#tw cultish themes

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

Mycelium Has A Song

Summary: Jimmy wasn’t sure what to make of all of this, though he wasn’t part of the HEP in helping things, he did know a few things about plants. Scott owned a flower farm, and made dyes, and Tango owned a ranch that he helped in. Taking over when Tango wasn’t there to do things. His brother now was connected to a plant like substance know as Mycelium. And his talk with his brother lead no where, yet questions still burned in him. 

Notes: This is based upon @all54321 Father Spore Spy AU idea. And this isn’t apart of it, just me making a scene I wanted to share. 

Warnings: Cult-like themes, Mild Mind Control, Mild Corruption, Mild Body Horror. 

-

Jimmy would say he’s got alot of regrets in life, most people do. He wasn’t always a good person, not until he meet Scott and Tango. He became a better person for them, and learned to live life to be happy and grateful for each morning. It wasn’t easy, but he was working on it. 

He had a loving family, amazing friends, and things were looking up slowly. He spoke to Grian often through voice chats when they could and they played games. He spoke to Pearl the same ways, enjoying how close they were again. He had missed his siblings dearly, and was happy it seemed they were stronger together again. 

Then he got the call from Pearl, and dread filled him as she told him the situation. His older brother was infected by this Mycelium threat stuff. And had been found out to be a traitor working for Father Spore, which Pearl said was actually Scar. Grian was infected, and Jimmy felt worry over take the dread.

They all packed quickly, Scott was ready to jump and go as much as he was. Tango was there too, and they needed to get their now. His brother was gone, missing, and his sister was still there. He didn’t really care if it was dangerous, he left his family once, he won’t do it again. Not when they needed him. 

Pearl scolded him alot for coming out here, but Jimmy still was happy to see her again. Scott was taking care of their luggage and told him to go be with his sister. They needed each other right now, and Jimmy needed to know what was going on with Grian. Was he okay? Was he safe? What was wrong with him? Pearl could only give so many answers, as she wasn’t too sure either of everything. 

Then came the meeting with Grian and Scar, which lead to no where. Though he had let Pearl do most of the talking. He just watched staring at the creature that was now his brother. The deep purplish hue to the parrot wings of his, and the mushrooms that grew on them. 

He didn’t believe there was anything wrong with him, and spoke of how he wanted them to join with him. How he missed them, and he could be connected this way. Pearl was against it, and Jimmy stayed silent through it. Both of them were trying to convince the other was something, and neither were listening. Pearl and Grian were always the two stubborn ones, Jimmy guessed he could be as well. 

But watching Grian leave, with only a sad glance to them, hurt him more than he thought it would. And while he got a good look of what the Mycelium does to someone, he still felt he was back to square one. More questions than answers, and it was frustrating.

Pearl was firm in the idea that they could cure Grian, even if Grian didn’t want to be cured. Jimmy wasn’t sure what to believe himself, Grian hadn’t looked hurt or in pain, he looked rather happy if a bit... plant-y now? He felt like Pearl was very much telling her own bias of things. With thoughts of pushing herself now to cure and save their little brother. Though Cub seemed to disagree from when Jimmy got to talk to him. Expressing that curing int he past has only harmed people more than helped.

The pit of dread was back, would Pearl push so far to harm Grian if it meant to save him? What if it didn’t work? Cub spoke of how death could be a very possible variable in curing those that didn’t want to be cured. And that made Jimmy’s throat close up in fear. 

He didn’t want to think that for long, taking some time to get fresh air outside. To try and hide from his intrusive thoughts. Scott and Tango did their best to alleviate his fears, but they didn’t understand how scared he was. He only had Pearl and Grian left. They knew about as much as he did on this situation, and Tango refused to share too much as they didn’t want to cause mass panic. 

Maybe that’s how he always found himself back here. At the edges of the police tap looking into the infected area and to the forest. It was silent here, though the birds made noise the sound of people was none existence. Just the wind in the trees. Grian was somewhere in there, possibly much deeper in than before. People believed the resistance base was deeper inside, but going on foot was a bad idea as it alerted Father Spore to them being in there.

It alerted Scar of your location, due to how connected the Mycelium was. Which was both impressive and creepy to Jimmy. 

He narrowed his eyes lightly, he wasn’t getting anywhere standing here. And he had a choice to make now. He could go deeper in, and get the answer himself. Or he could trust Pearl knows what she’s doing, and hope Grian came around. Jimmy was a doer not a follower, and he knew what his answer was long before he thought of the choices he has.

Opening his wings he caught the wind and allowed his sunny yellow wings to carry him over top of the trees. Staying at a high enough look point that allowed his eyes to see everything. Flying over to see how the Mycelium seemed to cover over everything like a blanket of greens and purples. 

It seemed to act as a shader of sorts, making flying out harder than going in. It possibly allowed heavy shade and keeping the floor damp, which was something mushrooms liked to grow in. 

His feathers curved to the wind, stumbling a bit as something pushed form under him. A air current from below, which startled him for a moment. Like the forest below was producing an updraft of air. Jimmy carefully lowered himself so not to have that happen again, and decided to perch on top of a rather tall tree. Looking over everything from the branch. He could see the faint movement int he air of spores. Luckily he was high enough he couldn’t breath enough in, but the area had a heavy earthy scent to it. 

For the most part everything looked the same for miles, figures Grian would think to have their base hidden from avian eyes. Jimmy frowned a bit at that, gazing around the pines, leaves, and many colors ahead. His ears twitched trying to pick up on any difference at all. Opening his wings again and taking flight. 

Nothing seemed to change, and Jimmy was starting to think of heading home before anyone noticed he was missing. However it seemed the wind had other plants. Another rush of air from under him had him losing his balance. It pushed up on his wings, and Jimmy was now trying to right himself. His wings however felt stiff, the air making it hard to close the joints. 

He cried out a bit though as he soon was falling, trying to unlock his joint as he fell down. Jimmy twisted in the air, letting out distressed sounds. Normally to the flock, when flying, an avian will let out sounds to let them know something was wrong. When this happened another avian would have to create wind under the falling one so they could right their wings against the strong winds.

But Jimmy was alone, and he was falling fast. Hitting tress wasn’t fun, Jimmy had done it once before, near broke his wings, and he knew that like this he’d hit back first. He closed his eyes tightly and waited for the searing pain. 

Something did slam into him, knocking the breath from him, but... there wasn’t pain with it. As something dug into his sides from where he was gripped by... arms? “You’re such an idiot you know that.” a familiar voice grumbled as Jimmy opened his eyes and looked up to see familiar parrot wings that had slight purple hues to them. 

“Grian!” Jimmy breathed out as relief ran over him at the sight of his siblings, swallowing down the chirps that wanted to come out. They glided over the tree tops easily as Grian was lowering them down easily and dodging the branches easily. 

They were near a river bank of sorts as Grian lowered him down to the ground and landed himself. Bending down and looking at Jimmy’s wings, “So they locked up on you?” he asked as Jimmy nodded trying to rub the joints to help them.

“I was flying over head and a draft hit the locking them in place.” he admits, “The wind knocked me off balance after that.” Jimmy winced a bit as carefully he pushed his wings to fold again. 

A grumbling huff, “It’s dangerous to fly here Tim, if you’re not used to the Mycelium creating it’s own air.” he scolded in a big brother tone, as Jimmy grumbled out something but Grian possibly couldn’t make it out. Sighing heavily though, “I heard your calls nearby, you’re lucky this time. You could have serious injured yourself, and all for what?” he asked his brother with a stern look. “Did one of the HEP members sent you to fly over head?”

taking a moment to try and rub out the soreness in his back, Jimmy shook his head, “I was actually looking for you.” he tells his brother as he sat across from him, “I wanted to talk to you, without Pearl or anyone nearby. Just us.”

A pause from Grian as his brother stared at him for a long moment, then hums with his arms crossed, “You could have just came in by foot to ask for that Timmy, instead of risking flight in an unfamiliar area.” he deadpanned and rose an eyebrow.

Jimmy flushed at that looking away as his feathered ears flicked down. Okay yeah maybe he could have done that, “Wasn’t sure it’d work.” he admits rubbing his arm, “Not after last time with Pearl, I figured you’d...” he trailed off, that Grian would hate him, them, for of the last talk. His ears stayed lowered at these thoughts. 

“Well... I’m here now, what is it?” Grian asked after he stared at Jimmy for a long time. “I’m all ears, and it’s just us.” a familiar smile, when he was forgiving them for doing something dumb. 

Jimmy’s ears perked up again as he felt some tension in his shoulders fade. “I wanted to check on you Grian, wanted to be sure you were okay.” wringing his hands together he shifts, “I... I’ve been so worried for you, the talk a few days ago didn’t do anything for my nerves and with everything going on... I’m afraid of well...” he as never good with feelings, Scott always said he needed to learn to allow himself to be vulnerable. 

Gazing up at Grian he saw the eyes soften as he sat down in the greenish purple grass. Near the edges of the river it wasn’t as thick as it was in the forest itself. “I’m fine Tim, more than just fine. I promise you, I’m doing okay. No injuries or anything of the sorts.” he said in the familiar tone of what made you think I could ever be hurt?

A lapse of silence again as Jimmy as messing with the blades of grass, “I can hear that Grian... you say that but, from everything I’ve been told by the others. I don’t know how I can believe it.” he stressed the word hard, he could see Grian was infected, could see the mushrooms on his skin and the purple in his veins, the way Grian didn’t breath hardly.

Humming in understanding, Grian just nodded to him, “I understand completely, you’ve been told we are infected, we aren’t ourselves. That I’m not your brother, I’m something that has controlled your brother.” at those words Jimmy found himself nodding in agreement, that was about what he was told. Grian’s eyes gazed at him calmly, “But do you believe that?” he asked.

“I...” Jimmy trailed off, gazing at the familiar eyes of his older brother, and sighed deeply as his shoulders and wings sagged, “I don’t know what to believe Gri.” he admits to him, eyes looking away and lost in thought. “Pearl is convinced of a cure, but Cub... well from what he tells me that could kill you.” his voice hitched at the word, the fear near closing up his throat again. 

He could feel the weight of Grian’s gaze on him, and he continued, “I don’t know what to think. You seem happy, you seem okay, even if you look different. And you don’t want to be cured or be a lab rat, not that I blame you on that last part,” he grumbled that ending almost to himself. “But, I... I just don’t know Gri, you talk about connection and acceptance, but I just can’t-” he cut himself off with a distressed chirp that slipped out. 

In return Grian cooed to him which did take away from of the tensions in him. “Are you curious about it?” he asked Jimmy with a head tilt, “About what we are and what I was talking about?”

Jimmy nodded to that instantly, “I am, I wanted to talk to you about that, wanted to hear it from you directly without someone else there to cut you off or say other things. I want to know what you’re talking about.” and that was the truth, he wanted to know what was going on in his brother’s head.

Grian smiled brightly, looking so relieved and happy that Jimmy wanted to know. The smiled looked weird on his face, if only slightly to Jimmy. “We are connected Timmy, what that means if we think and feel together. We are all together as the mycelium, closer than possibly as a human can go.” he said these words in a near whisper, as Jimmy stared.

“We are like a family in a sense, though I suppose there is a deeper meaning to what we could be called. It’s the closest word Scar and I can find.” Grian shrugged passively, the smile still on his face. “It’s something we want to share with everyone, to allow everyone to connect like this. To feel closer than close to someone. People are happier like this, they sing softly sometimes, as hear they are never alone or unsure.”

Jimmy continued to stare for the longest time, then gave a raised eye brow, “Sounds very cult like Grian, not gonna lie.” he said, though his tone was light and humorous. Grian did burst out laughing all the same, the seriousness fading with both their chuckles and laughter. 

Taking a breath, Grian smiled, “Suppose it does in some ways, but it is a wonderful experience all the same. I was unsure at first, but, when Scar showed me, connected me, I wasn’t anymore.” his eyes held a fond look to them, remembering something Jimmy wasn't sure off. 

“It’s something I want to share with you, with Pearl, with everyone. To get them all to join us, to feel this bliss and happiness. Scar is the Father of Spores, he connects us all Tim, and I promise, it’s amazing.” Grian’s tone was almost pleading for Jimmy to understand.

The words sank in the air around them, Jimmy listened to how Grian spoke of this. With reverence and wanting him to understand it. “and you want me to experience this?” he asked finally, “to join with you in this... Mycelium?” 

Nodding to him, Grian reached out but didn’t touch his skin, placing his hand near the grass, as it turned purple under his hand. Jimmy looked back up into his brother’s eyes, “Tim, I want you and Pearl with me, on this side. Helping me and Scar, not against us.” there was a whining sound in his throat, “I hate we are enemies this way, I don’t want that.”

Gripping his own hand, Jimmy rubbed his thumb on his palm, he did this when he was thinking. He was gazing at the ground, thinking over Grian words. Grian continued talking, “You can bring Scott and Tango in too, I’ll help you, so will Scar.” he promised his brother, “Please Tim, join with us.” 

Biting his lower lip, Jimmy thought this over in his head. Pearl would kill him if she knew he was out here talking with Grian. He didn’t know how Scott and tango would take it. He had a choice to make, he knew Grian would let him go if he said no, even if it hurt his feelings. He wanted him to chose, wanted him to be willing. Grian still cared about him, never forcing them, he didn’t seem as mindless as people said. A creature wouldn’t care how he felt, wouldn’t give him a choice, would it..?

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he met Grian’s eyes, pleading, hoping, but there was also worry there. 

“Okay.” Jimmy said in a croaked tone, watching as his brother’s eyes widen a bit. He nodded a few times to himself, “Okay, I’ll... I’ll join you.” his tongue felt heavy, his body near shivered at the words. 

He was still scared, but... he made his choice. 

Grian’s face split into a wide and happy smile as he jumped forward and hugged Jimmy tightly. His wings wrapping around his brother. Some happy chirps were let go, as Jimmy grunted when Grian hugged him. Then he wrapped his arms back around him, careful not to touch or push against the shrooms on the shoulders. He let out chirps back as he was held tightly. If Grian was shaking, Jimmy didn’t say anything about it. 

Pulling back grinning at Jimmy widely, Grian helped him to his feet. “Come on, Scar is nearby, he’ll help you connect faster than I could.” holding his hand and leading him to the forest. 

It was as dense as Jimmy thought, sunlight barely filtered through. “We don’t particularly like sunlight, it’s uncomfortable to be in direct light.” Grian explained as they walked past glowing shrooms on the ground and over the purple ground. Jimmy letting Grian lead him along these twisting paths. The air was earthy in scent, but it wasn’t bad. 

They did come to a small opening area where Scar was, sitting on a stump like area. Honestly man looked like a fae from stories Jimmy had read. Grinning at them as he got up, “Jimmy.” he said back cheerfully, “I’m glad you’ve chosen to do this, you won’t regret it.”  Jimmy nodded faintly to that, not wanting to say much, for fear of chickening out now. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Jimmy shifted a bit looking a little scared. Scar gave a calming smile, “It won’t hurt a bit, just breath is all you have to do.” arms pulled him closer and hugged him close. The spore cloud of green around Scar was thick, and Jimmy took a slow breath.  It was... sweet smelling, earthy undertones, it makes Jimmy feel light headed. He’s held upright by Scar and Grian behind him. His mind feel slow, thoughts are hard to come by. But, the fear fades with it, he feels tired.

