Parley
You hold out a hand to Kara, signaling her to lower her blade. You let the tip of your own sword dip to the ground as you gesture to your giantess mother. She stops advancing and eyes you warily.
“Talk,” you say. “We are your daughters. Hear us out.”
“There is nothing you could say that would convince me to turn my back on Zhibbareth,” says your mother. “So, knowing you will not convince me to abandon him, I will allow you to speak. What could it hurt to have a few extra seconds with my daughters?”
Her words seem to reverberate in your mind as she speaks them. Her tone is almost sarcastic, but she seems to be true to her word and does not approach any closer. Kara is clearly still searching for an opening to strike, but you see another way.
“I came here to save you, on Kara’s word,” you begin. “I rescued her from a diabolical trap and I have found you caught in another. Hers was magical, yours is spiritual. This ‘Great One’ holds your heart in his thrall. But I know you. I know the goodness inside you and know how you raised us. To fight this sort of evil.”
“It is how I raised you,” concedes your mother. “I raised you wrong. That is my fault. But this is a second chance. A new opportunity for you to join me beneath the holy eye of Zhibbareth. A true god will guide us! Not the silent gods of the temples!”
“You have sold your soul for power!” Kara cries.
“There was no selling of my soul,” snarls your mother. “I gave it willingly when I felt him reaching out to me on this island. He told me how to defeat the guardian and how to rebuild the city. He blessed me with the first monsters that birthed into this world. You come to slay my children and destroy our home? Blaspheme my god?”
“WE ARE YOUR CHILDREN!” Kara screams.
“Your blood,” you say, trying to remain calm. “Maybe… we can strike a deal.”
Your mother laughs, her enormous breasts jiggling even as she folds her arms across them. “I can imagine no deal I would strike, Penny, but I will indulge you. What do you propose?”
Kara looks at you fearfully. You wish you had a good response to your mother’s question.
What do you propose?
“Destroy this temple and leave with us!”
”Let Kara go and I will join you!”
Surrender
Hilda Helsdottir has become a giantess, a worshipper of a dark and ruinous power, but she is still your mother. You cannot fight the woman who brought you into this world. You certainly cannot best the woman who trained you and taught you everything you know. This is futile. If she has submitted to the will of the so-called Great One, then you may as well join her.
“We can’t win this,” you murmur to Kara as you both stare down the giant fury of your mother.
“What?” Kara’s golden eyes harden with anger.
“Look at her, Kara,” you say. “Look at us. Look at where we are. She’s right. This is a hopeless battle.”
“You see?” Your mother’s voice carries across the vast chamber like thunder. She puts her hands on her hips and thrusts her huge, milky breasts forward. The symbol that decorates her mound seems to pulse with blasphemous power. “Your sister knows the truth. She sees the glory of Zhibbareth in my perfection.”
“How can you say this?” Kara hisses and tries to pull you back as you take a step towards your mother.
You take her hand and squeeze it. “We will be together. The three of us.”
“Penny…”
“We surrender!” You shout to your mother. You toss your kirana onto the tile floor with a clatter of steel. Kara sighs and steps next to you. She tosses her knife at your mother’s feet.
“You win,” she says sullenly.
“Of course I do, child,” laughs your mother, stepping past your discarded weapons and looming triumphantly over you both. Her towering body is silhouetted by the light streaming from the hole in the roof of the temple. Her huge breasts jut over your heads and flick warm droplets of milk onto you and Kara. Your sister flinches away from the droplets and you turn your face towards them, licking sweet cream from your lips.
Your mother reaches a giant hand down and cradles your face. You smile at her, relieved for your struggle to be over.
“Before I accept your surrender,” says your mother, “to truly believe it is heartfelt, I must see you offer yourselves to the sacrifices.”
“To the what?” Kara looks in confusion. “What are you…”
Her words trail off as doors open behind your mother and a cadre of armored warriors marches out. The deformed warriors are leading a pair of gaunt human men. These two men have pale flesh covered in carved symbols, some still dripping with blood, and with filthy hoods worn over their heads. They approach you and Kara as one of the warriors steps forward and holds a black wooden box out to your mother.
