Your eye ranges across those kneeling. Yes, there are a few unfamiliar faces. They tremble at the sight of you, the sight and scent of you sending lust throbbing through their cores and pulsing down their veins.
“Mmm. Good. You have done well my dear.”
She bows again. “Your daughters bear the spawn of monsters in temples across the land. Word spreads from every farmstead and city. Monsters are no longer things of folktales. Many have already come over to us. Your children walk in the streets, openly flaunting their fertile wives, drawing yet more to our covens where they taste the milk of your bounty.
“And we have brought you a gift, holy mother.”
Curious, you watch her beckon a trembling acolyte forward. The girl pauses before you, but at a reassuring touch of Hashara’s hand she pulls back the hood to reveal shining eyes and a mane of lustrous gold hair.
Recognition flashes through you. Memories of a life before your current one. “The princess of Akrane,” you breathe.
Hashara glows in pride. “Yes holy mother. I have long been her confidant. I have explained to her your glory and your love. How you shall free us from the bonds of human laws and moralities. Open our existence to pleasures beyond. And I have given her a sample of these to assure her of your truths.”
Hashara slides her hand down the princess’s painted breasts and to her mons. The girl’s lips part, a needy gasp escaping her as Hashara tenderly strokes her soon dripping furrow.
“A prize indeed.” You lean onto the edge of the pit, your breasts swelling over the edge in pale mounds of flesh. You smile at her. “Princess. Have you come to swear to be my servant?”
“Y-yes,” the girl gasps as Hashara continues to stroke her. “P-please mistress! I do not want to wed some man of my father’s choosing.”
“You shall not,” you assure her. “You will be mine. I shall come to you in your dreams, as I do my many other daughters, and fill them with my tender caresses.” Your tentacles stretch forward, running across her naked body. “By day you shall be a queen. But by night, you shall lie with creatures beyond your imagining. Hulking monsters will come to you to take your purity and seed your lovely body. You shall grow fat with my spawn, your breasts shall leak your bounty and feed your young.”
Your tentacles slide against her ass and gently prod her cunt. She shakes uncontrollably, desperate to remain standing even as her knees buckle at the tender touch of your ministrations. She throws back her head, moaning as she cums. “Yes! Please! Goddess yes!”
“Come to me,” you purr. She has no say really. Your tentacles hoist her into the air, bearing her towards you. They pull her against your breasts and she eagerly latches onto your leaking teat. “Yesss,” you moan. “Drink from me. Drink from my corruption. Your body I will keep the way it is. Beauty never tarnished. But within you, my essence will seep.”
One of your tentacles slides into the pink star of her ass while another takes her cunt. She bucks, moaning around your swollen teat, ochre cream dribbling from the corner of her lips.
“My son shall grow in your stomach. And soon, a monster shall sit upon the throne. And in time, the world shall come to know our glory.”
Your pleasure mounts as you imagine the scene. Sympathetic desire radiates from you, sending the women throughout the room into a frenzy. They fall among one another, groping for breasts and cunts. Licking. Sucking, fingering. Across the room the orgy spreads. You close your eye, feeding on the sexual perversion of it all.
“Breed,” you breathe, a mist spreading from your lips. Those it touches changes, awakening the animal need of fertile heat. You hum, a siren call as your priestesses and acolytes descend into a frenzy.
From the darkness monsters creep. Gertlings and orcs, harpies and manticores, and still creatures more bizarre. They join the women, tearing them from lovers and rudely impaling them on twisted cocks. Cries of gloried pain and ecstatic pleasure fill the room as those within fall into the breeding rut.
A priestess takes three gertlings at once. A woman is forced to all fours as a minotaur plows her cunt. Hashara herself succumbs to a gelatinous creature which swallows her whole, encasing her in a mass of quivering flesh that fills her every orifice.
