Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “Penny,” he says. “Who are your… interesting friends?”

  “My sister and mother,” you say gesturing to them. “Kara and Hilda Helsdottir.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, little man,” says your mother, bending to one knee in the surf and offering Orsen her double-sized hand. He shakes it carefully, like a child before her. A strange smile appears on his face as he looks up at her.

  “You are a bountiful woman, Hilda,” he says. “I have never seen such beauty and such impressive physique in such an impressive arrangement.”

  You and Kara chuckle as the handsome captain seems taken with your mother’s stature.

  “I’ve known sea captains before,” says your mother, giving him a sly look.

  “You have never known Orsen Castillo,” he objects. “I must confess, I have only a modest ship. I do not think I can transport a woman of such impressive assets. Though I am willing to attempt it. Perhaps if all other passengers remain below decks, Hilda could ride upon the upper deck.”

  “I am not returning to the mainland,” says your mother.

  “What?” You gasp, caught by surprise.

  “No!” Kara cries. “You must come with us. This island is blighted.”

  “By monsters I literally brought into this world in some cases,” says your mother. “No, it is my duty as a huntress to remain and see this job finished. It may take me many years, but I will cleanse Ctharne of all the monsters that prey upon its human inhabitants.”

  “I will stay with you,” says Kara.

  “Yes, mother, I will stay as well,” you say.

  “Sweet Penny, you saved me from certain madness,” she says caressing your cheek. “I owe you this more than anyone else. You and your sister must return to Heimsvak and warn the great king. If I should fail, you should both be ready to continue my work.”

  “No,” you say firmly. “That is not how this will work at all. If you insist on remaining to finish your work, so be it, but I will not leave you for good. I will travel to Heimsvak with Kara and we will warn the king. I will gather new information and begin a new book to replace the one that was buried. And I will return to Ctharne to help you.”

  “I will bring you,” offers Orsen. “For a chance to see your mother again and prove I am not like those other captains.”

  “I will return as well,” says Kara. “With provisions and weapons. We will fight together. We will conquer this island together and free its human inhabitants.”

  “I cannot refuse you,” says your mother, tears dropping from her eyes. She pulls you and Kara against her breasts. Her mounds are scarcely covered by a bed sheet she has turned into a wrap. Orsen presses in behind you and your sister.

  “What are you…?” Your sister looks back at him with annoyance.

  Orsen spreads his arms wide and joins the hug, nuzzling between you and Kara and pressing his face to your mother’s breasts. He murmurs, “Together.”

  CONTINUE >

  The depraved brides of Zhibbareth

  You and your mother, giants both, stand atop a vast altar of black stone in the plaza that sprawls beneath the Temple of Zhibbareth. Thousands of warriors of various types gather, many heroes returned from the conquest of the human lands. Though the war still rages on many fronts, a great celebration is in order; the last redoubts of Heimsvak have fallen and the mainland belongs to the god of monsters.

  Zhibbareth, like a living planet, hangs above the scene, observing the ceremony.

  "Who among you believes you deserve the honor?" Your mother exhorts the crowd. "Whose blood deserves to sire the next son or daughter of Zhibbareth?"

  Your daughter and your mother's two sons, fathered by the one-eyed god using his sacrificial proxies, stand atop the altar with you. In less than two years they have grown to full adults, their minds as learned and wise as the most experienced generals of Zhibbareth’s armies. They are the children of gods after all.

  Zhulia is lean and perfect, her flawless white flesh contrasted by the ink-dripped blackness of her claws. Her large eyes are painterly swirls of gold and violet. She possesses four perfectly pert breasts and a flowing mane of hair that writhes like living braids. She smiles wickedly down at the crowd, her black wings spread wide and her cock rising rigid between her thighs.

  Caardeth and Enliethus stand on either side of the altar. Caardeth is a singular destroyer. He charges into battle and crushes foes under his immense hooves. His enormous arms are woven from tendrils that can separate into wildly flailing limbs that will rip apart mortal men. His huge cock will destroy women and they will enjoy it. Enliethus, meanwhile, is barely larger than a human, but exudes a black vapor that wreathes his head and conceals his true identity. Only his golden-red eyes glow through the smoke that wreaths his head. His body seems lean and elongated beyond human proportions. His wrists sprout sharp spurs of bladelike black. These are your mother's sons born to Zhibbareth.

