Her Secret Place Pt. 01

Her Secret Place

Part One

by The Preve

Based on pictures by MB 109-DA

The author wishes to thank MB 109-DA for his permission in writing the story.

Warning: explicit sex and monster erotica. Not for the young apes.

Prologue

An Unnamed Academy, in a place far from the fields we know.

Headmaster: "You know Azaril, I knew when we took you on as a student, you'd be trouble. Given that we're dark elves that's saying a lot."

Azaril, overconfident dark elf student of dark magic: "Er, things turned out okay. We managed to banish it."

"... Banish it..." growled the Headmaster, "The library is trashed, three students are insane, the instructor has quit, and is threatening to sue. And all because you summoned an eldritch demon for, what? A sordid prank on the Girls' Hedge Witch Club? Only noble-born are allowed shenanigans like that."

"It was only supposed to be an imp: a pranky imp. Vanny (short for Vanikpar) screwed up the glyph configuration."

"Hey!" Vanikpar, the other overconfident student of dark magic, "Don't blame me for your fuck up! You're the one who didn't read the astrological charts, Mister 'I know the stars like the back of my hand.' More like the back of your ass."

The Headmaster massaged his forehead, feeling a severe headache coming on. "Sigh! Right, okay. First, ten strokes of the cane each for both of you. Then, clean up this mess. After that, two essays each on astrology and glyph writing, with special emphasis on the difference between the Ithaqua's Cock constellation and the Succubus' Vulva. Maybe next time you try a stunt like this, it won't be a shoggoth in mating season. By the way, where did you banish it?"

"The realm of Kemen," said Azaril.

"Humph! Then it's going to be some human's problem. That's points for you for a successful banishing. Your punishment would be more severe otherwise. It might still be, once I inform the Superintendent and Board of your little fuck up. Off to detention, you two. The head boys will be along presently."

The Headmaster left, missing not the brief look of anticipation flashing across Azaril's face. The boy likes his pain. I wonder if he screwed up the summoning just to create a situation like this?

The Headmaster strode to the Superintendent's building, sparing not a thought for the unknown human who would have the misfortune of encountering a shoggoth in heat. Why would a dark elf care about such lowly creatures anyway?

Minnesota, as one knows, is "The Land of 10,000 Lakes." One such lake is Rainy Lake, on the US and Canadian border.

The events contributing to the disappearance of one Carla Adachi Somby, whilst occurring at the lake, went unnoticed by the locals. None, including the investigating authorities, made any connection between the victim's discarded sundress, and lime green bikini, and the mysterious shooting star seen in the early morning of May, 7, 20..

The secluded location of that particular area contributed to the mystery.

A family of picnickers, wishing to celebrate the start of summer away from the more crowded areas, stumbled across the scene, noticing the discarded clothing and beach towel. A bottle of sunscreen was found, dropped nearby.

Carla Somby's disappearance, she'd failed to come home, or show up for work, several weeks previous, had already made the rounds, so the family contacted the authorities.

The International Falls PD and the Minnesota State Patrol investigated. Detectives noted the beach towel's bunched up appearance, as if someone, or something, had dragged a body from it, into the water.

The discarded bikini bottom was discovered floating among the nearby reeds, ripped, as if torn off.

The sundress and bikini bottom matched the description of those worn by Carla Somby, a paralegal, formerly of Minneapolis, returned to her hometown of International Falls.

The Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) forensic lab confirmed the match, via DNA analysis.

Subsequent investigations by divers found no sign of her body, except a matching lime green bikini top, also ripped. Carla Somby's disappearance would remain an open investigation for years after, as well as a popular subject for conspiracy theorists.

May 30, 20..

"Mmmm, my secret place," Carla smiled, pleased to see it undisturbed.

The Brady Law Office had given her a day off, a small reward for her hard work this past year. It was a good thing. More rest to help her recover from Minnesota.

It couldn't be said Carla Somby returned to IF with her tail between her legs. It was more a familiar refuge to help her recover from the trauma of Carlton, Hvengaard, and Berenstein.

She'd left IF for law school, and got hired at CHB straight out of college, dreams of high powered legal glory swimming through her head.

She was good. She knew that. The work was good too... for all of six months. She worked her ass off.

