Fertile in My Ex-Boyfriend's Dungeon 4

by Amanda Clover

“Dungeon?” Delfina looks at me curiously.

  “This whole place is like a dungeon,” I say, waving my hands. “The trees and the clouds and everything. But we were in a dungeon too. And I was in a different dungeon with my friend. Nellie.”

  “What happened to your friend?”

  A wave of sadness washes over me as I think of the beautiful elf as the slime closed in on her. Is she dead? Devoured? Or has she become a pregnant slave girl to the slime?

  “Not sure,” I finally say, fighting back tears. “I had to leave her behind to escape to the next level.”

  “Stood on her head to climb out, eh?” Delfina raises her flask. “Don’t feel guilty about it. Zimon made you do it. The prick. Here’s to Nellie.”

  She tips back a shot and passes to the flask to me. “To Nellie,” I agree, and gulp down another swallow of the Fire Rum.

  We play a few more rounds of our staring contest; one win for me and two more for Delfina. I’m dripping with sweat from a mixture of the jungle heat and even Delfina is looking rather rosy-cheeked.

  “He’ll take everything from you, Beatrix,” she slurs and shakes the last drops of Fire Rum onto her tongue. “But I’m going to get it back. My ship. My crew. With you by my side, we’re unstoppable.”

  She pats my cheek with the flat of her hand and gazes into my eyes, her eyelids drooping drunkenly. Her head dips as if she is going to pass out, but instead she plants a soft, spicy kiss on my lips. It shocks me and I pull back.

  “Don’ give me that look,” she says, wetting lips that you now know are quite soft. “Mmmmmm. Every time I drink this much, I act a fool. I canna decide if it makes me horny or makes me want to fight. What do you think, landlubber? What does it do to you?”

  How do I answer Delfina?

  Drinking makes me horny

  Drinking makes me fighty

  Drinking makes me sleepy

  Let the abhorreth enslave my mind

  Staring at all those tentacles, feeling the unctuous will of the abhorreth in my mind, fills me with an exhilarating sense of submissiveness. I belong on my knees before a creature such as this. Not a mate for him, but beneath him. His servant. His slave.

  “Yes, that is right, Beatrix,” purrs the seductive voice of the leviathan in my mind. “Say it. Speak it aloud.”

  “Enslave me, oh mighty Lord Splugwyrth.” Speaking it makes me feel strangely giddy. I lock my gaze upon the gently waving cock-tipped tentacles. They seem to throb with anticipation.

  “Kneel before me,” he says. “Kneel and submit to your new master.”

  I fall heavily to my knees, the impact shaking the gangway and sending ripples through the water. My breasts strain at my damp blouse, my nipples stiff and sensitive. I gaze up at the tentacles, like a jury of serpents standing in judgment over me. The spade-headed tentacle moves closer, looming over me, and the shifting colors on its surface intensify their rhythmic patterns.

  “Gaze upon the mind siphon.” The voice of the abhorreth echoes in my head, deep and powerful. “See the patterns of your unraveling.”

  “Y-yes, master,” I moan, staring unblinking at it. The shifting patterns seem to leave the boundary of my vision and ripple into my mind, purging me of any fears or desires to resist. I feel calm and eager to receive the blessing of the abhorreth.

  “Your mind will soon slip away. Your thoughts and memories superfluous. You will exist with the singular purpose of serving me. Do you desire this, Beatrix?”

  “Yessss,” I moan, lust quaking in my thighs and heating in my core.

  “I will caress you and care for you,” purrs that voice as the mind siphon lowers towards my face. “I will use you for my pleasure. Will you serve me without fail?”

  “Without fail,” I gasp, practically vibrating with the need to touch and pleasure the abhorreth. “So long as my body endures.”

  “You need not concern yourself with your body. I will care for it.” The pulsing colors marking the spade-shaped head of the mind siphon become a spiral like water flowing into a drain. The spade presses down to my face, coating me in slime that flows into my nostrils and is sickly-sweet in my mouth. I let out a moan and hear the abhorreth in my head saying, “Release yourself to me now, Beatrix.”

