Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  That, at least, you knew about succubae from forbidden texts on demonology. They collect souls, often in the service of a prince or lord of the abyss, and the souls they take determine their strength and standing in the ever-shifting ranks of the abyss. Demons are one of the rarest sorts of monsters still known to exist, only a few imps and minor fiends encountered by your mother and sister, so you never paid much mind to their hierarchy.

  "How many souls do you have?" You ask the question as if making idle conversation.

  "Oh, I've lost count," she says. "Well over a thousand by now. Most of them are tucked away in the abyss. These are only my loveliest and strongest."

  She walks around behind one of the men, stroking his biceps as she peers at you over his shoulder.

  "Would you like to play with one of them?" She steps around him, stroking her demonic curves invitingly and flicking her tail around her thighs. "Or would you rather play with me? I won't hurt a herald of the mighty Great One."

  She licks her lips seductively and a tremor runs through your body. Alyssa is pure, living, breathing sex. You ache to touch her, or one of her slaves, but you wonder what the consequences might be.

  You must present yourself carefully.

  What do you do?

  Submit

  Transact

  Dominate

  Breed

  Refuse

  Submit to pleasuring Alyssa

  You have never been a sexually dominant person. You certainly cannot imagine giving commands to a powerful demoness like Alyssa and expecting her to obey. No, your place is serving her and her desires. Your pussy throbs at the thought and your stiff nipples strain with the force of your lust. You bow your head submissively.

  “I should serve you,” you say, adding without even thinking of the consequences, “mistress.”

  “Oh, my, look at you,” laughs Alyssa. “What a naughty little whore you are, huntress. I thought you might want to smack me around and pull my hair, but look at you, as timid as a little kitten.”

  She curls her fingers beneath your chin and lifts your face. You gaze up into those glowing, violet eyes.

  “Yes, you are a submissive little tart, aren’t you?”

  “Y-yes,” you whimper.

  “A naughty girl?” She sticks out her chin, plainly studying you with her demonic gaze. “You want to please me?”

  “Oh, yes, mistress,” you moan.

  Alyssa lets her hand slowly trail down your breasts. Her fingertips brush against your nipples and you gasp at the jolt of pleasure. Her fingers continue lower, stroking your side and move to your hip. She slowly moves around you, seeming to inspect your naked body. Your heart beats faster and your pussy throbs with excitement. You suck in an excited breath as Alyssa’s fingertips drag from your hip around to your buttock, over the cleft between one cheek and the next, and around to your other hip.

  “Are you a good girl, Penelope?” She asks, slowly dragging her fingers around to your abdomen as she circles back in front of you. Her hand moves between your thighs and she cups your aching cunt. You suck in a gasp as she pushes the heel of her hand against your clit. “Or are you a naughty girl?”

  She looks you in the eye, biting at her lower lip as she kneads her hand against your throbbing pussy. You tremble as pleasure ripples through your body. The beautiful demoness is obviously waiting for an answer.

  What do you say?

  "I've been very bad."

  "I've been a good girl.”

  Wait

  You rest your hand on the grip of your kirana, but you make no move to draw your blade. You stare up into the yawning mandibles of the Wurllmek as slime drips from its glistening mouth.

  "What are you doing?" Kara hisses through clenched teeth.

  "Waiting," you say. "Thinking. This thing has a weakness. But I can't remember it."

  "The eyes?" Kara suggests. "It's usually the eyes."

  "Too many," you say, counting more than ten pairs before you give up. "It's something about its belly maybe?"

  "I'll go for its belly!" Kara takes a step towards the immense worm. You stop her with a hand on her shoulder and pull her back.

  Before you can say anything else to her, the huge Wurllmek lunges at you and your sister. You dodge to the opposite sides of its attack as its huge mandible close on the churned earth where you were standing. It rises up again with shocking speed, dirt showering from its opening mouth as you pick yourself up.

  "Into the hole!" You shout. "Run!"