  The time has come for you and your mother to give more. It is your honor to carry living gods in your bellies.

  “Do any of you dare to submit your deeds and blood to Zhibbareth’s scrutiny?” Your mother shouts, her arms aloft and her huge breasts supporting the weight of a golden eye amulet decorated with a flawed ruby that almost perfectly mimics the red eye of Zhibbareth as he observes the crowd.

  The hundreds of orcs, gertling, lizardmen, wugs, and other monsters murmur and jabber. Finally, a booming voice cuts through the chatter, “Volunteer!”

  The ogre shoves aside the smaller warriors as he strides towards the steps of the massive altar erected for the conception ceremony. He is a particularly ugly ogre, which is quite a feat. His face is a mass of burn scars and his chest has an enormous scar as if it were nearly cleaved in half. His arms are similarly disfigured and his pot belly looks as if it were lanced. On his belt he wears the skulls of several enemies. The ogre’s loincloth shifts as it approaches the altar and you see an enormous cock dangling between its flabby thighs.

  “Behold, mighty Zhibbareth,” your mother shouts. “This one called…

  “Ogsel!” The ogre thunders and beats a fist against his chest. Several warriors in the crowd, perhaps Ogsel’s comrades, shout his name.

  “This one called Ogsel submits himself for your judgment, oh Zhibbareth,” finishes your mother.

  The massive orb of Zhibbareth sinks lower. The god’s single red eye opens wide and red light floods the plaza. The crowd grows hushed. Ogsel bows his head and falls to his knees with a thud that shakes loose stones from the altar.

  Black tendrils suddenly launch from Zhibbareth’s orb, splashing like pitch over Ogsel’s flesh, eating through his clothing, and coating his body. The crowd seems uncertain if this is punishment or approval. The black liquid seeps into Ogsel, repairing the ogre’s damaged flesh and restoring him to naked perfection. His eyes become black and he slowly stands. He turns to the crowd and raises a triumphant fist.

  “Ogsel is chosen,” says your mother.

  The ogre, however, is looking at you. He walks towards you, a lopsided grin on his still-ugly face. You make room for him to stand beside you. You pet his flaccid cock playfully and it stirs beneath your fingers. Ogsel grunts with pleasure.

  “Penelope, bride of Zhibbareth, will bear the child of Ogsel and Zhibbareth,” declares your mother. “But I still require a mate. Who among you will rise and submit yourself for judgment?”

  An orc steps forward. Clad in gleaming silver armor and with ramrod posture, he is a perfect contrast to Ogsel’s ravaged ugliness. A tail like a scorpion's emerges from the mutated orc’s plate armor. He strides to the foot of the altar and declares, “Gore Reaper!”

  “Quite a name,” chuckles your mother. “Oh mighty Zhibbareth, the one called Gore Reaper submits himself to your judgment!”

  The massive eye of Zhibbareth seems to glow brighter and brighter as it focuses on Gore Reaper. The orc stands proud, enduring the ever-brightening light. The other warriors begin to step back from the orc. Gore Reaper beg
ins to scream as smoke rises from between the joints of his armor. The air shimmers with heat. You expect the orc to burst into flames, but instead he explodes in a gory eruption that sends blood, entrails, and pieces of armor in every direction. This leaves a huge, bloody stain upon the plaza and showers the front rank of warriors in steaming filth.

  Your mother casts and amused glance at you and you cannot help but laugh with her at the gruesome destruction of the orc. It always amuses you to see things die. Ogsel bellows beside you, his great paunchy midsection heaving with his laughter and his cock and bollocks jostling beneath it. You take hold of his shaft, silencing him with a squeeze of his cock.

  “Does anyone else dare approach the altar and face the judgment of mighty Zhibbareth?”

