enemies. His dark eyes darted through the trees for a moment before he felt the heavy flat of a sword crack against the back of his skull. The moogle felt his magical energies get siphoned out of his being at the bangaa's Mindbreak strike.
The reptile-like canines surrounded the moogle as Monteblanc knew he was beaten thoroughly. The best he could do was rap on his opponent's knuckles with his stick and that wouldn't get him out of this mess. The warrior that dealt the last strike mugged the small fuzzball, yanking off his light wallet after giving him a blow to the head with the pommel of his sword. Monteblanc's vision went out after that.
The moogle regained consciousness some time after that. The sounds of crickets and owls told him it was well past sunset. Monteblanc's hands and feet were bound and he was in the middle of some tent. The sound of a campfire crackling and singing was emanating from outside. Monteblanc quickly noticed that he was very much without his rod and tunic, his naked body upright against the pole supporting the tent. He started to get up but yelped in pain, looking above him. The only thing keeping him tied to the pole was a single string holding his very sensitive headbobble to the support strut. The moogle let out another sigh, taking in inventory of the tent. This was obviously the team's supply tent as armour, weapons, and other items were packed neatly in boxes or on racks. A mountain of bags of gil was displayed right infront of him, and at his feet, the meager little money pouch he carried with an MB emblazoned on it.
A chuckle pulled Monteblanc back into reality as the lisping voice of a bangaa whispered behind him, "If you would have given that to ussss you wouldn't be in thisss messssss." Monteblanc offered an unsaid agreement as he looked behind him, coming face to crotch of the templar leader that caught him. The one-eyed bangaa chuckled again, looking down at his prisoner. "But, sssince you gave usss sssuch a fight. We think you ssshould give usss more. For our troublesss."
The black mage was speechless and confused for a moment before the creature reached down and undid his groinal plate. Monteblanc's eyes widened in both horror and curiosity as he saw the slimy vent of the bangaa so close. An ebon spike poked out of the slit, growing in size and musk as the prehensile tip flicked across the moogle's nose, leaving a trail of preseed. Monteblanc whimpered softly as he sniffed again at the organ, not being able to help himself. The large templar reached down to rub over his ears as he chuckled, "There isss no ssshame in thisss, moogle." Monteblanc whimpered softly as his mouth instinctively opened. The slimy worm curled down to rub over the mage's tongue, wriggling across it, leaving its slimy pre all over the moogle's mouth.
Monteblanc nearly retched at the taste and the feeling, but swallowed his stomach back down before closing his lips gently around the bangaa's member. The templar purred in pleasure as his hips made a slow gyration, his thick tail slapping against the ground. The moogle kept his eyes closed, not wanting to watch this, but it only made the taste and smell more prevalent. What made matters worse is that his own exposed penis started to stir and erect from the smell.
"My, my, the vanquisssshed ssseeemsss to like thisss." The templar laughed, relaxing a bit more to let more preseed spray into the moogle's mouth. The bangaa's thick tail snaked around, rubbing its scaled tip against the mage's 'rod.' Monteblanc whined around the templar's member, gulping down the slime in fear of spitting it against the scaled thighs pressed against his chin. The moogle had never felt more humiliated than right now. The demihuman's shaft snaked down into the moogle's throat, making him gag a bit, but swallowed around the tip, summoning a moan from the bangaa.
The templar pulled out from Monteblanc's mouth, letting the small mage breathe free for a moment as the moogle coughed up some pre and vent slime that traveled into his lungs. The mage sighed in relief when he felt the string being undone from his bobble, able to slump his head down into a more comfortable, and more humiliated position. The templar laughed to himself, "We're far from over, moogle."
Monteblanc felt his hips get picked up as visions of what is going to happen leaped through his head. His body went tense, trying to shut everything out and not let anything inside. The templar laughed to himself and leaned over, biting the moogle on the shoulder. Monteblanc's pupils dialated as he could barely turn his head to address the attack. He felt his whole body slump like his muscles had turned to water. The templar chuckled, "A venom in our sssaliva makesss our prey lesssss... sssquirmy. You got a mild dossse, it ssshould wear off in an hour."
Monteblanc felt completely detached from everything, yet felt everything. The calloused hands of the templar resumed holding him as the tapered tip of the demihuman's member snaked its way into the moogle's unresisting tailhole. The mage wanted to gasp in pain but felt his mouth too heavy to move. The bangaa chuckled a bit more as he plunged into the moogle more, thrusting heavily as he claimed his prize. Monteblanc could only wonder if bangaas took their females like this.
The slimy organ snaked and wiggled inside the tight tunnel of the moogle's rear. The prehensile tip slapping and stroking around his colon. Monteblanc blushed heavily as he felt his member continue to get harder at the feeling. His breathing stopped momentarily as he felt a rough, scaled hand around his small mooglehood. The bangaa smiled lustfully, thrusting more into his prisoner but giving him the benefit of a reacharound. Monteblanc's eyes opened a bit more as he felt something like a fist pounding against his abused tailhole. He couldn't move his head to see what it was but tried to yelp as he felt the thick knot slip into his anus. The bangaa hissed in bliss, as he slammed harder into the moogle. His member slapping more around the moogle's insides, rubbing his prostate before thick, sticky ropes gushed into Monteblanc's large intestine. Monteblanc mustered the energy to moan lowly under his captor as his own member started to spasm and gush onto the floor and into the templar's hand.
The moogle sighed softly, feeling relieved and humiliated that was over. The templar moved his hand to smear Monteblanc's semen all over his own face. The moogle shivered softly before falling back asleep.
Monteblanc woke up the next morning in the middle of a small meadow. His eyes blinked away the sleep in his eyes as he looked around for the tent. Everything was gone. The moogle was wearing his tunic and his rod was nearby. "That was one kupo'd up dream," the moogle said to himself, reaching for his wallet. The pouch was filled to the brim, nearly bursting the seams with gil, and a note sticking out of the top. The moogle opened the note and read:
~~~
Moogle,
You were a good adversary, though you failed. For your pleasures last night, we refilled your pouch and returned your equipment. Just don't come back into our wood again.
Randi
Templar of the Bandits of the Night.
~~~
Monteblanc quietly tucked the note into his inside pocket before standing up, grumbling about the pain in his rear.