  You have only a moment to react as you and Kara dive into the nearest hole. You tumble down into the darkness and quickly cast a light cantrip to create a faint, hovering candle's glow. You and Kara run from the opening above as the worm hisses with fury and thunders into the tunnel behind you.

  The subterranean depths twist and turn and intersect with other tunnels. You avoid the worms first rasping charge by diving into a side tunnel with your sister. It is as the beast thunders past, open-mouthed and apparently furious, that you recall the weakness of the Wurllmek. You form a plan, but you know at once that Kara is not going to like it.

  "Trust me," you say to her. "You have to trust me. Give me your hand."

  "It's coming back around!" She shouts with concern, but takes hold of your hand. The tunnel shakes and rivulets of dirt spill from above and patter against your shoulders. You clutch Kara's hand tightly and splay the fingers of your other hand into casting posture. You begin to speak the complex verbal components of a powerful wind spell. Your chanting grows louder and louder as the worm thunders straight towards you.

  "Penny," says Kara with concern. As the Wurllmek's yawning mouth blocks the tunnel ahead and slithers closer, your sister shouts, "Penny!"

  "We jump," you say. "Into its mouth."

  "What?" She cries as the beast draws so close you can smell its rotten slime.

  "Trust me!" You shout over the worm's hissing.

  The mandibles pass you on either side of the tunnel and begin to close around you and Kara. You leap, into the soft pink funnel of the Wurllmek's mouth. The hooked teeth tear at your clothes as its mouth snaps reflexively. Kara screams beside you, her hand pulling free from your as the Wurllmek gulps you and your sister into its hot, crushing throat. Despite the squeeze of its gullet, you keep your fingers in the casting posture and scream the last few verbal components of your spell.

  "Tempestus Eruptus!"

  The weak spot of the Wurllmek is inside the Wurllmek. The soft, glistening pink that pulls you deeper is struck from within by the force of a cyclone blowing in every direction. The Wurllmek's mouth and mandible slam open, its throat balloons into an immense cavity for a moment, pushed outward by the force of the spell. The explosive winds rupture the head and of the immense worm like an exploding gourd.

  You feel a moment of triumph before the spell expends its energy, the worm flops dead and you are suddenly smothered by its collapsing gullet. You kick and scream, buried within the dead flesh of the Wurllmek. You struggle to escape, but the weight is too great and you lose all sense of direction. The air within this foul tomb is running out. You scream for Kara, fearing each hot, agonizing breath will be your last.

  Somehow, Kara reaches into the slimy throat of the creature, grabs your under your arms, and drags you out into the reasonably fresh air of the tunnel.

  "I've got you, sister," she says, pulling you away from the dead worm.

  You gasp and catch your breath. She embraces you and you both begin to laugh.

  "That was madness," she chuckles, cradling your head and pressing her forehead to yours. "Where did you learn that?"

  "Akrane," you croak, wiping worm slime from your mouth. "In the library."

  She is still laughing as you and Kara finally manage to climb out of the hole and into the open air. You are grateful for a light rain to wash the Wurllmek's slime off your clothing and out of your hair.

  "I won't doubt you again," says Kara, clapping you on your shoulder as you make your way across the
silent field of holes. The pitted landscape seems exorcised of its menace now that the giant worm is dead, though you do not doubt that some other horrible creature will find these tunnels and take up residence. Ctharne is a birthplace for monsters the likes of which history has nearly forgotten.

  You trudge out of the dreary field and soon find yourself on an ancient and well-worn trade road through a pine forest. The trees are dark and pattering with rain. The rumble of thunder signals that worse weather may be on its way.

  You wish desperately that there was a tavern or inn along this route, like most trade roads in Heimsvak. A place to have some warm food and ale beside a crackling fire.

  Judging by the map, you have come a long way, but you still have a long way to go to Rhilath.

