Learn more magic (tentacles time)
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 14
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Emberlynn stood before the mirror, still admiring the sculpted perfection of her new fitness-model body—veins tracing her biceps, abs carved like marble, breasts full and firm. She flexed once more, growling playfully, but the hunger for power burned hotter than the desire to parade herself in public.
“Ugh, I really wanna go strut this body at a nightclub and watch everyone drool,” she muttered, turning sideways to admire the dramatic sweep of her lats. “But… no. Not yet. I need more. More spells. More magic. I want to be unstoppable first.”
She spun away from the mirror with childish determination. “Grimoire! Come here, mon petit trésor!”
The heavy black book floated instantly into her hands, pages fluttering like an excited puppy. In her mind it whispered warmly, a mix of smooth English and affectionate French.
Oui, ma reine… I am here. What would you like to learn?
“Everything!” she demanded, plopping back onto the bed with the book in her lap. “Stronger stuff. Now.”
The grimoire’s pages turned eagerly but stopped at simpler sections, almost apologetic. I wish I could give you the grand spells, chérie, but I am not yet strong enough. You must grow more first. For now… small gifts.
Emberlynn pouted but dove in with giddy enthusiasm. She spent the next hour flipping through the revealed pages, practicing every minor spell the book offered.
She pointed at a half-empty glass of milk on her nightstand and whispered the souring incantation. The milk curdled instantly, bubbling with foul chunks. “Eww, but cool!” she giggled.
She aimed at the potted plant by the window and caused it to wither in seconds, leaves browning and curling. “Yes! Die, little plant!”
Next came lightning—crackling violet sparks danced between her fingertips. She zapped a stuffed dragon plush across the room; it smoked and toppled. Fire was even better: a tiny purple flame ignited in her palm, dancing harmlessly before she hurled it at an old poster, scorching a perfect hole.
Blitzo lounged on the far side of the bed, now in his human form, chewing the last of the sushi with bored indifference. He watched her childish glee with half-lidded eyes.
“Still hungry over here,” he grumbled. “That sushi wasn’t enough for a growing boy.”
Without even glancing at him, Emberlynn lashed out with the back of her hand—fast as a whip. The slap connected with his cheek, sending him sprawling with a sharp yelp of pain.
“Ask. Nicely,” she said coolly, still focused on the grimoire.
Blitzo rubbed his stinging face, glaring daggers. “Fine. Mistress… may I please have something else to eat? I’m starving.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Kitchen. Eat whatever you want. Just don’t bother me.”
He muttered under his breath but slunk out, tail (still hidden by the illusion) twitching in irritation.
Alone at last, Emberlynn threw herself deeper into study. The grimoire revealed more minor spells—levitating small objects, making shadows dance on the wall, creating harmless illusions of tentacles that wiggled cutely. She practiced each one with squeaky delight, occasionally summoning a tiny, pathetic eldritch critter (a floating eyeball, a slime blob, a whispering shadow) just to absorb its weak energy. Each absorption sent a pleasant shiver through her, tightening her muscles another fraction.
After the fifth absorption she demanded again, stamping her foot. “Stronger ones! I want real power!”
The grimoire sighed in her mind. Patience, ma tigresse… you still need more fuel. But… there is one that might satisfy you for now.
Pages flipped dramatically and stopped on a beautiful, swirling incantation titled “The Servants of the Depths.”
Emberlynn’s eyes widened with childish joy. “Tentacles… yes!”
She stood in the center of the room, naked and glowing, raised one arm dramatically, and shouted the words with theatrical flair:
“Y’ mgepuln thee, l’ nog thee, ahnyth thee! Y’ ymg’ ulnah tentacles hup mgahehyee side l’ ahnyth ya!”
The sky outside darkened instantly. Storm clouds rolled in with unnatural speed. The curtains slammed shut by themselves. Lightning flashed beyond the windows, illuminating the room in brilliant white bursts.
From the floorboards, thick, glossy black tentacles began to emerge—smooth, glistening, each as thick as her wrist at first, then thicker. More and more pushed upward, writhing gracefully through the air like living serpents. Dozens of them filled the room, curling, exploring, waiting.
Emberlynn clapped her hands like a little girl at a birthday party. “They’re just like the ones in my favorite hentai! So pretty~!”
One tentative tentacle pulled back shyly when she reached for it. She cooed softly, “Aww, don’t be scared, little guy. Come here, sweetie. I won’t hurt you.”
She extended her long, feminine fingers and gently touched the tip. It was cold, slippery, coated in a thin, sweet-smelling slime. She giggled and stroked it affectionately. “I’ll call you Squishy-kun!”
The others grew bolder. They brushed against her naked skin, curling around her calves, thighs, waist, leaving faint pink sucker marks that made her shiver with delight. One nuzzled her breast; another kissed the curve of her hip. She laughed brightly, spinning slowly as they explored her.