  I feel a strange popping sensation and then a suction on my thoughts. There is no physical violation, but the mind siphon has ruptured the barrier of my thoughts. It begins to greedily suck my memories, my feelings, and my identity. I feel it going and experience nothing but joy. I am free of all concerns. Free of all fears. I am pure and new. I am the slave to the mighty Lord Splugwyrth. I have no other reason for existing.

  After seconds or minutes or maybe years, the mind siphon lifts from my slimy face and I breathe fresh air. Delicate tentacles caress my face, smoothing a lock of hair from my cheek. I gaze up with new eyes at the tentacles of my master.

  “H-how,” I croak, struggling to form new words with my simplified mind. “How m-m-may I serve?”

  “Oh, my dear, there are so many ways,” he speaks softly into my mind. “Let us begin with three.”

  I moan happily as his three cock-tipped tentacles approach me.

  CONTINUE >

  Guard against the pirates

  I have been trained in sword fighting. The only way to beat two opponents is by reducing them to one opponent and then beating him. The best way to do that is patiently, keeping your guard up, and looking for the right opportunity to strike. Brollo holds his cutlass in an awkward two-handed grip, as if he means to swing it like a truncheon, while his comrade barely has a hold on his blade, letting it dangle and bounce in his grasp as he swings it menacingly in my direction.

  “Come on then, lovely,” jeers Skeff. “Put the sword down. We’ll make it easy for you.”

  He grabs his crotch for emphasis, which makes his little round friend wheeze with laughter. I keep my guard up, readying for their first attack. Brollo is going to overextend himself. If I can sidestep his blade I can move inside his reach and finish him off quickly. If Skeff gets the first blow, a forceful parry will knock his sword from his hand and I can finish him off before his comrade has time to attack.

  “I might almost be worried if there was anything in those trousers,” I say, “other than some crabs.”

  Skeff’s smile becomes an angry sneer. He bares his blackened teeth and comes straight at me, swinging his sword like a lazy farm boy cutting the wheat with a scythe. Our swords ring together as I meet his long slashes with a powerful swing of my longsword. His blade cracks and flies from his hand, shedding rusty bits of metal. Skeff cries out in surprise as I follow through with a reverse slash, parting his head from his shoulders. Now I feel like the farm boy slicing through the wheat. That head pops off with such ease and goes rolling across the deck.

  A spectral imitation of his head pops up from the stump. He looks at me and then at Rollo in disbelief.

  “She cut off my head,” he cries. Then the blue head and all the light from his body dims and his lifeless, headless corpse drops to the deck.

  Rollo is stunned by his comrade’s sudden demise. He stares at the corpse and then turns to me, anger flaring in his eyes. He begins to say something, but my sword is already on its way towards his neck. It’s like cutting through parchment. His head pops off and rolls across the deck, thumping down the stairs into what I imagine to be the hold of the ship. His glowing ghostly head materializes atop his stump.

  “W-why?” he wonders.

  “You were going to kill me,” I point out.

  “Yeah, but…not fair,” he moans as the light goes out. He topples over backwards atop his comrade’s corpse.

  I search the darkened doorways near me to be certain no more pirates are about to sally forth and challenge me. Once I am convinced, I turn back to the stairs and climb to the cabin. A broken lantern hangs beside the door. The door itself is exquisitely ornate, depicting a pirate woman astride the seas, her breasts bare and a cutlass in each hand. The face of this image has been chopped
away in anger and the carving is blackened with filth. A placard is just visible beneath the grime. “Captain’s Quarters.”

  I listen at the door. It's eerily quiet in there. Has she won? Has she killed him? Or has he bested her? I grasp the handle of the door.

  There is only one way to answer those questions.

  CONTINUE >

  I am ready to make the jump

  I’m no coward. It’s going to take bold action to escape this dungeon, even if the dungeon looks like a jungle cliff and bold action looks like suicide.

  “No games,” I say, giving Delfina my best daring smile. “I’m ready to throw my entire very fragile body off a cliff in the name of you recovering your ship. Well, maybe one more drink.”

  She passes the flask back to me and I down another burning gulp of the Fire Rum. At least the burning distracts me from my imminent death.

  “I knew you were a brave girl,” laughs Delfina. “Let’s go!”