  CONTINUE >

  Transact

  You are not certain of your position as a herald and how it relates to this creature. Surely it would not simply bow before you because it can sense a magic tattoo between your legs. You need to assert your authority and deal with his creature as an equal.

  “I am a herald of the Great One and I am bound for Rhilath,” you say, standing up straight and trying to project confidence and authority even though you are drenched in water.

  The ogre eyes you for a moment before speaking in a surprisingly soft voice, “I am Premble. I guard the falls. Rhilath is far to the north, herald. Do not cross river. I know secret tunnel to surface.”

  “Oh, you know a secret tunnel?” You smile and bat your eyelashes at the ugly brute. “Would you be willing to trade for that information?”

  Premble seems surprised that you are suggesting a trade.

  Your mother chuckles in your mind and says, “The oaf would probably give you the information for free. You don’t need to sell your body to him.”

  “Quiet,” you tell her in your mind.

  “Very well, Penny, trade away your little quim to a stupid oaf like an ogre. Just don’t let him impregnate you.”

  You can feel her departing from your mind like a shadow moving away from a patch of sunlight. Your faltering smile returns and you gaze up at the brawny ogre. You boldly reach out and run your hand over the huge bulge in his crude trousers. He grunts and watches your small hand massage his stirring lump.

  “I trade with you, herald.” He smiles a broken-toothed grin. “What you have to repay me for secret of tunnel?”

  It’s a good question. You feel a hot thrill as you think of several naughty ways to pay the ogre. He may be ugly, but that only inflames your lust. Premble is a monster, after all, and the Great One favors monsters. You know it in your heart.

  What do you do?

  Repay the ogre with your hands

  Repay the ogre with your mouth

  Repay the ogre with your breasts

  Repay the ogre with your feet

  Agree to become a breeding host

  Your gaze roams slowly over the women and men trapped in the green gelatin of the protean’s body. They writhe gently within the fluid, their faces all frozen with expressions of rapturous pleasure. There is a certain beauty to them, their pale flesh colored green by the glowing lights within the protean. The bodies contort with orgasms and release cum and milk in fleeting clouds into the protean’s body. You feel a throbbing need in your cunt; a need to experience that mind-shattering existence of pure pleasure.

  “Yessss,” you moan. “I will be a… a host. Like them.”

  “Oh, my,” giggles the protean, sliding closer. “I will give you a place of honor, Penelope.”

  She embraces you in the guise of your mother. Her gelatinous breasts squish against your blouse and her cool, gooey hands cradle your head. She presses her lips to your in a kiss that you cannot resist. Your mouth open to her and her sweet-tasting slime tongue invades your mouth. The protean has as many hands and arms as she needs to undress you. She slips off your jacket and removes your weapons and belt. Your skirt is ripped away with ease and her slimy fingers pull your panties down your quivering thighs.

  The more she kisses and caresses you, the more her diabolical venom invades your blood. It is a powerful aphrodisiac and you begin to gyrate and moan. Your whole body becomes hot as her slimy kiss moves lower and her tongue grows long enough to coil around one of your breasts. She squeezes your tender titflesh tightly and her gooey mouth pops with suction around your nipple. Her gelatinous fingers push into your eager cunt, elongating and exploring deep into your clutching channel.

  “Ooohhh, gods, it feels so good,” you say, watching her bind your other breast with a second tongue. Another head grows from her jiggling mass so that she can suck at both of your plump breasts at the same time.

  Moments later, two more likenesses of your mother rise from the slime. They do not emerge fully and are only heads, torsos, and arms as they embrace you from the front and from behind. Their jelly tongues begin lapping at your cunt and the crack of your ass. You whimper and lean forward more as the two protean women pleasure you from both ends all the while the two-headed version of your gelatinous mother is continuing to bind and suckle at your breasts.