“The blessed flesh,” she murmurs, opening the box with a finger. Foul vapor drifts out of the opened box. Your mother reaches in and takes out a wriggling length of glistening black flesh. She looks at you and your sister as she grips the writhing tendril in both hands and begins to pull. With a grimace, the black flesh tears in half, showering you and your sister with warm drops of black ichor.
“What the hell is that?” Kara demands.
“The only remaining flesh of Zhibbareth,” your mother says as she walks towards the two gaunt men. They begin to jerk and recoil from the pieces of black flesh and the warriors have to hold the two men upright. “This will bond with the sacrifices and allow Zhibbareth to fill your wombs with his holy seed. Soon, he will be born again.”
“Gods,” whispers Kara, tears welling in her eyes.
“Only one god matters now,” says your mother. She thrusts the black flesh against the flaccid cocks of the two sacrifices. They screech under their hoods and the black flesh swallows up their cocks and slithers over their bollocks. It begins to wrap their hips and send black veins reaching up their abdomens under their pale, mutilated skin.
Both men let out a final cry of agony, stiffen, and seem to relax. The warriors release the two gaunt men as the black flesh of Zhibbareth attached to their loins begins to form and swell into a large cock on each man. Although these appendages resemble human organs, they are larger and glistening black like pitch. Their surfaces ripple and twist and the bulbous tips of the cocks seem to reach out like the trunks of hungry elephants.
“Beautiful,” says your mother. “Offer yourselves to them. Present your naughty cunts for the god of monsters to have his way.”
You and Kara hesitate and your mother shouts, “Now!”
The word thunders like a cannon shot and rebounds through your mind. Before you know what you are doing, you have dropped to your knees. You gasp, turning slowly in tandem with Kara, letting your breasts fall against the cool tiles as you lower your shoulder and press your cheek to the floor. You raise your hips and you and your sister present your round asses and delicate cunts to the sacrifices.
“Yes, good girls,” says your mother, running her hand across your bottom and over to Kara’s. She gives your sister a smack on her cheeks that makes Kara whimper. “Enjoy this. It is a great honor.”
The sacrifices do not give you and your sister much of a chance to react. They fall upon you both, their bony hands roughly pawing at your feminine curves, reaching around to squeeze your breasts as the cock hot against your thighs seeks the furrow of your cunt. You suck in a breath through your teeth as the blasphemous flesh skewers your tender pussy and drives deep into your channel. It pushes so forcefully it seems to thrust past your cervix and invade your womb. The experience is shocking, although not painful.
In fact, for all its girth, the twisting, writhing cock thrusting deep into your pussy feels incredible. It is exceptionally warm, like feverish flesh, and oozes a copious quantity of slippery liquid that drips down your thighs and creates lewd squelches as the gaunt man thrusts in and out of your stretched hole. You wail with pleasure and, beside you, Kara joins the chorus. Th
e hooded sacrifices pant and wheeze beneath their hoods. Yours pushes you down heavily onto the floor, riding atop your plump ass and hammering its black cock deep into your fluttering quim.
“Oohhhhhh, I’m going… going to…” Your mouth falls open in a prolonged scream of ecstasy as you begin to cum around the man’s thrusting, writhing hardness. At the height of your ecstasy, the cock jerks powerfully inside you and sends hot spurts of monstrous seed into your womb. The first gush is all it takes for the exquisite pleasure of conception to overwhelm you. T
he curse of the island takes hold and you are left arching beneath the sacrifice, screaming in mindless bliss as Zhibbareth’s cosmic seed takes root in your womb. Only, the sacrifice does not stop cumming, and beside you, as Kara begins to wail with pleasure, you see her cunt overflowing with black liquid. You feel that same hot slime pouring from inside you even as it swells your belly. Spurt after spurt, on and on, stuffing your womb as the man behind you loses his grip and slumps across your back.
