Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “Shhhhhhhh,” says you mother, pulling your head tight against her huge breasts. “It’s alright, my sweet. It will all be over soon and you will revel in His Glory alongside me.”

  You scream, “Please, no, stop this! Help me! GODS NO! NOOOO!”

  Your mother hisses with annoyance and her huge hands pin you still to the altar. The man moves atop you, his vile cock creeping between your legs. Wherever the pink tip touches, the slimy flesh seems to nearly scald you it is so warm. You whimper, your head practically swallowed up between your mother’s enormous breasts, her pale milk leaking onto the stone from her engorged nipples. She watches with delight flickering in her golden eyes as the writhing black cock descends upon your helpless pussy.

  You whimper as the scarred man and his hideous cock climb atop you. Blood drips from beneath his hood and steaming liquid smears across your mound, making you whine with horror.

  “NoOoOOOOOoooooo,” you wail, tears pouring down your cheeks.

  It is not enough. Nothing seems to move your mother as she watches intently. Her gaze is fixed upon the hideous, inhuman cock as it rubs against your tender opening. The man covered in carved runes is not large, but he thrusts his cock into you with the savage force of a man twice his size.

  The unfurled petals of black clamp to your cunt like a sucking mouth and the hot, pink tip of the inner cock spears deep into your cunt. It burrows through your tender channel, almost scalding you as it seeks out your fertile womb. You feel it against your cervix, pressing once. The tortured man jerks his hips and pulls his cock back. With a rasp of pleasure, he thrusts again. The hot tip of the cock slams against your cervix and punches into your tender womb. You wail in shock at the depth of this strange violation. You feel tiny tendrils wriggling along the shaft of this delicate inner phallus as the man begins to thrust atop you and fuck his inhuman member in and out of your cunt’s deepest reaches.

  “Oh, gods, please,” you cry, helpless to stop what is happening. “Please! No more! It hurts! It hurtssssss!”

  “Be quiet,” snaps your mother. “If you had only enjoyed this and gone willingly it would be so much more pleasant! This is your own fault.”

  The pain of each stroke slams into your womb, but even worse is the pleasure that radiates through you a moment after each stroke. It is as if the pain echoes through you and becomes that agonizing pleasure. You are wracked by this deepest violation and yet your breasts shudder and your mouth hangs open in a wordless cry of pleasure.

  Your orgasm nearly drives you over the edge of madness. The monstrous cock plunders your womb with each stroke and you arch beneath the man as your inner walls ripple and squeeze at his wriggling, unholy fuckmeat. In those throes, you feel yourself opening up inside to that evil. He bellows within his hood, dripping blood and saliva all over your chest as he thrusts deep into your cunt. His cock seems to swell and swell and suddenly burst inside you.

  Almost painfully hot liquid gushes deep into your womb. It is a flood that does not relent, soaking into your depths and overflowing your cunt to pour out across the altar in a black pool. With each pulse, another spurt, and with each spurt, the human begins to deflate. He shrivels and empties inside you until there is nothing but the black cock and two drained bollocks hanging from your cunt with a tiny remnant of the man, like a deflated water skin, all that remains.

  The husk of the man falls away as your belly begins to bulge. For a moment, you are lost in the gravid afterglow of your orgasm. You smile, somehow understanding that the deed has been done and you are impregnated.

  Your mother strokes you and kisses your forehead. She whispers, “He comes...”

  The first birth pang shoots through your body and you wail in sudden pain. The second pang hits you and a hand seems to push from within your bulging belly. You look from your enormous stomach to your mother in a panic.

  “Don’t fight it, my sweet,” she cries. “Release him. Release the Great One into this world! Your body is the gateway!”

  You are overwhelmed by powerful waves of contractions. Whatever that cock put inside you seems to be moving, pressing against your cervix from inside your womb and gradually opening you up, wider and wider. With a sudden lurch, the unholy, writhing blackness of Zhibbareth begins to vomit forth from your distended cunt. It spews in a pulsing stream, heavier and lighter based on the force of your contractions, but unending as it sprays across the altar and spills into the pit.