  She snatches my hand and drags me back to the cliff’s edge. I see the same horseshoe-shaped cliffs surrounding the blue cove full of kelp. I see the same waterfall and mysterious passage into the cavern. Faced once more with the heights, dominated by the wild butterflies in my belly, I feel the urge to turn away from the cliff and run at best possible speed back to the slime. It can eat me for all I care, I just don’t want to end up broken and gurgles as I drown.

  “You’ve gone a whiter shade of white,” says Delfina, giving my hand a squeeze.

  “Just, ah, planning my trajectory,” I offer.

  “Picture Zimon. He’s laughing at us. He’s saying we’re not brave to jump in the cove and swim to shore and take back my ship. He’s saying we’re never going to jump. That we’re afraid the Swaugins will get their webbed claws on us and drag us down to their lair to stuff us full of fish cocks. But that’s not going to happen, is it?

  “N-no?” This seems like a really bad idea. I’m sure she’ll listen to reason if I just.

  “Hell no, it isn’t happening to us! If any of those fishmen grab us they are going to learn not to mess with a couple of pirate girls. Isn’t that right, Beatrix?”

  “Sure, um, sounds reasonable,” I say, still trying not to shake.

  “Let’s do it,” she says, squeezing my hand again and walking me right up to the edge. “Let’s show Zimon what we are made of!”

  CONTINUE >

  We’ve been mated by the swaugins!

  The lair the swaugins have made for us is bathed in the light of our eggs. They hang in glowing strands from the ceiling of the chamber, the light glowing within each egg a living swaugin spawnling. Delfina rests beside me on a cushion of kelp rolls, our bodies plump from the idleness of our lives and our breasts swollen with mother’s milk.

  “I think I am ready for another clutch,” I say, resting a hand on my flat tummy.

  “Don’t you think you’ve hatched enough?”

  Delfina’s belly is bulging with the lumps of her growing eggs. We never become as fat as we would with human babies, but she is nearly ready to give birth and looks as if she has swallowed fist-sized rocks. She gets moody when it is almost time to lay a clutch. I roll onto my side, my swollen breasts shifting, my fat, sensitive nipples dripping with milk.

  “Never,” I say to her, poking her arm with my finger. “I want to make swaugins until they inhabit the whole world.”

  “You’ll never make as many as me,” she says, stroking her bulging belly. “My clutches are bigger.”

  “My last one was fifteen,” I say, gazing up at the strands of eggs on the ceiling. “I think your last clutch was only, what, a dozen?”

  “Big ones, though,” she says. “Mine hatch more quickly because I feed them so well.”

  “You feed them well,” I say, poking her meaty thigh. “And yourself. All those squids you eat.”

  “And all the milk I’ve been drinking,” she says, reaching out and giving my left nipple a flick. I let out a yelp as pain shoots through my breast and somehow reaches my clit. I try to roll away from her, but Delfina pursues me, moaning hungrily and latching to my breast like a milk-drinking leech.

  “Ahhhh! You’re horrible!” I laugh, beating weakly at her shoulder as she drinks the milk from my breast with warm, rhythmic suction. My struggle stops as she gazes up from my swollen mound with those golden-brown eyes heavy with lust. I begin to caress her back and I cradle her head, my fingers sliding into her silky dark hair. She pops her lips free of my straining nipple and I gasp, “Is it sweet today?”

  “Always,” she says, moving to my other breast as sucking to quench her thirst. I moan and squirm beneath her, enjoying her naked weight atop me and her tongue lashing at my sensitive bud. I caress her and moan with pleasure, my hips moving with an eagerness to be fucked. I hope one of our swaugin mates comes soon to put his clutch into my cunt.

  As if summoned by my need, a pair of swaugins slip through the membrane and into the kelp-wrought chamber in which we dwell. The hiss and click to one another, their fingers brushing lovingly over dangling strands of eggs that they believe are their own spawn. The larger swaugin with yellowish mottling on his shoulders is named Clifford. I named him after a friend of mine in Lesser Crudridge. The smaller swaugin with the nick missing out of the fin atop his head is named Bravo. Delfina came up with that one after he started singing during one of his visits.

  “We have company,” I murmur to Delfina. She pops her lips free of my nipple, milk dripping down her chin as she rolls over to see the new arrival.