The princess cries out, cumming against you as the orgy feeds back into you and her. You both feel every thrust. Every cock and limb. A feast of tactile sensation to enjoy. You moan, filling the princess’s womb with your essence, corrupting her body to bear your heir. A creature to rule Akrane. To dominate the lands of men and integrate it into a new realm. A realm for you to rule for all time. A goddess of fertile corruption.
The Goddess of Monsters.
BAD END
<< START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX
Return with your mother
You grab your mother’s hand as if to pull her from the island’s draw. “No, mother! It’s not death that is needed, but life!”
Your mother looks to you, confused. “Penny? What are you talking about?”
You gesture towards the handmaidens, staring at the boat blankly. “You could spend your life here mother, trying to slay every monster on this isle. But what of these women? They have lost everything to Zhibbareth's evil. Many carry monster’s spawn. Do you think they will be able to find any sort of life beyond these shores?
“We can give them one,” you say, eyes pleading with your mother. “You can. Come with me. Let us train them to be huntresses. Think of how much good they could do? You trained me and Kara. You can train them. Let them strike against the evils perpetrated against them.”
Your mother blinks slowly, then looks at the veiled women. She sighs, but there is amusement in it as she shakes her head. “Penny,” she says softly. “You grew up to be so wise without me.”
You smile, clasping her in a hug. “No mother. Thanks to you.”
Your mother returns your embrace, hot tears shed on both sides. Not even your nakedness can rob anything from the moment. You set sail soon after. The women and other survivors make the journey across the sea easy, though it seems as if the weather itself conspires to make your journey home uneventful with long sunny days and a gently urging breeze.
On landing, your mother takes the women to the huntress retreat deep in the hills of Tarol while you and Orsen seek an audience with the king. It’s not as hard as you first thought. Nightmares wracked the artists and those sensitive to the worlds beyond that day. The court astronomers and sorcerers all felt the impact of your banishing the might of Zhibbareth, something you delicately omit from your report, as you did the role your mother played. No sense in making life harder.
“A fine tale,” the old monarch says, slowly stroking his beard. His brows are low and thunderous and you wince under his stare. “But I wonder how a woman, even a huntress, could slay such a foul being?”
“Simple my liege. With the aid of Allara, all things are possible.”
Your eyes shoot to a pale woman standing beside the throne. She wears a gown of downy silk and a golden girdle worked like a pair of feathered wings bind her hips. She has faintly luminous eyes and a warm, motherly air.
“Maybe so,” the king begrudgingly says. “You believe this girl’s account, priestess?”
“I do,” the high priestess of Allara says. She gives you a wink.
Your relief is palpable, and with the support of the warm tones of the priestess the issue is soon resolved. When asked for a reward, the decision is easy.
“Tarol? Part of duke Harven’s land. Never uses the place though. Too remote.”
“Your highness,” the high priestess says. “With the end of the evil upon Rhilath, there are many creatures which can cross the ocean. And others who will have felt the end of Zhibbareth and stir again. It is in the world’s benefit for the Order of Huntresses to be reinstated.”
You leave the castle the next day with the deed of Tarol in hand, and a royal writ proclaiming the Order of Huntresses protected by the crown once more. As you travel you hear many whispers as you
feared. Gertlings and orcs and things more nameless and foul stirring across the land.
Yet your worries are forgotten as you crest the final hill of a long-overgrown path, and see the ancient hall of the Huntresses. Nestled atop a hill and surrounded by thick woods, the old building brings back such memories you have to pause and admire it. More like a monastery than a manor or castle, it nonetheless possesses a high wall and is built of stout stone. But the real essence of the building lies in the shifting catacombs beneath and the many practice yards across the grounds.
You kick your horse down the path and your breath catches as you hear a bell toll from the tall tower. The ancient gates open and women pour out, all dressed in form fitting leathers and bearing steel at their waists, which they carry with an ease of practice. Your heart swells as your mother steps from the doors, her face once more filled with the flush vitality you so recall. Weeping, you fall against her breast while the women you saved crowd around, cheering for your return.