  A human warrior steps forward, pushing through the thronging monsters who snarl at him. Human men are rare in Zhibbareth’s army and this one bears many scars and carved symbols on his impressively muscled frame. His head is concealed by a leathery mask that seems to have been taken from another human’s skin. A bloody mace dangles from his belt.

  “Branton Fex,” shouts the man, his voice hoarse and tone weary. “I submit to his judgment.”

  The other warriors jeer at him. A few even throw rotten fruit and bits of bread. Branton Fex ignores the rain of insults and gazes up into the cycloptic red eye of Zhibbareth.

  The eye glows, brighter and brighter, seeming to bathe Fex in boiling red light. The human does not flinch. The only change in his posture is the set of his jaw as he stares up at the swirling orb of Zhibbareth.

  Black tendrils suddenly leap from Zhibbareth’s surface and engulf the human in glistening, twisting black flesh. This disintegrates Fex’s armor, his leathers and boots, and sinks into his flesh, leaving him perfect and naked. His cock is certainly smaller than Ogsel’s, but quite impressive for a human.

  “Branton Fex has been chosen,” shouts your mother, arms raised triumphantly.

  A few warriors grudgingly cheer him as the incredibly muscular human ascends the steps. Your mother scoops him up into her arms and the warriors cheer wildly as she lifts him up and slurps Fex’s cock into her mouth like a sweet treat. Ogsel takes this as his cue to reach his huge hands around you and begin to fondle your plump breasts. Milk spurts and rolls from your swollen nipples. You gasp and stroke the ogre’s huge, warty cock more insistently.

  Drums begin to beat and the warriors gathered in the plaza begin to chant and cheer. Handmaidens are brought out and the warriors fall upon them, fucking and molesting them in an insane orgy of lust. Atop the altar, you and your mother turn your full attention to your anointed lovers. Your mother sprawls on the black stone and the human ruts furiously into her pussy, his hands kneading her huge breasts. The ogre is more forceful, lifting you up despite your giant stature and pressing you down onto the stones. Ogsel bends your legs back and shoves his warty cock into your clutching cunt.

  “Oooooooh!” You cry, arching and playing with your tits as the ugly brute pounds his cock into your pussy. His fat tongue dangles from his mouth. His hips work as he pumps his cock in and out, stretching your channel wide and pressing his cum-heavy stones against your ass. He leans over you and you lean up to meet him, accepting his sloppy kiss and tasting the sweet residue of Zhibbareth on his lips. His tongue slobbers into your mouth. His cock sloshes in and out of your wet cunt.

  Time seems to move to the drumbeat. Ogsel and Fex fuck you and your mother with the steady rhythm as Zhibbareth stares down at you with his unblinking red eye. In a moment of glorious rapture, the ogre cock inside you begins to throb and pump cum deep into your womb. Ogsel groans, lost in the pleasure, his seed spewing endlessly as he spurts his life force into your body. He collapses, drained of life, onto the stones of the altar, black liquid seeping from his eyes and ears. Beside you, your mother clasps Branton Fex in her huge legs, seeming to squeeze him out like a wine bladder. He gives a finally cry and slumps against her. His body is still twitching as she pushes it aside.

  You and your mother stand, arm in arm, giddy with the joy of your new pregnancies. Inside your bellies, the new gods of earth are gestating. When they are born, the era of man will finally be at an end.

  Zhibbareth will rule for all eternity.

  “All hail Zhibbareth!” You and your mother shout. “All hail the god of monsters!”

  The warriors gathered in the plaza pausing in their furious rutting and chorus their devotion to Zhibbareth. Beneath the warriors, at their mercy, even the handmaidens take up the chant. They know the truth of Zhibbareth’s power.

  Madness and depravity will forever be your reality. You could not be happier.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  Be purified by the being

  With your mother’s voice silenced for now, you feel the foulness of the Great One’s touch upon your soul and skin. You shudder, recalling all that you have done to reach this point. All that you have abandoned and forsaken. The lusts you have satisfied and what you have sold. Tears prick your eyes and you look up towards the radiant figure.

  “Please,” you murmur.

