Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  For your mother

  Your mother stands before you, giant, terrible, and recognizably beautiful. She slowly reaches her giant hand out and rests it atop your head, her fingers curling around your temples and the back of your head. Her golden eyes flash with intensity as she gazes into your eyes. You feel her pushing open the barred door of your mind as the answer to her question forms on your lips.

  “For you,” you gasp, her power slipping into your mind. “For you, mother. I did this for you.”

  “Oh, child,” she softly murmurs, sinking down to one knee but still taller than your head. She sees the truth in your words and her presence retreats from your mind. “I am who I am now because of the Great One. If you truly did this for me, then you must accept the offer I made to you earlier.”

  “To become the bride of a dead god?”

  A smile flutters at her lips. Tears well anew in her golden eyes. “Not dead, Penny. He dreams of this world from the depths of darkness below. If you accept his generous offer, you will join me for eternity as his bride.”

  She picks you up into her arms and pulls you against her huge breasts. “Together, Penny. We will rule the earth together.”

  She kisses you on your lips. Her mouth is much larger than yours and yet her kiss is tender. You moan against her, accepting the warmth of her body, the trickle of her milk against your dress, the heat of her tongue is wedges your lips apart. You sigh with desire, kissing her back, knowing no limit to depravity now that you have accepted the truth of Zhibbareth into your heart.

  You hear a whimper from behind you, reminding you that Alyssa is still caged by your mother’s magic. She breaks her torrid kiss with you and holds her hand up.

  “I will quiet her forever,” she says, beginning to close her fingers. You reach your hand out and stop her.

  “No, mother, let her go. It would hurt me to see her suffer.” You look at her pleadingly and the hardness in her eyes softens for a moment. She nods and releases Alyssa from her cage. The succubus hesitates in the air above you and your mother.

  “Penelope…” She says, flapping her leathery wings.

  “Go, Alyssa,” you say. When she lingers a moment longer you scream, angrily, “GO!”

  The succubus snarls with frustration and bolts skyward. She disappears through the hole smashed in the ceiling of the massive temple.

  “She didn’t belong here, Penny,” murmurs your mother, nuzzling her huge face against yours. “Now we can share the duty of serving as brides of Zhibbareth without the interruptions of that hell-born harlot.”

  You are about to object to your mother’s cruel words about Alyssa when she kisses you again, smothering any such thoughts from your mind in the hot thrusting of her oversized tongue. Her soft breasts seem to swallow you up and she is all around you, squeezing you tightly in her arms. It is impossible to resist the perverse desire coursing through your body.

  “I must restore your blessing,” she moans, tearing your bodice and skirt away with two mighty pulls of her huge hand. She dispatches your underclothes even more easily, shredding them and tossing them aside. She dips you to the mosaic floor and supports your back and shoulders with one huge hand as she parts your thighs with the other hand. You watch her double-sized finger tease your inner thighs and lightly brush against your aching cunt. She lets her finger drag against your clit and asks, “Was the mark here?”

  “N-no, higher,” you gasp, watching as her finger moves to your mound.

  “Here?” She asks drawing the shape of the symbol with her finger. As she does, warmth begins to spread from her fingertip and through your body.

  “Yes, right there,” you moan, watching her finger draw the symbol over and over. The shape of it reappears and pulses with magical energy with each pass of her finger. Each of those pulses also reaches into your cunt and beyond, to the fluttering depths of your tummy, to excite you and leave you breathless.

  “Are you ready now, my sweet Penny?” She asks, letting her finger slide lower once more and playing with your throbbing quim. “Are you prepared to fulfill your destiny?”

  “Yessss,” you hiss, arching beneath her touch and thrusting your little cunt against her finger. But she will not let you have the pleasure you are craving. Instead, your mother scoops you up into her arms once more and carries you to the stone altar beside the pit. You writhe with lust as she stretches you out atop the cool stone.

  “Bring the sacrifice,” she shouts.

  “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 f
ear. She squeezes your hand in her massive grip and murmurs, “Be brave, my daughter.”

  What do you do?

  Scream in terror

  Embrace your lover

  Magic

  “Magic,” you say. “She is too big for my blade.”

