Fertile in My Ex-Boyfriend's Dungeon 3

by Amanda Clover

  There is a flash of light behind my eyes and I am filled with ecstasy like no orgasm I have ever known. I feel love and pleasure and fulfillment all at once. I arch my back and push against his rutting, knotting cock, locked to him, filled by him. I feel a powerful rush of pleasure deep in my core and I know I am being bred. It is done. I am his forever. He howls triumphantly, thrusting against my back walls, flooding me with his sperm.

  “Yes!” I wail as he howls above me. “Oh, yes, Benjin! I am yours!”

  Cum-stuffed and drunk on the joy of being mated, Nellie and I have been bred. I look into her eyes and laugh with joy. My pussy convulses around the huge knot of the werewolf’s cock.

  This is everything I had ever dreamed.

  CONTINUE >

  Flee from the mimic

  Nellie has been eaten and this foul, slavering mimic is taunting me with his tentacles. I can’t deal with it! I need to get out of here!

  “I’m sorry, Nellie!” I cry, backing away from the chest.

  “You’re going to leave the elf behind?” The mimic laughs at me. “Some friend you are! But I can still catch you!”

  His tentacles lunge for me and I swing wildly with my sword. I know I can’t go back, there’s no way I’m going to get through that iron door and back into the woods. I must go forward. I must put poor Nellie’s fate behind me! There is a dark entrance into another chamber beyond the mimic. There are big stone blocks of some sort visible in the yawning entrance to this chamber. I don’t know what the room is or what it contains, but it can’t be as bad as the mimic.

  With a cry of frustration and tears in my eyes, I evade the mimic’s tentacles and run from the room. I can hear his gruff laughter following me as he calls out, “You’re going the wrong way, sweetheart!”

  He’s trying to trick me. I’m sure of it. I enter the room full of stone blocks. There are only a few of the blue torches in this room and the light is very low. It’s also even colder, like an autumn morning in Lesser Crudridge. An unpleasant, moldering smell hangs in the air. I begin to shiver as I approach one of the stone blocks. I realize it is a tomb, with an image of a handsome man holding a sword and a placard inscribed on the lid.

  “Here lies Prince Voringun, 842 – 864, Felled by horsemen at the battle of Jontun Gate.”

  I have never heard of this prince nor Jontun Gate. The year marker makes the tomb over a hundred years old. How did this tomb get here? Am I in some crypt beneath a castle? I search the edges of the dark room and spy a narrow staircase leading up. A faint tapping sound emanates from one of the stone tombs. It’s enough to send me running towards the staircase. I hear a grinding sound that I imagine is the stone lid of one of the crypts shifting behind me. I scramble up the stairs.

  The staircase emerges from a tumbled ruin of what seems to have been a stone church. Ahead of me is a small graveyard enclosed by tall iron fences overgrown with ivy and snarled with the roots of long forgotten trees. Moonlight shines down on crumbling grave markers. Perhaps two dozen of them, some so time-worn that the names are no longer even visible.

  Strangely, there does not seem to be a gate or other obvious way out of the graveyard. The iron fence surrounding it seems to be twice my height and with no obvious way to climb it to get out. Maybe that horrible chest was right. He said I was going the wrong way.

  I turn around in the reluctant hope of backtracking down the stairs and through the crypt. The stairwell is gone. There is just a jumble of collapsed masonry and huge stones that seems to be the remains of a small stone temple.

  “Where the hells did the stairs go?” I mutter, running my hand over the piled rocks in the hopes of finding some hidden door or mechanism. I trace the intact mortar with my fingers and shift some of the more manageable pieces of stone near where I think I exited.

  “Grarrrarrr?” There is a growl behind me.

  I turn and my fear becomes panic. Three decayed figures are shambling towards me in worm-eaten clothing. Their faces are gray and slack, their jaws hanging open and their eyes cloudy and seemingly blind. They reach out for me with withered hands. More of them are rising from graves. Every one of them male.

  And every one of them with their cocks out. Their cocks are black, glistening, and erect like some tar-covered rats trying to escape from their trousers. They are the undead and they are cursed with hard, throbbing, wet cocks.

  “Stay back!” I cry, drawing my sword and brandishing it.