  Only… it does not fall into the pit. It floats into the air above that bottomless hole, forming a swirling sphere of malevolent, black flesh that grows larger and larger by the moment. Your belly grows larger and larger despite all that is leaving you and you feel your life force ebbing away with each spasm. You are no mother to Zhibbareth, you are nothing more than an egg.

  “Do not be afraid,” you mother coos. “Your sacrifice will be honored forever.”

  “Mother?!” You cry out one last time as black fluid begins to pour from your nose and mouth. It gushes from your anus and joins the stream of flesh from your cunt ascending to the swirling god above the pit. Blackness spurts from your eyes and renders you blind. All of your body is a sacrifice to Zhibbareth, your soul the nourishment for this his first breath upon the earth in millennia. As your life force is drained away completely you hear your mother weeping with joy as Zhibbareth takes shape in the air.

  In his glorious arrival, you see the folly that was mankind, daring to stand against the monsters and your mother, now, as the queen of monsters. The last thing you see is a single, massive red eye opening on the black flesh of Zhibbareth. You feel as if you are being pulled into that eye, drawn through the air as your soul detaches from your body and is consumed by the eternal evil that is the God of Monsters.

  Your adventure is at an end. You have failed yourself and all of mankind.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  Attack

  “We fight,” you growl to Alyssa.

  She leaps into the air without hesitation, her hair flowing behind her in a glorious lavender wave and her fingers hardening into black-tipped clawed. You draw your pistol and fire at the drider. Through the flash and smoke you see the shot go wide of your aim, but still tear a bloody chunk from the drider’s human arm.

  The drider jerks back in surprise and Alyssa slashes a claw across his chest, opening deep, yellow-blooded wounds. He clacks his mandibles and with shocking speed he rears back and launches his forked spear. The weapon impales Alyssa just beneath her breasts, driving her away with the force of the blow and sticking the spear into one of the surrounding tries. She wails in shocked pain and fights to free herself as her blood pours from the wound.

  “Bastard!” You cry, drawing your other pistol and firing him. In your anger, your aim is poor, and the shot goes well wide to snap off a tree branch. You draw your sword and charge, fully committed to the life or death struggle with the drider. Though he is badly bloodied, he does not seem slowed by the wounds. He catches your sword swing on an armored arachnid leg and uses his strong human hands to wrench your wrist and make you drop the sword.

  You try to dance back, out of his reach, and assume a defensive posture. The drider is much faster than you and rams his arachnid body into your chest, knocking the wind from your lungs and bowling you over onto your back. You glimpse Alyssa, weakly struggling to pull the spear from her chest, before the drider is atop you. He pins you with his spider legs and bends low to grab your hair, twist your head to the side, and sink his huge fangs into your neck at the shoulder.

  The hot daggers of his fangs pierce deep into your flesh. After the initial pain, dull warmth spreads through you and you realize you can no longer move your arms and legs. You feel a loosening of your muscles and then you hear an awful sucking sound as the drider begins to drink your blood. Ecstasy accompanies the strange sensation of being drained of blood by the spider.

  Darkness closes in around you and you hear Alyssa cry out, “Penelope!” as if fro
m a great distance.

  There is no more struggling. No more adventure. Your life is at an end and you are nothing but a meal for the drider.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  At work in the Palace of Crimson Silk

  You awaken to the familiar chime that sounds whenever a new guest arrives at the Palace of Crimson Silk. You sit up from your bed, already dressed in a sheer gown that clings to your shapely body. Your makeup is perfect and your hair is immaculately braided. How long were you asleep, waiting for that chime? Days? Or was it only minutes?

  You emerge into the hallway, crowded with the familiar women who work at the brothel. Some of them giggle with excitement, some smile, and some walk with swaying steps as if they are caught in a dream. You follow the flow into the parlor, with its crimson walls and red lanterns, your body seeming to exude sinfulness in the red light. Your nipples are stiff with excitement and your pussy is throbbing at the thought that you might be chosen and have a chance to pleasure the new guest.