It will take time to turn these women into huntresses, and there will be much to do to rebuild your order and begin to fight the evil stirring across the world. But with your mother at your side, you know it can be done. But that is an adventure for another time.
THE END
<< START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX
Submit to the beast’s desires
The breath you had been holding passes your lips in a pitiful sigh. The tension drops away from your arms and shoulders and you stop trying to move your hips to avoid being skewered by the beast’s searching cock. You surrender to the beast’s savage lust, too afraid of being torn apart to struggle beneath his furry body.
He snorts and nips at the back of your neck, his hot saliva oozing down to your shoulders and his teeth hard against your tender flesh. His human-like clawed hands grip your hips, his nails clawing in burning gouges at your flesh.
“NNnnnnaaa,” you whimper, pushing your face down lower, trying to hold still as his thick cockhead presses against your furrow.
“Breed,” the beast repeats.
His cock pushes past your folds, opening them like curtains as his hard, slimy cock rams deep into your helpless channel. You clench around him, but it does nothing to slow his thrust as he drives into you until his cock is against your cervix and his furry bollocks are rubbing against your clit. You whimper into the earth as he begins to move atop you, rutting your raised ass like a dog. His cock begins to spill his precum inside you in a steady flow that further lubricates his cock. Though he is huge, he slides quite easily on this natural coating of fluid, his cock slurping wetly as it pushes in and out of your stretched pussy.
Worse than the fear or humiliation is the undeniable pleasure. You feel the raised ridge of his cockhead, the flattened tip like a canine’s cock, and the ridges on his shaft, as if it were designed to drive you wild. When he thrusts his full length into you, he fits so completely that you swear you can almost feel the beating of his heart. His hot breath pants against your shoulder. He licks his chops, snapping his jaws and whining with pleasure as he takes you more and more forcefully.
You try to fight the pleasure as the beast’s cock pumps in and out of your slimy cunt. The wet slosh and the stretching width of it are raunchy reminders of your abject surrender. You can no more resist the growing pleasure than refuse a breath of air.
“Foooooohhhhhh,” you moan beneath the hot, furry brute. “Gods… I… noooooooOOOO!”
Your climax seizes you and your inner walls begin to ripple and clutch against the thrusting length of the great, four-eyed beast’s huge cock. It snarls above you, gnashing its jaws and furiously humping into your twitching pussy. Each stroke drives against your cervix, sloshes into your juicy cunt, and sends another wave of ecstasy plowing through your body.
Tears fall from your eyes as you weakly lift your head and moan, “Yes. Fuck me. FUCK MMMMMEEEE!”
The beast snarls and snaps its jaws on the back of your neck hard enough to draw blood. It holds you pinned with its jaws, your body arched beneath its furry belly as it plunges its huge, twitching cock in and out of your twitching cunt. Your eyes roll back in your head and your tongue dangles from your mouth like a well-fucked bitch in heat.
The beast snorts and growls, holding your neck in its jaws as its cock jerks powerfully and its cum fires against your cervix in hot waves. The warm seed washes against your womb and the bestial sperm burrows into your fertile cove.
In an instant, the curse of the island takes hold, and everything you thought you knew about pleasure is upended. As the beast impregnates you with his potent spunk, your orgasm rises to new and intense spasms that shake your entire body. The beast thrusts into you again and again, driving powerful bursts of pleasure through you as he fills your overflowing cunt with his hot beast cum.
Even as the beast’s orgasm subsides, you push your plump ass back against him, begging shamelessly to be fucked and filled again and again. The beast’s cock swells, stretching your pussy wider and sealing your cum-stuffed hole with his hot, twitching knot. More and more cum continues to ooze into your creamy depths.
You are completely at the mercy of the beast, knotted to him for the time being and a slave to the pleasure of being impregnated. You understand your purpose now. All along, it was to journey across this island just to submit to the beast and carry his pups in your belly. Will they have four eyes or only two? Will they walk upright?