  “GRRRRAARR!” They shout as one, closing in around me. Their white eyes, yellow nails, and broken-toothed mouths fill my view as I desperately swing my sword. The blade thumps harmlessly against their deathless bodies, hacking into their desiccated flesh without causing them any harm. Hands close like iron on my blade and wrench it from my grasp.

  “No! No! AHHHHHH!” I scream and thrash as they push me against the rubble of the church. Their jagged nails tear into my blouse and rip open my trousers. Their hands are everywhere, fondling and squeezing, their swollen tongues lashing my naked body as their dry mouths suck at my flesh. No matter how hard I fight, I cannot break free.

  They drag me down to the ground and one of them falls atop me, pushing my thighs apart and climbing between them. His mouth hangs open in a mindless howl of pleasure as he thrusts his undying black cock into my tight pussy. Tears stream down my face as he begins fucking me. He is not overly rough, but his thrusts do not slow, not even for an instant.

  More of the moaning zombies fall upon me, kissing me, sucking my toes, and squeezing and pinching my breasts. One of the undead shamblers kneels beside me and forces his glistening black cock into my mouth. A thick, pungent liquid coats my tongue and nearly causes me to retch. But then my mouth is being fucked by slimy zombie cock and there is no hope of restating it.

  The first zombie to climb atop me lets out a gurgling moan and I feel his cock jerking and pumping his horrible spunk into my womb. There is no flash of magical elation, no curse of the dungeon. Instead, I feel a rush of pleasure with a strange, unnerving pang. I realize some of my life force is flowing into the zombie as it fills me with its plentiful spunk. He pulls his cock from my flooded depths, black zombie spunk dripping from my folds. Another zombie is atop me immediately, thrusting deep inside me and churning the foul zombie cum already inside me.

  My last hope vanishes as the zombie fucking my mouth gurgles and howls and pumps my throat and belly full of bitter zombie slime. Each spurt into my belly seems to draw out more of my life force. My head lolls back as two more zombies take their turns with me, grabbing and groping, pumping their cocks into my well-used holes. Behind them is a press of more of the undead, growling impatiently and reaching towards me to try to fondle my body.

  One after another, I am fondled and fucked by gray-fleshed zombies. Their stink fills my nostrils even as their cum pollutes my body. Each time one orgasms inside me I feel more of my life force slip away, until the world begins to go dark around me.

  It’s not death. Not exactly. I’m still aware of who I was and what is happening. But many hours later, I rise to my feet a new woman with a new purpose. My skin is gray, my face sunken and cheeks taut. I have a grave marker here. A little plot to call my own. The lone woman in a graveyard full of men. Every night, we will rise to reenact the night of my creation.

  Perhaps someday another woman will come along to join me. Until then, I will be pleasuring zombie cocks in the forgotten graveyard behind the fallen temple.

  THE END

  << START OVER | < LAST ENCOUNTER | INDEX

  Slap Nellie to clear her mind

  There’s no time for kissing and fooling around on the floor in a big puddle of slime. I’m not even certain the mimic is dead. If he can pretend to be a treasure chest, he can pretend to be a corpse.

  “Please, Beatrix,” gasps Nellie, pulling at the legs of my trousers. “Fuck me. Fuck meeeeee!”

  I slap her hard across her face. Her hand flies to her cheek and she turns away, holding her face in her hand. Her blue eyes fill with
tears.

  “You hit me,” she whimpers.

  “Is your head clear?” I ask.

  “It is this slime,” she says, holding up her glistening arms. “It is all over me. It makes me want to… oohhh… mmmmmm…”

  She flops back on the ground, pressing a hand between her legs and strumming her pussy. She fucks herself with two fingers as she reaches her other hand up and roughly plays with her glistening breasts. I gather Nellie’s clothes and return to her side. She’s moaning and jerking her hips, fucking herself roughly with her fingers.

  “Stop that,” I say and give her a stern look.

  “I’m so close,” she whines, her slimy breasts heaving and her hips working as she fucks herself. Her fingers make lewd sounds as they plunge into her pussy.

  “Fine,” I say. “But once you cum, you are cleaning off and getting dressed.”