Unfortunately, as Carla found out, her ass was all the three partners found interesting. Along with her boobs, legs, and what was between.

Brains, talent, ambition... they could get you far in the firm, so long as you gave "extra."

Carla got no help from her female colleagues. The ones who didn't put out this "extra" effort found other ways up the ladder. Mainly by screwing over young naive newbies like herself.

In her short, hellacious employment at CHB, Carla discovered it to be a toxic waste dump of backstabbing sociopaths, Queen Bee bullies, sex harassing incels, and gaslighting sleazebags to make The Firm from the Tom Cruise movie look like the law office from Matlock.

CHB, per its ruthless policy, hired the worst, not so much in performance, but character. Plus an occasional "nice one" (id est, pigeon) to serve as an anvil to beat upon.

The most satisfying act she ever performed at that firm, came a year and a half into her employment. Her supervisor, Marta Brand (an amalgamation of Amazon and schoolteacher, and every bit the workplace sociopath) called her into the office to scold her for a misplaced memo; a minor affair over a quickly resolved office supply issue.

After delivering her admonishment (in the soft, patronizing, "concerned," "we-only-want-what-is-best-for-you" tone she always affected), Marta took out the write-up, Carla's third, all for trivial to nonexistent errors.

Carla took one look, left her chair, and walked out of the office, to the quizzical outrage of Marta, and out of CHB, feeling much better for the act.

She moved away from Minneapolis, back to IF, into her aunt's house. Her aunt, Florence Somby-Rose, managed to get her a job with a family friend, Don Brady, who ran a small law office downtown.

The job proved Paradiso to CHB's Inferno, and went a long way towards helping Carla recover.

Carla carried few items as she strode to her secret place. She'd stowed her bike safely off the trail, made sure she had nothing with her except a bottle of sunscreen, and a beach towel.

It was a beautiful day for a sunbath and swim. Late spring, slightly breezy, partly cloudy and 75 degrees.

"Perfect," thought Carla. The rock lay by the shore, a rock on which she'd lain many times as a child and teen.

Carla was under no illusions her "secret place" was such. It was just few people visited, as it was a way off the bike path.

She'd only stumbled upon it while exploring the shoreline, when she was ten. The beauty of the niche, the reeds, the flowers, the flat rock on which to sunbathe, easy access to the lake, and the nearby trees obscuring the area, entranced the young girl.

She immediately laid claim to it, and named it her secret place. It became her go to for refuge.

Here she could mourn, quietly, the deaths of her mother (cancer), and her father (stroke). The betrayal by, and subsequent breakup with, her best boyfriend, Terry Anders.

Her battles with Brenda Gunderson, her rival in romance and cheerleading (and with whom Terry cheated). The poignant farewells to her town and aunt before leaving for Twin Cities.

Others came to this place but rarely. Carla could expect a quiet afternoon.

She laid her blanket on the rock and pulled the sundress over her head. Underneath, she wore a lime green bikini, bought in Minneapolis with her first paycheck (which also paid for a Brazilian and electrolysis on her naughty spot), but never worn before now. Perfect for a late spring day by the lake.

She sat on the blanket, and started with the sunscreen. A little sun and then a swim, then more sun. Maybe an all over if no one comes. Carla was open, occasionally, to a bit of mischief.

Slut! Minneapolis slammed into her brain, one of the unpleasant, and unexpected, memories that oozed in infrequently. Less so with time and distance, but a reminder of the mobbing she'd endured at CHB. It wasn't spoken to her face, but whispered behind her back, just barely enough for her ears.

It went away quickly, like a bad, brief shudder, and Carla dismissed it. Today, now, was her time. She wasn't going to let CHB ruin it. She'd been called slut before. Aunt Florence told her it was part of the curse of beauty.

The jealous will always have it in for you, girl, she'd said. You're beautiful. You may not flaunt it, but it's there. You're going to have to grow some armor.

Carla sighed. Yeah, I should, but that place... my armor wasn't thick enough.

She took stock of her body. Yes, she was beautiful. Not catwalk beautiful, more "girl next door". Mariah Wilkes, a college classmate and aspiring photographer, told her she had potential, somewhere between Playboy and Victoria's Secret. You'd make a good artist's model.

