Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

“Good,” says Drizzen. “You have done well for me, Penelope. Please, wait outside.”

  You obey him reluctantly. Your last glimpse is as he slices open the wrapped woman and reveals a well-built woman with a strong jaw, ample breasts, and blonde hair. She moans, still dulled by his venom, as he lifts her up by her feet. He begins to chant once more and you go back to the main room of the burrow to give him his privacy.

  The chanting grows louder and you hear gurgling and muffled screams. It is dark outside when Drizzen finally emerges from the crucible chamber. Behind him follows a new drider. Her upper body resembles the woman you glimpsed when the webs were cut away, but her flesh has gone gray with blue areolas and her hair has changed from blonde to bone white. Her eyes are red and her strong jaw has been replaced with the familiar mandible of an arachnid. The woman’s lower half is that of a gray spider with a pale underbelly and red spots along each flank.

  “I hunger,” she says, looking at you and opening her mandibles to reveal her dripping fangs.

  “Drink the blood that hangs in the other room,” says Drizzen. He turns to you and says, “Penelope, this is Dazara. She is my mate.”

  “Yes,” says the woman, clicking her mandibles. “Yes, I am your mate.”

  She scuttles past you and into the larder. A moment later, you hear a muffled scream and Dazara moans with pleasure as she drinks the blood of the last man in the chamber. Drizzen caresses your cheek and crouches his arachnid body so that his human face is even with yours.

  “Do you no longer need me?” You ask, tears welling in your eyes.

  “Do not cry, Penelope,” he says, wiping away the tears. “We have shared many nights together. I know your songs and your stories. I will always hold you in my heart. But the time has come for you to serve another purpose.”

  “As… as a vessel?” You ask, your heart pounding.

  “That is right,” he says. “Undress for me and go to the bed. When Dazara is ready, we will both join you.”

  You start towards the bed of straw. You stop and look back at the drider. You ask, “Will I survive?”

  He smiles sadly. “You will live on in my heart and in the sons and daughters you help bring into this world.”

  You feel as if you are going to be sick, but you have always suspected it would end this way. You gave him your life to do with as he pleased and this is what he pleases. You walk over to the bed and disrobe from your simple skirt and blouse. Your breasts are bare and your cunt hairless as Drizzen prefers. You recline in the straw, trying not to think about what is to come. Despite your fear, a small part of you lusts to become the vessel for Drizzen and Dazara. It is an incredible honor.

  It is late into the night when they finally come to you in the bed. They are laughing, kissing, and touching each other in ways that give you pangs of jealousy. You cover your breasts with your hands. Dazara gazes down upon you and opens and closes her mandibles without speaking. Her fangs twitch and venom drips form her mouth.

  “Wait,” says Drizzen, stepping between her and you. “I will do it if it is what need to be done.”

  “Have it your way,” says Dazara. “She is only the vessel.”

  “Only the vessel,” agrees Drizzen and the despair that washes over you is so intense you want to scream. He crouches low and leans over you. He strokes your hair and murmurs, “I will give you my venom if you cannot cooperate.”

  “I will do what she wishes,” you say, your voice trembling.

  “Of course you will,” says Drizzen, caressing your face. He kisses you and you try to cling to him and thrust your tongue into his familiar, inhuman mouth. He pushes you back down into the straw. “Pull your knees up to your chest. I will see to the rest.”

  “Y-yes, Drizzen,” you say, fighting the trembling and pulling your knees up until they are squeezing against your breasts. Your pussy and anus are completely exposed. You bite your lip and worry your brow as Dazara stands above you.

  Something shifts beneath the female drider and for a moment you think she might have a cock like Drizzen’s. No… this is rounded and much thicker, with a pulsing pink tip that ends in a wide slit. She extends the fleshy tip towards your pussy. You tremble and whimper fearfully, but keep your knees against your chest. Warm slime drips against the backs of your thighs and the swollen groove of your cunt. You moan as the slime seems to warm your body and relax your tensed muscles.

  “Do not be afraid,” says Drizzen. “This will not hurt much, Penelope.”

  “Much,” laughs Dazara as she plunges the fleshy pink tip of her egg-layer into your slick cunt. It grows longer and longer, pushing all the way to the entrance of your womb. You scream in shock as this tip pushes past this final barrier and opens your womb to the drider’s ovipositor. Your eyes are wide, your body trembling and breasts quivering beneath your knees as you feel the eggs begin to push into your womb.

  The pain remains as a throb that hits you with the push of each egg into your womb, but there is something else, a fullness and contentment that echoes these spasms of pain with pulses of pleasure. You and Dazara moan in almost the same moment as she pumps your pussy full of her clutch of gelatinous eggs. Your belly swells and bulges with the eggs. You feel a tightness within you that signals your womb has hit its limit.