“Rest Tim, It’ll be okay when you wake up.” Grian tells his brother, as Jimmy hums slightly to that. 

Everything went black after that. 

There was humming, faint humming.

Singing even.

It was soft, gentle, and a choir of people singing in unison. 

Jimmy found himself singing along with them, feeling the tune in him, apart of him.

He felt... everything, it was overwhelming, maybe he was crying, but he sang ever so softly with it.

It was wonderful, amazing, and warm. Everything Grian told him, something Jimmy didn’t know he was missing until now. 

[rainbow-beanie]

OH HELL YEAH, ANOTHER HUNTER R.A.T ANIMATIC!! https://youtu.be/DhNKL50ydec?si=Vjwo-YOZ8awgi321

Hunter having been raised in a cult is definitely something that he’s inevitably gonna have to learn about in order for him to heal. Cause I’m sure there’s LOTS of things he’ll have to unlearn. Cause I’m pretty sure he didn’t even know he was in a cult in the first place, cause I’d imagine it would be pretty difficult to realize that you’re in a cult if you don’t even know what it is. Which makes me think he probably read up on it in the human realm, and thus had a really bad breakdown afterwards cause he it finally dawned on him that what he had gone through wasn’t considered normal.

[eldritch-spouse]

I need a threesome with Comie(?) and Pebble. Just I need to be knotted as I suck off honeyboi.

P. S Love you Pinnie. Thank you for your hard work 🙏

[It's "Colmei", but you got it basically. You didn't really specify, so I'm putting you in the "Admin" role. Love you too! <3 Fem reader.]

TW: Knotting; Food cum (as in, it's literal honey); Slight cultish themes.

The bug monster always intrigued you.

He wasn't made by The Clergy's Eye. Your lord didn't weave him into existence either.

That you know of, this... Man? Male. He just showed up. Installed himself in the garden. A ridiculous notion, it really reminds you of Fank-e.

You recall the initial commotion.

Krulu had been alerted to the entity's prolonged presence and effectively wanted to remove said unknown monster from his grounds. Because, after all, if he wasn't there to make some sort of exchange and be sapped at like the rest, then he was a waste of space and resources- Especially when the uncivilized monster decided to station his colony in the garden.

What stopped your lord from rightfully removing the witless intruder from his domain were the desperate plights of Patches and Nebul, both undead monsters exhibiting great fascination with the likes of Colmei, as he's come to be called. You don't even remember which of the two baptized him anymore... When push came to shove, you chose to voice an opinion, siding with your coworkers. Not to spite Krulu, never. You truly just shared their fascination with the bee man. Besides, the garden actively benefits from the actions of his well-coordinated bees, that can't be denied.

And he was left alone, begrudgingly.

"Bee man" is a misleading term. From what little of his body you've seen, he's nothing like a bee-based monster at all. If anything, you'd liken him more to a parasitic entity inhabiting the garbs of a medieval beekeeper, like a snail's shell. His sleeves are always long and down, like Nebul's. His mask is usually always in place, and although many people would wonder about the monster's ability to see, you know better. You've learned a lot in your time working here. Masks and lack of visible ocular organs means nothing. You know Colmei can see his surroundings the same way you can- And even if you didn't, Patches' extensive research on the specimen more than proves it. He can circumvent objects in his path without scent or palping, he can differentiate colors, he has depth and perception like a human's, a field of vision standard in your species. He's a little wonder, you've combed -Pun intended- through reports on him more than once.

And, although he's not officially recognized as a "garden anomaly" by anyone here, you lump information about him next to Hellion and Pebble's cases. In fact, now that you recall things, didn't Pebble form after Colmei's arrival? Probably, you'll have to check later. The two get along well enough, which already can't be said about Hellion's relationship with the bee caretaker. Then again, Hellion has a strong personality, to say the least...

Speaking of, you're sacrificing some of your free time this morning to satisfy one of Patches' requests. He needs a sample from Colmei. Saliva was easy enough to get, the monster does eat, and with those three slobbering tongues you've caught glimpses of, it was hard to miss a chance to get a swab of his drool. The problem came when Patches attempted to get a "seed sample". You've long since stopped questioning why he wants to work with reproductive fluids, and considering the stunts you've seen this dullahan pull using a variety of organic elements, you have to at least admit there's some merit to what superficially comes off as pure depravity. Even if you'd like it if he stopped obsessing over homunculi...

Patches is old, he knows what he's doing sometimes.

Point being, whenever the undead tries to get handsy with Colmei, the bug monster blatantly rejects him, buzzing angrily. He doesn't often fall for traps either. Relatively speaking, you'd assume Colmei would be very receptive to sexual attention ever since he discovered ejaculation is harmless, in much the same way Belo underwent a somewhat prolonged lustful fever the moment he was bedded by you and lord Krulu. And, effectively, Colmei spends an inordinate amount of time stimulating himself, perhaps in an effort to make up for all the times he was left frustrated and hopelessly libidinous for no reason. Although he frequently brings himself to completion, the garden inhabitant doesn't allow people to approach him sexually often. Santi was briefly allowed to stroke him through his garb, but the moment the demon attempted to get a better feel, he was quickly hissed and buzzed at.

You think the incubus is still a little sore over that. Heh.

Nevertheless, you've decided you'll get this over and done with it today. Because you're not just anybody, you're the Administrator of this establishment, and what needs to be done will get done, so help you.

It's all a matter of waiting. Colmei's going to get bothered at any moment, you know he has nothing better to do in the mornings, because his hive has adapted to The Clergy's Eye's schedule. His army of bees all remain mostly dormant within early mornings, because the garden's flowers too are dormant, meaning there's no pollen to collect. That's just how this tilted world is. Cleverly, they rest and save energy for the evenings and nights. Colmei wakes from slumber much earlier however, has to, acting as a guard for his smaller colony elements.

You've been sitting on a lonely bench (who, miraculously, isn't Sybastian) for a while now, bidding your time. Occasionally, you'll make conversation with your currently busy higher, other times you'll catch Hellion shift in his sleep atop a tree's fat branch. Generally, you don't have much trouble sitting placidly, rolling the tube-like vial in-between your gloved fingers. Some people get maddened by the waiting game, Krulu has taught you better.

Your first plan of action is simple, coaxing. If that fails, which it just might, there's no doubt in you something can be schemed. This is far from the most daunting of challenges you've taken on.

Time passes, the fog hugging your home's dark walls recedes ever so gently, some of the plant life sways and plumps, as if the building is yawning, waking itself up. The fountain comes alive, sprinkling water in all the wrong directions, as usual. Today, it sports a curious, hourglass shape, adorned with well-sculped crows seemingly flocking around it. Lord-Master would enjoy the sight of it if he was paying attention to your whereabouts right now.

From then on, it's fairly soon when you hear a more pronounced buzz coming from the sides of the establishment. Seeing as it's usually quite silent this time of day, it can only be the beekeeper. You smile knowingly, aware of what he'll most likely be doing in a little while.

Rising, measured, slow and muted footsteps carry you closer to the source of the sound. You trail the edges of your establishment, ears almost twitching with the way they're perked at every insect-like noise. When those sounds dip into a slightly familiar rhythm, strong but interspersed with breaks of abrupt silence, like gasping, your pace quickens.

Turning around the front left edge of the building, you see him there, predictably. Colmei leans against the dark brick walls of The Clergy, some fair distance away from the oversized colony structure attached to it. Monochrome robes pool messily around his hips, held there by pitch black arms that dip between full thighs and grasp a humanoid appendage with fervor.

It's a silly thing to say, but being that you've witnessed so many foreign genital configurations, it's become a novelty to find a "proper" set on monsters these days. You'd expect something as bizarre as Colmei to sport a wet and curling thing moving this way and that, but no- There it sits, humanoid balls beneath a humanoid shaft. Very odd indeed.

He's doing exactly what you predicted he would, somewhat clumsily palming and squeezing himself, grip on the base of his cock but mostly static. He may have learned to bring himself to fruition, but he's not practiced at it, perhaps that's why he spends so much time agonizing like this. Once more, you'd think masturbatory motions would come near instinctively to the parasitic entity, yet that doesn't seem to be the case. The head of his already slick cock drips something incredibly viscous to the ground, this darkened orange-ish string that, if seen from afar, could almost be mistaken for something else.

You've seen traces of it on the garden at times, spattered messily atop flowerbeds. Patches could just collect one of those and use it, but he insists they're not appropriate, have been tainted. Frankly, you think he just wants an excuse to make someone touch the garden monster.

Amused, you observe Colmei clumsily paw at himself, throbbing against nothing, chest filling out as he tries to angle his legs in a better position. He almost figures out how to cant them well, then gives up. It's as endearing as it is aggravating to watch. You think he made an odd droning cry at some point. You're getting as frustrated as he is just watching him try to find a good method. Part of you only wants to rush there and hold those meaty hands over his length properly, pump him decently, make him curl his grasp here and there, grab his full balls and slap his ass when he finally gets the gist of it. One would assume Colmei would get the hang of it by watching the drunk stragglers that stumble into the garden and beat off in their highs. Then again, usually something ends up happening to them.

Stepping into the very corner of Colmei's field of vision -Well, assuming his vision isn't totally tunneled, which it might be- You make a soft coo at the monster.

He heard it. Heard it very well. You commend his alertness even in a state distracted by arousal.

For a second, you wondered if the unknowable monster man was going to jump out of his robes, face swinging immediately in your direction and pitifully small wings spreading. It reminds you of Belo when he's upset, minus the parakeet fluffing. Whatever angry noise was beginning to rattle in his abdomen is halted when he realizes who's standing in front of him.

Garden anomalies have a primal, inherent understanding of the dynamics of The Clergy. They know who your lord is, can feel his work and his presence everywhere. They know to respect him, and they understand who his vessel is. As such, you're very often treated with less mischievous intent and never shown a wink of genuine hostility unless they're deeply aggravated by an exterior agent. Colmei isn't a garden anomaly however, which makes his similar reactions all the more interesting. He learned from the others that you're a figure to be cautiously regarded, to be mildly subservient to.

Maybe he can sense Krulu, maybe he can't- It's still hilarious that he treats you like an untouchable figure just because others are doing it.

Which is to say, your hypothesis here is that he won't deny your advances because he thinks more of you than he does the rest of the staff.

Colmei's buzzing is now muted and soft, uncertain. Incredibly enough, his static hand is still wrapped around a neglected member. Though you can clearly gouge he's extremely tense right now.

" Colmei. "

He reacts to the word, perking, knowing that's what he's called in these grounds.

" Come here. "

There's a communication barrier between you and the beekeeper, sure. But he's been learning the language ever since his stay here. He knows what those words mean, especially when you do a curt beckoning gesture. If your lord were available now, he'd facilitate the conversation, but alas. You're no baby, you'll get this done on your own.

When the beekeeper doesn't move a muscle, your first step forward is measured, the two of you watching each other like hawks in a standstill. That's definitely not the energy you're going for, so you put on a smile, glancing from his covered complexion to the treat he clutches and licking your lips. Come on...

Colmei's wings flutter, though stubbornly, he doesn't meet you.

Cautious steps turn to confident struts, unbothered by his evident turmoil. You halt right up close to Colmei, seeing the way he breathes faster, the noise of something wet shifting behind that grayed mask. Knowing he's clearly deliberating, you don't reach for the goal immediately, in fact, you just stare at him with a soft expression.

The pressure cracks him.

Colmei ultimately leans down, the bottom of his head garbs brushing barely on the crook of your neck. Whether it was done just to have contact or to somehow smell you, is irrelevant. Smiling, you gently crane your head, shifting to push cloth away, such so that the monster can see more of your neck. There's a sound by your ears, something being dislodged, pushed aside by a slimy protrusion that eagerly splays itself on bare skin, laving, relishing.

The noise you make in response is only a little bit hammed up. It does feel nice, but riling him up is more important right now. When the monster makes a strange rolling croon, soft and high, you inch closer to trail gloved fingertips on his right inner thigh, a teasing back and forth that might frustrate another male, but he seems content with it. Progress is made when the beekeeper's previously static hand jolts to life, stroking over himself more avidly than before, though still as clumsy. Another gross extremity comes to slobber on your neck, the two twining occasionally in the monster's enthusiasm. Drool is seeping into your clothes. Although your digits creep upwards just a tiny bit more with every to and fro, you bide your time.

He parts his legs further, almost imperceptibly so, and paired with his erratic wing flicking, you take it as an invitation. Colmei stiffens, in many ways, the moment you follow the curve of his balls and trace the root of him, hand venturing to join his and stroke his girth in tandem. It was sensuous, scrupulous, lazy.

But it was still too much.

The beekeeper jars, jumping away from your touch and presence in surprising speeds for such a large body. Monochrome robes are pushed down and he makes a distinctly hostile buzz much like the roar of an engine. Though, as quickly as it reverbs through the garden, Colmei appears to get a flash of self-awareness and strangles the rest of the cry into a high-pitched squeal. You raise an unamused eyebrow at him, watching incredulously when the hive guardian merely recedes into the distance, turning around the edge of the building to avoid you.

Hm.

Well that's a mission failed, for sure.

A bitter taste settles on your tongue. The defeat of sexual rejection is something you haven't had to deal with in a long time, although, Colmei's evident fear of being stimulated by another is amusing enough to wave that frustration away as you snicker to yourself. What is he doing now? Just sulking in the corner with a throbbing cock and tightened nuts? If he jerks off now and ruins your chance to get that sample, you're going to be so livid. What a pussbag.

...

Speaking of cowards...

A depraved little lightbulb dawns over your head.

You're going to lure Colmei into letting you touch him, by making him want to participate. But, for this next stunt, you need a volunteer. Not just anyone will do, criteria dictates said third element needs to have a moderately positive bond with the beekeeper.

You're not going to bother staff while they prepare for the day. Hellion is like a pest to Colmei, a nuisance in a good day. That leaves dear old Pebble.

Workable.

The fog that seems to poise over this infrastructure, shielding it, bathing the premises in properties you can't exactly comprehend, also affects plenty of the beings that inhabit this space. Naturally. The flock of gargoyles that's settled on the roof, the standard ones that is, seldom ever turns to stone in plain daylight.

You and Patches have conversed about this, it's likely due to the way the fog mutes some of the sunlight's qualities. Whatever sort of biological signals determine a gargoyle should enter "stone sleep" are filtered out. That's not to deny that there exist days where the sun is so potent it still manages to turn most into statues.

Pebble is odd. Of course he is, he's a mutant of the garden -Your sweet spawn of Krulu- But it seems he only partially turns to stone for a very brief span of time. You've caught him in states that weren't quite sleep nor consciousness, body shifting in jerky motions as he instinctively tried to stretch, looking around, but not able to move much aside from a step or two in ambiguous directions.

This half-awake half-asleep state appears to bother the gargoyle, so he's cleverly taken to nesting in spots that provide shade during the day, keeping himself mostly shielded and avoiding having his body paralyzed. In fact, you bet you won't have to search too much for him at all! Venturing to the opposite side of The Clergy's exterior, there's a flattish roof area there he tends to pick often. Although you could scale the building with your lord's arms, that likely won't be necessary.

