Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  The pit is not a prison, it is a well. And eagerly you drink your fill and more.

  Your mother staggers as if from a blow. Her shape seems to shimmer. She grabs your shoulder. “P-Penelope! Stop! I…”

  Contemptuously you brush off her grasp. Zhibbareth howls in his pit, but the sound is pitiful. Frail. He is powerless to stop you. What should have given him life gives him death as you absorb the fragment of himself. Tendrils of darkness wind from the pit and plunge into you. You gasp, exulting. Power swells in your every vein. You tilt your face towards the heavens. You become him. More than him.

  The strands thin as the god wanes, becomes as thin as hairs. And with a whimper, the strands of power slip from the pit completely, leaving only a hole in the ground. And a god dies.

  You smirk and open your mouth, and the roar of a goddess echoes through the chamber. Every monster in the room falls to their knees, trembling before your might. Your skin rolls with an inky darkness which stretches beyond you into an ever-changing gown of shadows. Your upper face is masked, your hair writhing darkness that stretches into the night. Before the awe-struck congregation, a single immense eye opens upon your brow. Your breasts heave, nipples black and leaking an ochre milk.

  You are reborn.

  New comprehension and might suffuse you. You look to your mother, trembling before you, and see the band of power from her immense form thread into you now. Without hesitation, you feed on it too.

  Your mother gasps, falling to hands and knees at the sudden weakness. You watch her shrink, whimpering as the giantess is diminished, becoming once more merely Helen Helsdottir. Your mother, naked and quaking on the floor.

  Her loss is your gain. You swell to fill the room. Your writhing hair crawls across the ceiling as your head brushes it. You laugh, a booming cry that shakes the heavens and sends the very foundations of the isle shaking.

  Standing triumphant over the glory of a god now dead, you awaken to a decision. You have the might of a god, but it is one of corruption. You can take the place of Zhibbareth. Become the goddess of the twisted isle and all the monsters who dwell upon it. Or you could cast out your power, banish it forever, and become merely Penny once more, and end the threat once posed to the world.

  The temple – your temple – trembles under the weight of your decision. A precipice on which the world balances.

  What do you do?

  Reject the might of a goddess

  Accept the mantle of goddess

  Magic

  Your hazy recollections of the Wurllmek from your research are proving incomplete. You cannot remember its weakness, but you definitely remember the phrase "extraordinary resistance to magic" used to describe its segmented body. Even if you knew an offensive spell to use against a creature this large, this particular creature would seem to be immune.

  But magic need not be offensive to succeed. You act quickly, knowing you may have only moments before the huge worm strikes. You seize Kara's hand and begin chanting. The spell is brief and powerful.

  As the Wurllmek lunges, its mandibles snapping, you and Kara ascend into the air within a glistening bubble of magical force. Kara gasps and your tummy does a flip-flop that reaches to your loins. Your tight ponytail floats around your shoulder as if it is submerged in water and your body feels weightless. The Wurllmek rises once more, slithering higher and higher, trying to reach you and catch the bubble containing you and your sister.

  The snapping mandibles of the beast come up short and you and Kara soar into the air, rising so high that you see the coasts of the island, ancient settlements, mountains, and the distant, hazy city of Rhilath. A malevolent red light glows within the dark clouds that hang above the ancient capital of the island.

  The Wurllmek hisses with anger, coils about itself, and plunges back underground. You know the spell is only temporary, so you guide the bubble of magic to carry you above the field of holes and deposit you on the edge of a dense pine forest.

  "That was quick thinking, Penny," says Kara, grinning like you haven't seen her since you managed to win a tavern fight with a crowd of drunks as teenagers. "You're better with magic than I am."

  "Thanks," you say. Kara used to be better than you, but neither of you could hold a candle to mother. She never lacked for a useful spell, even when they were complex and seemed impossible to remember. You briefly wonder if her magic has grown more powerful and twisted under the influence of the Great One. You decide not to broach the topic with Kara.

  "Come on," she says, starting down the path into the forest. "It looks like the rain is going to get worse and we still have a long way to go."

