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The Accidental Adventurer: The Mansion - Page 58 - Nice Mice? No Dice! - By KavenBach - Overview

          You decide you don’t want to pass close to that edge at all… no sense risking giving yourself to those horny mice!  No, passing over the urn is safer, you decide…


          It’s a short enough urn, so you manage to jump, grab the edge with your hands, and pull your aching body up.  You look around a bit, but see nothing dangerous about, so you start crawling across the urn’s cover on your hands and knees.


          You pass on the opposite side from the edge of the shelf, to keep as far away from the mice as possible.  As you’re doing so, your hands and feet slipping in the dust covering the lid’s smooth surface, you note that the cover seems to be settled unevenly into place… it’s higher up on this side.


          You’re halfway across when you feel the cover move underneath you.  Startled and worried that it’s about to tilt --- and who knows what might be inside this thing --- you push yourself toward the knob at the top.


          To your shock, when you grip the knob to regain your balance, the thing makes a metallic sound, and the rusted rivet holding it in place gives way.  With your momentum carrying you forward, you yelp as you find yourself falling forward… sliding down the other side…


          Frantically you try to grab something, anything, to halt your descent, but there’s nothing.  Your hands slip in the layer of dust over the smooth surface of the lid, and with a scream you fall off the urn… and soar out over the edge of the shelf.


          Nooooo!” You scream, flailing your arms and legs in a frantic and futile manner as you fall.


          Suddenly you hit bottom, stomach down… and it’s surprisingly soft.  You hear surprised squeaks and feel warm bodies move beneath you, and then you settle into a bedding of wood chips, each as large as your hand and smelling like pine…


          You open your eyes now, since you’d closed them during the fall.  For a moment you feel relief that you didn’t die from that fall; however, as one second, then another pass, your eyes widen as you remember where you landed, and on what, and you recall what you were thinking up on the shelf…


          And then it begins.  After these few seconds of peace, which the mice seemed to need to figure out what happened, now they suddenly emit excited squeaks and move in as a horde.  You scream in horror and terror and try to get up off your belly…


          The mice shove and squeak at each other in a frantic bid to get at you first, and one clearly comes out on top… literally.  With a howl of horror, you get flattened against the pine shavings by a warm, furry mass, and as you buck desperately to get the rodent off you, all that does is present your rump for his ready phallus.  Slick from having emerged from its sheath, it slides between your folds all too easily, and the mouse immediately goes into a frenzy, working his hips in a shockingly fast series of thrusts.


          You howl again, even more horrified, as you feel him squirt inside you after mere seconds if even that.  A second later he’s gone, throwing himself free of you… only to be replaced by another, just as horny and just as ready to do the job Onyx’s spells tell him is natural.


          It’s utterly horrible.  You never even have a chance to get to your hands and knees, let alone to your feet, let alone to make a run for it.  The second one frantic mouse male is done, another takes his turn, then another, then another, each one’s weight pinning you flat into the pine shavings.  You lie there, wide-eyed and screaming again and again, unable to escape this endless sequence of vermin-usage…


          Quite some time passes.  The throng of mice in the center of the glass case doesn’t thin; quite the opposite, it gets larger.  The faint screams coming from the center of it fade into keening and whimpers, then into silence.


          After quite a while, the mice suddenly scatter in fright as their delicate noses catch the very first faint scent of death.  They all stop and stare in confusion: lying in the center of a disturbed section in the wood-chip bedding is a motionless, furless, tanned female mouse, though she has no ears and no tail, and is oddly shaped.


          A few curious mice step forward again, and sniff her.  Finding that beneath their own scent all this “mouse” smells like now is meat, they begin taking tentative bites of her toes and rump; as the smell of blood reaches their nostrils, the rest of the horde scurry forward to devour what has gone from being a mate, to being a meal.


            In a minute or two there will be no trace that they ever had a guest in their home.
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