  “I have some magic of my own,” says the succubus, flexing her clawed fingers. “Ready when you are, my sweet.”

  “Together,” you say, smiling at the demoness and glad to have her by your side. No matter what your mother says, no matter Alyssa’s evil deeds, you know she is true to you. She must be if she is willing to fight in the face of your mother’s power.

  Your giantess mother’s bare flesh is both disturbing and vulnerable to a cold attack. You splay your fingers as your mother lumbers towards you, her huge breasts bouncing and a mocking smile on her face. You conjure a cone of frost, glittering white cold billowing from your fingertips and engulfing your mother’s midsection. She cries out in surprise and Alyssa chooses that moment to attack, swooping at your mother from above and blasting her head and shoulders with a roaring stream of fire from both hands.

  For a moment, your mother is consumed with fire and frost. You think your spells are working to subdue her until you realize the flames are wrapping too perfectly around something. Alyssa’s spell gutters out and the cloud of frost drifts down to the ground, revealing that your mother is projecting a shield of pure magical force from her fingertips. Her pale skin is reddened in a few places, her hair a bit singed, but she is otherwise unharmed.

  “You thought that would stop me?” Your mother laughs.

  “This will!” Alyssa shrieks, diving closer and blasting your mother with two more bursts of fire that curl around the shield and lick at your mother’s arms. Instead of trying to adjust the shield, your mother flings it at Alyssa, knocking the succubus to the ground. Alyssa struggles to get up, but her wings seem to be injured.

  “Stupid demon-whore,” laughs your mother. “You should have never come here.”

  Before you can summon another spell, your mother conjures a spear of purple magical energy and drives it down into Alyssa’s abdomen.

  “No!” You cry as the impaled succubus writhes in agony. Your mother holds her grip on the magical spear, charging it with more and more force until there is a blinding violet flash. As the after-image fades from your sight, you realize Alyssa is completely gone. Only a scorch and a pool of blood remain where she had been impaled on the tiles.

  Your mother begins to turn towards you and says, “Your little slut has been sent back to the abyss where she—“

  Your javelin of ice impales your mother from behind, piercing out through the center of her chest between her breasts. Her blood steams as it pours over the length of the javelin. She looks down in disbelief.

  “Penny…” She drops heavily to her knees, her breasts heaving and now coated in blood. She reaches for the javelin. “How could you do this to your mother?”

  You answer her first with another javelin, skewering her throat and quieting her. You roar with fury, tears streaming from your eyes as you run towards her. You conjure a third javelin and drive it into her breast. The blood pours out in a lethal quantity as you seemingly hit her heart. Your mother slumps back to the ground, the protruding ice snapping against the hard tiles, her wide eyes going glassy as the life ebbs from her body in a pool of blood.

  The armored warriors standing guard around the edges of the room are stunned to inaction by the sudden demise of their queen. The temple begins to shudder beneath your feet. Some of the warriors start towards you and without a second thought your fire off orbs of light that seek them out. One-by-one the armored warriors burst in gory explosions of limbs, entrails, and battered armor. The temple begins to violently shake. A piece of masonry as big as a wagon falls from the ceiling and slams into the tiled floor, nearly crushing you.

  Time to go.

  You run past your mother’s lifeless body and towards the nearest exit. The creatures and slaves within the temple are in a panic. You encounter one of the huge eunuchs escorting a long line of red-robed handmaidens. He grunts and brandishes a huge, serrated sword with two hands. You take his head off with a burst of force, tearing it from his shoulders and flinging it down the hallway. The temple shakes violently, the floor slipping beneath your feet as the hallway you are in tilts a few degrees. The handmaidens scream in terror.

  “Come with me,” you say. “We’re getting out of here.”

  The handmaidens follow you without question as you wind your way through the shaking temple. Walls collapse and hallways are blocked. Chambers crumble around you. One handmaiden is crushed beneath an iron candelabrum that falls from the ceiling of a chamber you are crossing. The handmaidens gather around the woman’s crumpled body, moaning softly and pulling at her arms.

  “Leave her,” you shout at them. “We go now or we all perish in here!”

  As you approach an exit from the temple an ogre bars your path. Without stopping, you blast him in the chest with explosive magical force. Your attack cores a smoking hole straight through him and he falls over backwards.