  I turn my back on her, listening to her gasping and sliding around on the floor like a greased pig. She calls my name as she cums, the word “Beatrix” echoing from the stone walls as I try not to wonder what she is doing. Her moans grow quiet and then louder again. I turn around and she is on her hands and knees, fucking both her holes with her fingers and staring right at me.

  “It’s so goooood!” She cries, her mouth hanging open.

  I give her another good smack across the cheek and this time the haze seems to lift from her blue eyes. She pulls her fingers out of her tender holes and looks at me with a flush of shame on her face.

  “Sorry,” she murmurs.

  “Not your fault,” I say, helping her to her feet. “I can feel that horrible slime on my arms and hands. Every part of me that touched it. Some sort of venom the mimic uses to subdue his victims.”

  “I was inside it,” she says, casting a glance at the crumpling chest against the wall.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I say, helping her put her clothes on. “We’re in this together, Nellie. I won’t leave you to be eaten by a monster.”

  “Thanks,” she says. “I owe you my life. Again.”

  Once she is fully dressed, I turn my attention to finding a way out. There is a large yawning opening to another room near the mimic. It is filled with blocky stone structures that I realize are tombs.

  “I’d rather not go that way,” I say, feeling a dreadful chill in the air and a miasma of decay.

  “There,” suggests Nellie, pointing to an arched passage hidden in nearby shadows. She conjures one of her glowing orbs and reveals a tunnel with two very narrow walkways on either side of a wide, shallow canal. The water is dark, but does not smell particularly bad, so at least it isn’t sewage.

  “Looks like we’re going to get wet,” I say, wading into the water.

  “I am rather dirty,” she chuckles, gasping slightly as we slip thigh-deep into the cold water.

  The canal stretches ahead into the darkness, the surface only stirred by the movement of our legs. We have no idea how far it goes or how deep it can get, but we seem to agree that it is preferable to the creepy tombs.

  CONTINUE >

  Try to talk to the slime

  Nellie says these things are somewhat intelligent and it at least attempted to smile at us with a face. It’s acting threatening, but maybe it’s just overly friendly. I would rather try talking to it than fighting it. A glance at my sword and I realize that I’m not even sure the blade would do any damage to a giant wobbling pudding. I sheath my blade and hold my hands up to try to calm the zyggoth.

  “Wait, hold it,” I say. “Stop right there and let’s talk about this.”

  “What are you doing!?” Nellie cries, cringing behind me.

  To my relief, the slime stops advancing. It gathers its pseudopods and draws up its height forming a blunt conical shape. The dark orbs of its sight organs shift and the zyggoth’s crude face reappears.

  “Bloooooo?” It burbles curiously.

  “Talking to it,” I whisper to Nellie.

  I step closer, my hands raised. The slime has a strange smell. Somewhat unpleasant, like decaying vegetables, but there is a sweetness to it as well. The gelatinous flesh of it is filled with tiny bubbles and little trapped objects. Although it stands stationary, its body shifts and extrudes constantly, as if there are hundreds of fidgeting fingers of slime all over its surface. This constant motion is distracting and unwholesome. Which is a fancy way to say it’s disgusting.

  “Hello, um, Bloo,” I say, speaking slowly and loudly. “I am Beatrix. This is Nellie. We don’t want to fight. We want to be your friends.”

  “Blllllloooo?” The slime burbles.

  “Um, yes, so,” I say. “If there is a way you could help us find a way out of here, um, we would be very grateful. We could, um, work something out, if… you were to…”

  The slime very slowly raises a tendril of violet slime from its bulk and reaches it towards my face. I flinch away at first, but its movements are so slow and gentle that I allow the slime to reach out and touch my face. It is cool and soft, oozing over me and applying the gentlest pressure against my cheek.

  “This is not wise,” whispers Nellie. “You cannot trust this creature.”

  “Blooo,” it whimpers softly, lifting another tentacle to gently stroke the front of my blouse.

  “You like that, boy?” I ask, watching his slime smear my shirt. “You can… hey… what are you doing?”

  My blouse begins to smoke slightly and dissolve beneath the slime’s tentacle. I pull away from its touch, but its too late; the zyggoth has melted a hole straight through my blouse and my right breast is completely exposed.

  “Blooooo?” The slime wonders and reaches its tentacles towards me again.