  A quick glance at your map confirms it. You've come so far, but there is still a long journey to reach Rhilath. The dark forest closes in around you and the pine trees patter with the falling rain. You shiver against the surprising cold and wish for a tavern or inn like you would find along a trade route in Heimsvak. You'd even be willing to fist fight some drunken buffoons if it meant getting warm.

  CONTINUE >

  Servant of the doppelganger ending

  You lift the washcloth and wring it out over the basin. Kara’s feet rest just above the water and she watches as you resume bathing and massaging her feet. You press the washcloth into her arches and between her wiggling ties. She groans as you stroke up to her slender ankles and up her long legs.

  “The feet only, for now,” she says, though her parted legs offer a view of her white-thatched cunt. “If you would like to use your tongue, Penelope, use it on my toes. Suck them.”

  She lifts one dripping foot from the basin and thrusts her glistening toes toward your face. You know better than to refuse her.

  “Yes, mistress,” you whisper and begin kissing and sucking her toes. You move from her small toes to her big toes, your enthusiasm growing with your submissive pleasure as you squirm your tongue between each toe and gently suck them into your mouth. She giggles and leans back in the chair, her pert breasts heaving with her pleasure.

  “Such a good girl,” she laughs. “So much more agreeable than your awful sister.”

  You wince at the thought of that withered corpse in the mirror with your sister’s white hair. You know the real Kara is gone, that this evil creature took her from you and you surrendered to that, but it only makes you cling to your mistress more obediently.

  “Mmmmmmm!” You moan as you suck on her foot, all of her toes in your mouth at once, stretching your lips and nearly gagging you.

  She lifts her head, her golden eyes become brown, her brow dark, and her hair short and balding. Her toned, slender body bulges into fatness, though her small breasts retreat slightly. Her thighs thick and between them you see a thick cock jutting up from a pair of egg-sized bollocks. Her body grows much hairier. Kara is no longer Kara at all. She has become Javet, one of the men lured into a mirror since you have been Kara’s servant.

  She knows you are repelled by Javet and she takes great pleasure in transforming into his ugly guise and forcing you to pleasure him.

  “Well, well, well,” he growls in his deep voice. “You can take my hairy toes out of your mouth and stuff my cock between those sweet lips.”

  You spit with disgust as he pulls his fat toes out of your mouth. You try to hide your equal revulsion as you take hold of his cock and lean your obedient lips down to his rigid manhood. He urges your head down with a hand on the back of your head. You moan with surrender as you take him between your lips.

  You slip and slide your mouth over his cock, flicking it with your tongue as you bob your head in his lap. You try not to look at him or think about his ugly face smiling down at you. Instead, you focus on the simple act of pleasuring his thick, rather short male member.

  “Thaaaat’s it,” groans Javet. “You suck my cock so well, I think you might like me better than your sister.”

  “Mmmmm,” you counter, looking up over his hairy belly and at his piggish face.

  “Yeah, you like that cock?” He gasps, urging you up and
down his glistening tool. “Yeah, keep sucking. Suck it… suck it harder. Ohhhhh, just like that, Penelope. Ohhhhhh… yessssSS!”

  The familiar tightening of his balls and the twitching of his cock warns you of the flood of his seed a moment before his thick, salty flavor fills your mouth. You continue to pleasure him, drawing out every drop and letting the unpleasant broth cover your tongue. When he is finished, you lift your head slowly from his lap and open your mouth to show the cum to him.

  “Goooood,” he chortles. “Swallow your medicine now.”

  You gulp the bitter slime with a wince of discomfort. It used to gag you, but the doppelganger enjoys this so much you have grown used to swallowing Javet’s seed. His stout form elongates, fat turning to muscle, hard and tan, hair turning blonde and growing thick. His cock becomes longer, thinner, and slightly curved. It throbs in your grasp.

  “You need to be fucked, my sweet,” he says in the voice of Urlich, the doppelganger’s most recent prisoner. Urlich is handsome and well-proportioned. He is mistress rewarding you for licking her feet and sucking Javet’s cock.