“You’re all so cute! You can call me Queen Emberlynn, okay? Or Mistress Goddess~”
In her mind she heard them—soft, reverent whispers: Queen… Mistress… we serve… we worship… command us…
Two thick tentacles slid between her legs, pressing gently at her entrance. She moaned deeply as they pushed inside, stretching her perfectly, finding every sensitive spot. Others latched onto her nipples, sucking with rhythmic pulses. Pleasure flooded her instantly.
“Yes… good boys… serve your Queen…”
She smiled wickedly. “Now… become my throne!”
The tentacles obeyed instantly. They wove together into an elegant, living throne—smooth black coils forming a seat and backrest, soft yet strong. They lifted her gently and lowered her onto it. The two inside her continued their slow, devoted thrusting while more tentacles curled around her legs, kissing her feet, admiring her calves.
Emberlynn laughed with pure childish glee, stroking the throne’s arms. “Good Squishy-kun… good Wiggly-chan… you’re all such good pets!”
She rode the pleasure for long minutes, the tentacles pleasuring her exactly as she wanted—slow, then faster, then teasing. Finally the climax built unbearably.
Splurge.
Spluurge.
Spluuurge.
Thick, sticky ropes of her cum—shampoo-thick and glistening—spurted from between her legs, coating the tentacles and dripping onto the floor in heavy strands. She gasped, body shaking, then slumped back against the living throne, breathing hard, sweat dripping down her sculpted abs.
Several tentacles gently lifted the grimoire and formed a perfect floating lectern beside her. She giggled, idly turning pages while the throne continued to pulse softly inside her.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Blitzo walked in holding a large pepperoni pizza box, chewing a slice. He froze mid-bite.
The sight hit him like a truck: Emberlynn lounging naked on a writhing throne of black, glistening tentacles, more tentacles curled lovingly around her body, two thick ones still slowly fucking her while she casually read her spellbook.
His face twisted in pure disgust. “What the actual fuck is this tentacle porn bullshit?! You’ve gotta be shitting me. Those slimy-ass things? Gross! I’m out—”
He took one step back.
Instantly five tentacles shot forward, wrapped around his ankles and wrists, and hoisted him upside-down into the air. He dangled helplessly in front of Emberlynn’s amused, glowing purple eyes, pizza slice still clutched in one hand.
She tilted her head, smiling sweetly while a tentacle lazily thrust deep inside her.
“Well, Blitzy-kun?” she purred, voice dripping smug delight. “Like my new friends?”
Two delicious choices burned in her mind:
1. Emberlynn demands Blitzo teach her everything he knows about tentacles, even though he is visibly disgusted and revolted by them.
2. Emberlynn decides to use the tentacles right now to play with Blitzo—teasing, restraining, and tormenting him for her amusement while he dangles helplessly.
“Ugh, I really wanna go strut this body at a nightclub and watch everyone drool,” she muttered, turning sideways to admire the dramatic sweep of her lats. “But… no. Not yet. I need more. More spells. More magic. I want to be unstoppable first.”
She spun away from the mirror with childish determination. “Grimoire! Come here, mon petit trésor!”
The heavy black book floated instantly into her hands, pages fluttering like an excited puppy. In her mind it whispered warmly, a mix of smooth English and affectionate French.
Oui, ma reine… I am here. What would you like to learn?
“Everything!” she demanded, plopping back onto the bed with the book in her lap. “Stronger stuff. Now.”
The grimoire’s pages turned eagerly but stopped at simpler sections, almost apologetic. I wish I could give you the grand spells, chérie, but I am not yet strong enough. You must grow more first. For now… small gifts.
Emberlynn pouted but dove in with giddy enthusiasm. She spent the next hour flipping through the revealed pages, practicing every minor spell the book offered.
She pointed at a half-empty glass of milk on her nightstand and whispered the souring incantation. The milk curdled instantly, bubbling with foul chunks. “Eww, but cool!” she giggled.
She aimed at the potted plant by the window and caused it to wither in seconds, leaves browning and curling. “Yes! Die, little plant!”
Next came lightning—crackling violet sparks danced between her fingertips. She zapped a stuffed dragon plush across the room; it smoked and toppled. Fire was even better: a tiny purple flame ignited in her palm, dancing harmlessly before she hurled it at an old poster, scorching a perfect hole.
Blitzo lounged on the far side of the bed, now in his human form, chewing the last of the sushi with bored indifference. He watched her childish glee with half-lidded eyes.
“Still hungry over here,” he grumbled. “That sushi wasn’t enough for a growing boy.”
Without even glancing at him, Emberlynn lashed out with the back of her hand—fast as a whip. The slap connected with his cheek, sending him sprawling with a sharp yelp of pain.
“Ask. Nicely,” she said coolly, still focused on the grimoire.
Blitzo rubbed his stinging face, glaring daggers. “Fine. Mistress… may I please have something else to eat? I’m starving.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Kitchen. Eat whatever you want. Just don’t bother me.”
He muttered under his breath but slunk out, tail (still hidden by the illusion) twitching in irritation.