  “Ooooh, Bravo, come to check up on your clutch?” She runs a hand over the bulges in her belly.

  “Yesssssss,” he hisses. “They come soon?”

  “Very soon,” she says. “I’m getting that rumbling feeling that means it’s almost time. Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “Come back then,” he says and starts towards the membrane.

  “Oh, no, come over here,” says Delfina, rising to her knees. “You’re not getting out of here so easily. Bring that big fishy cock over here.”

  Bravo hisses with lust, hurrying over to stand before Delfina, his pale cock sliding from his scaly loins. I chuckle at his eagerness and turn my attention to Clifford. I gaze up into his round, faintly luminous eyes and curl a finger towards him.

  “You happy, Bea?” asks the swaugin. Always “Bea” with the swaugins. They can’t quite get my name right.

  “I would be happier with another clutch in my hot little pussy,” I moan, parting my thighs and spreading my swollen cuntlips. “Are you going to give me one, Cliff?”

  He hisses with lust and says, “I give!”

  I think my favorite thing about being the mate of a school of swaugins is that they don’t skimp on the foreplay. Clifford goes down on me with relish, licking and slurping lewdly at my steamy pussy. I stroke his head and hook my plump thighs over his shoulders, arching my back and thrusting my hips to run my cunt against his slippery tongue.

  Oh, gods, when he sends his tongue sliding inhumanly deep into my pussy it drives me absolutely mad! I sit up, wailing with pleasure, grabbing his finned head in both hands. My orgasm is so intense and prolonged that I see flashes of light behind my eyes and forget to breathe. Clifford games sucks at my pussy until every tremor of my orgasm has subsided. I collapse back onto the bed of kelp, gasping and shuddering with the ecstasy of my climax.

  “Yessss! Use that battering ram on my ass!” cries Delfina. I glance over and see that she is face down on the kelp, her ass raised as Bravo squats behind her. The swaugin’s webbed claws cling to Delfina’s creamy golden ass, spreading her plump cheeks for his cock which he is pounding furiously into her stretched hole. His nicked fin is standing tall and his gills are flushed a deep shade of purple.

  I turn my attention back to my handsome lover and ask, “Want to mate me from behind?”

  “Yes!” He rises to his feet excitedly. “Yes, big soft back rump. But I want to go into breeding hole.”

  “Oh, you cheeky devil,” I giggle, turning
around to offer him my rear, “you’ve got such a way with words. Go on then. Put it right in my little pink breeding hole.”

  “Yes!” He chirps happily, stroking my bottom with one hand as he grasps his cock with the other and presses his hardness to the folds of my cunt.

  I suck in a breath – Clifford having a particularly large cock for a swaugin – and he plunges into my pussy, stretching me wide. He slaps his hips against me, working his hard fishy cock in and out of my tight little cunt. And it is still tight! Those eggs might be the size of a fist, but they’re also squishy and plop out of me when I lay each clutch almost as easily as Clifford’s cock is pounding into me.

  “Oh, yes, fuck me!” I cry, locking eyes with Delfina as she is getting her pirate booty plundered by Bravo. Her fishy lover begins to sing in the strange, hissing voice of his and furiously rams his cock into her brazen hole.

  “Yes! Fill me, Bravo!” wails Delfina. “Fill me with your hot seed!”

  His gills vibrate and his fins ripple with pleasure. His cock makes lewd squelching sounds as he fucks his spunking length in and out of Delfina’s stretched asshole.

  “Give it to her good!” I laugh.

  “I give good!” grunts Clifford, thinking I am talking to him. He begins furiously fucking me, driving my face down into the kelp floor and making my tits squeeze out milk in great quantities as he slams me downward. My fingers dig into the kelp and I low like a beast. Like a breeding cow. Like a milky, cock-filled breeding slut.

  “OoooooooOOoohhhhh yessss!” I cry, my pleasure cresting just as Clifford hisses with his climax.

  We cum together, my pussy clamping around him as I feel his hard cock throb and spurt his hot load deep into my pussy. My pleasure is stoked by that addicting ecstasy of being bred. It is a sensation that only impregnation can give me and one that assures I constantly crave being bred.

  “Oh, I see that look on her face,” moans Delfina. “You’ve filled up her cargo hold, Cliff.”