" Pebble. " You call softly.

A few moments of silence pass.

" ... Pebble! " Comes out slightly more forcefully.

It's always a bit tricky with him. You don't want to raise your voice and make him accidentally interpret that you're angry at him. Having one monster run off is enough.

There's a sigh. " Damn it. Pebb- "

With a soft sort of click click clack of clawtips on darkened tiles, a paperbag clad head peeks out from the edge, followed by its twin.

The mutant offers you a confused, nervous glance, pinprick eye blinking tiredly before darting every which way. Yes yes, no one really likes getting woken from their beauty sleep. You understand him perfectly.

" Hi lovely. " Gentle gentle, he stares at you, still as quizzical as before. " Wanna come down here for a second? I need your help. "

The gargoyle hesitates. He always does, though you take no offense to it. That's just how he is. A good deal of time has passed ever since Pebble was welcomed into The Clergy, and the anomaly has come to trust some of the staff, you being one of them. If you didn't know better, you'd say he feels safe around you at times.

Making a brief come hither gesture, you wink cheekily at the blue mutant. " I promise it'll be fine. You can go back to sleep when I'm done. "

Another long pause settles, his arms steadying the monster on the roof. Patience is affordable today, you can't rush this plan, after all. So you merely stand there, silently and passively exerting pressure on the garden anomaly. It always works.

In a moment, robust wings stretch and flap, as if waking themselves up as well, and Pebble gets into position, leaping from the tall roof, down onto several sections, finally landing a small distance beside you with this ground-shaking-

THUNK

Yes, being made of solid, compact stone is quite perilous... Between him and the robot, you wonder which one's mass is more destructive.

Nevertheless, with the gargoyle now approachable, you calmly stroll over and smile, taking a rough blue hand onto yours. Pebble's fingers twitch a little and he makes a curious chuff, ruby eye ever trained on you. Twin tails lash behind him when you bring the stone to your lips for a chaste kiss, his breath hitches timidly.

" Thank you. " You start, softly leading the comparatively large monster back to where you were when Colmei rejected you. The longer you walk, the more antsy your friend seems to get. " I promise I don't want anything weird. "

Lord knows the dullahan and the wraith massacred poor Pebble for details when he was formed. Just as they did Hellion, though that aptly named scoundrel has always had a lot more swipe and bite in him.

As you halt, you sadly confirm that the beekeeper is nowhere to be seen. Something that won't matter in the long run, yet still manages to peeve you a tad.

" Pebble- " You turn to the gargoyle. " Do you want to fuck me? "

For all the gentleness you had been sparing him thus far, that was quite the bold invitation.

When that red pinprick turns into an even smaller little dot in the pitch black, jagged hole of his bag, it's hard to resist cackling. He was most definitely caught off-guard, hunching, letting out a breath he had been holding. Silence ensues, though he's not stepping away, so you'll assume his libido will overpower that cowardice today. There's something almost suspicious about the way he regards you. As if he can't quite bring himself to believe you've woken him from a dead sleep... Just to fuck him.

And he's right.

You have ulterior motives, but, even if he can't tell, there are virtually no downsides to it. So you might as well have just woken him for a romp, yes.

Pebble eventually makes an unintelligible garble and twiddles his thumbs, sparing you quick glances. A sort of "Are you sure I can?" if there ever was one.

Hah, cute.

Unable to hide the mirth in your smirk, you giggle and loop your arms around the monster's hard waist, observing the fascinating way an unholy union of stone and flesh mold when his chest heaves in surprise. He's gruesome and pretty all at once, the garden did exceptionally well when it created Pebble.

" Is that a 'yes' I see? " You mock, receiving shy, unsynchronized nodding from both heads. " Good, then let's not waste any time. "

You pull the gargoyle along while taking several steps backwards, until your outfit brushes against the building's wall. Although clearly interested, Pebble never usually takes much of an initiative. Not because he doesn't want to, you can see it in the way his extremities twitch and his tails impatiently sway, it's always that unknowable fear keeping him at bay, that insecurity. It's far from a turn off though, and such is seen when you slide your work dress up, hearing him chuff at the sight of your laced panties when the fabric gathers at your hips.

Poor little baby, getting bothered already.

You do like these panties, they've been a favorite pair of yours because of how transparent they are, and many of the staff members have admired them already. You don't think Pebble has though, so you drink in his witless arousal like an impeccable wine. A gloved digit unceremoniously peels your panties to the side, and you're sure he can smell the very first hints of wetness gathering on your pussylips, because he does that distinct sort of shnort that a lot of monsters do when they sense an easy hole.

Grabbing his hand once more, you first take care to bring those clawed fingers to your mouth. Sure, it's not exactly the softest sensation gliding on your tongue, but that doesn't matter. What you want to do is get him as slippery as possible to facilitate things, and rile rouse him further. It works wonderfully in your favor, the mutant huffing and making an odd sort of impatient whimper. Your motions are lazy, making sure you have some eye contact as you intentionally let yourself drool heavily on him, strings of it already coating your chin when you make a quiet moan around his digits.

Pebble showcases a rare display of assertiveness when he ever so subtly slides more of his two fingers into your mouth, and you bob to accompany him, flustering the anomaly to stillness again. You know he'd rather have something else in there. The look of mild awe that crosses his face when you release his now soaked fingers is borderline hilarious. He plays with the drool around his digits sheepishly and you only titter quietly as you lead that very same hand to the main prize.

The gargoyle grunts, more than enjoying the softness of your already mildly interested pussy against himself. Sometimes you wonder what he thinks of others, who are so much softer than him. Does he enjoy that, their comparative warmth? Is it something he wishes he could have? You bet it feels really nice for him to lean onto his partners, sink into plush, giving bodies such as yours.

With a soft pat to the back of his palm, Pebble grasps the signal that he's meant to move, though only tentatively strokes over the length of your entrance, afraid it'll bite or something. Your patience wavers, gripping him and making harsher motions, letting him know you like to get your clit rolled hard. The mutant purrs when you let out pleased sighs, dipping into soft moans. Finally, he starts moving that big hand on his own, offering as much pleasure as he can in a slightly clumsy but very eager to please way. There's another frantic growl-keen when you buck against him. Humorously, when Pebble sinks one of his fingers into you, knuckle deep, he makes a sound as if he had sunk his whole cock into your walls, shuddering and everything.

This time, your laughter is loud and hearty, startling the mutant. " No no- " You stress when it feels as if he's going to pull away. " You're doing so well, please keep going. I can take more. "

Praise, ever the fuel for the hearts of the devoted, gets him to resume, curling his finger slightly and delighting in the unflattering wet noise that follows, before squeezing a saliva-soaked twin inside as well. You fear he's going to melt, at this rate. The small stretch has you groaning and squeezing, encouraging him to plunge into your cunt to his heart's content.

" Fuck yeah, open me up for your fat cock. "

That one apparently sent him wild, because he does just that. The haze of sleep vanishes off his body instantly, and the monster curves to be closer, watching his own blue digits get swallowed by your sweet hole, coating him in slick the harder he gives it to you. It's always a treat when Pebble's brave enough to be remotely dominant, because his natural density adds a weight to his every motion that easily rocks those subjected to them. Your head leans back and you fully give into the stings of pleasure that pierce you every so often, mouth open in a satisfied expression he's likely eating up right now.

When the gargoyle's noises become frequent and louder, you have the wherewithal to glance down, seeing the growth throbbing between his legs, dripping precum along its length and almost twitching in tandem with every clench of your cunt. He's beyond needy, and in a short span of time, which is ideal. Reeling at your own filthy little ideas, you shove his hand out of your opening and pull the monster closer. It takes a little bit for Pebble to get it, but he eventually hunches enough to make up for the height difference, such so that you can grab the head of his red, knub-adorned cock and press it to your soaked pussy.

Pebble groans incomprehensibly, immediately starting to hump, gliding that hot length across you in a way that allows you to feel every slight protrusion. You cry out and grind against each other for a couple of disgraceful, horny little moments, with you mischievously tugging at the roots of his tails just to feel the gargoyle's ass flex briefly. He's adorable.

The moment the winged monster tries to angle himself differently, obviously seeking to penetrate, you lightly push him off. Don't want to ruin the best part of the plan just yet now, do you?

Pebble whines, the spare head growls.

" Oh shush. "

You don't want to do this here, in the pavement. You're sure Pebble won't give two shits about how hard the ground is, but you'd rather not ruin your outfit or scrape yourself right now. Instead, you lead him to the closest flowerbed. As much as you'd like to playfully throw Pebble onto it, he's pretty immovable in his default state, so you can only push and ineffectively try to tickle your winged lover boy until he gets the message.

Twisted, misshapen and teeth-clad flowers unroot, scattering on strange hidden limbs with startled squeaks when the gargoyle lays on his back, wings spread and member pointing upwards. You're quick to jump onto him, and even if you spare the mutant some loving moments full of pecks to his chest and belly, even allowing him to feel your tits when you begin undoing the top part of your dress, you very quickly turn around on his lower abdomen.

He gets a fantastic view of your full ass as you grind generously over his girth, teasing the two of you further. When trembling hands scheme the globes of your behind and settle on plushy hips, you let the gargoyle ground himself, rising slightly to line yourself up with him. A tongue flicks over dry lips, eyeing the not yet fattened knot at the base of his length.

You make sure every soul in this establishment hears it when you slam yourself onto Pebble's cock.

" HNN OHHN- "

It rings out just as loudly as you wanted it to, followed by Pebble's strangled garble before he audibly gulps and seems to pause from the reaction he ripped out of you. The silence around you becomes bashful, like you rattled the building and its residents to stillness. If Santi was here, he'd commend you for the pornstar moan.

You've no doubt you've roused a couple of peepers. There's a faint tingle in the back of your mind, Krulu now tangentially paying attention to what's happening. You suppose hearing his vessel cry out like a bitch in heat out of nowhere is more than a little curious.

After that little break where you watch Pebble disappear almost entirely into you, squeezing around his hardness, feeling him buck his hips softly in desperation, you smile and let yourself go, riding him to your heart's content.

Leaning forward, hands planted firmly on his legs, you use as much force as you need to make each pound downward really count. You're not afraid of being too rough, Pebble's sturdy, he can deal with the slap of your ass on his body, with the mad squeeze of your spasming pussy around those perfect bumps, stopping periodically just to grind and rip more filthy noises out of yourself.

He tries, boy does he try to do anything, but you're too much for him. Too confident, too hot, too wet and welcoming. Pebble can only whimper out nonsensical pleas, heaving and panting hard enough you can hear his paper bags crumple when his teeth accidentally catch them. He groans and drools, not that you can see the small pool of it between his tits as he watches your gorgeous form bounce, fruitlessly attempting to feed into your merciless rhythm but getting completely overpowered in seconds.

You almost wish you could see his fucked out state for yourself, the mental images accompanying each frantic little noise of his having you gasping and crying out.

" Fffuck yes, you're such a good boy for me, aren't you? " You coo in-between pants of slight effort. " You'll let me ride you anywhere, won't you, sweetheart? Anything to get your cock wet, huh? "

Pebble's responding sound is like a slurred, low moan, legs jerking and tails spasming while the dick inside you throbs so hard you thought he was going to cum for a second there. In fact, for a couple of completely lust-drunk moments, you totally forget what you're doing. Sure, you're ridding the lights out of this gargoyle, but what for anymore...?

As if fate heard said thought, a soft buzz jolts your memory.

In the very same corner he had once disappeared to, stands none other than Colmei, watching like a little voyeur. And you don't doubt he's not the only one right now, but he's the peeping Tom you were specifically looking forward to.

The beekeeper stands warily, wings moving rapidly behind his back in what must only equate to excitement, claws tugging anxiously at his own garbs, which happen to be hilariously tented where his engorged cock bulges with need, already staining those ash-colored robes into a depraved wet mess.

Although you can't tell for sure, you'd bet that mask-clad gaze is fixed on the sway of your tits and the sight of your hungry cunt swallowing Pebble without rest. You make it a point to sit up slightly so he can see better.

Good, perfect, watch and drool, little freak. This is what he declined. It could be him beneath you now, if he wasn't such a dumbass earlier. It could be him twisting and arching like Pebble on the ground, warbling for more and more and harder-

You force yourself to think clearly, halting things to a crawl.

The gargoyle's infuriated snarl dies into a miserable sob, one of his arms leaving you to punch down on the grass beside him. He makes another distressed bray, and while you understand his pain perfectly, you need to focus now.

" Quiet. Patience. " It was an order. And, admittedly, he's very obedient about it, murmuring his displeasure when you slap his thigh softly. Ouch.

Your previous hammering becomes a slow, luscious roll of the hips, gloves removed so you can feel yourself up for the peeper's viewing pleasure. He takes a small step forward, clearly wanting to approach, but still held back by something that is honestly starting to infuriate you.

" Colmei... " You moan at the next surge of pleasure.

The beekeeper shivers and seems to wake at the call. You don't miss Pebble's confused grunt at you calling out someone else's name.

In a vaguely childish gesture, you pout and make grabby hands at the darker monster, stopping to play with your breasts, rolling them together just to thrill, casting Colmei the most needful look you can muster.

His resolve visibly falters, the clear invitation having him frozen mid-step.

" Please... Comei. "

Oh, nothing can curb the Cheshire grin that spreads so eagerly on your cheeks, splitting them, when the insectoid monster caves.

He does the walk of shame over to you, as he should, arm over his blatant erection and posture like that of a bashful mutt getting caught in the trash can. Only now does Pebble, still impatiently trying to get some friction started, realize someone else is getting closer. The gargoyle lifts his heads behind you, offering a strange sort of snort-chuff at Colmei.

" Hey now. " You warn.

The two of them have gotten along on several occasions, though the mutant is clearly interpreting the beekeeper's presence as that of a challenger. As if Colmei's going to yank you off him and dash away. You suppose this can be new for them both.

" I'm not going anywhere. " You assure Pebble, tossing him a look. The gargoyle murmurs, slightly placated.

When Colmei halts in front of you, it's not too hard to get him to roll his robes up, his pretty pitch black cock bobbing in anticipation, the male's breath clipped. Before even so much as reaching for him, you offer a skeptical, challenging glance.

Are you going to be difficult now?

Colmei appears to interpret the basic gist of it well-enough, buzzing quietly and bending big legs slightly so his offering is properly reachable. If that's not a pathetic beg, then you don't know what is.

" Mmm, are you sure? "

He makes another droning noise, this one climbing to high sputtering, almost like an apology, regret. Good. In his desperation, Colmei allows his tip to poise on your lips, spreading a bead of something so sweet your eyes widen when you swipe your tongue across it. Huh. You pat the small pocket on the side of your bunched up dress, finding the small vial still secured there.

Beneath you, Pebble seems about ready to burst out crying, hips starting to buck uselessly even if he's been told to behave. Poor thing, you figure you've tortured him enough. Knowing it's going to take a bit of coordination, you reach around to find the blue monster's hands, urging him to bend slightly so he can grab your waist, moving them, letting the gargoyle know he should use you however he pleases. Immediately, he starts bouncing you quickly, little rabbit thrusts that have you rocking slightly and laughing amidst the jolts of sensation now reawakening.

