Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “We need out strength,” you say reasonably, grabbing a steaming loaf. There is some kind of thick filling inside that tastes heavenly. Kara hesitates, but her hunger gets the better of her and she falls to the meal with a will.

  Only once your hunger has been sated somewhat do you and Kara remember the one who brought the meal. Your chewing slows as you eye the docile woman kneeling at the entrance.

  Kara glares at the woman. “Who are you?” Kara demands. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am Salara,” the woman says passively. “I am the breeding cow of Cruack. Shaman of the clan Razorspear. He sends you greetings and food for your strength, mighty Croaha.”

  You squint with thought. Croaha? The name sound familiar, but you can’t quite place it. “What does your master want with us?” you say warily.

  “He wishes you to lead us.”

  Kara is in the middle of picking up one of the skewered pieces of meat off the dish when this is said. She freezes and gives Salara an incredulous look. “What?”

  “Croaha shall lead us,” Salara says without a change of inflection or glance up. “Croaha is the fertile Earth in which seed is sown. Croaha is the ancient fields which will bear the fruit of the strong.”

  “That’s it!” you gasp.

  “Huh?” Kara says.

  You swing the codex from your pack and frantically flip through the pages. It takes but a moment. Though there are many pages devoted to wugs, for theirs are a varied tribe and race, you recall the passage easily. The yellowed page crinkles as you open it, baring a strange cuneiform image printed with thick dyes. A strange gravid woman crudely drawn with exaggerated hips and breasts, sitting cross legged with arms tucked close to her.

  “Croaha,” you say. “Sometimes called Tokonga or similar. A sort of fertility deity among wugs. They say she had given birth to wugs, and that she made human women in her image. To be a vessel to give their milk and carry the young of wugs.”

  Kara grimaces. “Yes,” she said. “I seem to remember that…thing painted on the walls of some wug barns I cleared out. But what does that mean?”

  You think you know, but the thought sends dread coiling in your belly like ice water. You look towards Salara. You speak as gently as you can. “Salara? Who is Croaha?”

  “One of you are,” Salara says dully. “You of the golden eyes and hair of white.”

  The ice in your stomach becomes a weight. Your voice is low as the sensation as you sigh and say, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  Kara has stopped eating. She sets down the half-eaten fish. “You said we are,” Kara says. “Which of us is?”

  Salara shakes her head. “I do not know. Only the Deep One knows.”

  “The Deep One?”

  Salara nods passively. “He will decide which of you is to be his. He will awaken you to your destiny with his seed.”

  You swallow thickly. You look towards Kara, but your sister seems in no state to answer. Her eyes are lidded and heavy. She sways where she sits and her skin is flush.

  “Kara?” you say. “Kara? What’s wrong?”

  Your sister puts down the fruit unsteadily. “I…I dunno. Penny. I…”

  Kara slouches where she sits, her eyelids fluttering. “Kara?” You reach out for her, and the room seems to tilt. You catch yourself and find yourself staring at the plate. At the creamy substance which oozes from a half eaten loaf.

  “No,” you manage. Then the ground rushes up to meet you, and when it does, everything goes black.

  CONTINUE >

  Try to escape from your bindings

  You lift your head slightly from the cold slab. Kara, breathing heavily beside you on the altar, seems weakened by the blow she suffered from your mother. You need to free yourself before you try to free your sister. Thankfully, the minotaurs standing near the altar are staring adoringly at your giantess mother. Hilda is leaning down with one huge hand on Janine’s horned head like your mother is stroking a favorite pet. She is speaking to the cultist in a soft murmur.

  “I… I think I can break free with a fire spell,” you say.

  “Free yourself,” says Kara. “Get out of here.”

  “I will free you as soon as I can,” you reply and give her a look that you hope stops further argument. You certainly have no intention of leaving without Kara. Nor do you intend to leave without doing something about the bottomless evil of the pit yawning beneath the altar. Zhibbareth must be stopped.

