A Man In His Eyes

“ ‘And it is the man who is king of his castle, master of his home and lord of his subjects, however few they may be,” read the raspy, gurgling voice.
“His wife’s duty is to him and her children, and to her household.’ Those filthymuddydirtyicky drow don’t know a thing about that, do they?”

The speaker’s long, needlelike teeth gnashed as it talked, its ten eyestalks all fixated on the worn tome in front of it. The was levitated by a slivery-white beam of light that shot from one of the eyes, and a massive, hideous central eye occupied the center of the monster’s visage.

“We’re going to fix you, mark his soundwordtalkings. All that indoctrination those icky icky drow did to you sir, we can undo. You’ll be a chivalrous, mustachioed, brawny man’s man in no secondsminuteshoursdaystime, mark his soundwordtalkings.”

The Beholder’s central eye looked to a trio of writhing stalks on the left of its torso, glaring at them angrily. It’s spherical body, just a head, mouth, and eyestalks, was coated with lumpy, froglike skin, an ugly mauve speckled with dull yellow and greens. Each eye was a different color; his central orb an off-yellow with a tiny black pupil and no iris, the others colored red, blue, green, silver, black, pink, yellow, orange, brown and purple.

“We already said that part, did we forget? Of course not, focus on the task at eye, this uglymuddything needs our helpaidassistance.”

Imrae sat curled up in a ball in the cave’s corner. It was just her luck, she thought, that another aberrant freak would capture her. Her illithid escort had been eating her out when the eye tyrant ambushed them, disintegrating the mind flayer in an instant. The insane, hovering beast had incapacitated her and brought her back to it’s cave and had been reading her this drivel ever since.  The cave was a vertical shaft some seven hundred feet in height, with cells about fifty feet square carved out every eighty odd feet protruding from the shaft. While the Beholder could float freely up and down the shaft, Imrae was confined to the cell it had deposited her in. Imrae had looked out over the edge many times, and despite her dark vision couldn’t see the bottom of wherever the shaft was above. All the cells, as well as the surface of the shaft, were unnaturally smooth, carved not by tool or erosion or geological force but by the Beholder’s matter-disintegrating eye rays. At random intervals, poorly drawn images of the beholder were etched into the stone, but there were no hand or footholds to climb away with otherwise.

Across from her cell was the only other one she knew of; the Beholder’s collection. The cell was stuffed full of books, tomes, scrolls, all manner of literature, that the telekinetic beast picked through and read to her night and day. The contents of all the tomes seemed to be human philosophy and life advice; codes of chivalry, stories about manly men doing manly things, guides for males to be as masculine as can be. There were exercise manuals, adventure stories, dress catalogues from surface kingdoms, rules for sports and games, and lots and lots of testosterone laden, patriarchal philosophy.

It disgusted Imrae that surface males thought themselves so superior to the dominant gender, and she wanted to tear off her ears every time her many-eyed captor opened a new book.

“We are in thinking that the evilbaddark matrons of the muddydirtyicky drow have put you in these frilly dresses and forbidden you from cutting your hairfureyestalks to emasculate you,” said the Beholder.

“For the last goddamn time, I’m a WOMAN!” shrieked the drow. She was a priestess of Lolth back home, and ever since she had left she had been treated worse and worse. First ambushed by driders, then molested by an illithid, now captured by a beholder, Imrae was livid with how disrespectful these things had been to her. Didn’t they know they were inferior to her, that they needed to show her proper fealty?

“Don’t be in worrying noble sir, the injustices your womanladys have done are far away from here. We’ll cure you of the wrongbad of your upbringing and teach you to embrace your man manliness, mark our soundwordtalkings.”

Balling her fists in rage, Imrae stood up and looked for something to throw at the eye tyrant. Her cell contained a pool of water, the many bottles of hard dwarven beer and huge cuts of rare meats her captor had brought her, an obscenely massive pile of gold and precious gems and a petrified cave rat. She couldn’t explain the last one, but she lunged for it and seized the stone rodent and chucked it at her captor.

The Beholder dropped his reading matter and stopped the projectile in mid flight with its telekinetic ray, observing the petrified critter with its ten other eyes.

“In playing a game of throwcatchrunthrow? A good, wholesome game for men! Go long old chum!”

The Beholder whipped it’s eyestalks back and then threw the rat forward, aiming a few feet above Imrae. The drow priestess screamed and crouched low, covering her head with her hands as the rocky rat shattered on the far cave wall. The Beholder shut it’s eyes and shook its head, a disappointed expression on its spherical face.