  “Yes, of course, mistress,” you say, rising up and beginning to straddle his Urlich’s lap.

  “No, on your knees,” he declares. “I like to admire your plump ass while I fuck you.”

  “Yes,” you moan, turning around and lowering your breasts to the cool floor. You lift your ass and slick pussy, offering both of your tender holes to him.

  Urlich chuckles appreciatively as he settles onto his knees behind you and slaps the hard length of his cock against your buttocks. You coo with lust as he rubs his shaft between your ample cheeks. He reaches beneath his cock and strums at your slick entrance. Your pussy is throbbing with need, though you dare not give it voice or risk mistress denying you pleasure for her own amusement.

  “You crave this hard cock,” says Urlich, pulling back and teasing his fat tip against your slit. “You do not have to say it, Penelope, I can feel it. Your cunt is boiling for my hard prick.”

  “Ohhhhh,” you moan, lifting your head and wiggling your hips to entice Urlich.

  It works and after a moment he braces one hand on your ass and uses his other to guide his hardness carefully to your swollen folds. Your pussy opens easily for his hard cock. You let out a deep moan of satisfaction as inch upon inch of steely cockmeat fills your aching cunt. You nearly cum just from being filled with that first stroke. He takes hold of your hips and begins to vigorously fuck you. Mistress knows just how to use Urlich’s lean masculinity to power fuck your slick pussy.

  “Ohh, yes! Oh, thank you, mistress!” You cry as Urlich’s hips slap against your ass and his bollocks swing against your clit. Your tits swing beneath you and you cry out with abandon, “Ohhhhh, it’s so good!”

  Your first orgasm tears through you and you arch against Urlich. He laughs and pounds his cock into your clutching channel. By the time you have cum for a third time, you feel his cock twitching inside you. The pleasure of Urlich’s orgasms often makes you cum yet again, but mistress pulls his cock out from your well-fucked nethers.

  “W-what’s wrong, mistress?” You ask, looking back over your shoulder. You see Kara instead of Urlich, her strong, feminine body glistening with perspiration.

  “Nothing is wrong,” she chuckles. “I will taste you now. Climb atop me.”

  She stretches out on the floor like an elegant piece of furniture. You climb atop her, straddling your face with your soaking cunt. She immediately grabs your ass, stuffing her nose into your crack and her tongue deep into your dripping channel. You cry out, but know your duty and fall across her to pleasure her in return with your fingers and tongue.

  As you and the doppelganger enjoy the mutual pleasure, your mind drifts to that withered, white haired corpse slumped in the mirror. Your mistress is not Kara, she is not human at all, and when she is done with you, when she grows bored of your attentions, you fear she will imprison you in a mirror.

  Whether or not that will be your end, your adventure is most certainly over.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  The gift of knowledge

  The choice is an easy one. You’ve always been the scholar and that hasn’t changed. If anything, your adventures have reinforced your commitment to learning. You draw yourself up, and look straight at the mouth of the djinn.

  “I choose the gift of knowledge.”

  The mouth roars with laughter. “SO YOU HAVE ASKED! SO IT SHALL BE!”

  Before you can move a tendril of smoke curls from the mass and plunges past your lips. You gasp as it pushes down your throat and coils in your stomach. You stagger back as the arm of smoke fades, filling the air with a sweet scent like sugar.

  “What,” you croak, pawing at your throat. “What did you do to me?”

  “THE GIFT OF KNOWLEDGE LITTLE ONE! IGNORANCE IS BLISS. SO SHALL YOU HAVE THIS BLISS AND MORE FOR ALL YOUR DAYS!”

  “O-oh. Ohhhh!” You groan, your body tingling. You grab your stomach as warmth radiates through your body. Your breasts tingle and you feel them expand, filling your loosened shirt until the fabric strains. Your bum, never small, does the same, expanding at an even rate until its globes form a vivid shape against the fabric of your skirt.

  “Oh. What…what’s goin’ on!”