Redirecting your attention to Colmei, you make sure he's watching when you lace both hands on his length, motions a lot more practiced than his, letting him know that ambiguous pawing won't get him anywhere. The beekeeper's whole body rattles in a visceral shiver, you're able to see the muscles of his legs tense and his lower abdomen tighten as he discovers a brand new world of pleasure. Hopefully, he'll learn from this. The monster coos something in a fast staccato, a lot more active than Pebble, thrusting into your grip and huffing every time you stop to circle cruelly over his tip.

With so much curiosity biting at you, it doesn't take long before you're putting soft lips against him again, trailing a stripe from the root of his dick to the head, marveling at the slightly musky taste of his skin. The beekeeper instinctually holds onto your head, making a low, shocked sort of hum the second you take him in properly- Treated to the view of you slowly sinking more of him into your mouth, a playful tongue feeling around as he gets into your throat.

Thank Krulu for his training and body modifications. You'd be a little upset if you couldn't take him all in.

Colmei rattles with pleasure the moment he's fully enveloped by the warmth of your gulping maw, twitching inside you, shuddering when his balls brush your chin. Speaking of, might as well play around while you can. One hand grabs his leg for support, the other thumbs and rolls his nuts, if only just to hear his breath hitch again. Pebble, who unbeknownst to you has been watching the entire exchange, finally starts fucking you onto him properly- Perhaps out of jealousy that his neighbor is getting twofold your attention.

It's very easy for him to lift you, most monsters find the majority of humans easy to maneuver, though being made of such hard material definitely helps. The pleasant surprise of getting hammered onto his length has you moaning gleefully around Colmei, who begins moving as well, careful enough not to let you slip off him. While the gargoyle seems to be quickly recovering that previously lost climb, making self-satisfied noises at the vocalizations he elicits from you, Colmei is only starting to get into what might be his first oral servicing, snapping angrily at the blue mutant whenever he gets rowdy enough to nearly displace you.

" Hahh... Getting close? " You call to Pebble, able to slip off Colmei's cock for a moment to catch your breath.

Strings of drool mixed with excessively viscous precum cling to your jaw, the beekeeper's too restless to stay still, rubbing his wet cock on your cheek while you wait for a response. Your stone-hard sybian nods feverishly, a guilty noise echoing.

" That's fine, sweetie, don't hold back. "

You can barely finish the sentence before Colmei's trying to angle himself into your mouth again, throwing a glare at the beekeeper. Nonetheless, Pebble understands, and he rumbles out in delight, now pounding you from below with a vengeance that has you comically bobbing and gagging onto the insectoid without much work. Between the slap of your ass on him, the wetness of your cunt getting bred and the slurp of your lips around the other's cock- You don't even know which is more obscene.

It's easy to slip into a pleasured trance, skin erupting into goosebumps as you're used and loved on by the two, hands dropping to feel your own breasts and glide down your inner thighs, rolling your clit appeasingly. There are many, many benefits to your job, the best of them of course being fulfilling Lord Krulu's will- But sometimes, you think getting to service and show love to those sworn to him is up there in terms of reward. The rush of your approaching orgasm has you mewling sweetly, clenching increasingly hard around Pebble in an attempt to keep him snug inside you, kissing all the deepest parts of your core.

Apparently, that does the trick for the gargoyle.

Because he strangles out a snarl of rapture and sinks you fully onto him, claws tightening on your skin in pure instinct, keeping you screwed onto his fattening cock as that delicious knot begins to swell to its full potential. The stretch is harsh, unforgiving and burning hot but so, so worth it just to have it crush your most sensitive spots, pressuring, throbbing. You come hard the moment a burst of thick steaming gargoyle seed paints your walls, coating you, claiming you, filling you so nicely. The weight settles on your lower abdomen and you drool on Colmei's thick cock in glee, pussy pulsing for more. Pebble purrs loudly, previously clenched claws now stroking lovingly over your sides, tails swatting as he relaxes, with his still weakly spurting shaft lodged firmly within you.

" Good boy! Good job, you did so well! " You praise him, feeling his thighs flex briefly while he murrs and croons his gratitude.

That leaves the bee collector, who you can now focus fully on, lavishing him from top to bottom like the sweetest lollipop out there. And, admittedly, he is quite sugary to the taste. There's a playful perking of your lips as you teasingly mouth around his head again, flirting with his hole, leaning away when Colmei tries to push more into you. The male grunts, then makes a sound like a dying keen, cock jumping and balls tightening.

It seems maybe he does have a thing for edging. Perhaps that's why he takes so long to bring himself to orgasm, he does it deliberately, the little pervert. And now he's loving it when someone else does it to him. Hah.

Now that Pebble's down for the count and you've had your fun, you can afford to play with Colmei like he's no more than an interesting toy. He'll twitch and beg in that ceaseless humming, but all you ever do is lick, kiss and nudge at him, occasionally dipping to take some of his length down- You make the beekeeper belive that you'll swallow him to the base anew only to pop lewdly off him not even halfway there and chuckle.

He pulses so hard you're impressed he didn't climax right then and there.

Enough is enough however, you're starting to get sore from having your knees bent for so long. In a gluttonous fit, you suck Colmei down like he's the last male on Earth, ripping a grunt-hiss of shock out of him before he grabs your head sternly and fucks into your face with enough strength to hurt your nose briefly.

The hive guardian begins cumming down your throat alarmingly quick. The resulting substance is extremely thick and hard to swallow, sticking to your throat in a way that forces you to instinctively cough and sputter globs of his own jizz back around his member. Colmei only appears to thrill further at the sight.

With a couple of sharp jerks and warning sounds, you're finally able to rip your head off the beekeeper's grasp, tasting his seed for the first time. And even though the distinct flavor of what can only be honey is quite surprising -If not ironically hilarious- You're hurriedly fishing the vial out so you can collect a fair amount of Colmei's seed. A somewhat contaminated sample, sure, but it's better than nothing.

In his post-nut bliss, the monster doesn't really care as to why you're gathering his fluids, merely buzzing pleasantly, wings erratically flicking. His last few shots drip down your neck and coat your exposed tits. The cheeky fuck has the gall to try to wipe his cock on your face, met with a cautionary pinch from your part.

It must be some kind of honey. It tastes exactly like it. Even the color is that of a rich, glazed hue. Maybe this can even be profitable!

The vial is lowered to the ground, all three of you relaxing in the relative silence of the garden under a satisfying haze. Colmei pulls his robes down and squats before you, mask set aside safely so three roving tongues can weasel across your skin, licking the side of your neck and chin, cleaning you of his own savory mess. Behind you, the gargoyle rises as well, with a slight wince from the jostling of his sensitive cock in you, a fatter and less slimy muscle laving at your shoulder and dipping between your stained tits.

You sigh happily, slumping onto Pebble and letting the two sweethearts take care of your tired figure.

Mission accomplished.

[just-antithings]

//spoilers for FRAGILE.COM from ALTER, check it out on YouTube if you enjoy psychological horror. tw for self harm (no gore but a bruise is shown), crying, and themes of grooming

just saw this comment on a horror short:

“there’s a reason paraphilias (fetishes) are considered by those in psychiatry as mental disorders/illnesses.

fortunate that I questioned all of it from a very early age.

never fall into the trap of being told something is ‘normal’, ‘okay’, or ‘healthy’, when it’s anything but. that’s just miserable, sick people trying to lead you into their cultish way of thinking and behaving.”

the short in question was about a high school girl crying on livestreams for money. it ends in her being unable to cry despite trying to because her own emotional release has morphed only into other’s pleasure.

…even ignoring that the dacryphilia plot is a metaphor for grooming, the film itself is explicitly saying that the crying wasn’t an issue until it began being for other people. if anything, the semantics of the film calls for philias being practiced in a safe and consensual environment such as roleplay, because the focus on Mara’s ratings and her self harming to cry for her clients is where the crying loses significance for her. they just completely missed the point to demonize paraphilias

.

[star--cursed]

"Your place is here, among the stars, forever."

Welcome to my little den, where I draw pictures of characters and tape them endlessly to the cave walls. My name is Osprey (They/it/he), and this is where I dump my ideas about my little warrior cats story I've been working on for a bits at a time.

Starcursed is a Warrior Cats AU mostly based around the idea of a very powerful and present form of StarClan, ancestors, and the strange culture of clan cats. The main idea is how SC's StarClan focuses very hard on control over the living, through boons and threats to the good and evil.

This AU is meant to be an (even more) dystopian + cultish version of WC, so it has all of the issues from the books and more. I don't have a good idea of all the things that will come from this au, but do expect themes such as abuse, ableism, extreme violence, and glorification of these things from characters. I tag things with tw: [content warning], so please make sure to censor those if you are to continue.

This AU mostly focuses on characters! It will most certainly be rough around the edges for a long time until I refine my storytelling ability. I mostly made this to study character and power dynamics between how the cats act, instead of trying to make a coherent book or comic out of it.

Will be adding links to masterposts here when I get to that! Currently, I'm working on designing and fleshing out arc 1 characters.

I use SC! as a prefix for most of my tags, you can search up SC!Whitestorm, for example (if I didn't change his name. I might end up doing that for a handful of characters. I will make a masterpost where I introduce each character with their canon name and my au name.)

[takalzuoom]

I have to filter out cult tags because someone reblogged this twst cult fic where they killed grim and I had nightmares about how I envisioned it for days lol

tw: mentions of murder, cults, anxiety attacks

w-

woah woah woah woah WOAH

woah. when i tell you my jaw DROPPED- i mean it.

WHAT DID GRIM DO WRONG??? LIKE NO😭 I LOVE GRIM HES MY BABY- i remember coming across this au that was basically twst but evil evil- … yeah

i’m sorry there’s a twst cvlt tags?- spelt wrong purposely

i know there’s self aware au’s (i’ve done sagau /w genshin with cultish themes) and the closet thing i’ve got to that is my neige / vil scenario but.

i’m so sorry you had to read that bubs. i saw a claymation of the simpsons getting brutally 🔪 and i still have anxiety attacks about it til this day- so i know where you’re coming from.

i hope you’re doing better now 😕 i’m really sorry you had to witness that 🖤

[griffincd]

B  R  O  K  E  N         S  O  U  L  M  A  T  E  S                                                     //  a self para

[ a collection of 6 important memories with victoire perez and her personal knowledge of knowing he’s not ‘fine’. ] 

tw: toxic relationship, early depression 

“so new kid...”

griffin said it. they’re 11 and he’s plopped down beside her on the soccer field with the sun beaming down on them. it was just after gym class, everyone was out and about running around because recess really had it’s perks. he glanced at her with curiosity as if trying to figure her out but he didn’t understand what happened during class for her to punch samantha beauchamps with such passion.  they sit there in silence and by the end of it he sits there analyzing her mangled up hand with fierce concentration on where exactly each wound was. it was the day they met.

“are you okay?”

victoire said it.  it’s a year later and they were deep into the lacrosse season but something didn’t feel right to her. hackley took their sports seriously , it often felt cultish but the minute she saw griffin something was off. the whole male lacrosse team felt this way as she thought about it, she always heard rumours of how brutal is was to be on the school theme and it never meant on the field. she always heard there were big consequences for people who didn’t abide by their rules. she notices the bags underneath his eyes as they complete the math homework underneath they’re favourite tree, even the dark humour that recently had emerged from him. she knew something was up.

“we can try.”

griffin said it. it’s graduation day for them before moving up to high school levels; she’s revealed how she felt about him and he’s revealed he’s headed back home for good. they like each other and it’s taken them three years to notice but they stood under that tree with his hands on her cheeks and hers in his hair as they tried to gain the time the lost. he feels her tears streaming down her cheeks because they’d never see one another again like they did at school. there was something so powerful about first love, how innocent you looked at the word but they were different. they were already fuelled with anger and hate for things that have happened to him. it was the start of the end.

“i love you, nathaniel.”

victoire said it.  it’s on a face time call and her doe brown eyes are filled with tears as she stared at 15 year old griffin from the screen. their relationship was most definitely complicated; they had agreed to be together on that fateful graduation day but infidelity was a reoccurring theme in their relationship. they wasn’t a video call where they spoke about how everything was going, there were always screams and yells about their past mistakes with people the other didn’t know about. it was always important they came back to the other, that the good part of their heart resides with the other. funny how they said i hate you more than i love you.

“this is the end.”

griffin said it. they’re 16, and it was the night they decided to call one another as the bask in the silence with one another. it’s late but they both know it’s coming, they’re whole relationship had been leading to this moment. the moment they realize they don’t need one another. their relationship was toxic to begin with, based on their co-dependency to constantly go back to one another but in reality they were miserable. they hadn’t felt each others presence for 3 years, they should’ve ended long time ago but they believed they were perfect for one another. the first real heart break destroys you but to them they had been destroying one another from the start. he falls asleep to the sound of her sobs.

“you’re self destructing and you know it.”

victoire said it. it was last week, she’s leaning on his car as he walked through the parking lot after a training camp session. most of his teammates have left due to him wanting to get in some drills himself and he walks up towards her with his gym bag draped on his shoulder. she walks up to him, a finger tracing the features on his face as she stares at him in concern; he eyes also glanced at his hands noticing the bandaged fingers from over working or reckless behaviours. she wants to say more but words never worked between them. for once he responds.

“i’m tired, victoire.” his voice croaked out before she held him in her arms, very well knowing he wasn’t just physically tired. 

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 8 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: Give yourself to Krulu (70.1%)

TW: Strong cultish themes; Macro/micro; Mindbreak; Squirting.

⋆✩ You've reached the end of the run ✩⋆

It's not much of a choice, is it?

If you wanted the easy way out, you could have taken it at several instances by now. Picked someone who was likely to bludgeon you, get on everyone's nerves... You're sure you could have gotten killed in many situations. And perhaps even in a less traumatic way- At the hands of a sick monster, rather than the deity dwelling in this rotpit.

But you've lived this far, survived the menaces who got their grimy hands on you. Only to choose death now? No. No, that's hardly admissible.

You're going to buck till your last dying breath here. Or at least try to.

Summoning strength you don't have, unable to meet the god-entity's eyes, it takes far too long before you can croak out a response.

" I... Offer myself to you. "

The finality of your own words hits you like a train. This is definitely not the type of being that'll let you walk back on your decision, so you've laid down the foundations for your brand new future with that statement alone.

Whatever giving yourself to Krulu implies, you have just signed up for it, and now you'll deal with whatever comes forth. It was your choice. It was the fate you wrote, at least some solace will come from that reminder.

The charred giant squints at you, long and hard. You're not sure what he hopes to gleam behind your eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, maybe there's some actual merit to that, aside from mere romanticism and poetic frivolity. Does he hope to find a lie? Deceit? You're sure there's nothing to show but fear, resignation, confusion. Defeat.

" A wise answer. "

Is it really? You'd argue dying would be saner. But you've abandoned hopes of staying sane, you are now remaining alive out of spite. A stubborn bull's desire to have its way even as a torero stabs it time and time again. And the crowd cheers, hoping you'll fall.