  You carefully splay your fingers and subvocalize the spell for a simple fire charm. Torchfinger allows to use your index fingers like candle wicks, sets fire to the ropes holding your wrists with magical violet flames. The fire, though harmless to your flesh, burns hot enough to instantly incinerate the ropes, turning them to ash. You sit up quickly and burn away the ropes on your ankles.

  “Stop her, you fools!” Your mother shouts as you swing your legs over the side of the altar.

  The nearest minotaur lunges at you and you somersault to the tiles and out of its reach. A few short paces, humiliatingly naked and bouncing all over the place, and you have your sister’s knife and your sword in hand. The minotaurs are huge and strong and unwieldy. One of them charges at you and goes stumbling far out of his way. The other continues to circle, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull.

  Your mother stomps over and smashes the minotaur out of the way. He lets out a surprised bellow and goes skidding over the edge of the pit. He disappears into the blackness below without another sound.

  “Leave her,” your mother snarls at the other minotaur. She turns to you, a sympathetic expression on her face. “I know, Penny. I know. It is so much to process. You came to this island, what, thinking that you could save me? You could not have known the glory I have found in service to Zhibbareth.”

  “Lies,” you say, edging closer to the altar and Kara.

  “The truth,” she protests. “For thousands of years humans and monsters have been in brutal conflict. Now, with Zhibbareth, we will at last have peace. The slaughter our family has inflicted upon the monsters can come to an end and they will live in harmony with mankind.”

  “Rape and feast upon humans,” croaks Kara.

  “Quiet,” snaps your mother. She keeps her focus on you. “Penny, my sweet, sweet Penny. It is all my fault. I was the one responsible for teaching you and Kara and I taught you to hate. Kara believes such foolish things. She believes in violence and hatred of monsters. She can be cured. Her eyes can be opened. But, Penny, I need you to understand it. Think about it. You know I speak truth.”

  Her violet-flecked, golden eyes seem to plead with you.

  “Join me, Penny,” she says, taking a step closer to you. “Kara is weak. Her body alone can become the vessel of Zhibbareth’s rebirth. She will know the glory. You… you and I will be his queens.”

  Kara says something to you, but you cannot hear her words over the sound of your heartbeat suddenly very loud in your ears. Time seems to stand still as you look from your mother’s pleading expression to Kara’s weary anger.

  “A queen…” Your mother’s voice seems to whisper in your mind. “A queen for eternity.”

  You take a step towards the altar. You are close enough to reach Kara’s wrist. One flick of her knife and that wrist could be free. She could cut herself loose and together… together…

  You look at your mother, huge and powerful and beautiful before you. In her violet-flecked eyes you can see a golden reflection of a possible future. You and your mother, alongside the seething might of Zhibbareth, conquering the world of mankind down to the last village. Some part of you knows she is right. With a living god upon the earth and an endless legion of monsters, there would be peace eventually. The humans would never withstand the onslaught.

  Could you really betray your sister and your species for such perverse glory?

  What do you do?

  Refuse your mother's offer and free Kara

  Accept your mother's offer and sacrifice Kara

&nbs
p; Refuse the Being’s offer

  Though the being speaks the truth of why you came here at first, things have changed. Your memories of your trysts with Alyssa and the denizens of the isle entice rather than repel. Your cunt throbs with lost for the monsters you have seen and whose touch you have enjoyed. And your mother’s promise. To be the one who brings a being such as the Great One makes your heart beat with rapturous joy.

  You give Gallatha a sultry smile and saunter towards it. “True. I may have come here to stop this. But that was before I realized how much I want it.”

  The being’s look of compassion fades, its flawless face as smooth as stone. “Then you shall submit to bringing the Tainted One into the world?”

  “Of course!” You spread your arms wide. “Look at what it has done! The Great One has brought forth such lovely beasts for me. Rid me of that useless morals and constraints ones like you put on me! I’ve lain with monsters and demons. Been fucked by things which I had never dreamed of! and I loved it! And," you add with a certain pride, "so did they.”