“In showing such promise, we thought you were showing some development! I can see the baddarkmean women’s mistreatments are deeper then we thought.”

The Beholder grunted and bit its upper lip, its red eye shooting a beam of pale red light at nowhere in particular.

“You can see that? What about me? Mark my soundwordtalkings, we work as a partnerteam on this or I’m leaving!”

“In being sorry,” replied the Beholder to itself.
“Anyways, If we’re going to get him to act like a man, he needs to look like a man.”

The silvery ray grabbed Imrae and held her still as the bloated sphere descended closer to her. It’s many eyes looked all over her, paying special attention to her toes, the inside of her left knee, the underside of her chin and her left index finger. The beam then narrowed, until it only held her breasts, their firm mass contained in the tattered leather harness that her people wore as casual dress. It had been severely damaged, the already revealing material hiding practically nothing.

“Unhealthy? Big blobs of fat?” Said the monster as it telekinetically squeezed her boobs. Imrae gritted her teeth as it toyed with her, the magical manipulation applying strong pressure to every inch of her bust. She hated it, but her nipples grew erect from the attention as her captor seemed to play with her bust. Then, as suddenly as it began, the Beholder let go, leaving Imrae to collapse on the ground, panting and rubbing her tits. She wished she had her Lolthdamned tentacle wand. She would probably never again get the kind of release it granted her, now that this aberration had captured her.

“Very unhealthy, probably from badwrongdark women not letting you exercise. Probably scared you would get bighugestrong and overthrow their tyranny. In going to require three hours of exercise a day, or no foodmeatsuccor.”

The Beholder looked across the shaft and telekinetically seized a slim green volume, lifting it over the lightless gap and depositing it in Imrae’s smooth cell.

“This contains many exercises for the bodymusclestrengths, you should do lots and lots of them.”

“Fuck off,” replied Imrae, spitting on the ground. Her white hair hung in knots around her head, and she flipped it to one side to block her view of her captor.

“I’m a female. A woman. A girl. F. E. M. A. L. E. That means these,” she hefted her boobs, shaking them from side to side in the Beholder’s direction, “are my breasts. That means their normal, in fact better than normal; gifts from Lolth herself to set me above lowborn males. Which I am NOT one of!”

The Beholder seemed to ignore her, flying just inches from her face and bringing its bloated central eye level with her chin.

“And your ladydress, very girly and emasculating. We are going to be in changing it, don’t worry your headthinkglobe.”

The green-eyed stalk sprang to attention, ceasing its constant blinking as a transparent third eyelid retracted, exposing the orb to the dank cave air. Immediately, a thin ray of green light shot out, striking her harness and causing a cloud of grayish smoke to appear for a fraction of a second. Where her dress had once been was a quickly crumbling pile of ashes, and once they had all fallen to the cell floor, Imrae was left naked in front of her captor.

Screaming with outrage, she kicked the beast on the underside of it’s torso. Imrae wasn’t a fighter, or particularly athletic in any way. In her home city she rarely had to walk outside of her manor, and didn’t need to exercise or practice fighting when she had males who would do that for her. Her blow recoiled off The Beholder’s purplish hide, and Imrae fell to the ground holding her knee.

“In see? Much fitnessexerciseworkouts are needed, just as we said.”

The Beholder’s telekinetic ray reappeared, it’s silvery light hefting Imrae’s silver locks and splaying them above her head. A black ray shot from one of it’s eyes, shearing off the majority of her hair until all that remained of her long locks was a short, sloppy men’s cut, each hair less than a centimeter in length.

“Perfect, just like in the manualguidehandbook! We will in return tommorws with manly clothings and foods, none of the wimpy woman wines and fruits the darkbadmean matrons fed you. In tomorrows you dine on raw steaks and whiskey!”

The Beholder left whistling a merry tune, pleased with his work. Imrae however, wrapped her arms around herself and wept. It was a blessing to be born female, and this stupid, gibberish-spouting monster’s attempts to make her into a stupid, weak male were getting to her. The thing was too mad to realize her gender or to do anything that would actually change her sex, but it wasn’t biological change that frightened her. The darker sects of the drow enjoyed practicing profane, horrendous torture on captured slaves, and Imrae had seen what the mind could be twisted into. Proud surface elves, burly orcs and stoic dwarves could be broken, brave warriors and explorers turned to submissive slaves, bestial pets or sex-obsessed toys, though Imrae enjoyed the attentions of her wand more than any slave. Imrae cradled herself in the cell; though she was cold with just her harness, without it she was freezing. The drow possessed no body fat, and relied on other means for warmth. The Beholder hadn’t given her anything in the way of blankets, so she could only cover herself with the cold coins and valuables in the cell’s corner.

