Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  That’s a useful bit of wisdom. Time to move on. You quickly secure the codex and your writing implements in your pack. You look over the burned village one last time and move on into the forest. There are several more settlements, ruins, and ancient idols marked on the map. If you keep heading north, you will encounter many of them.

  You set off into the woods once more, your confidence bolstered and your drive to find your mother and sister stronger than ever.

  CONTINUE >

  Attack

  You don’t hesitate. You don’t even think. You grab your flintlock and pull it from its holster, point, and fire.

  Blood splatters on the far wall. For the first time, Marabelle’s eyes open wide, revealing their tranquil browns. Her mouth opens in a vague surprise. She looks down, and blood trickles from the hole directly at the apex of her chest.

  Then she crumples to the floor and doesn’t get back up.

  You lower the flintlock, slowly letting out a breath. Your knees begin to shake, and you recognize the beginnings of shock. You killed a woman. A human being.

  Angrily you shake your head and brush away your tears.

  No. Not a human. She was a monster. A monster as sure as anything else on this island. All you need do is look about the room and see what she has done to know you were right. Yet the magnitude of your act still weighs on you.

  You assuage your guilt by shutting down the machine and releasing the women. It’s not a hard thing to do. A few moments of investigation at the main pump reveals a lever and, when pulled, the pulsating sound of the pumps dies in a whine of hydraulic protests. There is a brief gurgling noise as the last of the milk in the many hoses drains into the machine’s central reservoir. The women sag in their bindings as the pumps stop massaging their bloated breasts and the dildos stop rocking their curvaceous bodies.

  The rest of the equipment is not difficult to figure out, and in moments you have undone the straps of the first woman. You grimace in disgust and tear the milking pads from her breasts.

  “Nooo,” the woman moans, but passively follows you into the middle of the room. You leave her by the door and set about freeing the rest.

  Soon you have gathered all the girls at the far wall. Unsurprisingly, something in the milking pads must have kept them particularly docile, for within moments signs of intelligence begins to show. Most simply sit there, staring stupidly at the ceiling, red marks crisscrossing their pale skin where the straps had impressed themselves. A few idly rub at their chapped cunts or massage their breasts with their hands. However, one or two start looking about blearily at the room and at their leaking breasts.

  One, who sports a number of pale marks of long healed scars, recovers first. A brunette, her hair cut short to fit beneath a helmet and with a figure still showing the tone of muscles. Her breasts, though immense, are more the size of Marabelle’s than the immense udders of the others, meaning she had only recently been taken. She looks up at you with growing comprehension. “Who…who are you?”

  “Penny,” you say, and wince. Should have given your full name. Too late now. “I freed you.”

  The woman runs a hand through her short brown hair, blinking rapidly. “What…happened to the witch?”

  You glance over to the corpse. The woman follows your gaze and her eyes harden. She spits.

  “Good riddance.” She stands slowly, using the wall for support. She looks critically at you, and you can tell she’s not terribly impressed. Nonetheless, she manages a salute. “Terrena, of the Tamar Guard. The bitch caught me in the woods and strapped me up.”

  Tamar. You recognize the name from the map. One of the villages nearer the interior. “What happened?” you ask.

  The woman grimaces.

  “I’m…not sure. One day that haze simply falls over the place. Traders from other settlements stop visiting us. Then, maybe a month later, the entire town is overrun by these…monstrous things. They…” she fails to elaborate, but her haunted eyes say everything. “We never stood a chance. I tried to evacuate the village but we became separated. I saw this place and thought to stop by. Warn whoever was here. But then…”

  You offer the woman a sympathetic look, but you can find no words of condolences.

  “Things have gotten worse since you arrived,” you say as gently as you can. “I left a boat on the beach. My ship was wrecked but the captain and I survived. I’m going into the island. To the north.”

  “I would not advise that,” Terrena says dourly. “It’s a nightmare in there.”

  “It is not my first choice of destination,” you say weakly. “But my sister and mother are somewhere up there.”