  The tongue on your clit and the tongue spreading warmth around your clenched anus are enough to push over the edge. Once the first orgasmic contraction begins, the pleasure does not stop. You cry out for a moment before the protean smothers your pleasure with another kiss and a deep thrust of her tongue. Those devilish tongue are pressing deep into your pussy and ass at the same time. Her mouths are slurping intently at your breasts. You arch in her slimy grasp and buck your hips as you cum again and again and again.

  “You are so delicious,” burbles the protean from one of her many heads. “Your nectar is the sweetest I have tasted in ages. Spill as much as you’d like, Penelope. I will drink it all.”

  Her mouth slurps greedily at your swollen folds and you cry out around her swirling tongue. Her fingers spread your cunt and her gelatinous tongue slithers deeper and deeper into your clutching channel. You can feel it against your cervix, oozing past your clenched portal and spilling into your womb. You eyes widen in shock, but you are still cumming. Something warm is flowing into your body. Something that makes you so very happy.

  Contentment follows the flood of liquid into your womb. Whether it is the curse of the island or only more of the protean’s venom, you cannot be sure. All you know is that true joy is being cradled in the formless warmth of a protean as your body is plundered and pleasured.

  She continues to fuck and suck at your quivering flesh as you are lifted up onto a natural pedestal of stone. The slime envelops you in its warmth and you smile within the shuddering walls of goo.

  “Yes, my sweet. We will be together forever.” She coos you as you sink deeper into her slimy body.

  CONTINUE >

  Beat him senseless

  Even giant, you are susceptible to the goat’s seductive influence. Realizing that before did not help you much. So long as you are a giant, you have a way of fighting back: literally fighting back.

  You step back from the goat. His beastly eyes seem confused. His hard cock twitches impatiently. You curl your enormous hand into a fist and lash out at him, catching him right across his snout. The goat reels, staggering back several steps, nearly stomping on some of his brides, and finally smashing into a wall of the chapel. Dust trickles from the ceiling and the brides scatter in terror.

  “Foolish,” snarls the goat. “Now I will—“

  Your knee catches him in the groin, smacking his cock against his abdomen and driving his bullocks upwards. He doubles over and drops to his knees as you step back. He looks up at you, tears form in his bestial eyes.

  “I am the father,” he says. “My… my brides…”

  They wail as if they feel his pain. A few even futilely punch and kick at your lower legs. You wrap one hand around the goat’s throat, lifting him up off his knees.

  “This ends now,” you shout and your voice shakes the chapel. You pull your fist back and punch him in the face with all your might. You f
eel cartilage crack under the impact of your fist and a gush of blood spurts out of his snout. The golden crown perched between his horns goes flying off his head and disappears into the gloomy chapel.

  “NnooOooooooo!” The goat cries, in apparent agony.

  He is withering before your eyes, his horns disappearing and his arms and legs shriveling up like dried beef. His skin darkens to black and his fur falls from his body in clumps. His snout withers to a pair of droopy lips and a human nose. The most dramatic transformation of all is the loss of his glorious cock. The giant appendage blackens, drops off his body and disintegrates to ash, leaving behind a shrunken member no bigger than acorn.

  The wailing giant, now only a small man, drops to his knees and clutches at the absence of his manhood. He whimpers and falls to the side, doubling up and sobbing. You feel no pity for him. This magic tyrant has enslaved and tortured generations of women in this temple.

  “My crown!” He screeches, tears streaming down the raisin of his face. “Bring me my crown! Where is my crown!?”

  The brides ignore his desperate commands. They blink and look at you and at each other. They see the horror of their predicament and anger twists their faces. They turn their fury on the shriveled goat. They crowd around him.

  “No! Stay back!” He screams.

  You can no longer see him for the press of women around him. Their arms swing and their legs kick and before long the shriveled goat’s screaming stops.

  They are still kicking and hitting him as the spell begins to wear off. You shrink back to your normal size, pull on your scattered clothes, gather up your pack and your weapons, and leave. There is nothing more you can do for these women and you have to keep searching for your family.