She reviled being made to act male, from the hair to the food to just being called ‘sir’, all of it unwittingly undermined her confidence, her sense of self, her psyche. It was demeaning, depressing, confusing and embarrassing, and she feared it would only get worse.

She awoke to her captor flinging the gold haphazardly around the chamber, clearing her of her impromptu blanket. The hard materials left bruises and blemishes, and Imrae awoke with a stiff creak in her neck from the odd angle she slept at. The Beholder hiccuped and threw something to her; a mass of dark red fabrics and cloths.

“In wearing this now,” the creature levitated a book in front of its face; the cover revealing it to be some sort of almanac on surface dweller’s dress.
“The latest in men’s apparel,” read the beast, “sure to win the respect of your fellows and the affections of your heart’s desire.”

“Be in putting it on now. Look much more mancooltough, then eat the breakfasts.”

Imrae considered fighting, but a rumbling in her stomach compelled her to do as it said. The pile of clothes consisted of a pair of puffy red breeches, decorated with a checkered pattern, a tight white undershirt, a puffy doublet of the same color as the pants, and a thick, frilly ruff to adorn her neck. Imrae grimaced at the crude, ugly surface wear, and was about to discard the garments when her captor floated menacingly over her, its eleven eyes watching in anticipation. Shuddering in shame, Imrae donned the human costume. Somehow, the Beholder had forgotten footwear, and the drow’s feet remained cold and damp. It was an antithesis to drow fashion; covering almost all of her skin and hiding her curves in its puffy, frilly excursiveness. The only feminine thing visible was her head, and like all elves her visage was just as feminine as the males of her species. Many lusty adventurers couldn’t tell the difference between drow men and women by facial features alone, and had suffered embarrassing bedroom confrontations as a result.

The ruff prevented her from getting a good look at her body, but she was sure the size of her bust was no longer apparent. If anyone saw her, they might mistake her for, and she shivered when she thought this, for a man. Her hair, shorn close to her head as it was, complemented the masculine look. Imrae was livid with indignation, and was about to confront the monster when it interrupted her train of thought.

“In wonderful!” exclaimed the aberration, its toothy maw grinning in glee.
“You look the noble gentleman your abusers never wanted you to become! Now just some exercisings and attitudeings and we’ll have you in fixed!”

The Beholder flew away and descended down it’s vertical lair, only to return levitating a dozen bottles of cheap orcish whiskey and the leg of a horse, which it deposited at Imrae’s feet.

“Eat man victullmeatliquor, so much better than baddarkworng woman food.”

Imrae sat in her uncomfortable garment for a minute, not wanting to subject herself to anything worse, but her many-eyed imprisoner hovered at the cave’s entrance, watching with a stupid expectant look. Eventually, she caved in to the hunger, and tore into the meat, ignoring the revolting rawness. When she first tried to drink the whiskey its strength made her hurl, but eventually she managed to swallow it in small gulps.

As she consumed her meal The Beholder retrieved another book.
“In this one is called ‘Proper Courtship’. We will be in exploring what to do when you are in the bedcave with ladywomans. Not baddarkwrong ladies like drow, but good, chaste maidens who swoon at your handsomebuffcoolness. Then you will be in exercising, got to get rid of lazyfats.”

Imrae tried to ignore the disgusting human drivel, but The Beholder’s booming, raspy voice was difficult to block out. When she tried to cover her ears The Beholder’s telekinetic ray moved her hands away, accompanied by a nonsensical quip about drow indoctrination. The text abhorred Imrae with its wrongness; it claimed that the woman was to be subservient to the man, that it was her duty to please him. How had the humans gotten everything so wrong? They thought it was the man’s duty to seek out the female for procreation, not the other way around. The backwardness of surface sexuality appalled Imrae only less than the thought that The Beholder wanted her to subscribe to it.

When the lesson concluded and The Beholder had left, adding that it expected her to be exercising for the next few hours, Imrae turned her thoughts inwards. The Beholder had turned her into a man outwardly, and all this talk of ‘proper’ bedroom behavior made her fear it would do the same to her mentally.

“At least this garish piece of trash will keep me warm,” she mumbled as she stood up, scratching at the uncomfortable ruff.

She leafed through the exercise manual the monster had left her, cynically eyeing the activities it described.

“Might as well pass the time,” she thought, looking over an aerobic exercise.

