Escape the Island of Eldritch Lust

by Amanda Clover

  “We must leave,” shouts Alyssa. “Now!”

  “The demoness speaks truth,” says your mother, seeming to gather her senses. “If Zhibbareth cannot have his brides, he will punish us all.”

  As if in reply to your mother’s words, there is a thunderous crack and a cascade of stones that rains down near enough that it sends the three of you running. You are met by a trio of armored warriors, orcs or deformed humans, who seem disoriented as they brandish spiked maces. Alyssa incinerates one of them with a gust of flames from her hands, you slay another with twin shots from your pistols, and your mother backhands the remaining warrior so hard that he flies into the wall and crumples to the ground.

  The temple shudders around you and rumbles beneath your feet as the three of you hurry through the maze-like interior. Tunnels collapse in places, fissures opening in the floor and creating impassable gaps that yawn into the bottomless pit beneath the structure.

  You backtrack when you must and encounter fear-crazed packs of warriors, scrambling gertlings, gibbering beasts, and screaming handmaidens. During one such retreat, a monster with three human faces and a body of red-scalded flesh assails you with boneless limbs and snarling maws. Your mother receives a nasty bite on her thigh before the three of you manage to dispatch the hideous creature with a mixture of physical and magical attacks.

  Climbing over its steaming remains, you encounter a cowering bunch of handmaidens, several of them injured by panicked monsters.

  “Come with us,” thunders your mother’s voice. “We will lead you to freedom.”

  The women seem terrified of you, but another part of the hallway where they are sheltering collapses, nearly crushing two of the women. Your mother pulls them to safety and screams, “Stay here and die!”

  The handmaidens and even a few of the warriors join your escape from the temple. It seems hopeless. Every new turn you take is closed off with another thunderous collapse and rain of debris. You soon find yourselves trapped in some sort of storage room, shelves laden with disgusting pickled fruits, vegetables, and meats. Each time another tremor hits the temple, dozens of jars crash from the shelves and smash to the floor.

  “There is no way out,” you cry, realizing the two exits have been sealed by stones.

  “There is one way still,” says Alyssa, determination blazing in her eyes. “It will use all of my power, but I can transport us into the Palace of Crimson and Silk.”

  Your mother starts to object, but you can hear passages collapsing nearby. You both know it is only a matter of time before the room collapses and crushes the lot of you to death.

  “Very well,” says your mother, crouching beneath the lower ceiling of the room.

  “Gather as close as you can around me,” shouts Alyssa.

  Everyone presses tightly around Alyssa; you and your mother, the handmaidens, the armored warriors, and even some creature that joined you unnoticed that resembles a mating between a dog and an insect. Alyssa closes her eyes, but light shows from beneath her eyelids. She puts a clawed hand on your shoulders and another on your mother’s bended knee. A strange humming fills the room, vibrating through your body, as Alyssa begins to murmur words of power.

  The temple begins to shake more violently than ever before. You hear the booming of rooms collapsing above you. The ceiling fractures and…

  You are swallowed up in violet light. You experience a momentary sensation, as if you are floating downward, and then you are face down on a plush crimson carpet. There is a sweet smell in the air and you hear women cooing with surprise. You lift your head up and see the lingerie-clad beauties from the brothel crowding towards you in the large lounge. Your mother lifts her head and bumps it against a chandelier. The handmaidens, warriors, and even the strange insect-like dog have all survived the journey.

  “Alyssa!” You cry, seeing the succubus crumpled on the floor. She has returned to her original demonic appearance without the crown or the fire blazing in her eyes. She has expended so much power that her cheeks and eyes are sunken and her flesh is clammy to the touch. The beautiful demoness is limp in your arms as you pull her head up and hold her cold body against your warmth. “Wake up, Alyssa! Please!”

  Her eyes slowly flutter open.

  “Did you make it?” She weakly asks.

  “Y-yes,” you say, tears dropping from your eyes. “Yes, we all made it.”