  Terrena nods. “I understand. I wish I could join you but that bitch did a number on me.” She looks with disgust at her warped proportions, particularly her massive breasts and the milk they continue to dribble.

  You follow her eyes and your cheeks flush. You quickly focus on her face. “Can you get the girls to the boat?”

  Terrena looks dubiously at the addled women by the wall. “…I’ll try. We’ll manage.”

  You nod. “Bringing the girls here to the ship will be enough. If I don’t return in a week, sail to the mainland. The world must be told. Watch out for gertlings. I found some on my way inland.”

  Terrena gives a firm nod. “Understood. Good luck, huntress.”

  Huntress. The name echoes in your head as you enter the kitchen once more. You pick up your jacket and don it, musing as you leave the cottage. It never occurred to you that you might actually be a huntress. You only came here to find your sister. She’s the real warrior. You’re the student. Nothing more.

  Yet, all the same, a strange confidence expands your chest at the idea. You did defeat Marabelle, albeit much of that had to do with her own overconfidence. Still, you freed those women, and a new feeling of accomplishment and confidence swells in your breast.

  Then you near the tree line, and see the haze which lurks beyond. Your confidence and good mood plummet to the pit of your stomach as if weighted by stones. The sheer magnitude of the mission before you presses upon you once more. You need to find your mother and your sister. They can deal with this. You reload your flintlocks and holster them once more. With a new determination, but a more realistic understanding of the dangers that await, you push past the trees, and into the haze of the island’s corruption.

  CONTINUE >

  Surrender

  “No, no,” you say, holding up your hands. “I will not try to harm you. I am nothing… nothing but a weak human. I am n-not worthy, my queen.”

  You fight to keep your teeth from chattering as you feel a surprising thrill of exhilaration. It excites you sexually to give up your fate to this beautiful monster girl. A rather cruel and arrogant smile spreads across her face and she rises a little higher on her beating wings. She circles slowly around you and the strong musk of her pheromones wafts through the air. Your heart beats faster and your pussy throbs with lust. Your breasts heave in your bodice as the beating of her wings stirs your hair.

  “I will take these,” she says, removing your sword and your pistols and setting them out of reach. You respect her caution, but it is unnecessary; in your mind you have already fully submitted to her royal authority. She buzzes with pleasure as she inspects you. “Aren’t you a plentiful girl? So much of you to enjoy. And such a warm incubator for my drones.”

  “W-whatever you desire, your highness,” you say, bowing your head.

  “To begin with, take off all these useless scraps of fabric and leather. You will be naked before me at all times.”

  “Of course,” you gasp, eager to demonstrate your obedience as you shuck off your jacket and tear at your bodice. You burst seams and buttons without a care, knowing you will never again wear these needless garments when you have the raunchy scent of your queen to breathe. Your breasts are bare, creamy white, and flushed from your throat to the tops of your mounds with your intense desire. Your fat nipples are erect and your chestnut-thatched c
unt is steamy with lust.

  “Mmmmmmmm, yes, very good indeed,” buzzes your queen as she continues to circle, her antennae flicking with interest. She strokes your hips and backside lightly. Her tender touch travels up the back of your neck and she combs her fingers through your hair. “Very good indeed. Are you ready to be given your first clutch of my eggs, little human?”

  The perverse suggestion makes you moan with desire, “Ohhhh, yes, your highness. Please, give me your eggs.”

  “Very well, little one,” she chuckles haughtily. “Bow your head to the ground in subservience and show me the warm vessel of your human cunt.”

  You gladly bow your forehead to the mossy stones. The weight of your breasts settles against the stones and your sensitive nipples rub against the softness of the moss. You are nearly overwhelmed with desire and even though you are farther from the queen, her strange musk seems to be trapped deep within your sinuses. You shiver with your bottom raised high in offering.

  “What a wanton whore, even for a human,” the queen giggles. “So plump and ripe to receive my clutch.”

  “Yes, I am ready, my queen,” you hoarsely moan. “Plllllease fill me.”