  You give the radiant being a grin, reaching for its face. “Here. Let me show you.”

  “You shall NOT!”

  The force of its voice throws you across the square. You slam into the barrier, breath driven from your lungs.

  Gallatha stands, filmy cloth swirling about it as if in a storm, face terrible to look upon. It told you not to fear, but seeing it now, you cannot help but. “If you shall submit yourself to this abomination which lurks beyond its seal, corrupting all it touches, then you are damned! Though this isle may fall and strife come to the lands of man, the Tainted One shall not be freed!”

  Oh shit. You struggle, but it’s like a great hand is pressing you against the glimmering wall in the air. You can only watch as the being raises its other hand, golden light spinning about it like wheels. “Be PURGED!”

  Golden flames explode across your skin. You scream as you burn, writhing in helpless agony. Your skin blackens and chars, the heat so intense not even your bones survive.

  Within moments, the ashes that were Penelope Helsdottir whirl away on a breeze. Silence falls in the plaza, and on the very threshold of the Great One’s temple, your adventure quite definitely comes to an end.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  Accept!

  Standing before your mother, feeling the corruption seep into the room from the immense pit, you know she speaks the truth. Wantonly you fell to the corruption of the isle. Gleefully you seduced a succubus, mated with monsters, abandoned you sister, and but for the intervention of Gallatha, would have willingly lain upon this altar to be filled with the city’s black god.

  You raise your eyes to your mother and draw your sword.

  And drop it with a clang.

  “You’re right mother,” you say, opening your arms. “I was afraid. But no more.”

  Tenderness glows on your mother’s face. You watch her smile serenely, her enormous, milky breasts heaving with each breath she takes. She does not look at you or speak aloud, but her voice is in your mind once again.

  “You feel His glory, don’t you? It is eternal, as you shall soon be.”

  The voice in your mind speaks of the Great One adoringly. She is right. You can feel him, his power, if not his glory, seeming to emanate from that black void in the center of the room. Is he alive down in that pit or is it only a metaphorical presence for his cosmic slumber? You cannot be sure, but you find yourself beginning to weep at the immensity of his Zhibbareth’s power.

  “Yes,” you whisper. “Oh, I feel him, mother.”

  “He will reshape this world into paradise,” says your mother aloud. She reaches down and gently lifts you into her arms as if you were a small child. She cradles you against her massive breaths, her milk leaking in warm torrents against your body. She guides you to one of her nipples, as fat and long as your thumb. “Drink again, my sweet daughter. Suck the mother’s milk of a queen.”

  What would have been unthinkable only days before seems natural as you latch your lips to her breast and suck her thick nipple into your mouth. You draw heavily on the milk of her bosom, letting the sweet cream fill your mouth before gulping the plentiful liquid in a single swallow. There is a strange bitter note to the milk, not unpleasant, but definitely not normal. She moans and strokes the back of your head.

  “That’s it, my sweet. My milk will make you big and strong. It will prepare your womb for what is to come.”

  You pop your lips from her nipple, a trickle of milk spilling down your chin. “My womb?”

  “Shhhh.” She pulls your mouth back to her nipple and you cannot help but resume sucking. “You are a strong girl and blessed by the Great One, but his seed is powerful. To birth him into this world will require this further nourishment.”

  “Mmmmmm,” is all you can reply, your eyes slowly closing as you nurse pleasantly at your mother enormous breast.

  As you hover on the brink between sleep and wake, you drink greedily of her milk and feel warmth spreading from your belly to your loins. This warmth seems to center in your womb and roll along the throbbing channel of your cunt. Your body feels larger and stronger as well, though nowhere near the size of your mother. You might not even notice a difference if you were to look in the mirror, but your breasts strain at your bodice and you feel the difference in your flesh.

  “There we are,” coos your mother. You feel yourself being carried through the chamber. She finally pulls you from her breast with a pop of suction. You lick your lips and look up at her with drowsy eyes.