He slides off of you, physically deflated, nothing more than a husk that rasps across the floor like a dry leaf. You lift your head and look back fearfully. You feel a powerful contraction, a squeezing in your womb, and suddenly black flesh begins to spray from your cunt. It rises like a serpent from your orgasmic channel, twisting and flinging slime as it coils towards the bottomless pit.
Kara moans beside you, her head down and her ass raised, a similar serpent of pitch black flesh surging from her stretched pussy and into the air above the pit. The two serpents meet and intertwine. They begin to form into a sphere of writhing blackness. It grows by the moment as you pant and heave and squeeze out more and more of the black flesh from your clutching womb. The orb grows immense. It hovers in the air, slowly revolving as its surface squirms like a thousand giant worms. Its stops spinning and the lids of a vast split the surface of the orb. Those lids open and reveal a single, glowing red eye that stares down at you.
You and Kara lift your heads weakly, smiling up at the glorious being you have birthed into this world. All around you, the warriors, the red-robed handmaidens, and your mother are singing its praise.
“All hail Zhibbareth! All hail Zhibbareth!”
You look at Kara and smile and together you take up the chant, “All hail Zhibbareth!”
Your mother embraces you both, tears streaming down her face as she chants louder than everyone. She pulls you and Kara against her breasts, her sweet milk filling your mouth as you begin to eagerly suckle. Kara, beside you, latches to your mother’s other breast. Your cries of exultation are muffled by your need to replenish your strength and the limitless, depraved desire you have embraced.
In your mind, you are chanting along with your mother as you drink her milk.
All hail Zhibbareth! With him, your family will rule Ctharne and, soon enough, the world.
CONTINUE >
Let the drider go free
“I could crush you like the insect that you are,” you say to the drider, baring your teeth at him. “It would be easy. Or I could leave you caged in these trees and something else might come along and decide to end your miserable life.”
The red eyes of the drider stare at you hatefully, but he says nothing. You concentrate on your link to the spell that bent the trees and you pry the wooden tree-trunks apart. The ancient oaks groan in protest as they return to their upright positions. Alyssa looks at you with surprise.
Your mother hisses within your mind, “What are you doing, you foolish girl?! He will kill you!”
Indeed, the drider does look fit to kill you. His mandibles open. He hisses and venom drips from his fangs.
You take a step towards him and open your hands in a gesture to show him you are unarmed.
“Go in peace,” you say. “I have made my point to you about the power of the Great One.”
The drider’s arachnid limbs flex. His human body remains tense. After a long silence, the drider says, “That power is your own. The Great One does not deserve to claim it.”
“Listen to the way he blasphemes!” Your mother’s voice seethes within your mind. “Strike him down!”
“I am his herald,” you reply firmly, your words meant for both your mother and the drider.
The drider clicks his mandibles and backs slowly away. He turns with a sudden flourish of his spear and scuttles off into the dark forest. Alyssa steps next to you, watching the place where the drider disappeared.
“You know he will kill many humans,” she said.
“He will kill whatever is caught in his web,” you reply before giving her a flash of annoyance. “He would have eaten you if I had let him.”
“I would have found a way out of there without your help,” she says.
“Of course,” you say, unconvinced, but uninterested in arguing. “Come on, Alyssa. We have a long way still to go I think.”
The succubus follows you to the path and you continue on your way to Rhilath. You think about what she said, about how the drider will kill many more humans, and you realize you do not much care. Something has hardened in your heart and that makes you doubt yourself.
Alyssa laces her arm through yours and leans against you. Her warmth and her sweet smell are almost intoxicating. You feel a swell of affection for the demoness, enough to almost forget your concerns about the path your soul has taken on your journey to Rhilath.
Ahead, you see the road leading out of the darkness of the forest becomes a paved road through an open field. The sinister towers of Rhilath rise in the hazy distance.
You are almost there…
CONTINUE >
The Court of the Crimson Queen
“Hold still,” you say to Ullana, trying to keep your stub-winged daughter in place while you finish lacing up her pink satin dress.