  You moan, thrusting out your swollen chest. You part your legs, your cunt itching against the fabric of your panties. Without thinking you reach down and pull them down, your bum thrusting out as you bend over, hiking up your skirt and revealing your honeyed slit to any who might have seen. You giggle naughtily. You wish someone was.

  What? You start upright in shock, and find your panties in your hands. What are you doing?

  You snap your head to the grinning mouth in the air. “I didn’t want this!” you cry. You gasp. Your voice is strange. Bubbly and perky. You slap your hands against your lips, and feel them thicken to a lovely cherry red pout.

  “YOU WILL SOON! AND WISH OF NOTHING MORE THAN TO BE THE TOY OF ANY WHO DESIRES YOU!”

  “No! No!” Horrified, you run out of the tower. The cruel laughter of the djinn pursues you as you race out and into the forest. Your stride grows longer, more suggestive, rolling your wide hips to draw attention to your pert bum and sexy legs. The strain of your chest grows too much and you tear the vest from you. Mammoth breasts, impossibly firm bounce on your chest. You stumble and fall to the ground, weeping.

  No. No! There has to be a way out. Frantically you grope for your book and pull it from your pack. With shaking hands you open it, blowing some errant strands of golden hair from your face.

  Wait… golden?

  You grab your hair and stare. It’s getting longer! Their brown tint is fading to a bleached blonde. Only the stripe of white remains its shade, but even that seems to be becoming more glaring. In desperation you flip through the book, trying to find the pages that might help you.

  But why would you want help? Doesn’t it feel nice being so sexy and pretty? You bet all the men with their big throbbing cocks would just love to fuck you now. You giggle and weigh your swollen breasts, gasping and moaning as your fingers find your torrid nipples and rub tender circles across the dark flesh. You’re so sensitive! To your delight, droplets of milk swell from your immense udders and splatter onto the pages of your book.

  The book!

  You fall forward, turning pages with trembling hands. You have to…you have to find a…you have to…

  You’ve been staring at the same page for a while now. How silly! You giggle and stand up, admiring your long legs. But you frown at the sight of your skirt. It’s too long. None of the boys will be able to get a good look at your cunt like this. Reaching down, you tear it aside, leaving your hot quim and its tuft of blonde hair bare. There! Much better.

  As if on cue you hear a rustling in the bush. You look up with interest as a shape prowls through the shadows of the trees. A gertling, the little goblinoid stepping out of the trees and freezing at the sight of
you.

  You however have no such hesitation. You eye his ragged loincloth greedily, picturing what it hides. Your breath grows short and warm, your expansive breasts heaving. The gertling’s nostrils flare as a sweet and musky scent fills the glade.

  Smiling coyly, you spread your cunt invitingly with two fingers to show your glistening wetness. “Pleaaase,” you moan. “I want it so bad. Come and fuck me. I won’t bite. Promise!”

  The gertling quivers with uncertainty, but the muskiness which wafts from your dripping cunt is too much. He drops his spear and races forward, shedding his loincloth. He barely stops to orient himself before he rams his cock into you.

  Pleasure explodes behind your eyes. “Ohhhhh!” you groan, throwing back your head, bleached blonde hair flying with delight. The gertling frantically ruts against you and you him.

  “More! More! Oh so good! So good!”

  “Want more!” the gertling cackles. “Me give more!”

  “All of it!” You grab his head and clutch him to your swollen breasts. His mouth latches onto your leaking tit and he suckles greedily. The milk seems to fill him with energy. With almost feverish desperation he ruts against you.

  “O-oh! Yes! Yes! Deeper! Deeper! C-cumming!” You wail as your pussy clenches about the knuckle of his diminutive cock. The gertling squeals, unable to resist the power of your orgasm. He cums, pumping ropes of his seed into your womb.

  As he comes down from his orgasm you croon and cradle him against your breast, and as he suckles, you feel him harden once more in your grasping cunt. Three times more he cums, and only then, exhausted and spent, does he tear himself from your leaking teat. The gertling pulls out, some doing as your cunt is reluctant to let him go.