When all points of contact are severed between you two and an oppressive silence settles easily, there's no clue as to what your next move should be, so you stand like a statue, risking only chaste glances at their figure.

That's... That's it? It can't be.

" It seems I will have to teach you everything. " The entity spits. " Just as I did with my vessel. I expect you to come out of this apt for service. So listen well, for every time I am made to repeat myself, you will suffer. "

Something behind you knocks harshly onto your back, sending you tumbling forward on the altar, hands and knees on enchanted marble. Your entire upper body throbs with pain and you attempt to wheeze some air in and out of your lungs.

The moment an attempt to sit up is made, a rough foot keeps you down. You're well aware he's not putting half of his weight on it.

" Your first lesson is humility. " Krulu begins. " You shall know your place here, profess yourself to me properly. If you fail to do such, I see no reason to spare your ego. "

You're sure he's not talking about your dignity and pride when he says "ego".

How does one "profess themselves" to a god? What does he want you to say? You take a moment to think about Admin's mannerisms. He clearly likes the woman, and she's visibly -Perhaps manically- devoted to him, so whatever she's doing must be adequate. You suppose you ought to copy the purple-clad woman.

A rising rumble from above lets you know time is of the essence. The weight of a clawed foot increases on you, staggeringly powerful as it forces you to curve further the longer you disappoint this entity. Words force themselves out before you can think too hard and risk being compressed into a sheet of paper.

" M- My lord...? I... I belong to you. " That does not sound natural at all. In fact, it's painfully uncomfortable.

A disinterested chuff reaches your ears after a measured pause. " You sound far from appreciative. I am not convinced of your candor. "

A confused, terrified mind runs a mile a second, trying to think of anything more adequate, more appeasing.

" Allow me to help motivate you. "

Within seconds, the strength on your back is so great that it becomes oppressive, hindering your capacity to breathe further. Something creaks within you, awakening a brand new level of desperation as you fight to get the right answer out before he can smash the means to do such with.

" Please! Please my lord- I'll do anything you ask of me, I'm humbled by your mercy- " You choke, trying to get air into your lungs. " I live to serve you! It's my role. I'm yours. Please spare me! "

And, almost mercifully, the weight recedes a good deal. " Better. Albeit sub-par. "

You aim to survive.

Words cannot begin to express the relief you feel at the loss of his strength on your figure, taking a pained, desperate inhale. As if they could decide to steal your breath away at any moment now. Krulu takes several steps back on the altar, and once more, you're not too sure what to do. Is this what it's like for her? Constantly having to guess what to do in order to please this entity? Having no guides or clues, just the whispers of flames and the ticking of an impatient clock counting the seconds to failure... You can't take that. You couldn't take that for an hour, much less a lifetime.

" But that is forgivable. "

He begins, after a long moment leaving you to your thoughts, it seems.

" The most important task your mouth must perform is pleasuring, after all. "

Something bitter curls in your stomach at that declaration. You chose this. It's this or dancing six feet below the ground.

The massive entity squats upon the marbled surface, easily keeping their balance, arms shifting this way and that as they think, eyes poised on you. Although Krulu is an admittedly gnarled creature far from easy on anyone's eyes, you can't help but think that, sometimes, the light bathes his figure in a manner that's almost soothing. An elegance he has no right to hold. His home is in the shadows, you can tell, but somehow, light gravitates towards him too.

What is a being like this doing here? On Earth. Who is he? What is he? How long has he been pacing in this cage of a building, like a hidden mole? Something in you insists he shouldn't be here, and it's not just animal instinct, it's a... Warning, an idea that crawls to the forefront of your mind, as if you've always known it. He wouldn't be here if he didn't have to.

It's not pity that you feel for this immeasurably powerful being, but something like confusion. For a moment, you see a wounded animal limping on the side of the road after trying to hunt something much greater than itself. It's nature, in a way.

He must have caught that image in the reflection of your eyes, because the way his frown deepens into a scalding snarl has you instantly cowering like a leaf in the wind.

" Come. " They begin, causing your heart to leap into your throat. " Your first trial greets you. "

First trial...? Him? Before you have the chance to utter a single thing, Krulu raises a finger.

" Remember this. All you do is only ever permitted. "

Brows furrowing in an attempt to make sense of his riddle-like wording, you ultimately opt not to spend too much time standing around like an idiot and begin awkwardly closing the distance.

On the second step, something unseen and long bats itself onto the floor hard enough to make the ground shake violently. You fall onto your ass with a pained grunt, horrified and further confused.

" Must I open those ears? " He sneers, a pair of long arms crossed over his chest.

" N- No! I'm sorry- " Palms show in what you hope might placate the being. He's not stomping after you at least. That slitted stare is expectant however.

What does he want now? He said for you to approach, so what was so wrong there...?

All you do is only ever permitted.

Ah. Permission.

Doe eyes glance up. " May I walk towards you? " This sounds like a waste of time, frankly. But you have no idea how gods operate. Maybe this is standard etiquette for them.

His glare softens when you guess what to do correctly. " No. "

Uh. Okay.

" You may not. Crawl, like the worm you are. "

Sighing, you swallow the thoughts that second-guess your prior decision and lower to your hands and knees. The trek towards Krulu isn't long, but it manages to feel depressingly unflattering all the same.

You don't feel sexy or confident, just demeaned. This is not a place for confidence. It's hard to tell what his endgame here is.

" Enough. "

Cautious, your hands settle on your knees and you straighten up, awfully close to the large being's groin. Afraid even looking that way can incite their wrath, scared hues cast themselves to the candles again, trying to siphon that warmth.

The scream you let out once something grabs your whole head cuts off into a startled gasp as it's swiveled back to his likeness.

" On this altar, your eyes are to be fixed on me. "

" Y- Yes, lord. "

It seems the sooner you act accordingly, the faster he stops inducing fear on you, grip relenting.

Another standstill unfurls.

The persistent inability to know what to do next causes slight irritation to bud within you, but all he does is wave one hand dismissively, as if to tell you he's getting bored. To get on with it. You really hope that you didn't misinterpret it when he said "trial." You hope and pray you're not going to get ripped in two with these next words.

" May- " The hairs on your back stand and your voice escapes, defying your will, making you sincerely consider running from this creature. Even if it means certain death. " May I service you? " It comes out your mouth murmured, the death rattle of all dignity.

" Yess. "

With a gulp, you chance a glance at what you're working with, thanking the slight amount of illumination currently available. Like many other monsters you know of, at first glance, Krulu's pelvis appears barren of genital attributes. Though, given his size, it would be a bit hard to miss a thin seam of yellow where his slit parts slightly in this squatted position. Or is it just that he's already bothered? By you? No. No, there's no way...

So, a phallus at least. You're hoping. Who knows what the fuck could be in that pouch at this rate. But that's not the only thing you can see from this position. There's... Something moving below. With a confused squint, you tilt your head and note what appears to be two appendages parting ways like petals unfurling. More yellow reveals itself to you, two small and pointed growths curve forward. It takes you a moment to realize that you're looking at his strange, alien vulva.

Two sets. They really weren't kidding when they called this a "trial". Even when you scoot closer, the nervousness must be crawling all over your face, because he makes a comment.

" Explore. I will correct you. "

Far from reassuring. But then again, he must be incapable of such. Or just uncaring, that's more likely. What are you to him, if not the toy you agreed to be?

Well, time to be smart about things.

Time to set aside the mania in your brain telling you that you, a mere human, are going to engage sexually with a being whose oppressive totality you can't even comprehend, and focus on making things easier for you. Chances are that, taking this entity's magnificent size into account, avoiding his slit is a more intelligent choice. You don't need to be a scientist to know whatever's coming out of that will be scarily massive. Unmanageable perhaps. You're not looking forward to being literally impaled in an effort to appease a charred god.

Heading for his lower set is, by far, the safest bet.

Spreading your legs, your stature sinks further, and you can angle yourself to be mostly beneath his foreign pussy. The deity hums at your choice, adjusting their stance slightly, hips canting and arms moving to support his frame as it is ever so slightly presented to you. Behind him, a rough tail sways slowly, like the pendulum of a clock.

Given a much better look now, you realize that his labia are actually prehensile, moving every now and then. His vaginal opening doesn't seem to differ all that much from a human's in structure, at least outwardly, but what catches your attention is what must be his clitori. Two of them! That must make orgasms fun... They're large too, seeming to poke out their hood without difficulty, like thorns on a rose. For a pause, you're just observing him.

" Do you think it wise to test my patience at this moment? " He says in response to your mute awe.

" N-No! Forgive me, lord. " The fear response has kicked in more effectively, though it's not enough to drown your fascination. " ... You're beautiful. "

Krulu genuinely blinks in surprise. Subtle shock is replaced by a frown. A long finger dances under your chin, claw dragging on the fickle flesh, forcing you forward when it hooks upwards. " Pleasure, pet. Not flattery. "

Fair enough. You didn't mean to let that slip so easily.

Unsure how to go about this in a way that will please this being, whose sexual customs are vastly unknown, you figure starting timidly is smarter. Your hands lift, though the sharp glare you're given instantly make them dart to the marbled altar again.

" May-... May I use my hands? " Silence. " Please? "

" You may. "

At least that.

Tracing a slow path on the inside of this thighs, you edge upwards, marveling at the patterns engraved on the left one, scar tissue turned to infinite swirls. By the time you get to the inevitable, you begin by planting a kiss to the bottom of his entrance, trailing sloppy pecks upwards until your nose nudges against those two growths.

He looks down at you with an equally intense glare. Although where once it was filled with genuine irritation, now it's heated in a different way. No less intimidating however. A chuff is heard from above, those clits flex against the air in a motion that you find oddly erotic in spite of never having had contact with his species before.

A timid lap across the length of his opening is all you can manage to delay before focusing on those two. They look sensitive, they must be naturally, you fear too much direct stimulation can overwhelm him like it does some people. But it only takes a few experimental laps and kisses for him to "correct you". A palm drives your head harder against those buds, and he grinds on your face with a flex of long legs.

" I am not made of porcelain, lesser. "

" F- Forgive me- " Pressed against his cunt hard, all you can do is mumble the words onto it, face aflame. He seems to like the vibrations anyway.

" Take them into your mouth. "

Oh. Right, you can probably do that.

Circling one of their clits with a stubby tongue, you slip it into your warmth and, for lack of any guidance, suck on it cautiously. Krulu grunts something you can't interpret out, sighing when you pop it off your mouth to take care of the twin. With enough care, you manage to slip both in, sucking around the appendages, feeling them twitch on your tongue. It doesn't take long before he lets out a moan, this sound that seems to gently grace the walls, both high-pitched and low, as if two had reacted in unison.

It's a little hotter than it should be when he begins rolling against your mouth, almost causing you to bob. They taste of something intense, spreading an odd, nearly numbing tingle on your mouth. Something's popping in your tastebuds, bitter and sweet at different instances. It causes you to salivate excessively, drool trying its best to break down the complex substance you're coming in contact with. It's not an unpleasant flavor, so you find yourself easily suckling at him without a second thought.

The sound of faint dripping eventually breaks your focus.

You might be shamefully getting wet, but that's certainly not you. It takes a slight pause in your motions to incredulously peek down and spot his cunt clenching, empty, dripping slick in generous amounts. You hit the part of you that's drooling with a rolled up newspaper for being so impulsive. Still, when you quickly get back to servicing his clits, a stray hand coats itself in that viscous lubrication and you slip three fingers in without a hint of resistance. Then four. Honestly, you can slide your whole hand in there.

... Maybe you should?

Fuck it.

Your whole hand gets swallowed into Krulu's pussy, and while your eyes are wide in amusement, wondering if you could put your entire forearm in there, you're more focused in trying to find a spot to rub. It can't be that different from your anatomy, can it? You start palping and stroking with a purpose while slurping on him, determined to find that slightly ruggier tissue- Ah! There we are.

The higher arches, grunting, slipping more of your limb into himself with the jarring movement of his hips. It feels obscene, like you're fisting him. " Hhharder-! Harder, you hear me? "

He snarls, and like Hell you're going to risk unintentionally teasing him more. Your whole fucking palm rubs at what you think is his g-spot, feeling warm insides cling to your fingers, pulling you in with the force behind those reflexive pulses. Mesmerizing... This rolling rumble of a noise nearly shakes the walls, so you'll take it as a sign you're doing well. It's not too long before your arm is soaked by sloppy amounts of lubrication and your lips are puffed from sucking fattened clits. Krulu's sour disposition seems to be melting into a more tolerable demeanor, perhaps high on his enjoyment.

Better horny than angry, you guess.

More noises, this time from above, jolt your attention. Sensing movement, your eyes roam up to spot a sight that nearly makes you choke around the god's nubs. One hand coils over a glowing yellowed cock, shaped oddly just like the rest of him, some sections almost looking like rings. It strokes that length avidly, another hand from a different set of arms comes to rub circles around the head. He looks down at you lecherously, appearing to enjoy the show for a couple of heated moments where your gaze is locked on his and the massive being licks at their cruel grin.

When his head starts to tip upwards in the universal language of an approaching peak, Krulu drags you away from him by the neck, holding your pussy drool soaked face while the two of you catch your breath. The tingles on your tongue start to recede. The giant adjusts his position again, and this time, his massive cock faces you with a bob. Without extremities obscuring it, you can truly bask in its design, familiar, but so much better.

Your earlier point still stands however. There's absolutely no way in Heaven or Hell that cock is fitting anywhere inside you. Ever.

" Not as atrocious as I was expecting. But you are far from done, pet. "

Now curved forward, his great stature looms creepily. You don't see the nudge forward coming, nearly falling forth. Krulu makes an amused sort of titter.

" Resume. "

You almost don't want to crawl back towards him, but you know you need to tough through your own choice. He doesn't move a muscle, merely evaluating as you decide to start the same way you did with his cunt, kissing. One peck at the tip of his shaft, slicked by precum, then down the length you'll never take anywhere hopefully. It's admittedly impressive, the weight of it is such so that you require two hands to hold. And even then, you can't encompass his total girth. It's a beast of a cock, excusing the French.

Despite all odds, you try your best to do something that you think might pleasure him, struggling to jerk Krulu off. In fact, the motions are so clumsy that you believe he's purely just getting off on your pathetic attempts. Kitten licks are offered to a sensitive glans you can only suck at partially. The way those burning eyes shut just a bit further tells you he's at least taking enjoyment out of the whole thing.

It's still startling to feel something rough park at your bare pussy however. The rugged texture makes you believe it might be his tail for a second, but with the tapping of what can only be fingertips, you realize he's lowered a hand for you to sate yourself with. It rubs at your folds, spreading your own wetness and pressing knowingly over a bundle of nerves while you sigh around his girth.

" Are you daft? "

His voice isn't soothing at all. It's like... Wood bark in your ears, like branches snapping and scraping asphalt. You can only blink and gulp, befuddled.

" Fuck yourself on my fingers, you witless creature. "

That shouldn't have made your cunt clench the way it did. Though, at this point, you've stopped questioning why you're being aroused by gradually more obscene situations. In fact, enjoying this will make it a lot more bearable.