  “Mmmm, what now, mother?”

  “The time grows near,” she says, stroking your head as she settles you onto a surface of cool stone. You realize it is the altar you saw when you entered the chamber. It seems to have been moved precariously close to the crumbling edge of the hole, with a platform beneath the altar actually reaching out over the darkness.

  You lift your head and realize your mother has removed your clothing. You turn to ask her why you are naked and see that she is conversing with several orc-like creatures in black armor. They are joined by the jelly-skinned horror called Xasp. You wonder, almost idly, what happened to the succubus.

  “Bring in the groom,” says your mother and Xasp and the armored figures leave the chamber. Your mother returns to your side.

  “What is happening?” You ask. She strokes your head and leans over you, milk dripping from her enormous breasts and pattering onto your body like a warm drizzle of rain.

  “The time has come to consummate your love for Zhibbareth, Penny. You will be his bride and your body the vessel for his awakening.” She runs her massive hand over your breasts and down to your belly just above your pelvis. She presses lightly and you let out a whimper of pleasure, feeling the warmth of her touch seemingly penetrate your flesh. It is as if she is caressing you tenderly from within your womb. “Oh, yes, you are ripe, my sweet. Our God will be most pleased to be carried in your vessel.”

  “W-will it hurt, mother?”

  “Oh, no,” she says and she kisses your forehead. “It will be wonderful. A pleasure you have never experienced before. I envy you, my daughter. And… ah… here they come now.”

  You sit up to see the man being dragged towards the altar and onto the platform beneath it. The armored figures drag him as he struggles up to the base of the altar. This figure is human, hooded like the eunuchs you saw leading the women, his naked flesh pale and carved with whirling patterns and disturbing symbols that glisten with blood. Even his flaccid cock is tattooed with runes that ooze blood.

  “This is the groom,” says your mother.

  “The man?” You ask as he struggles against the armored orcs holding him at the foot of the altar.

  “Him? Oh, no!” You mother laughs. “Oh, that is only a bit of flesh and a heartbeat for the sacrifice. The groom is in the box. It is the last remnant of Zhibbareth on earth and the key to unlock the doorway inside you.”

  She
motions to the armored orcs and a long wooden box is brought forward. Your mother carefully opens its simple lid and tilts the box so you can see inside. A glistening black thing moves and ripples. It reminds you of a swarm of beetles for a moment, but you see it is only a gnarled, blackened bit of monstrous flesh.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” You mother takes a crimson kerchief from one of the warriors and uses it to pick up the strangely shifting black flesh. She leaves your side and walks down to the foot of the altar. The platform creaks beneath her weight. She holds the writhing black flesh close to the man. Tiny tendrils of black reach out for his tattooed skin.

  “MMMMMMMM!” The man screams against whatever gag he is wearing beneath his hood and fights in vain to escape.

  “Quiet now,” says your mother and the hooded man falls silent. She says to the guards, “Release him.”

  They let go of him and he stands, swaying slightly, his arms at his side. Your mother lowers the blackened flesh of Zhibbareth to the man’s cock. He lets out a scream as the black shoots out tendrils that wrap around his cock. The blackness envelops the sacrifice’s flaccid manhood and wraps around his hips almost like a garment. The blackness devours his bollocks and you hear a muffled scream of pain, but the man only jerks and makes no effort to escape, as if your mother is holding him in place through sheer force of will.

  After a moment, his screaming stops, and you see black veins moving and bulging beneath the man’s skin. He stands up straight and approaches you. The blackness rises like a massive, engorged cock from his groin. It throbs and drips with unholy ichor.

  “Yes, it isn’t beautiful, Penny?” You mother takes her place beside you, stroking your head as the man climbs onto the altar. You feel a sudden, vertiginous terror, as if this might be the last moment your mind has any freedom. Your mother senses your rising fear. She squeezes your hand in her massive grip and murmurs, “Be brave, my daughter.”

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