She'd even offered to take pictures but Carla declined. Yes, she was open-minded but not ready to go that far, yet. Besides, she wanted to get by on brains, not looks.

Carla inherited the best features of her father's Finnish-Sami heritage, and her mother's half Japanese, half Swedish looks.

A fine-featured face, symmetric, with eyes, slightly almond in shape, a snub, upturned nose, bee-stung lips, with the faintest overbite (Mariah told her she looked like a elf, in the best way).

Straight, glossy, dark brown hair, like chestnut, falling straight down to her shoulders.

A slender, but curvy, body, with D-cup breasts and a near perfect bubble butt.

Overall, she was the girl next door meets Arwen from The Lord of the Rings.

An advantage in some areas (a good, solid dating life in school and college) and not in others (attention from some toxics, especially at CHB).

I attract some of the worst out there, she thought, spreading the sunscreen. I don't think I'll meet anyone lower than the ones at that firm.

****

The creature floated in the water, watching the ape. A very comely example of its kind. It blessed the Old Ones such a morsel strayed so close to its new lair.

The shoggoth was nearly insane with lust and frustration. Self pleasuring with its own tentacles just wasn't doing it anymore.

It had considered, in the weeks since its stranding, sporting with the other apes as its lust grew, but this world had changed since last its kind walked it. More of the apes walked about, and they rode in strange objects, and carried stranger instruments. They looked dangerous.

Better to lay and observe first, at least until some opportunity arrived to release its lust.

It cursed the "others" for pulling it from its world at the height of mating season, before sending it to this backwater dimension.

It had to figure a way off this world before unspent lust consumed it. It heard some hidden colonies remained in this realm. Maybe it could contact them for help. Meanwhile, this ape would make an excellent diversion.

If there was anything else to thank, the late spring sunshine, and mirrored nature of the water, contributed. Both camouflaged the creature as it glided towards the unsuspecting woman.

Carla was finishing her sunscreening when it happened. So surprised, and so fast, she had no time to make a panicked "Gasp!" Or a startled, "What the...?!"

Slime-dripping tentacles, gleaming black, erupted out of the water. The cold, undulating ropes wrapped around her legs, and twined around her body.

Her arms were bound immediately to her sides. Shock and outrage raced through her body as the tentacles parted her legs.

Carla, in hindsight, knew fear and panic was the more appropriate emotion for this impossible event. Considering the action of the tentacles, in that moment, outrage suppressed any fear she should have felt.

A tentacle delved underneath her bottoms. One rip, and the word "bare" became the appropriate description of her ass.

Whatthefuck?!Mybottoms!Whatisthisthing?!What...?

Carla's mortification increased greatly as tentacles slithered beneath her top. Said act resulted in the popping out of her D-cups.

Her response, an attempted scream of outrage, was choked off by a tentacle around her throat.

The shoggoth knew it needed to take care. It wouldn't do to break this little ape, and deny the shoggoth the pleasure of the wonderful soft parts displayed by her.

A little squeeze of the chest, a choke around the throat, should prevent the ape from calling others to its aid.

The shoggoth needed to be careful even then. It couldn't break the ape's neck nor choke her to death. That would spoil the fun. These creatures were best played with live. Meanwhile, every part of the ape's body could be sported with, including the soft, warm mounds on its chest.

Carla gasped, grunted, squirmed, and struggled. She couldn't scream. This... thing, whatever it was, gave her just enough air to breathe. Tentacles tightened around her neck or around her chest, every time she tried for a scream.

Her bikini bottoms were gone. Her top rode high, near her neck. Her pale melons were bared to the bright spring sunlight.

Throughout the strange ordeal, Carla did not feel fear, at least not yet. Her shocked mind still tried to process the reality of these tentacles.

If the creature had been some crazy, but probable animal, a bear, an alligator, a giant snake as in the movie "Anaconda", maybe her mind would allow itself that emotion but, Tentacles! These are tentacles! Like a squid! Or octopus! In this lake! Impossible! Fuck! I can't break free!

Tentacles bound her body tight. She noticed the other tentacles, which formerly had spread her legs, now brought them together. Meanwhile, Why the fuck are two tentacles over my boobs?!