From a distance, the many eyed monster watched his captive with a pair of its ocular organs. The drow was doing well; finally taking his advice to work out, and had been doing so for over an hour now. Perhaps he was finally getting through to him, curing him of the brainwashing the evil matrons had done to the poor thing. The Beholder knew it needed to keep it’s thoughts secret from the other thing that lived in it’s mind, but it let it’s happiness spill over the gulf between their psyches. The drow was being good for once, and he thought it time to reward it. The eye tyrant drifted out of it’s elevated lair into the tunnels beneath, searching for it’s prey.

Imrae had noticed the monster’s absence. It had left her a large store of food, enough to last several days, as well as a collection of it’s books, and she wondered where it went. She was glad the repulsive creature had left her, and was thankful the constant babbling and readings were gone, and she had thrown some of the human writings over the edge of the chasm. Still, when she wasn’t exercising, though she wasn’t really sure why she had kept up the habit, she passed the time by thumbing through the masculine literature, scoffing at the wrongness of human habits. There were ways of standing it suggested, ways of walking to highlight one’s masculinity, certain phrases and modes of speech that ‘suited the power of the male voice,’ that she read in an overly masculine tone.

It had been two days of isolation. As a joke, nothing more, Imrae decided to act like the books recommended men act for the day. She walked with her chest pushed out, chin up, almost marching down the length of the cell. She pretended to bow to a fair lady that walked by, and flexed her underdeveloped muscles in a mock show of strength.

“In wonderful! We couldn’t have wished for bettergreatermore!” rang the Beholder’s raspy voice.

Imrae’s face turned light grey as she rounded to face the monster, hovering a few feet out in the center of the shaft.

“I’m not-you don’t-I wasn’t,“ stammered the garishly dressed drow.

“Don’t be in worrying, we are very proudimpressed with you sir. In if you collect your thoughtargumentworries, we’d love to know how you feel now you’ve overcome your badwrongdark conditioning.”

Imrae struggled to find words. How long had her thoughts been a man’s, even in jest? When had she decided to let The Beholder’s conditioning get to her? The only thing she could think of doing was going along with it, of feigning masculinity, as she found she couldn’t speak as a woman.

“Salutations my levitating liberator,” she said in a voice that she wished was booming and confident, but just sounded a bit deeper than her normal speech.

“I rehearsed these book’s advice, and the result you see before you!”

The Beholder smirked, hovering forward as it did so.

“In it is very good, we did not want her to think you a ladywoman.”

Imrae’s expression became quizzical as The Beholder hovered into the cell, it’s telekinetic eye bringing with it an unconscious humanoid body. The monster laid it gingerly on the smooth cave floor, which allowed Imrae to look the captive over.

It was a human man, with long brown hair and a square jaw line. He was clad in a cheap chain mail and leather pantaloons, a broken short sword affixed to his belt.

“We in recovered her for you, a rewardtokenpresent for you as a new man. We in will let you free once you’ve consummated your liberation from the baddarkwrong matrons, mark our soundwordtalkings.”

“But,” Imrae stammered, “that’s a…”

The Beholder looked at her dumbly with its fat central eye, five of its eyestalks watching its unconscious prisoner.

“Ah, of course. What a lovely maiden to woo, thank you kind sir.” She said with a false grin.

The Beholder’s torso rotated up and down, its own version of nodding, and of it’s eyes fired a turquoise ray at the man. Imrae could recognize the magical signature as a Charm Monster spell, an effect her precious wand could duplicate. As the armored man struggled to his feet, his eyes aglow with turquoise magic, Imrae swallowed dryly. What she was expected to do was unorthodox, but, going by the books, at least she could still be in charge. She was expected to be the man of this relationship after all.

Immediately, the human began to strip himself of his garments, fumbling as he did so in the total darkness. Imrae moved over to help him, undoing the clasp of his chain mail and unbuckling his belt.

The human’s eyes widened and looked to and fro for who was touching him, but the weak surface male couldn’t see. It said something in its crude tongue, but Imrae didn’t understand. Instead she slipped her slender black fingers into his pants, feeling up the thick organ underneath. Her soft elven digits cradled his testes, gently squeezing them as her other hand pulled the garment down. He said something, it sounded like ’Iz notgate fitsand elv’, but Imrae wanst sure.
 The man looked confused, but not at all uncomfortable. Imrae looked over her ruff to the Beholder, who was floating by the cell’s entrance, a giddy look in his eyes.

The drow shrugged and turned back to her prey, cradling the back of his head and pulling in for a kiss. At first his eyes widened in surprise, but then slowly closed as Imrae’s tongue slipped between his lips, poking at his and worming around his mouth. The human’s hand reached behind her, unable to properly grasp her bum through the puffy fabric. His other reached up behind her head, looking for what he expected was long flowing hair, but found nothing, and instead cradled her neck, stroking the smooth, dark skin.