  Alyssa is already waiting in the parlor as you and the other girls arrange yourselves on either side of the archway leading back into the private rooms. You notice she wears her demonic form with her horns curling back over her forehead, her purple wings, and swishing tail teasing over her bottom. It means the visitor is not from the island.

  She catches you looking at her and smiles. “A close friend of mine will be visiting us today. Draglin Erdomar, the master of spies. I owe him a bit of a favor and you, my darlings, will repay him.”

  No sooner has Alyssa spoken these words than there is a discordant fanfare and the abyssal door opens into the palace. A hulking, black-armored figure stomps into the parlor. His head-to-toe armor bleeds black smoke from every joint and red eyes glow behind the visor. You maintain your smile, but shudder involuntarily at the thought of such a brute choosing you to serve his pleasure.

  The hulking armored figure steps aside and another, much smaller, figure enters through the doorway. He is dark-red skinned, with a long, scrawny neck and beady black eyes. The corners of his wide-mouthed smile reach almost to his long, pointy ears. His limbs are all quite long and spindly and his velvet robe cannot conceal his gaunt body. He stands less than three feet tall on inverted knees. Alyssa approaches and drops to her knees to greet him.

  An imp! You know of these creatures, though you cannot quite remember why. Something about them being servants of powerful sorcerers. Where would you have read such a thing? You must have had a strange life before you came to work at the Palace of Crimson Silk.

  “Draglin! So wonderful to have you visit my humble house of pleasure!” Alyssa embraces and kisses his cheeks. Draglin steals a squeeze of Alyssa’s round bottom.

  “Yes, yes, not humble at all,” says the little demon, looking around. “I think your power grows by the day. And who are these?”

  The imp pushes past Alyssa and looks at you and all the other girls.

  “My, my, what a collection,” says Draglin, drumming his long fingers on his thin lips.

  “Any of them will satisfy your desires, Draglin,” says Alyssa. “Choose whichever you would like and she will repay my debt to you for what you did in the Plains of Suffering.”

  “Ah, but a girl is something I could have in any brothel. I have heard you have certain special souls in your collection. I would like one of those.”

  Alyssa looks at a handful of other girls and then at you. She motions you forward and you step out of the lineup, your hands folded and your biceps lightly squeezed to further enhance your bountiful breasts.

  “She was once a huntress,” says Alyssa. “From an entire family of deadly monster slayers. She came here to slay me, but ended up as one of the prizes of my collection.”

  “So beautiful!” Draglin exclaims. “So shapely too, just how I like them!”

  “I know your tastes,” chuckles Alyssa.

  “And I can have her?” Draglin walks around you, seemingly struck with your proportions and your beauty.

  “For the day, of course. Penelope will be happy to attend to you, won’t you my dear?”

  “Yes, of course,” you say, looking from Alyssa to the little demon. “It is my honor to serve such a handsome demon.”

  “Oh! You have her trained well!” Draglin claps a clawed hand on your bottom and squeezes roughly. He takes your hand in his. “Very well, Penelope, show me the way to pleasure.”

  Once you are in your bedroom, the imp’s tone changes. He smacks your bottom repeatedly, making it jiggle.

  “My cousin was killed by a huntress,” he says. “You golden-eyed bitches are ruthless. But not smart enough to outwit a succubus, eh? Well, I’ll have my revenge today! Get on that bed. Show me that fat ass!”

  You climb up on the bed and pull down your thong panties to show the diminutive demon your plump bottom, already reddening from the first few blows he landed on your cheeks. He drags over a chair and climbs atop it. He squeezes and spreads your ass. His clawed fingertips tease your crack, over your clenching hole, and down to the hairless mound of your quim.

  “Already wet,” he chuckles. “You like it rough, don’t you girl?”

  “Yes, please,” you moan. “Be rough with me, master. Be cruel. I feel so terrible for what huntresses have done to your family. I just want to make you happy.”

  “I’m sure you will,” cackles the imp and he smacks your bottom hard. You squeal and jerk your head up. Your bottom jiggles and breasts shudder as he rains blows down on your round ass. He is rough, but you have dim memories of suffering far worse while working in the brothel. Huge demons breaking your body for their pleasure. The complete memories elude you; a blessing granted by the magic of the brothel.