Alone at last, Emberlynn threw herself deeper into study. The grimoire revealed more minor spells—levitating small objects, making shadows dance on the wall, creating harmless illusions of tentacles that wiggled cutely. She practiced each one with squeaky delight, occasionally summoning a tiny, pathetic eldritch critter (a floating eyeball, a slime blob, a whispering shadow) just to absorb its weak energy. Each absorption sent a pleasant shiver through her, tightening her muscles another fraction.
After the fifth absorption she demanded again, stamping her foot. “Stronger ones! I want real power!”
The grimoire sighed in her mind. Patience, ma tigresse… you still need more fuel. But… there is one that might satisfy you for now.
Pages flipped dramatically and stopped on a beautiful, swirling incantation titled “The Servants of the Depths.”
Emberlynn’s eyes widened with childish joy. “Tentacles… yes!”
She stood in the center of the room, naked and glowing, raised one arm dramatically, and shouted the words with theatrical flair:
“Y’ mgepuln thee, l’ nog thee, ahnyth thee! Y’ ymg’ ulnah tentacles hup mgahehyee side l’ ahnyth ya!”
The sky outside darkened instantly. Storm clouds rolled in with unnatural speed. The curtains slammed shut by themselves. Lightning flashed beyond the windows, illuminating the room in brilliant white bursts.
From the floorboards, thick, glossy black tentacles began to emerge—smooth, glistening, each as thick as her wrist at first, then thicker. More and more pushed upward, writhing gracefully through the air like living serpents. Dozens of them filled the room, curling, exploring, waiting.
Emberlynn clapped her hands like a little girl at a birthday party. “They’re just like the ones in my favorite hentai! So pretty~!”
One tentative tentacle pulled back shyly when she reached for it. She cooed softly, “Aww, don’t be scared, little guy. Come here, sweetie. I won’t hurt you.”
She extended her long, feminine fingers and gently touched the tip. It was cold, slippery, coated in a thin, sweet-smelling slime. She giggled and stroked it affectionately. “I’ll call you Squishy-kun!”
The others grew bolder. They brushed against her naked skin, curling around her calves, thighs, waist, leaving faint pink sucker marks that made her shiver with delight. One nuzzled her breast; another kissed the curve of her hip. She laughed brightly, spinning slowly as they explored her.
“You’re all so cute! You can call me Queen Emberlynn, okay? Or Mistress Goddess~”
In her mind she heard them—soft, reverent whispers: Queen… Mistress… we serve… we worship… command us…
Two thick tentacles slid between her legs, pressing gently at her entrance. She moaned deeply as they pushed inside, stretching her perfectly, finding every sensitive spot. Others latched onto her nipples, sucking with rhythmic pulses. Pleasure flooded her instantly.
“Yes… good boys… serve your Queen…”
She smiled wickedly. “Now… become my throne!”
The tentacles obeyed instantly. They wove together into an elegant, living throne—smooth black coils forming a seat and backrest, soft yet strong. They lifted her gently and lowered her onto it. The two inside her continued their slow, devoted thrusting while more tentacles curled around her legs, kissing her feet, admiring her calves.
Emberlynn laughed with pure childish glee, stroking the throne’s arms. “Good Squishy-kun… good Wiggly-chan… you’re all such good pets!”
She rode the pleasure for long minutes, the tentacles pleasuring her exactly as she wanted—slow, then faster, then teasing. Finally the climax built unbearably.
Splurge.
Spluurge.
Spluuurge.
Thick, sticky ropes of her cum—shampoo-thick and glistening—spurted from between her legs, coating the tentacles and dripping onto the floor in heavy strands. She gasped, body shaking, then slumped back against the living throne, breathing hard, sweat dripping down her sculpted abs.
Several tentacles gently lifted the grimoire and formed a perfect floating lectern beside her. She giggled, idly turning pages while the throne continued to pulse softly inside her.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Blitzo walked in holding a large pepperoni pizza box, chewing a slice. He froze mid-bite.
The sight hit him like a truck: Emberlynn lounging naked on a writhing throne of black, glistening tentacles, more tentacles curled lovingly around her body, two thick ones still slowly fucking her while she casually read her spellbook.
His face twisted in pure disgust. “What the actual fuck is this tentacle porn bullshit?! You’ve gotta be shitting me. Those slimy-ass things? Gross! I’m out—”
He took one step back.
Instantly five tentacles shot forward, wrapped around his ankles and wrists, and hoisted him upside-down into the air. He dangled helplessly in front of Emberlynn’s amused, glowing purple eyes, pizza slice still clutched in one hand.
She tilted her head, smiling sweetly while a tentacle lazily thrust deep inside her.
“Well, Blitzy-kun?” she purred, voice dripping smug delight. “Like my new friends?”
Two delicious choices burned in her mind:
1. Emberlynn demands Blitzo teach her everything he knows about tentacles, even though he is visibly disgusted and revolted by them.
2. Emberlynn decides to use the tentacles right now to play with Blitzo—teasing, restraining, and tormenting him for her amusement while he dangles helplessly.
16 views
·
June 13
Log in to comment