  You watch over your shoulder and up the slope of your back as the bee queen buzzes above you and curls her tail between her tanned human thighs. Her pussy actually rubs against the underside of her insect segments and her stinger angles away from you, revealing a fleshy, pink conical appendage. It swells and the tubular tip elongates into a prehensile nozzle of throbbing flesh. She moves closer and the tip of the appendage brushes against your buttocks and the backs of your thighs.

  “Ohhhhh,” you moan, thrilling to the cool, damp touch of the queen’s ovipositor.

  “So eager,” she laughs, buzzing lower and resting her hands upon your buttocks.

  “Yes, your highness, I crave your eggs,” you whimper.

  Her ovipositor presses your swollen cuntlips and pushes into your tight channel. You have never been so aroused in your life. It is like your body is aching to be filled. Even your womb is throbbing in readiness to receive the queen’s clutch. Your snort loudly through your nose, breathing in the downdraft of her musk and groaning as the tube of her ovipositor snakes deeper into your hot cunt.

  You fuck back against her ovipositor and squeeze it with your inner muscles. The length of it throbs powerfully within your pussy and you feel the cool pressure of gushes of some sort of liquid pouring into your womb. A moment later, the ovipositor bulges inside you as the first egg is pushed down the tube. It is firm and bigger than you expected as contractions push it past the spasming entrance of your womb.

  “Ohhhhhh godssss!” You cry, your eyes rolling back at the maddening pleasure of the eggs beginning to slide into your womb. Jelly like excretions from the queen drip from your stuffed snatch as she thrusts egg after egg inside your deepest cove. You count each one as it triggers another spasm of pleasure; nine, ten, fifteen, twenty. You moan in the throes of the seemingly endless ecstasy, “More!”

  “Thirty-two,” pronounces the queen and you feel a pang of sadness as her ovipositor begins to withdraw. Your cervix and your cunt both clutch tightly as her monstrous appendage departs with a slurp.

  Mucus drools from your stuffed quim. You feel the weight of the queen’s eggs inside you. Moving a hand to your bulging tummy and pressing slightly sends a near-orgasmic thrill through you as her heavy eggs shift in your womb. You feel such pride and adoration that you do not bother to wonder whether the curse of the island afflicted you or not.

  Your glorious queen motions for you to sit up and she settles onto her feet on the ground beside you.

  “H-how long will they be inside me, your majesty?” You ask, cradling the swelling of your abdomen.

  “Before the day is done, they will be nurtured by your warmth,” says the queen, caressing your face and pushing a lock of hair from your eyes. You look up at her strange beauty and tears nearly spring from your eyes. She continues, “Until it is time, you will work to help me with the garden.”

  “Yes, of course,” you says excitedly. “Anything you desire.”

  “Mmmmm, a good human,” she buzzes with satisfaction. “Let us tend to the cream suckles.”

  “The what?” You wonder aloud.

  The queen bee lifts you up into her arms and carries you above the garden. You have an incredible view of the surrounding countryside as well as an overhead view of the sprawling, maze-like garden. Numerous courtyards are surrounded by the thorny hedgerows. Each of these courtyards seems to be occupied by different plant creatures. You see the enticing pod and the tangle remains of the pleasure whip. You also recognize a pitcher nymph, one of the most dangerous plant monsters, with several open pitchers and a feminine green humanoid to entice hapless travelers into these traps.

  “Here we are,” says the queen and she lowers you into a courtyard full of lovely flowers. They are like glass bulbs that open at the top and curve outward with a soft lip. The pistol inside each flower reminds you of a little tongue sticking up. The queen smiles at the flowers and the flowers seem to slowly turn towards her. “Oh, those awful bitter barbs are back again. Watch your fingers, my dear, the barbs hurt quite a bit.”

  She begins plucking weeds from among the flowers and tossing them over her shoulder. Curiously, you feel as if she has told you exactly what to do, but she has not spoken any words. It’s as if her scent wafting in the air is enough to compel you to your knees among the flowers. You begin plucking out the weeds, receiving several pricks from the tiny barbs on their stems. As you are crawling among the flowers and trying not to cut your hands too badly, you are surprise to suddenly feel a mouth sucking at your left breast.