  “No, you have acid or something and you burned a hole in my shirt,” I say, down at the browned edges of the hole. “You keep away from me.”

  He continues to reach his tentacles towards me. I push them away with the back of my hand.

  “Blooooooo,” burbles the slime. “Bloooooooo.”

  He slithers towards us, looming above me. I stand my ground even as Nellie retreats. I gaze up into those strange dark orbs under his gelatinous face and try not to betray any fear. And I have a lot of fear standing in arm’s reach of a pile of horny goo the size of a mountain bear. But maybe it didn’t mean to hurt me? It didn’t burn my skin. It touched my face and didn’t leave a mark.

  I take a deep breath and force a smile onto my face. I say, “We can work together to get out of this dungeon.”

  “BlooooooooOOOOooo,” answers the slime. Its two tentacles caress my cheeks for a moment and then slide down to my blouse. One tendril slips through the hole in my blouse and gently strokes my pert mound, teasing coolly over my nipple. The other tentacle slides over my blouse. Smoke rises in a thin white wisp and my blouse melts away, peeling back from my left breast and retreating from the tentacle.

  “Beatrix, stop this,” hisses Nellie. “Do not let it touch you!”

  The tentacles tease my breasts, hefting them and tickling against my nipples.

  “You like them?” I ask the slime.

  “Bloooooo,” agrees the slime.

  “You can touch them,” I say, ignoring Nellie and watching the tentacles slowly wrap around my breasts and gently bind them. The tips of the two tentacles press against my nipples and open like tiny mouths. Those tiny slimy mouths engulf the sensitive pebbles of my nipples and begin to suck.

  “OOooohhhhhhh,” I moan, feeling a gentle tug on my clit with each suck on my nipples.

  “Bllllloooooo,” burbles the slime happily. More tentacle slip inside my trousers and begin to melt them from my long legs. The cool slime climbs up to my waist, dissolves my panties, and slides tantalizingly over the hot furrow of my pussy. I knew it might want something from me. What is the danger in letting it have a bit of fun? It’s not like a slime is going to get me pregnant.

  “Go on,” I gasp, pressing my fingertips against the body of the slime. “Fuck me, big boy.”

  “BllloooooOOOOoo!” He burble
s excitedly, his tentacles peeling open my cunt to reveal my inner pink. The tentacles suck gently at my cuntlips as another tentacle emerges from the slime’s body. This one is larger and thicker than the others and presses to the hot entrance of my pussy.

  “Beatrix, no,” cries Nellie. “No, you shouldn’t be… mmmmm…. MMMMM!”

  I glance over my shoulder and see the slime has caught her in several more of its tentacles. It squeezes her huge tits and sucks at her fat nipples. It plugs her mouth with a fat tentacles and pushes more into her pussy and ass. She jiggles and shakes almost like she is made of slime herself.

  “Maybe this is going too far,” I say. “We should slow… oooooOOOOOOHH!”

  Whatever objections I might have had to the way the zyggoth was fondling me is forgotten as it plunges it slimy tentacle into my aching pussy. Once that slippery tip is inside me, the slime flows into my pussy like water, filling me to my womb and seeping into every fold of my inner walls. It pulls back, emptying until only a bit remains at the cusp of my pussy, before thrusting in again.

  “Oohhhhh! Oh, gods, that’s good!” I jerk my hips, encouraging the slime to fuck me more and faster. It slurps in and out of my clutching cunt, each squeeze of my inner muscles reshaping its gooey mass. Another slimy tentacle pushes into the crack of my ass and floods into my tender asshole. The cool slime pours into my bowls, working in and out of my ass just as vigorously as the tentacle in my pussy.

  “MMMMMMMM!” Nellie cries beside me, her breasts heaving and being sucked by slimy tentacles, her plump ass spread by a slimy cock. She moans around the tentacle fucking her throat and dripping slime onto her body. Her clothes have been completely melted away except for her boots.

  The tentacle inside me is moving faster and faster, rubbing me just right, the slime somehow sticking to and sucking on my clit. The one in my ass is so deep and feels so wonderful. IC an’t hold back. I wail with pleasure, jerking my hips as the slime lifts me up off the ground, plundering my pussy and ass and holding me above his gelatinous body.