  “She is full,” declares Dazara, “and I have so many more eggs.”

  “She has another hole, my sweet,” says Drizzen, kissing her and caressing her breasts. You whimper as Dazara withdraws her slick ovipositor from your cunt and thrusts it into your clenched asshole. After a moment of tense resistance, your ring relaxes and the ovipositor thrusts deep inside you. You feel the eggs pumping deep into your bowels and you cannot stand it. Your body spasms with intense orgasmic pleasure and your eyes roll back in your head.

  “She’s breaking,” says Drizzen, although his voice sounds far away. “It will be easier for her now.”

  “I do not care about her,” laughs Dazara. “Though her ass feels incredible. Ooohhh!”

  She thrusts the ovipositor deeper and you feel, as if in a dream, the steady, rhythmic pump of eggs deep into your ass. It seems to go on forever. When Dazara is finally done, she and Drizzen lift you up and wrap you carefully in fresh web from their spinnerets.

  You are dragged into a small chamber that has never been used and it is dark. You cannot move in the wrapping. You fade in and out of consciousness as the eggs within your grow.

  Some part of you knows that in a few days those eggs will begin to hatch. If you are lucky, you will perish quickly, for the driders born from your body will devour what remains of you. Tears drop from your eyes. Tears of sadness, horror, and joy that you are the vessel for Drizzen's children.

  As you wait for the eggs inside you to hatch, you know that your journey is finally at an end.

  BAD END

  << START OVER | < SKIP PROLOGUE | INDEX

  Magic

  Your mind works quickly, and settles almost at once on a plan. Instead of drawing your sword or pistols, you raise your head and look back at the lamia.

  She clearly did not expect this, a moment’s surprise crossing her sharp features. But in the next a smile slips across her lips, and her eyes regain their piercing intensity.

  In that second you act. You draw your palm before your face, a quick spell upon your lips, and where your hand went, a shimmering mirror of light hangs in the air.

  The lamia freezes, her ringed eyes widening in shock as she finds her hypnotic stare aimed back at her. For several tense moments she is locked in that staring contest with herself. Then, the tension bleeds from her. Her shoulders droop and she sags onto her coils.

  Careful to keep the mirror of light angled towards her, you risk a peek. “Lamia?”

  “Yessss…” she slurs.

  “How are you?”

  “Ssssleepy…”

  You slowly breathe out. “Good. Um…You will obey me right?”

  “Yesss,” the lamia murmurs deeply. She continues to lower herself onto her s
pread coils, and you are careful to keep the mirror angled so that she continues to stare into it. Eventually, her human half reclines fully on her lower body, like some eastern dancer resplendent in her master’s jewels lying sated on scarlet pillows.

  Deciding to risk it, you banish the mirror. Despite the loss of the reflection the lamia remains limp and pliable, her ringed eyes lidded and a glazed expression on her face.

  Warily, you step nearer but she fails to respond. You pull out your flintlock and thumb the hammer, but gazing at the serpent woman, you reconsider for the moment. “Lamia?”

  “Yesss?” is the drowsy reply.

  “I want you to answer with utter honesty to all I say. Will you do that?”

  “Yess missstressss…”

  “What were you to do with me once you captured me?”

  “The Sssscylla,” she murmurs. “She waitssss in the ssswamp…”

  You shudder. A Scylla. You quickly fetch out your lexicon and after a last quick glance at the lamia, turn to the proper page. The image shows a woman from the waist up, but from the waist down, a myriad of tentacles writhe. The entry is not terribly reassuring. Scylla’s are monstrous creatures who care little for what prey they catch. Once water nymphs, their pools became corrupted or tainted, and as a result of their close affinity for the waters, so do they. Living mainly in swamps or in corrupted springs, they wait for prey, male or female, and either fill them with eggs, or devour them whole.

  You quickly close the book and swallow the lump in your throat. Though you’ve come far in your journey, to face such a monster might be more than you can bear.

  “Is there another way through the valley?”

  “Nooo,” the lamia coos sleepily. “Only one way across the Ssscylla’s lake…She is the one who guards the way. Tried to slip past her…once…”

  The lamia smiles blissfully and strokes her abdomen, “Once she laid her eggs in me…”

  You watch, for the moment fascinated as the lamia slips her fingers towards her cunt and begins to stroke herself. You swallow, arousal growing in your depths in hungry warmth, one threatening to spread throughout your body.

  “Is there…how can I kill it?”