  “Ohhh,” you moan in surprised pleasure and look down to see one of the flowers suckling at your nipple. The pistol within in it flicks and swirls at your straining bud and it somehow is sucking quite hard and rhythmically. You look to the queen as another flower bends lower and begins to suck at your other nipple. “Um, your majesty…”

  “Hmmm?” She buzzes and looks at you over her shoulder. “Oh, dear, I forgot they do like you warm humans. Do not be afraid, deary, they’re after milk but particularly enjoy men. Just give them a little pinch just below the cup. Like so…”

  She pinches the flower sucking at your left nipple and it releases with a wet pop. Your pale titflesh has a red ring of suction where the flower was clamped tightly to your sensitive mound. She strokes your breast and straining nipple and you moan with delight at your queen’s touch.

  “Mmmm, you like that don’t you?” She chuckles, watching the other flower pulse and your nipple flex within its sucking bulb.

  “Y-yes, my queen,” you moan.

  “I suppose it won’t hurt for you to enjoy this,” she says, and moves the sucking bulb she removed from your breast back to your nipple.

  The queen leans down and blesses you with a kisses on your lips. Her tongue is cool and languid as it explores your mouth. Her slender fingers push between your thighs and she fucks them gently into your pussy as the cream suckles throb around your nipples. Your pleasure rises quickly to an intense, body-shaking orgasm. You moan loudly into the queen’s mouth, daring to cradle her head as you kiss her.

  At the height of your pleasure, you are surprised by a new shock of ecstasy as one of the bulb clamps against your clit and begins sucking at the wet cusp of your cunt. The additional stimulation makes you arch your back so hard that the roots of the flowers on your breasts actually pull out of the soil. Only after your orgasm has receded do you realize your mistake.

  The queen withdraws her fingers from your pussy and licks at the nectar on her fingers. She looks at you with her strange compound eyes. She buzzes, “You must get them back in the soil or they will die quickly.”

  You detach the cream suckles from your breasts and clit and return them to the soil. You go back to plucking up weeds as if nothing strange just happened, but you cannot stop thinking about the feel of the flowers on your n
ipples and the joy of being kissed by your queen.

  When you have finished your job, the queen lifts you up and carries you back to her honeycomb. You feel something beginning to stir inside you.

  “Good,” she buzzes. “They will be coming soon, my sweet. Sit down and spread your legs. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “I’m afraid,” you admit, sitting down and spreading your pale thighs.

  “There is nothing to fear, my sweet human. There will be no pain, only pleasure.”

  She caresses the shuddering mound of your gravid belly. You can feel her young moving inside you constantly now. It feels incredible and your pussy is dripping heavily with your arousal and some other liquid that is plentiful and reminds you of the queen’s musk. Almost without thinking, you begin to pleasure yourself with your fingers. The queen buzzes and reaches down to move your fingers out of your sopping pussy and to your clit.

  “There,” she murmurs in your ear. “Touch there so you do not block them.”

  She kisses you hungrily and reaches around to play with your plump breasts as you furiously frig your clit. Your pleasure is rising to a definite peak when you feel the first contraction. More slime oozes from your pussy and the birthing process begins. The wriggling larvae are much smaller than a human infant would be and the rippling movement of their fat bodies gives you great pleasure as they begin to squeeze out of your pussy.

  “Ohhhhhh, my queen, they are…. Ahhhhh… they are coming! It’s so good! Oh, gods, I’m cumming too!”

  “Yes, it is wonderful,” she laughs, watching with apparent delight as you squeeze the first white grub from your pussy. They squirm out of your clutching cunt one after another into a spreading pool of slime. As promised, there is only pleasure to the experience, though you are wracked with orgasms throughout and exhausted by the time the final larvae squirms from your trembling folds.

  One-by-one, the queen bee scoops them up and deposits them each into a separate chamber of her honeycomb. She spits honey into the chamber with them and spreads a glutinous material excreted from her ovipositor to seal each larvae into its chamber.