“Why do I have to go with you to court?” Ullana complains and flicks her fishtail of lavender hair almost in your face. Her mismatched golden and violet eyes stare at you accusingly. “You’re just going to go with mama Alyssa and do bad things with her.”
“Not bad things, grown-up things,” you correct her. “They’re very nice things, as you will learn when you are an adult.”
Ullana has grown so quickly. At less than two years old she already looks to be five or six. Alyssa has told you that Ullana is maturing unusually slowly, that a succubus’s daughter usually only takes a year to grow to adulthood, but it is clear that Ullana is an exceptional child in other ways. She is very clever, learning to read and write while only a few months old and already beginning to practice some of the combat skills you learned as a young girl.
“There you are,” you say, tightening her little corseted bodice and fluffing the train of her skirt. “You look lovely. Turn around for me.”
“I hate wearing this,” she says, flopping her hands helplessly. She looks adorable and you are certain Alyssa will agree. You finish by tying crimson ribbons into Ullana's hair. She flicks her tail with annoyance.
You send her off with one of the servants and finish dressing yourself. Your breasts have only grown since motherhood and your bosom is further enhanced by your tightly corseted bodice. Your skirt is equally frilly to Ullana's but cut short to show off your long legs in your white stockings. You wear high-heeled boots to add to your height. You powder and paint your face in the way Alyssa prefers and tie overlapping braids in your silky white hair.
The carriage is waiting for you and Ullana outside the Palace of Crimson Silk. Not outside on the island, but outside the black doors that open onto the constantly storm-menaced plains of the abyss. The bird-headed driver helps you into the carriage and climbs up behind the red-eyed, black-maned chargers. The carriage sets off along the plain.
The rolling storm clouds flash with violet lightning, each burst illuminating the fields below where millions of the lowest demons writhe in agony and unrequited desire. The road is elevated over such teeming filth and the carriage bears you over the cobblestones to Alyssa's tower of white marble. Beyond the heaving mo
untains in the distance, strange and giant creatures move among the storm clouds. Alyssa calls them the guardians. They remind you of enormous treants you once read about in the library of Akrane.
You will never get used to this place, but Ullana seems quite at home. She sings to herself, kicks her feet, and drums her fingers on the window with boredom. She glances at you with a roll of her mismatched eyes and asks, "Will I get to play with mummy's imps again?"
"Oh, I am sure she will shower you with sweets and then let you chase them all over her dungeon," you say, giving Ullana a pinch on the cheek.
The carriage arrives outside the tower, where bird-headed footmen are waiting to help you down from the carriage and escort you through the mind-bending geometry of Alyssa's fortress of sin. You shield Ullana's eyes of the worst of it, glimpsed through billowing curtains and half-closed doorways. Alyssa's throne room is draped in crimson to match the palace, with fifty foot windows of stained glass spreading lightning-lit color over the white marble and red carpet. The windows depict scene of impossible obscenity, but Ullana is mercifully distracted by the various demonic emissaries visiting Alyssa.
Musicians play as you are announced in guttural abyssal by a scaled demon with an alligator-like head. The emissaries from various abyssal kingdoms bow before Ullana as she goes skipping up the carpet to her mother. You follow behind her, afforded some status as Alyssa's consort and the mother of Ullana, but not worthy of deference from delegations of demons. They leer at you openly, some even making rude gestures.
"Ah, my little princess!" Declares Alyssa, sitting upon her throne. "Come to see the queen! Come and sit on my lap! Give me a hug!"
Alyssa is as timelessly beautiful as the day she impregnated you, her features flawless and seemingly enhanced by her growing stature within the abyss. She wears a complex dress with a gem-spattered bodice and a jeweled gorget that does not manage to conceal her luscious, creamy cleavage. Her skirt, as frilly as yours or Ullana's, splits on the sides so that her shapely hips are fully displayed. She crosses her legs and hugs Ullana, showering the young girl with kisses.
Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust Page 71