They hovered near her bouncing melons. The tips at the ends opened like starfish, exposing tiny mouths studded with suckers.

Fuck! They're going to molest my boobs!

Confirmed by the planting directly on her nipples.

Carla's outrage aspirated as a frustrated grunt. She was by no means prude, exactly. Her open-mindedness extended to allowing a few past boyfriends (and a couple of women, experimentally) in that area. Plus she practiced a friends with benefits philosophy with long term partners.

Still, outrage did present itself as the slimy molesters began to squeeze, massage, and suck, painfully, at her mams.

Aaahhrrr! A tentacle whatsit is molesting me! I'm in a cheap porn anime flick! Wait! Is the water getting closer?!

"Mmmm, such soft, warm flesh," thought the shoggoth, but playing here risked discovery. Better to take it to the hiding place to fully sport in privacy.

The tentacles ceased their playing with Carla's melons, but it wasn't the end. She hadn't noticed her body being dragged to the lake's edge. She did notice a long line of tentacles reeling her in like a fish.

"Oh! Fuck!" she gasped, then her body went into the water.

Carla was dragged through reeds and lily pads, in an almost comic, twisted parody of water skiing. Sprays of water and plants splashed in her eyes and face. Still, no fear raced through her body.

Her only thought was how beautiful the late spring sky looked. Carla would look back on this scene, wondering if her lack of fear was leftover trauma from CHB. Did the human monsters prepare me for the Real One?

The sky blurred. Carla realized the monster had dragged her underwater. Her mouth closed automatically, along with holding her breath. She'd swam more than enough times to make the act automatic.

She could see the plants, distorted by the light shining through the lake's surface, rush by.

"The lake's gotten cleaner since the last time," she thought. "I'm going to drown here, aren't I?"

Sure, she held her breath. Carla could hold it for long minutes, but now her lungs were beginning to burn. She couldn't tell where the tentacles ended.

The greens transformed, gradually, to brown. The water turned colder, the underwater world dimmer. The tentacles were dragging her deeper.

Carla couldn't tell if the dimming came from the deepening water, or running out of air. Her lungs were on fire. She was about to open her mouth, to take in the water.

This is it.

A mass loomed before her eyes. The tentacles were dragging her to it. It looked to be a large black blob with hundreds of extrusions, eyes, and tentacles. The blob, in turn, looked to be entering a dark big mouth. No matter. She couldn't hold her breath any longer.

Carla prepared to open her mouth, to flood her lungs with liquid suffocation.

Please, just let it be quick. Sorry Aunt Florence.

Something slammed into her face instead. A soft, but firm, cold, slimy mask covering her nose and mouth.

Instead of cold lake water, she inhaled foul, stale air. It smelled of rot, of mildew, as if a room, holding a foul, decayed corpse, was reopened after decades.

Carla nearly gagged. She touched upon an ironic possibility of drowning in her own vomit, rather than lake water.

"This thing wants me alive," she realized, "but for what?"

It came as a relief of a sort. If the creature wanted her for food, it could have done it by the shore, or shortly after dragging her into the water.

The shoggoth swam to the cave, satisfied the ape wouldn't drown. It was glad it remembered, just in time, these creatures couldn't breathe underwater.

Perhaps I can make some adjustments on that.

It's kind had spent eons dealing in pain. Techniques to extend the life of a victim evolved almost as an afterthought.

It swam into the cave, pulling the ape behind. She'd begun to struggle again, revived by the air. The shoggoth gave a mental sigh. The ape needed a lesson in futility.

It reeled her in, her brown hair trailing behind. As an afterthought of its own it rid her of that scrap of cloth riding on her neck.

****

Carla gurgled a moan. She'd cum again. She'd lost count how many times that happened. She couldn't remember the first. Time had no meaning, here in the cold, wet dark.

The young woman couldn't see in the pitch black. The creature immersed her body completely.

What her eyes couldn't see, her body felt, in the deepest ways. Tentacles slithering on her skin. Wet, slimy things drilling into her pussy, ass, and mouth. Mouths on her nipples, tentacles on her boobs, pumping, kneading, squeezing, sucking.

It had started soon as she was dragged into the cave. Some light from above shone inside, allowing her a full, final, view of the creature.