It doesn’t matter; you will love them all the same. Even better, you will love being fucked by the four-eyed beast that has pursued you into these ruins. Turning around to face him was the best decision you ever made.
As you are dragged through a tear in the right angle of reality, into a world of colors and angles that hardly make sense, you know you will be a good bitch to the beast.
Even if you never seen the outside world again.
BAD END
<< START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX
The ruling family of Ctharne
The grand coliseum of Akrane is a suitably massive bedchamber for three giantesses wed to the massive god of monsters. You, your mother, and your sister are dressed in gowns of diaphanous crimson, your blessed bodies visible through the gauzy fabric, your nipples jutting and your hips wide and welcoming. The blessed marks of Zhibbareth glow atop each of your mounds.
In the seats of the coliseum, a thousand handmaidens sing the hymns of Zhibbareth. Your favorite playthings, monsters and human slaves, lounge among the cushions of your bed. You ignore them, for tonight, the husband you share with your mother and sister will be joining you in triumphant revel. The sky darkens. Black clouds blot out the moon. Zhibbareth looms from the storm clouds, a glowing red star that becomes larger and larger until, like a meteor stopped moments from crashing into the earth, he hangs above the coliseum.
“Oh mighty Zhibbareth,” cries your mother, stepping forward, “the conquest of the human world is complete. Their cities are ours. Their kingdoms are ashes. You alone rule this world.”
His red-eyed, cyclopean gaze roams from your mother, to you and your sister, and back again. His gaze seems to narrow, his eye pulses with unholy magic, and black tendrils begin to unwind from his spherical body. The singing of the handmaidens is lost in the cosmic roar of Zhibbareth’s might. You feel his pure desire wash over you in a wave that stiffens your fat nipples and swells your cuntlips until they begin to drip with your nectar. Though Zhibbareth does not speak to you in words, his desire is clear: it is time for mating.
You have already had the honor of giving the Great One several sons and daughters over the course of the years following his ascension from the void. Each one of your children is unique and terrible and glorious.
There is Magrette, the Winged Diva, with the pale beauty of a goddess of justice, but three pairs of black wings that seem to drip with filth. Her smile can seduce her foes and her blasphemous wails can flay their flesh from their bones.
Isothel and Mnemona, your precious twins, have translucent
red skin that shows the strange constellations of organs within them unlike any human body you have seen before. Your slender girls possess powers of the mind that allow them to destroy, seduce, or control their enemies.
Ulgarrus, the Serpent, your only son, rises atop a serpentine body as long as a freight wagon. His strength is unmatched, even by the ogres, and his fury is legendary.
Those are only your children. Your mother and Kara have given Zhibbareth many more demigods to command his mighty armies and rule the lands that have submitted to his monstrous rule. Your children are the future of this world and you savor each chance to provide the god with more of his blessed offspring.
You cry out with lust as his glistening black tentacles strip away your gown. They hot godflesh wraps around your shapely legs and hips. They coil around your engorged breasts and suck the cream from your nipples with slimy mouths clamped over your areolas. The suction of the tentacles sends you crashing into an orgasm even before the first slimy trunk of glistening black flesh slithers over your cunt.
Kara wails as she is lifted into the air by Zhibbareth. A dozen tentacles wrap around her and molest her naked flesh. Your mother, beside you, is on her hands and knees, her pussy and ass plunged by multiple fat tentacles of Zhibbareth’s flesh. The handmaidens singing in the stands become ecstatic, their hymns swelling with the emotion of witnessing their god mating with their queens.
“Oh, mighty Zhibbareth,” you cry with pleasure, lifted off your feet and stuffed full of thrusting, cosmic cockflesh. Zhibbareth’s huge tentacles invade your pussy and ass, ramming on glistening slicks of black ooze deep into your holes. Your tender, stretched ring clenches around the thrusting tentacles. Your pussy is spread to its limit, clutching tightly on each backwards stroke. Your tits heave and your head bounces as Zhibbareth claims you completely.
Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust Page 111