  Tears burn your eyes as you lead the handmaidens through the streets of the dead city, suddenly crowded with weaker monsters fleeing from the collapsing temple. No more try to stop you as the giant black temple slumps in on itself and finally crumbles in a huge plume of dust. Screeching, bat-like creatures swirl in the air around the dust plume.

  You and the handmaidens make your way back across the island. As you travel, you explain to them who you are and convince them to take off their red hoods and reveal themselves. Each woman wears a red iron collar around her throat that seems to serve as a powerful fertility charm. You try to break one of the collars off a woman, but it will obviously require some sort of magic to unlock its seemingly impossible mechanism.

  There are eleven women in all and all but one, a newcomer to their group named Riasha, has been impregnated by some monster or another. Their leader becomes a beautiful older woman with a fit physique and long scarlet hair. Her name is Conova and she comes from a village on the island western side.

  “Everyone is dead,” she says. “I saw them. Being devoured or taken like me to mate with the monsters.”

  “Mate” is the word they all use. It disguises the ugliness of what they were being forced to do.

  After two days and a night of traveling, you manage to reach the beach where you left Orsen. A crowd has gathered at the Zephyr, which seems repaired and is now anchored several feet off shore.

  “Penelope, is that you?” The captain calls from the prow of the small ship. “I saw that storm and then that big cloud of smoke. I almost left without you.”

  “It is me, Orsen,” you say. “It is done. My mother is dead. My sister is gone. My friend… you never met her. She fought to the end. But it’s over.”

  He jumps over the railing and wades to shore to join you. He is as handsome as you remembered and without hesitation your throw your arms around him and hug him tightly. He strokes your shoulders as you fight back tears.

  “So much to lose,” he murmurs. “My heart aches for you. But the ship is ready. Who are these friends?”

  “This is Conova,” you say, introducing the beautiful redhead first. “This is Riasha and Jenika and…”

  You introduce them all and show them aboard the ship. There are several other survivors from the island who have arrived at the boat and survived with Orsen’s help. Combined with your group of handmaidens, the ship is at maximum capacity.

  Orsen sees you nervously eying the waterline of the ship. One small leak or one rough wave would be all it would take to sink the small ship.

  “She’ll get us home,” he assures you. “I promise.”

  He barely keeps his promise. On the second night of travel, high seas overwhelm Zephyr and you and all of the handmaidens must throw every object overboard you can afford to sacrifice. You stand below decks in the knee-deep water, desperately dumping buckets out the
bilge portholes as the ship tosses from side to side. It finally takes an act of magic, a complex spell to lift the boat out of the water and make it glide upon the surface of the storm-tossed sea. Such a spell requires constant concentration and effort. After hours of holding the small ship aloft, the storm passes and you set it back down into the water and collapse.

  By the time you awaken, Zephyr has arrived in the small port of Astrokol. Orsen helps you ashore and you stand bewildered at your long adventure on the docks of the coal-mining city.

  The handmaidens and other survivors are completely overwhelmed. Some of them fall down on the docks while others stare in confusion at the hundreds of humans even in this small city. Ctharne was completely isolated from Heimsvak and the progress of human civilization and the modern, albeit industrial and ugly, city of Astrokol must be quite a sight for them.

  “Where do we go?” Conova asks, standing beside you and looking fearfully upon the bustling city.

  You think for a moment and say, “Those of you who carry monsters in your bellies would do well to join me at the old huntress’s retreat in the hills of Tarol. It is far from here, many days by road, but when we arrive we will be isolated and I can help you.”

  “Help us what?” One of the other girls asks.

  “Endure the birthing of your children. And I will show you the ways of the huntress.”

  You look at their fearful faces, but you see hope. Whatever is inside them, you resolve, you will bring it up and teach it to serve your goals. It is time for a new way; one that is ironically closer to what your mother and the so-called Great One desired only reversed. The monsters will become the slaves to the humans and will serve you. No foe will stand in the way of such a force.

  CONTINUE >

  Wait

  You know the strengths of driders, but you are not aware of any particular weakness. You need to wait and find the right method and opportunity to strike.