  No more needs to be said. The being reaches forward and gently cups your cheeks. It leans forward and presses a kiss to your brow. You gasp, your thoughts seared with light. Every memory of corruption. Every act of debauchery you have performed since arriving stands out in stark relief. You weep at the thought of the men and women you abandoned in the cave of the primordial slime. Of the monsters you have left and lain with. Of your sister, abandoned. Of your mother in your dreams and the acts you performed on the succubus's bed.

  And the memories fade. Not leaving, but the pain of the sin which enwraps them seems lessened. You release a fluttering breath as the being takes its lips from your brow.

  Its white eyes stare into yours with a boundless understanding of your remorse. Then, it kneels before you. You do not resist as it lowers the front of your skirt, just revealing the brand of the Great One tattooed on your thatch. It leans forward and again presses its lips to the mark.

  A shudder crawls from your toes to the tips of the very hairs on your head. You feel suddenly sick. You sway but do not fall. A foulness seems to coat your skin. You desperately want a bath. But the discomfort is momentary. Pain blossoms deep inside of you. It radiates outward. A burning sensation, as if purging you of some darkness. You hear yourself scream.

  Then, it is done. You collapse, but the holy being catches you, cradling you against its chest. It’s warm, like gold that has lain in the sun. You blink, staring up at those tender white eyes. You look down to your mons and see where the brand of the Great One once lay, only pristine flesh remains.

  “You are free of him child,” the being says. You nod, too choked to say anything. Gently the being returns you to your feet. You sway for a moment, then still, standing on your own once more. Your eyes wander to the succubus, who looks extremely consternated in the chains of light.

  “What about Alyssa?” you ask.

  The being turns its eyes upon the succubus, and you shudder at the righteous wrath painted upon its fair features. “You need not worry of that one. Her crimes are many, and she will answer for them and the suffering she has caused.”

  You have never seen Alyssa look so terrified. She shrinks back in her bindings, cringing. She gives you a desperate look. “Penelope! Please! We had such good times. Don’t…”

  You stare at the succubus. But the memory of her palace fills your thoughts, unmasked by the lust which had fogged you. The souls of those she had ensnared, turned to blank eyed and willing whores in her palace. Revulsion fills you and you shake your head.

  The being makes a sweeping gesture. Alyssa screams as the air about her seems to bend, folding on her and her chains before vanishing.

  In the silence that follows, the being places a sympathetic hand upon your shoulder. “Be brave Penelope Helsdottir,” Gallatha says. “The greatest trial is yet to come.”

  You nod and the
being steps back. Bearing an encouraging smile, it dissolves into motes of light, fading away like sparks on a breeze.

  As it fades reality seems to close upon you like a shadow. Once more you stand in the shattered courtyard of Rhilath. A shudder crawls across your skin as you look upon the ruined buildings. And behind you, the temple, shimmering in shadows of what will be.

  Awe is there in you once more, but it is tempered by revulsion. You may not have taken a course of purity in reaching it, but here you are. And it is up to you. The confidence of the being who saved you restores your courage, and with grim purpose, you walk towards the dark temple and the evil which waits within.

  CONTINUE >

  Free your hand and shoot the beast

  You are not about to be fucked by some furry beast. You twist your arm free of the beast’s grasp. It snarls furiously, but you ignore it, reaching desperately for the pistol stuffed into your belt. The beast’s claws tighten on your hips, drawing blood. You ignore the pain, feeling the comforting grip of the pistol. You draw it from your belt, take a deep breath, and throw your weight to the side with all of the strength you can muster in your legs.

  You manage to twist and roll beneath the beast’s furry undercarriage, escaping his grasp with a rip of your skirt and bloody claw marks on your thighs. As you roll onto your knees and bring up the pistol, the beast is waiting for you with hatred blazing in its four eyes. You barely have to aim at such close range. You point the pistol in the beast’s face and fire.

  With a thunderous report and a burst of fire and smoke, the beast disappears. For a few seconds, you have reason to hope that you have slain the beast.

  It rises through the smoke like a ship clearing fog. A blood hole smolders in its fur, blackish-red blood trickling down its left foreleg to its huge, clawed hand. The beast’s lips curls back in a terrifying snarl. Its massive jaws open.