It's not too easy to multi-task, and given his impressive motor control of so many limbs, he must think your struggles are pitiful. Tentatively, you grind over his fingers, trying to slot them inside your warmth and getting struck by powerful shivers when he curls them helpfully. Thin and long, they slide into your walls with ease and reach places you've never been touched in before. Or maybe it's the way that he touches them. You have no doubt he could lift you by the cunt if he wanted to, and the bizarre thought has a quick moan making it past your lips, starting to roll into the friction with a little more gusto.

Krulu encourages you by hooking his phalange-like fingers, claws kept expertly folded. You feel your legs quaking and flexing in the wake of a god's touch, pleasure dawning upon you at a surprising rate. Although he's far from kind, far from safe, some itch in the back of your mind tells you to give in, to offer this entity your body and mind and all else they may crave of you. Because, somehow, someway, you understand that is your purpose. You understand you're looking at someone you should never defy and always, always seek to please.

He is your real God. And this is your new faith.

This sudden line of thought causes some genuine concern within you, as it's something completely out of left field. Never once have you felt so intensely about something. It must be his doing, it has to be. Ad yet, it feels right. Appropriate. Warming. You're not even aware your mouth is parted in silent bliss until Krulu appears to chuckle at your state.

" You will coat my hand in your effort to please me. And with your release, your role here is forever sealed. "

The hypnotizing finality of his statement is as striking as it is wonderfully arousing to you. Enough so that your heart cartwheels in your ribcage and your pace on his generous hand hastens. Maybe it won't even be so bad, you ponder while slicking his cock like a treat, you'd be protected, you wouldn't have to care about anything anymore. And you could get railed day and night by the monsters who lusted after you tonight, by the rest of them, the ones you can't help but fantasize about.

What would fucking the mimic be like? He deserves it for bringing you inside, for introducing you to your fate properly. And that slime, his kind has always exhibited such strange mating customs, how wild would things get? Oh, wasn't there a robot too? Your poor pussy drools as hard as your mouth does, each throbbing pulse of your walls hypnotically ebbing away your common sense. You're well aware pieces of your sanity have been chipping off like old pottery since the start of your contact with this god, but it doesn't feel as horrific as it should, it doesn't raise alarm or concern in you anymore.

Spiritualism isn't something you're very inclined to, but your mind tells you this is where you should be right now. And with that affirmation, everything seems to calmly slot into place again. Everything is as it should be.

" Y- Yes, my lord. "

Lashes flutter to a close briefly while you do your damndest to try to offer the deity more pleasure, unable to welcome him into your comparatively minuscule mouth. He grows fevered, legs shifting to feed more of himself into your grasp, likely frustrated by his mounting need, or perhaps being rough just for the sake of it. A jut of dark hips has that bright yellow length gliding on the side of your face in a debauched gesture that has you wondering if he could climax by simply grinding on your complexion. Eventually, slick, swift noises reach you, and judging by his moaning pants, you can only guess he's fingering himself to the scene.

Morbid curiosity has you peeking, the rhythmic plunging of equally dark digits into his sopping cunt confirming it. When you look back up, Krulu offers you a salacious rictus before thrusting hard, mean, just to jostle you.

" Lord- Lord Krulu- I'm doing my best, but I... I just can't fit you anywhere. I'm sorry- "

" Is it so? " The giant muses knowingly. " Well lesser, you will have to find a way to make me come somehow. Surprise me. "

Mind racing, you halt your motions on the now static hand between your legs, trying to figure something worth his time. A rotten little image finally surfaces, and you hope your filthy mind won't fail you now, of all times.

" Can... Can you please lower a bit more, Lordship? "

Krulu tilts their head subtly, elegant horns following, though your wish is granted. And so, you quickly scoot to be further beneath him, enough so that his heavy member rests on your front, from abdomen to chest and neck. The weight and warmth of it against your bare skin is a previously unknown sensation that you think you can get accustomed to, hands lifting to try to stimulate him in some manner, even pressing your breasts against him to whatever extent you can.

If he didn't think you were pitiful, he does now- Face flushed and dripping down his fingers, presenting yourself like some inanimate object to rut onto.

" Interesting... " He muses, and you can't be too sure if that's approval or an insult.

For some reason or another, the charred giant plays along, leaning forward to let himself grind against your body, each rock unavoidably powerful and gradually wetting you in his precum, a primitive marking ritual if there ever was one. Each back and forth has your face hotter than a furnace as you try, almost pointlessly, to lick at the end of him whenever it's close enough, oftentimes graced with a sloppy nudge against your cheek and mean-sounding chuckling from above.

Distantly, you wonder if this is what Admin goes through regularly. She's clearly his favorite, maybe this is a daily thing for them. It's easy to understand why her reverence of this being is so genuine and unbreakable. You can't help think that you'd be drawn here anyway, sooner or later.

Nothing matters anymore except doing as you're told, shuddering out moans and trying your best, apparently doing enough to warrant a reward as Krulu begins plunging his digits into you faster and harder than you've ever been fingered before, having tears prick at the corners of your eyes as it feels like he's fucking you himself in spite of being currently held between your breasts and arms. There's no mistaking the growls that dip into snarls low enough to rattle you, felt between every point of contact you have, rippling on your form, only speeding up your own approaching end.

Unable to squirm away from the relentless finger-fucking, it's all too soon before you're taken to the edge and near effortlessly tipped into a raging orgasm. Although it surprises you enough to let out a scream-like cry of ecstasy, you soon realize you're dealing with a god. He could probably kill you from orgasmic bliss alone if he wanted to. And you definitely feel something in your mind short-circuit, vision blurring with each pulse of a throbbing cunt around speedy, thin extremities. You're faintly aware of the fact that you just gushed onto Krulu's hand. Though neither of you are very concerned with that, you only struggle to breathe in the wake of growing overstimulation, arms now limp and body nearly falling back from how tensely it arches.

This feels like more than just an orgasm, if that's even possible.

Your lord detaches himself from your figure entirely, leaving a sweaty, goosebump-covered body to heave and sway, nipples as pert as the still twitching clit between your jelly-like legs. It's increasingly hard to focus on anything but the soft murmuring of the candles and the way light flickers off tapestry, but you register the motion of your head being yanked upwards to face Krulu while he rises to pump himself over you feverishly.

The erotic bucking of his hips into several pairs of lewdly moving hands over his own cock is hypnotizing. You can't help but watch his face keep contorting into different expressions of equally intense pleasure, until, all of a sudden, he makes a sound you can only call a roar. Loud and throaty and self-indulgent, reverberating in the very depths of your soul and rattling your skull with its volume.

The first splatter of cum on your body is jarring, eliciting a startled yelp followed by a heated groan when it's followed by more and more shots, all thick coats of Krulu's enjoyment of you. His approval of a brand new servant. Their seed all but leaves no part of you untouched, wide eyes having to shut themselves so as to not get pelted in the process. You can't help gasping and moaning like an animal at the sensation. Globs cascade down your belly and slide across your entrance. There's little else your boiled mind can do aside from merely pant and remain still like a depraved figurine covered in pearly white wax.

" Welcome to The Clergy's Eye, my present. "

Is the last thing you're able to coherently interpret before your mind starts distorting things again.

In between the following moments, could have been seconds or hours for all you'll ever know, you recall the image of a somewhat concerned and agitated green man with a pumpkin for a head looking you over. He murmured something fogged and unintelligible to your drunken self and seemed to carry you elsewhere in a hurry, much too fast for your muddled thought process and reflexes.

The glow of the elevator hurts your eyes.

The ballerina spins slowly on top of her stage, a soft, cheerful tune ringing across paint-splattered orange walls, the sound of rain softly cascading outside adding a homely element to things.

You sigh, comforted, leaning into Vinnel's gloved motions as he ties pink lace around your neck and forms a ribbon on the back. His gurgled hums fall in tune with the melody and he appears to be genuinely content. He always is when he gets to dress you up, it's become a beloved part of his routine.

" There we are, my pretty poppet! Do a spin for me! " The jester suddenly peels back, twirling in the air.

You stand in the frilled pink and white dress outfit he spent the better part of an hour perfecting, feeling gorgeous, softly painted cheeks rising and creasing the corners of your eyes when you smile for him. Grabbing the hem of your dress, you spin twice and feel warm at his exaggerated reaction.

" Uhuhuhuhu! Showstopping! Brilliant! " Vinnel titters, clapping enthusiastically before landing on the ground of his room to lightly boop you on the nose. " You're ready to head out then, missus. "

" Thank you, Vinnel. " And even though you sound perfectly innocent, when you hug him, one of your hands drifts down to palm at the heart shape on his groin, rewarded with a husky growl.

" Go on now, poppet. It's too early for games, you little slut. " He muses, stepping away to open the main door in his room so the two of you can head out.

Today, Admin requested to have breakfast with you, so you dutifully get on the elevator and head to the restaurant floor, finding the woman already seated in a pristine table, waving you over. Your feet quickly trot you over to her, sitting obediently and greeting your superior.

" Well well, look at our little model today. " She teases.

" Ah, thank you! Vinnel outdid himself. "

" Certainly. This is much more palatable than the bruises he likes to put on you usually. " You have to agree with her here, some spots of your body are still sore where he clawed at days ago.

Grimbly eventually zooms his way to the two of you with a tray containing your breakfast. A variety of pastries deposited on your side while Admin seemed to only want her coffee, always a shade of black so intense that it made it look as if she was drinking a void. The waiter wags his tail and beams at you, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek and cooing at your look before being waved away by the brunette.

" How do you feel about your stay here so far? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't appear to regret your decision. " She sips from the steaming cup.

The answer is almost automatic.

" O-Oh, it's been really nice! Everyone wants me here so much, I... I like all my coworkers, it really feels like home. " You confess, feeling a tad sheepish but standing by your words. " I can't describe how fulfilled I am nowadays. I'm happy when... Everyone's happy. It's hard to explain but I really feel like I've gained- "

" Purpose? "

You pause. Yeah. That's precisely the word. How come she's always so right? " Exactly. "

Admin nods, a tiny smile on small lips. She got whatever response she wanted out of you, it appears.

" I'm glad we see things similarly. " Her eyes unfocus, following the swirl of her bottomless coffee cup as if it calls to her sweetly. " It's... Nice, having a human acquaintance here. " It's said with a hint of shock, as if the revelation surprised even her.

You can't help but preen under the praise, offering the woman one of your palmiers. She declines politely, and it's when you return to staring at your plates that you finally see the little note attached to one of them.

Good morning, love. I'll see you soon, hopefully.

A small series of scribbled hearts circle the message, you know exactly who it's from.

" Santi. "

There's a hum from the brunette in front of you. " Mhm, he paid for those. "

" Aw... That's really sweet of him. " Truly, he's always been a sweetheart, since the very start of all this, however long ago that was. Time is barely a concern for you anymore.

" Sometimes he still gloats about being the first you chose, you know? " She grins for a short second. " I think you inflated his ego forever. "

The knowledge makes you actually burst out laughing for a few hearty second where the sound echoes off the vastly empty restaurant. That's adorable, honestly.

" Oh , he might just become my favorite if he keeps buying me treats like this. " A joke you know, had you said it to the rest of them, an argument would instantly break out.

" Why shouldn't he treat you a little today? " Admin's brow rises, head tilted in that way that almost reminds you of Krulu, when he's more comfortable. Still, she knows something you don't, causing you to blink and sit there like a dumbfounded donkey.

" ... You haven't put it together yet, have you? "

No. No, you haven't.

The chestnut-eyed woman crosses her legs and snickers quietly. A couple of seconds pass where she expects you to make a sudden discovery, but the eureka moment isn't coming any time soon.

Finally, she takes mercy on you with a shake of the head. " It's been a year since you were gifted to us. "

...

A year. Has it been that long already? It felt like a miserable few months, if that much. Everything is just so fast here, it really does feel like yesterday when you were screaming at Hellion and Pebble in the garden.

Has it really been that long since you left everything behind?

Strangely enough, bits and pieces of your life before becoming a part of The Clergy are becoming harder to recall in clear detail, faces blur and places become nameless. You don't know what you used to do for a living, or what your routine is. Where did you even live? It doesn't sound important anymore. It isn't.

You're exactly where you should be.

Suddenly, the seat you're currently on ripples and shifts bizarrely, a vibrating purr-like noise spreading across your legs as the chair appears to grow a discolored grayish set of shackled arms and grasps your stocking-clad thighs with them, something wet and slimy brushes against your ankles. The mimic relishes your startled yelp and only holds onto you harder, tittering at having fooled you efficiently. That goofy bastard.

" Hm, they're going to be all over you today... " She sighs like a disappointed babysitter.

" Get ready. "

[eldritch-spouse]

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/721950406399377408/as-admin-i-would-constantly-tell-all-the-staff?source=share

Gallon can take Admin you say? 😏

Pinnie we need something in writing about that, I crave dicking down Gallon. Idc if it's with Krulus cock or my own plastic one but slime boy needs to bend over for me now

[HELL YEAH. This appeals specifically to me. Fem reader with male monster body modifications.]

TW: Exhibitionism; Body modifications (inhuman cock); Weird slime sex; Cultish themes; Spitting.

You're so excited you can't even wait.

It's definitely childish of you to be doing so, but you can't help show every one of your coworkers the gift your ever generous Lord bestowed upon you today. Flashing, technically.

You're painfully hard. Or is it Krulu? You both are, you suppose. And how could you not be? Getting to use your lord's own beautiful length on your staff to pleasure him is nothing if not one of the most sublime delights you could ever think of. It's a very strange sensation nonetheless, you have to admit. Strange but good.

While some of them gawked and asked endless questions, others were happy to put a hand around the newfound girth- And, instead of fulfilling your duties as Administrator, you've been fooling around like this all day.

Rouletting through the remaining workers you have yet to approach, you settle on none other than Gallon, the bartender.

A slime... It must be fun to penetrate a slime, no? After all, they're so malleable. So squishy, so stretchy- Hah. You probably wouldn't even have to prep him. Doesn't that sound nice?

He sees you coming from a distance away.

That's something you've always liked about Gallon, he's got the eye of a hawk, never missing who comes in and out of this floor. He's like a localized surveillance system, and many were the times where that came in very handy. Nonetheless, he sees you, registers the wicked little smile on your face, then pauses and tilts his head. Already, the slime knows something's going to take place.

In your defense, you don't immediately scurry over and put it in his face. As much as you wanted to. No, you sat politely on the closest bar stool and kept yourself in check. Some patrons spare you curious eyes from a distance away, some of them know who you are already, the others will know better if they try anything.

" Admin, always a pleasure. " Gallon starts smoothly. " Should I get a black widow ready for you? "

" Yes, please. "

He watches you out of the corner of his eye as he works, and in turn, you observe him too.

Although Gallon's back is turned towards you, his body isn't currently very defined. Below the netting of slime that flows from his head to his back -Something you have started to think of as hair, vaguely- Is an unnaturally pinched waist, and although you can see the the spot where his legs meet, there's not much of a convenient ass there. Granted, he doesn't need to have one, Gallon is a very practical slime in that sense, he adopts whatever shape is more useful to him, and that's that on that. He appears to mold body parts according to necessity. You can work with that.