  “Penelope… I will… go home… and rest…” She says, her eyes beginning to close again.

  “No!” You shake her awake. She winces with pain and shudders in your arms. Without another moment’s hesitation, you press a kiss to her lips. She resists you, pursing her lips. You whisper against her mouth, “Take it! Take my essence!”

  “Too weak,” she croaks, trying to pull away. “I will take… take…”

  “Did you not hear me?!” You snarl. “I did this for love, Alyssa! For my love for you!”

  “Love… is a word I have heard from so many confused souls,” she smiles weakly.

  “And I’m sure you drank them dry without hesitation. Now give me a kiss and try not to kill me.” You won’t hear another protest from her as you press your lips tightly to hers and thrust your tongue forcefully into her sweet mouth. Almost at once, her lips part wider and you feel a soft suction and an exhilarating rush of pleasure. You cry against her lips as you feel the ecstasy of her drawing out your life force.

  Violet light crackles around your lips and Alyssa’s lips as her tongue swirls against yours. Her body seems to grow larger, her crown returning to her head and her eyes burning with golden light. She is so beautiful and you are glad that this is how it will end. Just as darkness closes in around you, as you feel yourself being drawn into the hungry mouth of the beautiful succubus, you feel huge hands grabbing you and pulling you in the opposite direction.

  Time passes in darkness. You hear the strange beating of an inhuman heart, beckoning to you. Wordless whispers reach your ears, sometimes comforting and sometimes menacing. You are in a void without walls or floor or ceiling, adrift in nothingness, and some part of you knows that your soul lies on the borderland between life and damnation.

  You awaken to breasts. Four of them, in fact. Soft, lavender-tipped breasts against your face and huge, milky giantess tits squeezing against your side. You laugh at this and look up into the worried faces of a queen of demons and a giantess queen of monsters.

  “She lives,” cries Alyssa.

  “You are both so beautiful you say,” reaching weakly up to both of them.

  “Oh, Penny, I thought I lost you,” says your mother. “I thought… she took you from me.”

  “Gave myself to her,” you croak.

  Alyssa showers your face with kisses. Your mother wraps one huge arm around you and pulls you so tightly against her breasts that you feel her milk trickling down your body.

  “Orsen,” you say, coming fully awake. “Orsen Castillo. He brought me here on his boat called the Zephyr. He is still waiting for me on the southern beach. We can… we can go home.”

  Your mother casts a glance at the warriors and the strange, insect-like dog creature that is pacing nervously in the parlor of the demonic brothel. “This will not be an easy journey. We should rest.”

  “No,” you say and you push away from your mother. “We must go now. The monsters from Rhilath will spread out across this island, sowing death and destruction. They may be without their god, but that will make them more dangerous. We must reach Orsen and the boat and leave this place.”

  They journey is not easy. You pass dangers you faced on your way to Rhilath and new dangers you never confronted. Even with your mother’s help and the succubus’s full power, you are pursued by beasts that hunger for human flesh.

  A creature like a sea star takes one of the handmaidens in the darkness of the forest. You hear her scream and glimpse a prehensile cock violating her as she is carried away, but there is no finding her. At the edge of a ruined village you are assailed by a dozen wild gertlings that s
lay one of the warriors with your group. Alyssa drives them off with a show of magical power and you continue on your arduous journey.

  A new dawn brings new hope. The cloying mists of Ctharne have dissipated with the collapse of the temple and you make your way over hills and through fallow fields. The handmaidens have taken off their hoods. All but one is already pregnant with the spawn of monsters and you see this knowledge hangs heavy on their minds. Your mother speaks her worries of this aloud, “We cannot take these women to Heimsvak. They bear the children of monsters. Such horrors must not—“

  “We will take them to Heimsvak,” you say firmly. “To the retreat in the mountains. We will not abandon them to their fates or leave these warriors that have joined us because they are not human. We will form a new way and prepare for the many monsters that will leave this island and need to be dealt with.”

  “You have thought about this,” says your mother, unable to hide her smile.