  The lamia rolls her head atop her neck. Her other hand begins to massage her breast while the first delves into her hungry cunt. “Mmmm…Thought I could. Long ago…” she murmurs as she lazily pleasures herself before your stunned eyes. “Before saw how…wonderful she was. Had a potion…Feed to the Scylla. Will kill it…”

  A thrill courses through you at this. You take a quick look at the lamia’s belt but she wears several flasks about her waist. “Where is the potion?” you ask.

  “Nnnn…” The lamia’s coils undulate beneath her slowly as she fingers herself. Her eyelids flicker with desire, her breath comes quick and hot from desire. She purrs, “Mistress, please. I need your touch. I shall tell all. But please. Let me pleasure you.”

  What do you do?

  Pleasure the lamia

  Force the matter

  Agree to become a bride of Zhibbareth

  You see no way to save your companion without submitting to your mother’s plan for your future. You gaze at Alyssa, at the tears welling in her eyes, and you know you cannot allow harm to come to the beautiful succubus.

  “Set… set her free,” you say, drawing yourself up and trying to sound firm as you gaze up at your giantess mother. “Let her go free and I will become what you ask.”

  “Good girl,” says your mother. She pats your head and rises to tower above you. She commands Xasp, “Take the winged bitch to the temple’s roof and let her go. If the little bird has the sense to fly away, she will live. If she tries to return, tell the archers to shoot her from the sky.”

  “Mmmmmmm!” Alyssa cries against the tendrils of slim in her mouth as she is dragged away by the jelly-skinned creature. You watch them disappear up one of the winding staircases that ascend to the distant opening in the ceiling of the vast chamber.

  Your attention returns to your giantess mother. You watch her smile serenely, her enormous, milky breasts heaving with each breath she takes. She does not look at you or speak aloud, but her voice is in your mind once again.

  “You feel His glory, don’t you? It is eternal, as you shall soon be.”

  The voice in your mind speaks of the Great One adoringly. She is right. You can feel him, his power, if not his glory, seeming to emanate from that black void in the center of the room. Is he alive down in that pit or is it only a metaphorical presence for his cosmic slumber? You cannot be sure, but you find yourself beginning to weep at the immensity of his Zhibbareth’s power.

  “Yes,” you whisper. “Oh, I feel him, mother.”

  “He will reshape this world into paradise,” says your mother aloud. She reaches down and gently lifts you into her arms as if you were a small child. She cradles you against her massive breaths, her milk leaking in warm torrents against your body. She guides you to one of her nipples, as fat and long as your thumb. “Drink again, my sweet daughter. Suck the mother’s milk of a queen.”

  What would have been unthinkable only days before seems natural as you latch your lips to her breast and suck her thick nipple into your mouth. You draw heavily on the milk of her bosom, letting the sweet cream fill your mouth before gulping the plentiful liquid in a single swallow. There is a strange bitter note to the milk, not unpleasant, but definitely not normal. She moans and strokes the back of your head.

  “That’s it, my sweet. My milk will make you big and strong. It will prepare your womb for what is to come.”

  You pop your lips from her nipple, a trickle of milk spilling down your chin. “My womb?”

  “Shhhh.” She pulls your mouth back to her nipple and you cannot help but resume sucking. “You are a strong girl and blessed by the Great One, but his seed is powerful. To birth him into this world will require this further nourishment.”

  “Mmmmmm,” is all you can reply, your eyes slowly closing as you nurse pleasantly at your mother enormous breast.

  As you hover on the brink between sleep and wake, you drink greedily of her milk and feel warmth spreading from your belly to your loins. This warmth seems to center in your womb and roll along the throbbing channel of your cunt. Your body feels larger and stronger as well, though nowhere near the size of your mother. You might not even notice a difference if you were to look in the mirror, but your breasts strain at your bodice and you feel the difference in your flesh.

  “There we are,” coos your mother. You feel yourself being carried through the chamber. She finally pulls you from her breast with a pop of suction. You lick your lips and look up at her with drowsy eyes.

  “Mmmm, what now, mother?”

  “The time grows near,” she says, stroking your head as she settles you onto a surface of cool stone. You realize it is the altar you saw when you entered the chamber. It seems to have been moved precariously close to the crumbling edge of the hole, with a platform beneath the altar actually reaching out over the darkness.

  You lift your head and realize your mother has removed your clothing. You turn to ask her why you are naked and see that she is conversing with several orc-like creatures in black armor. They are joined by the jelly-skinned horror called Xasp. You wonder, almost idly, what happened to the succubus.

  “Bring in the groom,” says your mother and Xasp and the armored figures leave the chamber. Your mother returns to your side.

  “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.