By the time your gaze drifts away, not in shame, a martini glass has already been slid your way neatly across the counter. The bartender gives you a sly grin, decidedly having caught you scheming him. His tendrils curl on the air, that to and fro denoting great curiosity. Poor Gallon and his endless search for amusement. He just might be entertained today.

A gloved hand circles the spotless glass, raising it to your lips for a chaste taste. " Thank you, impeccable as usual. "

" Ever the flatterer. " A tendril waves almost dismissively. Yet, for as much as he seems to enjoy keeping a mildly distant posture, he can't resist his own morbid curiosity today, settling not too far away from you, searching for words carefully.

" Say, I can't help but notice how... Busy, you have been today. "

He failed to get anywhere, and the two of you notice. Fortunately, you're in a jolly mood today, a forgiving one.

" When am I not busy, Gallon? " Another sip.

" Fair. " The monster tilts his head, a sort of 'moving on' gesture from long tendrils. " But I couldn't help notice there's a certain pep to your step, a lilt, you know? "

" Oh? " You're almost halfway through the drink.

" Yes, not to mention some of the others made a few comments and I just found them peculiar, you know? "

Word travels fast in this establishment, very fast.

" Hm. And what did they say? "

The bartender pauses. Again, searching for those magic words.

" Well, rumor has it you were given a present today. "

" That I was. " Your gloves are removed from your arms and folded on the balcony as you play with the blackberry skewer decorating your drink.

" And you've been putting that gift to use very vigorously thus far. "

A small smirk. " You could say that. "

Gallon grows a visibly a little frustrated. It's always fun to run circles around the slime. So subtle, he judges himself, employing the oldest tactics in the books. Leading questions, intense pauses and vaguely coaxing remarks aren't enough to trick you.

He realizes this, and changes his strategy.

" Far be it of me to misinterpret, cherry- " The bartender begins, holding the same glass to your lips as he steals a glance at your crossed legs on the stool. He doesn't force you to drink more than you take. " But I think you might want to show me that present too? "

Showing is the tamest thing you're going to do to him. Fact of the matter is you're only taking this slowly because you're not too sure how to fuck Gallon. You've played your games with him, yes, but you'll admit you were more focused on his tendrils and manhood than you were his hole- You almost judged him not to have one. And maybe he doesn't? It's hard to tell.

You'll get that answer soon enough.

" Presumptuous. "

" I tend to be, at times. "

" But correct. " And with that, you peel back slightly, offering the slime an unobstructed view as you pull your work dress up.

Between netted stockings and not a trace of underwear lies your bare cunt, but most importantly, a throbbing yellowed girth coming from a summoned slit on your pelvis rests on your thigh, warming it. Bigger than what any human should have, and certainly intimidating. A carbon copy of Lord Krulu's rod if there ever was one.

Gallon stares openly, blinking several times. You can't read his expression anymore. He had clearly seen the outline of your borrowed cock in your purple attire, though perhaps he didn't expect it to be this... Special.

You part your legs, the thing standing at attention, almost pointing towards him. You could honestly get used to this adornment. If nothing else, it's been funny so far. Finally, the monster's eye snaps to your face, and you give him this sort of questioning look, expectant.

" My my... " Is all he has to say.

" I take it you're interested in seeing it up close? " Just like the rest of them. All of them will by the time you're done, all.

You are in very generous moods.

The higher chimes, in the back of your mind. Lord Krulu can't blame you now, can he?

I suppose not, lamb.

" I wouldn't mind it... "

" O- Oh my dear, no- No foreplay this time? "

The bartender stammers as you push his vaguely amorphous mass to lie chest down on the balcony. You snicker.

" No. " It's a calm explanation. " Besides, I always did wonder what taking a slime out of the blue might feel like. "

Will there be a difference? Will he resist instinctively? Or will it be just as inviting? His texture, his density... Time to find out.

Most of the clientele has realized what's about to happen, and they appropriately scatter to different portions of the floor, though some always keep their eyes on the two of you. Voyeurs have long since stopped being noteworthy in your mind.

Humming, your dress lifts further so you can drag your lord's cock against Gallon's lower back. It's a moderately cool sensation, his mass sticking to you slightly in sloppy strands, as if clinging willingly to you. Gallon shudders, which is to say his entire form visibly ripples, enjoying being grinded against so suddenly. For as much as it might be interesting to just... Shove into him, any part of Gallon really, you think something more convenient might be easier, approachable.

" Gallon? " You call, leaning down to thread your fingers through his webbing of hair, kneading across it firmly, into what becomes his neck.

The monster starts molding slightly onto the balcony, growing heated by the attention. " ... Yes, Lady Admin? "

" Do slimes have assholes? " To the point. Blunt. Barbed even.

You know many of them have mouths. And all of them have genitals. Evidenced when you reach beneath the two of you, occasionally slipping your fingers into the mass of his side, and find his slit. Something more solid, more defined, warmer- But no less flexible.

Sparing neither mercy nor care, you slip three fingers into that entrance, stretching it deliberately, hearing a decidedly airy and pitiful mewl coming from the monster before you, his tendrils slapping on the front of the counter before latching onto the stool you previously sat on, grounding himself.

His cock snakes out eagerly, slapping against the first thing it finds, playing on your fingers, stroking them, asking oh so sweetly to be touched. It would be exceptionally cruel of you to deny him. You grab that slimy length by the root and twist slightly as you tug down, pumping the male until he starts twitching in your grasp.

" O- Ohn yes, that's good... " He trails off, tone ever smooth, but quieter, meeker. The prong on top of his head droops, almost absorbed back into his core form.

You smirk, hand on the netting of his back pulling, half-successfully turning his head to the side, enough that you can plant a loving kiss on the corner of his toothy grin while you pump him.

" Mhm, it is, isn't it? " The curl of your fist around his cock turns into a warning squeeze. " Now answer my question. "

The slime has to blink for a couple of moments, rewinding in his brain. " Ah- Not quite. "

Disappointment.

" But I can make something more uhm- Welcoming to you? "

That piques your interest, dick twitching. " Oh please, surprise us. "

And he does. Boy, does he.

Beneath you, Gallon's form starts swelling. He takes a moment to pause and think how to rearrange the extra mass, then begins forming, from his chest down, a much more humanoid figure. A sloped and pinched waist becomes straighter, more filled out, a proper ass bubbling from his back, leading to juicy thighs, though he seems to lose focus beneath the knees, deforming slightly.

Good enough, more than good enough. You totally forgot he could do something like this.

" Does this suffice, cherry? " Gallon looks back, observing his own work before waiting for your reaction.

" It's more than enough, you clever mouse. " The praise makes him perk up, smirking.

Letting go of his girth and webbing, you handle the bartender's ass with some mirth, watching the very malleable "flesh" mold and jiggle as you toy with it.

For a moment, you actually get distracted with making his behind bounce, slapping around slightly. Gallon shakes his head, either embarrassed or incredulous, you don't quite care.

Eventually, you properly spread his ass, searching, palping, until- There. Not quite the same feel of that specific ring of muscle, but something almost like it, less gripping, less resistant. You'll give him kudos for creativity.

A finger wedges in there, and apart from a quiet gasp, Gallon invites you by pushing his rump back onto you. Looking from him to your mildly slicked cock, you figure there's no need delaying the main dish.

" You know, you might just be the one who'll take my lord's gift the easiest. " You quip, lining up with the newly-formed hole.

" Hah! " Gallon nearly wheezes. " Don't let our resident hell-fiend hear you saying that. "

" Never. "

And, with that little jest, you grab onto Gallon's hips, tugging him brutally onto your cock.

As expected, there was hardly any resistance, you hilted him on the first thrust! Gallon doesn't exactly scream of pleasure, but he does tense like a coiled spring, eye wide and grip rattling the stool. You feel him grip around your cock. It's not the same helpless squeeze of someone's inner walls, not as intensely warm, not as real- But it's nice and slick and he made himself slightly more textured for your enjoyment- It feels as if he's making a conscious effort to hug around you, to pleasure you.

Moaning, it's your turn to grab onto him for stability, delighting in the very new sensation. Everything about using a phallus is foreign and novel, especially your Lord-Master's, but this is a brand different take on it too.

One you like.

Sighing contentedly, melting, all but nearly purring, you kick-start a decent rhythm. Not necessarily out of consideration for Gallon's non-existent hole, mostly to get used to it yourself.

" You are- Rather big. " The bartender muses while you bask in the sensation of being deliberately massaged from inside him. What a neat trick, you ought to reward the slime.

Pulsing inside him, you rock into those motions and snicker. " You've seen our Lord, it would be an insult to him otherwise. "

Your hand is back around his squirming cock.

" Nh- Noted. "

Pounding Gallon is easy, easier than it should be, he gropes and strokes and squeezes at your length- You'd say he moved his tongue there if it weren't currently lolling off the side of his mouth, limply decorating a flat-toothed smile.

" Lords, that's fucking perfect- " Shuddered praise falls upon him when you bend to cage him against the counter further. As if your smaller form would be capable of such.

Not that it matters, big as they may be, none of them dare lift a finger against your will.

The slime's attentions only ever falter when your ministrations intensify, giving way to lapses where he focuses more on thrusting and coiling against your hand, coating it in pre. Eventually, he starts looking more like a wax candle than a person, melting steadily on the floor and wooden surface, these soft little plop plop plops of his own form cascading to the ground with each of your greedy pistons, only to be reabsorbed later.

The spots of his form dance, his entire mass moves as if in a fever, even his temperature picks up, and he pants alongside you in this disgusting little public tryst. You giggle airily, dipping to place a sweet kiss on his neck and shoulder, lapping the remnants of him that stick to your lips in a refusal to let go.

Your tongue gathers them all in your mouth, and combined with some saliva, they're grossly spat out onto his back. Gallon yelps, and as much as he's known to be a bit of a germaphobe at times, there's an insurmountable wave of mirth from both you and Krulu as the nasty present is rapidly absorbed.

He tasted that, no doubt. Now it's a part of him. Your own tiny mark.

" Needy whore, aren't you? " You quip, the hand that's not around his girth slipping inside his body, collecting pieces of himself to bizarrely pump your own cock with. It's like... You have no idea how to describe it, but it's very messy and gloriously sensual.

When the two of you start climbing steadily towards a plateau, Gallon's carefully constructed body starts faltering here and there as he forgets to maintain certain shapes in his restless arousal. Strings and strands mold together, forming braids of viscous yellow material that attach onto your hips, spread across your ass like spidery fingers and form a mesh there- Trying to trap you inside him.

This must be some of the strangest sex you've ever had...

It apparently sends him wild, a cacophony of wanton cries falling from his parted mouth, eye rolling and face falling, the stool now being looped over several times. He's going to break that no doubt.

Courtesy of only recently having your borrowed cock, your endurance isn't exactly... Spectacular. Which means you're dangerously close to orgasm. Too close. And you have no intention of slowing down. After all, there's still a lot to do and more people to take a turn on, you might come back to the bartender if you feel like it. But right now, you need to come inside him.

Hips stuttering, legs flexing, your eyes flutter and you moan freely as your orgasm crashes upon you a little too suddenly, forcing you to feverishly hump Gallon, with almost enough force to drive your actual body into his molding mass. You lose yourself in him, near literally, skin becoming one with spotted slime as your Lord's cock throbs hard and wanton in your worker's makeshift hole.

Ropes after ropes of hot cum bathe him from the inside out. More than any man would ejaculate, more than most monsters can offer, you fill him like a bucket and join your Master in the collective euphoria, his pleased growling warming your entire form like a blanket of velveteen praise. You're doing well, very well, pleasing him deliciously.

The notion alone makes poppers go off in your brain, heightening an already powerful climax. And, although your hand had gone static around Gallon's length for a while now, you feel something wet and gross coat your fingers as well, the monster still making broken cries by the time you click back to reality.

Curiously, you take in a most interesting sight.

Gallon has turned... Several shades lighter. He looks almost pallid.

Is that- Oh. The realization that you've quite literally drowned one of your workers in your higher's seed is utterly rotten in the most tantalizing way, sparking a few last pulses of arousal before you can finally relax a little.

You'd lick him just to see if he tastes like Krulu, but slimes never really taste good no matter what you do to them- Something Morell would disagree on, for sure, but you have your convictions about the matter.

" Oho- " You giggle, fetching Gallon's head even as it melts slightly into your grasp when he leans onto the tender contact. " I gave you a little makeover, hm? "

It takes a moment before the bartender understands what you're saying, taking a more thoughtful look at himself and blinking at the washed out, creamy coloration he's acquired.

" Ah- I- That has never happened to me before... " The slime marvels, even his spent dick is now a buttermilk sort of yellow.

When you pull out of him, gentle even if it's not necessarily required, you get treated to a view of Gallon trembling and leaking excess seed from several parts of his body, a small puddle of cum gathering on the floor.

" A- Ahh ff- Gods. " He exhales, rendered a total mess.

Smirking, and more than a little heated by the display, you grab a random towel of his to clean your junk, mildly dabbing at your legs in the process before pulling your work dress back down. You haven't exactly flagged, it'd be hard to after seeing your cum gratuitously seep off your whorish staff member like that.

" Thanks for the black widow, Gallon, you didn't have to. " You joke, ready to leave him there, still half-melted like a candle of cum.

The bartender flicks his prong off his face. " It was... My pleasure. "

[eldritch-spouse]

Giving Mother Miara a titjob while you're lactating...

I shall return with more profound wisdom soon

[Hhhhhh anon, your brain is so wrinkly and pretty. Fem reader.]

TW: Unrealistic lactation (no pregnancy); Cultish/religious themes; Mild exhibitionism.

It was all new.

This entire dynamic. This world you had been thrust into. From leading such an ordinary way of life to becoming an actual goddess'... What did he call you again?

Chosen? Yes, Jonesy says that word a lot. You're Miara's chosen. Chosen something. You're not too sure what you are to her yet, which should be more worrying than it is honestly. Even more worrying is the way your memory seems to fail you when you try to recall certain aspects of your life before... All this, really. She's always there to tell you it doesn't matter, that you're overthinking what's natural.

You're her charm, and that's all there is to it.

See, your current place of residence is, for lack of a better word, an island. Fairly secluded, Miara raised it herself. This is, as far as you can tell, her home here on Earth. And it looks nothing short of a fairytale, you'll have to admit. It's always mildly sunny. That type of morning warmth you can feel on your skin when you step outside to catch some air before getting ready for the day. Harmless, elegant greenery sprouts everywhere, though neatly enough to never touch paved paths and only ever coil cozily over rudimentary infrastructures. Wildlife is scarce for now, but Mother says that is something to dwell on later. That's fine, you don't mind the silence, it's comforting for once, you feel coddled here, safe, wanted.

The residents, apart from yourself and the Lady, are almost entirely comprised of angels who come and go. Celestials of the three casts as she has told you before, workers, warriors and worshipers. One such worshiper, the one you'd consider to be Miara's right hand -More of a shoulder parrot really- is Jonesy, a somewhat insufferable stickler of a throne that's often in charge of ensuring you're "properly taken care of" in Mother's absence. You're very glad he's occupied right now.

In fact- You rise from your squat over the petunias, glancing up to check if he remains where he was. Yep, still a far distance away, you can vaguely trace the angel's figure, playing a harp for a group of lower-rank angels and one or two monsters, rare sights around here. Satisfied, you resume perching over the plants.