  “I have,” you say. “I am done with the old ways of slaughtering monsters and I am done with the ‘Great One’ and his ways of enslavement and rape. Those of us here will unite and we will form a new order. An order of huntresses.”

  “Do I get to be one?” Alyssa asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “No,” says your mother.

  “Yes,” you say. “You may be the greatest of all.”

  “I can think of one greater,” says Alyssa, pulling you into her arms and giving you a hot, slippery kiss. You lose yourself in the moment, savoring the softness of her lips and the way her thigh presses between your legs so perfectly.

  Your mother clears her throat. You flush with embarrassment and resume your journey.

  It is almost evening when you begin to hear the sound of the sea crashing against the beaches. Your weary group is lifted with excitement and you hurry out of the jungle and onto the sandy shores. At first, you think that the Zephyr is gone, that Orsen has abandoned you, but Alyssa calls out, “Look!”

  A lantern bobs gently just off shore. Of course, it is high tide! The boat is now seaworthy and floating in waist-deep water and there is Orsen, along with others he has gathered at the boat, waving to you from the moonlit sea. You burst into tears as you splash out into the water.

  But the joy is short-lived. The Zephyr is much smaller than you remembered and there is no possible way your mother and all of the survivors you have brought could crowd onto the boat. By moonlight, Orsen’s group of survivors stares in fear at your mother, Alyssa, and the warriors. These are humans who have been terrorized by the creatures of this island.

  “After what we have been through to wait for you, Penny, I would take them if I could,” says Orsen, his brow furrowed apologetically. “But your mother… she is too large… and all the others…”

  “I will stay with them,” you say, stepping back from Orsen. “We will fight from the island.”

  “No. There is another way.” Your mother looks at the jungle seeming to reach its shaggy limbs out towards the beach. “Gather what dry wood you can find. We will build a fire.”

  “To what end?” Alyssa scoffs. “To draw every creature for a hundred miles?”

  “We huntresses have magic of our own,” says your mother. “Just as powerful as yours, but with different methods.”

  “Exchange the soil!” You cry, realizing your mother’s plan.

  “Do you still have the book?” She asks, crouching beside you.

  It only takes you a moment to shrug out of the heavy pack and take the huge tome from within. It has a bit more water damage than when you set off for Akrane, but even the chapters on ritual magic, written centuries ago, remain legible. You page carefully through the appendix on transportation magics and find the ritual to exchange the soil.

  “A circle describes the casting area. A choir of 20 or more sings the hymn to the gods. The huntress stands within the central symbol.” You hand the book to your mother so she can inspect the ritual and you begin to pace out a circle on the beach large enough for everyone to stand together. “Orsen, ground the Zephyr and get everyone aboard inside the circle.”

  “What? Ground my ship!? I have just repaired her, Penny.”

  “The seas will come alive with anger when they know we have escaped,” says your mother. “There are a hundred creatures that live beneath those waves and will drag us all down. This is the only way.”

  “Well, alright, giant lady with no blouse,” says Orsen. “But you owe me the price of my ship.”

  “And you will owe us your life,” counters your mother.

  Orsen shakes his head. He wades back out to the Zephyr and begins to argue with the people waiting aboard the small ship. It is clear they do not want to come back to shore and trust your mother’s word. Orsen puts his hand on the sword he wears on his belt to make the point that they do not have a choice.

  “What can I do to help?” Alyssa asks, the crown blazing over her head.

  “Draw the central symbol,” you say, pointing to the book. Alyssa begins to draw it with her elegant claws. She carves the symbol precisely into the sand until it begins to glow. The circle you are drawing with your feet, once joined, begins to glow as well. You gather the handmaidens and the monstrous warriors and relate the simple chant to them. They begin to sing as the survivors from the Zephyr, led by Orsen, join you within the circle. These survivors reluctantly begin singing along to the simple words of the ritual. You wait for your mother to step onto the symbol and begin the casting, but you realize she is looking at you.