Imrae pushed against him until the overwhelmed human lay on his back, the elf straddling his prone form. She broke the kiss and pulled her ruff up over her head, tossing it into the corner of the cave. Her mate reached up towards her, but she seized his wrists and pushed his arms back down to the floor, whispering seductively in his ear.

She sat down on his crotch, the fluffy fabric around her hips cushioning his genitals. Slowly, though he couldn’t see it, she took off the outlandish garment that covered her upper body. When her bosom was free, though the man couldn’t see it, she caressed her mounds and teased her nipples, cooing softly from her pent up need. He wasn’t her wand, she thought, but he would do.

She bent over and kissed him again, noticing the surprised look on his face when her breasts pressed against his hairy chest. As their lips and tongues played, Imrae bucked her hips against his groin, needy arousal guiding her actions. The human’s arm encircled her waist as it’s pair pulled down her pants. He couldn’t see the wetness of her sex, but he soon felt it as she rubbed against him. She reared up, hands behind her head as his strong palms ran over her smooth, lithe body, cupping her breasts and rubbing the small of her back.

She needed this, to feel like a woman again from however long she had been in captivity. Her lover couldn’t understand it, but she moaned for him to keep going, to hold her firmly and tightly.

He must have recognized her tone, because he started to rub her thighs and calves, exciting the priestess. She was ready, and grabbed his cock, raising herself above it anticipation for entrance.

The Beholder watched with rapt attention, a part of him that he didn’t know existed growing exited and interested. He felt his massive eyelid start to lower above his central eye as long forgotten organs stirred.

She lowered herself rapidly, taking as much inside as she could, gasping in pleasure as the humans thick rod penetrated her. She felt him move his hands, one reaching around to caress her cheeks and the other holding her shoulder, gently pushing down on her. She groaned and grabbed both his hands, moving them to her breasts and squeezing. He obeyed, gripping her boobs and squeezing, causing the nubile drow to arc her back in enjoyment. She gyrated her hips, letting out centimeters and taking them back in, moaning softly as she did so.

The human pinched her nipples and she cried out in surprise and pleasure. Imrae bucked her hips and bounced on his cock, forgetting her situation in her mindless ecstasy. She gritted her teeth as she felt herself cum, her pussy clamping down on the human member. His attentions on her breasts became rougher, harder, to Imrae’s delight, as she quivered and began to lose control, rapidly bouncing up and down his maleness.

The Beholder felt odd. Whatever this strange warmth inside his lower torso, he could do nothing to diffuse it, no matter where he scratched. Something like a eleventh eyestalk had emerged from beneath his mouth, and he puzzled what to do with it.

Imrae bent over him, keeping their hands on her boobs as he milked them; pulling on one nipple while pushing on the other. She grunted she pressed down on the rigid organ, trying to take as much as possible inside her. She panted with each descent and inhaled deeply and needily each time she rose, biting down on her lower lip and shutting her eyes. She humped feverishly on the charmed captive, enjoying getting to be female again after the shame she suffered minutes ago.

The Beholder was sweating, the new organ turning hard and uncomfortable. It wondered if in the excitement it had accidentally fired the eye ray that turned flesh to stone on the protrusion, then considered that the thing that lived next to its brain might be responsible. In desperation, he fired his Charm Monster ray at himself to control it.

The human’s cock twitched, then shot its seed into Imrae as she shrieked in ecstasy. She collapsed, rolling off the charmed man as droplets of semen dripped out of her. They lay there for a minute, panting on the smooth, cold cell floor, until Imrae stood up and found the ugly costume she'd been given. As she pulled her garb back on, not pausing to think about how it made her look, she considered her options. When the monster released her, she couldn’t go home. Not after what shed been subjected too, not after how shed thought, would Lolth consider her a worthy woman anymore.

She moaned and rubbed her cunt, looking longingly over at the panting, confused human. She could act as a man, and apparently she had fooled him somehow. Maybe she would take a trip to the surface, not as Imrae the priestess but as Imrae the man.


~~~~~~

The Beholder banged its torso against the very top of the shaft, firing its rays indiscriminately.

“Stop talking, cant agree with you, cant be in happysecretsnice!”

“Whats in wrong now? Cant we be in friends? After all, we in share the same headthinkbowl!”

“No! Be in shutting up! Cant make the thing stop being hardthickstiff! Cant stop feeling dirty icky wrong!”

“Well, we can in do what the muddydirty man did, we just need to find a nice ladything.”