  “Oh, yes, master,” you cry, thrusting your bottom back to meet Draglin’s slapping claw. “I deserve it. I’ve done such terrible things!”

  Whack! Whack! Whack! He lands blow after blow, using both hands and turning your entire bottom red and throbbing with pain. He even rakes his nails and scratches the backs of your thighs, though the cuts only burn for a moment before the magic of the brothel heals them.

  “Turn around,” pants Draglin. “Turn around and suck my bollocks, huntress whore!”

  “Ohhhh yes,” you moan, eagerly turning on the bed. He has discarded his robe to reveal the surprisingly large but slender length of his cock and his heavy, cum-filled balls. You lean your mouth down to them and begin sucking as you reach up and stroke his hard cock.

  “Mmmmmm, that’s good,” he moans. “Your mouth is nice and warm. Ohh… you know, huntress… an imp can fuck a dozen times in a night.”

  “Mmmmm ohhhhhh yes,” you moan, pulling off his balls to look up at him lovingly. “I need your big, hard imp cock.”

  “In your mouth for now,” he growls, pulling your mouth onto his hardness and ramming it down your throat. Your eyes go wide and watery as the imp throatfucks you. Some of it is an act. Though it is uncomfortable, your throat has been trained for much bigger cocks than Draglin’s. He slaps his balls against your chin as he pounds his cock in and out of your throat. He gathers up your hair in his clawed hands to use as a lever as he pumps your mouth.

  “Ahhhhhhh! Yes! Take my seed, huntress whore!” He screeches with pleasure, rising onto his tiptoes and fucking hard and deep into your throat. You feel the extremely hot demonic cum spurting down your throat. You gulp around his shuddering cock, taking his seed until he has pumped every drop into your belly. Like all demon cum other than a succubus’s, it has a strong, bitter taste with a hint of spice.

  “Mmmmmm,” you moan around him as he eases his twitching red cock out of your mouth. You resume sucking him and stroking his still-hard member. He leans against the back of the chair, watching you work with relish.

  Draglin takes his cock from your soft lips and rolls you onto your back. He mounts you like a man, thrusting deep into your steamy, slick pussy. Because of his small size, when he leans his face forward he is smothered by y
our breasts. He seems to enjoy this quite a lot, grabbing your tits from both sides and pressing them against his face as he furiously fucks your pussy. The hard piston of his cock works in and out, faster and faster, as he licks and slurps and kisses your breasts. His black tongue winds around a nipple and pinches it tightly. His cock twitches deep inside you and pumps you full of another load of his demonic spunk.

  He pauses for only a few seconds, gasping, before he pushes up, using your breasts like cushions beneath his hands as he rises above you and resumes fucking into your creamy pussy. His frantic strokes churn his first load into a filthy, musky froth and soon he fires again, spurting into you and triggering an orgasm that has you clenching his twitching cock.

  He turns you onto your hands and knees, he fucks you from behind, he slams your ass, your mouth, and uses you with great urgency. His energy is boundless and you eagerly serve his desire to fuck you in a dozen different humiliating positions. He makes you squeeze the filthy cum from your pussy and ass onto the floor and lick it up. He showers cum on your buttocks and covers your face. He laughs gleefully as he leaves you a filthy, exhausted, flushed mess on the floor.

  “You are good,” he says. “Consider your debt to my family repaid, for now, Penelope. I may return to visit more punishment on you the next time Alyssa owes me a favor.”

  “I will… be waiting… master,” you gasp, utterly exhausted. You watch him go, a smile on your weary face. You will beg him for whatever he wants.

  You work in the Palace of Crimson Silk, where all that matters is satisfying the customer. It is the only adventure that matters to you now.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  The queen’s loyal subject ending

  You hold the buxom peasant girl by her hand and lead her through the brambles. She is stumbling barefoot behind you, blood on her legs and tattered dress, and tears staining her freckled face. Her big, blue eyes stare at you gratefully.