  “You know the retreat in the hills of Tarol as well as I do, Penny,” she says. “You are the true huntress. Cast the spell.”

  You stop yourself from arguing with your mother. She is right. You realize you are being watched by the singing handmaidens, by the survivors from the Zephyr, by Orsen and Alyssa, and even by the strange hound. You take a deep breath, step onto the symbol in the center of the circle, feel its magical warmth radiating through your boots, and begin to concentrate on the huntress’s retreat in the high hills of Tarol.

  “Something is coming,” you hear Alyssa murmur. “Beyond the jungle. Do you see it?”

  You hear some of the chanters react with cries of fear, but you do not have time to focus on whatever is coming.

  “Keep singing!” Your mother shouts.

  As the chanting seems to grow louder, you close your eyes and recall memories of that ancient, forested kingdom across the seas, where your mother and sister showed you how to string a bow and hunt deer. Fall rain dropping from the eaves of the retreat. The warm glow of the hearth. The furs and pelts of strange monsters hunted long ago and by past generations. The smell of pheasant roasting on the fire. The taste of blood from being hit with a training stick.

  More of the handmaidens are beginning to scream. There is a wet rasping sound and roar, terribly close, of some gigantic monster. You shut it all out. You put all of your energy into the casting. You are there. You are in Tarol. Among the trees. Not on this forsaken beach.

  The thudding footsteps coming towards you fade away with the crash of the surf. A chill air washes over you. Light filters through fir boughs and into your closed eyes.

  You open your eyes and you are standing on the gentle slope of a dewy hill. It is morning and you are in a clearing surrounded by trees that glisten with the dew. The retreat is just behind you, on the rise, dark and silent, but still surrounded by the rocky cairns you built with Kara so long ago.

  “We made it,” says your mother.

  “We made it,” you whisper and collapse into Alyssa’s arms.

  CONTINUE >

  The Birthing of Zhibbareth

  Your mother’s words strike new terror into your heart.

  You lift your head from the stone and look up to see a hooded, emaciated figure being marched toward the altar escorted by several armored warriors. The man is covered in symbols carved into his flesh. Some of these are so fresh that they are dripping blood down his chest and arms. He rasps from beneath his hood and as
he stands at the platform at the foot of the altar you see that even his flaccid cock is covered in bloody symbols.

  “Behold the sacrifice,” says your mother. “Bearer of the truth. Host to the key which will unlock the infinite.”

  She nods to the warriors and one takes hold of the man by his shoulders. He begins to struggle as another warrior opens a wooden box. You glimpse something black and glistening moving within the box. It is almost like the shadow tendrils that violated you and carried Alyssa into the pit, but somehow so much darker and more tangible. The man begins screaming inside his hood as the blackness slithers out of the box and wraps around his cock. He jerks and shakes. Black veins pulse in his pale, bloodied flesh as the inky black organism completely sheaths his cock and bollocks and wraps around his waist.

  “The last fragment of Zhibbareth that survives,” murmurs your mother, her tone adoring. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  As you watch in stunned horror, the blackness twists and forms into a pulsating phallus. It resembles a massive cock, with a bulbous tip that weeps blackish fluid onto the foot of the altar. Beneath this huge projection are two enormous bollocks, throbbing as if they can barely contain the vile seed within them. The man stops fighting and the armored warriors release him and step back.

  “Oh, you are so fortunate, my daughter,” coos your mother, kneeling behind the altar and pressing her huge, soft breasts against your head as she cradles you. Her enormous hands stroke your breasts and rub at your fat nipples. You whimper with horror as you look up at the carved man and his monstrous black cock. It splits open along the tip, like the petals of a flower, and reveals a more slender pink inner tip that swells with desire and twists towards your pussy. The man crawls onto the altar between your parted thighs. The cock twists and moves as if seeking out the hot channel of your cunt.

  “Noooo,” you moan, but you are helpless to stop it. You try to move your body, but you are tightly bound to the stone. There is no escaping him.