Having been stripped of addictive commodities, such as your phone for example, you don't have too much to busy yourself with nowadays. Miara oftentimes will refuse your requests to work with the low-rank angels who usually do maintenance around the island, insisting you remain well-rested and find graceful hobbies. Problem is, you like working, you enjoy getting your hands dirty every now and then. And, with enough pestering as well as some choice words, you've gained the ability to work on the Lady's main garden, the one surrounding an altar made mostly of marble. You're no grade-A gardener, and some guardians definitely seemed to pale a bit once they witnessed you work, but you know this is a skill you can master if you put your mind to it!

And really, with nothing better to do these days, that's mostly what your mind is on anyway.

Alright. You think you've trimmed more than enough right now. Plus, your back is starting to hurt. Groaning, you set down the shears and stretch onto the very tip of your toes, arms to the sky as your spine pops pleasantly.

It wouldn't be so tiring to hunch if your breasts weren't always so full.

You still remember how light they felt on your first few weeks here, how normal they were. You're not even too sure what compelled you to accept when Miara suggested you begin lactating. Maybe it was her reassuring tone, or the way she described the many uses it could have, it could have just been the way she almost huffed luridly when describing how safe the procedure would be, how you'd always be tended to.

You know this is a thing for Miara.

Siadar, the former gods of humanity, do have kinks. You'd say you're surprised, but if humans are creations made ever so vaguely in their image, then it only makes sense. Sins of the father, or so they say. There's more nuance to this, you know you can pick it apart further, but you'd rather not go mad any time soon. It's imperative your frail mortal mind stay untouched right now, or rather, minimally unmolested- Because you're well aware you've already suffered changes. Nonetheless, the Lady decidedly enjoys the sight of your chest swollen with milk. You're very sure this isn't the standard rhythmn of milk production for a pregnant woman, but then again, you've never been pregnant before- And you've never induced this process for the sake of it... Still, you don't want to believe this is what moms have to endure. It feels like it's too much.

Feels like she wants it to be too much.

You remember having asked the goddess about it once. You were peeved at her, for a multitude of reasons, but mainly the recurring one, that you're not allowed to leave the island. Jonesy was helping you drain your breasts, something that was initially very humiliating for you but eventually became trivial. The irritation and desire to lash out manifested in a very petty question- Why don't you have tits, you remember snarking bitterly.

Jonesy immediately gave you a terrifying glare, but Miara sat next to you as calm and jubilant as she's always been. Laughed even, as if your question was so frivolous that it shouldn't be dignified with any offense. In retrospect, she might get that question a lot from humans.

Breasts are for lessers, she simply said, and the subject was left at that. Who are you to question a goddess... But then, does that mean none of them have breasts? You find that a bit improbable. It can just be a matter of pref-

" Haven't you worked enough? "

ACK-!

Humans aren't capable of flight, but you sure jumped a good distance in the air. Ow. The ensuing bounce of your boobs is thoroughly unpleasant.

Miara stands beside you, height dramatically decreased. She still towers above all others in this form, but less jarringly so. You could even take her for a particularly tall monster. It always bothers you how she can just appear. No warning, no sound, one blink and she is physically present. Unnerving.

" M-Mother... "

The siadar observes your work, something about her gaze is superficial, dismissive almost. Her arms are crossed in front of her robes and she looks placid enough to be mistaken for a classic painting.

" I think you have, charm. "

You're not even sure what she's talking about. " Well I- I like to keep busy, y'know? " She does.

The goddess finally deems it time to glance at you, once warm eyes becoming very intense. You don't like it, you hate the burning pressure of those golden colors, how the radiating shapes around her irises swirl with focus- It's as if you're getting sucked into a blinding heat and it's dissolving you inside out, demanding your full regard, your everything.

Horrific.

" You require draining. " She comments after a bit.

Looking down, you note the small yet nonetheless present stains of milk on your gown. You hadn't even felt it, you could have sworn it was dry seconds ago. Your arms raise to cover the mess, defensive maybe, or just ashamed of being in this state in front of a being like her. The goddess frowns, it's an alien expression for her perfect face.

" Did Joakeel not- "

" I told him I didn't need to. "

It was the truth.

You don't want strangers touching your body at her behest. It makes you feel... Dehumanized. You already allow Jonesy to do far too much for you, and with this permissiveness comes the feeling of uselessness, the biting lack of autonomy, and a sense of loss. Loss of skill perhaps. What if you stop being able to take care of yourself because you're used to having everything be done for you at the drop of a hat?! You need moments of insignificant defiance, if only just to feel like a tenth of a normal person. It's already concerning that you feel bad when Miara is away. This strange sentiment of... Longing. You miss her. You miss her warmth and her voice and you feel like a puppy wagging its tail as soon as she comes back. When the Lady is away, you find yourself falling into foul moods, and it's possible that you've been taking it out on the poor throne lately.

He doesn't deserve your attitude, he's just doing what he's told to, he doesn't know better. You're not going to fuck him over further and claim the angel simply didn't show up to drain your breasts at the exact same time he does everyday. Not that she'd buy it anyway.

Silence rules all for a couple of seconds, even the petunias appear to stop swaying softly in the wind. It's hard to read her face, until she cracks that same old smile.

" I see, you would rather I do it... That pleases me. "

That wasn't... Well, it's not a baseless assumption, but.

" I- N-No, my Lady- " You're not sure how to de-escalate the awkwardness that just rose from the dead.

The creator tuts. " Lying doesn't suit you. " For some reason, even if you know damn well that wasn't the point you were trying to make, you still feel bad for disappointing her. " Besides, I just cannot let you roam freely in that miserable state, dear. "

" It- It's fine, I can- "

" It tempts me. "

The thoughts in your mind evaporate, the first instinct is to look down from Miara's face. Your eyes bulge, but not nearly as much as her robes.

Oh.

O-Oh.

This isn't exactly entirely new to you. There have been a handful of tense, sensual episodes between yourself and the goddess- She's touched you before, made you feel heights of ecstasy that rendered you dysfunctional for entire days, and you've seen her bare as well. Had the privilege to place your hands upon a body never meant to be yours to know. You've brought an entity older than you can guess to orgasm.

And it was nothing short of gorgeous.

But it's never gone further than that. Miara never made attempts to sheathe herself in you, even if it was the only thing going through your mind when she had you ride her hand like a feral creature. You're not sure whether to be glad or frustrated- Because every interaction that's mildly sexual between you two is forever marked by that ever elusive "what if...?". What if it'll go further today? What if she decides now is the occasion to go all the way? What will happen to your mind when your brain is flooded by an avalanche of pleasure it can't hope to ever process?

You're distracted again by the twitch of her cock beneath the pink fabric of her outfit.

" I'm... Sorry? " Lame. Lamest thing you could have said, but you're getting sweaty and you can't bare to look at her face, not after you've been caught gawking.

" Do something for me, my chosen. "

Oh fuck, come on, did she have to use that tone?

" ... Yes? " Your face heats up.

" Oh come closer, when have I sought to hurt you? "

Perhaps not physically, but you've gone through a myriad of emotions in her care. It's oftentimes hard to tell if you're truly happy here or just repressing distaste. Eitherway, you do as she says, fiddling with handfuls of your light white gown in suspense. Miara's hands, more akin to paws given how warm and big they are compared to you, fall onto your hair. She strokes strands away lovingly, sliding some behind your ears and humming at the sight of you.

You can tell she's happy, because Miara's joy always spreads to the world around her, colors become more vibrant, the sun shines brighter, and there's always that signature warmth as if you're being held from all sides. It makes you want to keep her happy, do anything in your power to please. Is this what angels feel?

" My lovely, stunning little charm. " She purrs. " Take your gown off. "

There's nothing beneath it. You both know this. In your moment of hesitation, you stretch once more to look beyond Miara, in the direction where you had last spotted Jonesy, and- He's still there. However, you're fairly certain he's observing you two, the crowd previously hearing his performance now absorbed with what appears to be light conversation. That unwavering eyeball sees all, fixed on you and the creator.

Your chin is guided back to Mother with a harmless claw. " I am here. "

" Forgive me, it's just- "

" Observation doesn't mean judgement, dear. " She cautions, as if reading your mind. " Now, bare yourself. "

And you do, with no real attempt at being seductive. Part of you wants to check if the throne is still watching, but you've already been warned once. So, all you do is step out of the cloth pooling around your feet, somewhat put off by the way you're still leaking, slowly. Gross.

The goddess seems to think differently of the sight however, an audible sort of swoon leaving her. When you dare meet her hues again, she's lifting her robes, heavy garbs dragging on an impressive length that pops free much too close to your person. She's... Well, perhaps massive is a bit of grotesque adjective, but you have no other way to describe it. Miara is hung, -Which you suppose is fitting for someone as connected to fertility as she is- And pretty, and every single time you glance at that girth you can feel yourself biting your own lip with a fervor, salivating. But also eerily humanoid.

You're willing to bet that's a modification she applied to her own genitals, though it boggles you why Mother would want a phallus like that of a human's. Is that not... Inferior, by siadar standards?

" Am I really that much of a conundrum to you? "

Ah, caught again. You must be really easy to read for her. " Well, a bit. " You figure honesty can't hurt that much.

The siadar nods. " Dwelling on it will do you no good. You're not here to unveil mysteries, my sweetest dove. "

It's hard to care about the nature of her words when she makes you feel so wanted. Maybe being wanted by a goddess is more important than anything else human society has told you should be prioritized. Maybe your core values are nothing but rubbish that this holy entity will now replace, correct.

Maybe you have to stop thinking so much.

So, when a pale finger curls invitingly, you get even closer to the huge being, coming almost face to face with the pallid thing standing at attention this whole time. Oh, she definitely calculated her height for this. No doubt.

Your tits are held up, and before you can ask what's happening, her cock slides between them, tip parked right at your chin. The position is lurid enough to have you stunned in silence, allowing Miara a couple of quick, experimental rocks. She squeezes your breasts greedily and you moan, pain turning to mild relief, milk drooling between you and onto her twitching length.

This shouldn't be as hot as it is.

" Hold still for me. " Miara murmurs.

Flustered beyond measure, all you can do is nod and stand slightly on your toes to accommodate the goddess' grasp of your oversensitive breasts. At the very least, she's always considerate with you, starting slowly. With each grind of that oddly hot girth, the Lady rolls your tits generously, draining them at the same time that she squeezes herself. The sensation of her dragging against your skin sends shivers to all the wrong places, your hairs stand on end and you pant quietly, noises overshadowed by your Lady's own melodious ones.

Some gross side of you is taking immense enjoyment out of this. A petty, validation-craving voice that claims you're special, this proves you're the best- Because, if a god tittyfucks you, then clearly you must be doing something right, no? The fact that she seeks you out, takes pleasure from you, tells you how good you feel, they're all indicators that you're cherished and loved and so much more than just a regular Joe. You love that. Silently, but you do.

The more milk she pulls from you, the louder each slap of flesh on flesh becomes. Lurid, gross plaps ringing amidst irregular breathing. Droplets of your own extract slide down your front, tickling your arousal when they pool between your legs, teasing. With a more slippery surface come harder, longer strokes. You're almost jostled by the motions of Mother's hips, a milk-coated cock knocking into your chin awkwardly.

You don't know what- Oh, who are you kidding? You know exactly why you're going to do what you're about to. It's because you want her to praise you, to tell you how good you are and how proud she is of her little lesser. So, leaning your head back a bit, you allow your lips to brush against the tip of her dick on its trip back forward.

Miara looks thrilled by the initiative, eyes widening for a brief moment, before she lids them and huffs, nodding at you in silent encouragement. Enjoying her approval way more than you'd care to admit, your lips part, allowing a small tongue to sample her glans from time to time, swirling beneath it, teasing the giantess. You can taste your own milk on it, mingled with the intense flavor of her precum, it's a foreign, lewd mix that'll imprint itself into your mind forever.

You really, really don't have the guts to meet her intense gaze, but her smile- That pretty, glowing grin... The tint on her cheeks. It makes you so happy in an almost instinctual way. You want to do more, trying to catch her tip between your lips. Unfortunately, she pistons too fast and ends up dragging herself across your cheek. It's like trying not to drop soap in the shower, you miss again.

Embarrassing.

Joyous, amused laughter rings from above- And even though you were considering crawling into a hole mere seconds ago, you find yourself giggling quietly as well now.

" Try again, charm. Slower. " She cautions.

To her credit, Miara helps by sedating her pace as well, allowing you to finally pop as much of her as you can into your mouth. There's too much of your own milk coating her to be sure, but there's something almost sweet about her taste. You find yourself swirling your short tongue all around, trying to sink onto her further in this awkward position, feeling her balls knock against your upper body- Her growled, unintelligible expletive is thrilling.

A groan of disappointment almost makes its way past your lips when she retreats, sliding out of your warmth with a loud pop.

Drunk from your own arousal, you attempt to slide the goddess' hands off your soaked tits, she gives you a mildly ponderous look before allowing it, that dark grin stretching up pale cheeks, unfiltered glee that you're now willingly kneading your breasts against her length. One paw reaches for the back of your head, gently edging it forward on her next thrust.

Miara vastly stops moving after that, panting in place, throbbing in your mouth while you do your best to vigorously titfuck her- Moaning around her cock with your eyes closed. Some part of you knows this probably constitutes as worship. Mother says she doesn't care much for it anymore, but it definitely still pleases her. You wonder why, a mystery for another time...

Nonetheless, the realization makes the act a lot more intimate than it already was.

You've never really declared love to Miara, while the goddess has been nothing but affectionate to you. While you never did tell her off either, you never returned that fervor. Never dignified her with those three little words Jonesy tries to coax you into admitting.

You wonder if that hurts her.

Ultimately, it's not something you want to simmer in with Miara's dick sitting hot on your tongue, so you focus on sucking her off while she grinds lightly. You know she's getting close, the odd whispered murmurs, the way her head cranes to the side, spare hand rising, finger caught between teeth- They're all signs. You glance up, finally meeting her blazing golden hues.

" Beautiful, precious darling- I knew you'd come around for me. We can be so happy together. " She huffs.

It's hard to resist.

It's so hard to resist.

" ... I- I love you. " You say, near soundless in your timidity, not even sure if you mean it. But it feels like the right thing to say here, now.

And she comes.

Jarringly fast, with a snarled cry, an ugly face full of fervor and triumph, almost smug. Ropes of pearly cum hit your face before you have the composure to suck on her again, dripping down your chin in hot, gross globs. You can't even try to swallow everything, it's pooling back around her flexing cock in mere moments. Her load is always heavy and generous, too much and too soon.

Miara pulls back slightly, you're coated in whiteness, unsure how much of it is milk or her seed. Does it matter? You're too focused hearing her sing in orgasm, milking -Hah, the irony- Her dry.

Several silent seconds pass as your motions slow to a crawl, the siadar catching her breath. You're not sure if you should say something, standing there feeling like a melting wax candle, but oddly content. Mother smiles lovingly at you, then rolls her eyes.

" Jonesy, do come out of the bushes now... "

A sweaty-looking throne scrambles out of- OH COME ON, you spent all morning working on those!