Across the Black Seas of Infinity [FFM] [cosmic horror]

Author’s note: I am eager for feedback, so please leave a comment. In a top-level comment I will post links to the whole series as it develops, as well as a link to my other writing.

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Abigail Carter hurried across the Twisted Quad through the New England rain and bowled into the glass doors of the Jermyn Hall of Anthropological Studies, nearly knocking down a girl who was reluctantly emerging into the downpour. She made a hasty apology as the other student pushed out into the rain, and then threw back the hood on her sweatshirt and tried to shake the clinging wetness off her clothes.

The sky outside was quickly darkening as the storm rushed in and the sun set, and Jermyn’s lobby was emptying out as students fled the campus for whatever festivities their Friday evenings held. Abigail would have prefered to join them, but she had no choice other than to obey the summons she had received by email that afternoon.

“Miss Carter,” it read, “Please come to my office this afternoon at five to discuss your midterm. — Professor Ward.”

Abigail knew her midterm had been terrible, and she had hardly been able to sleep since taking it two days before. She had studied — as always — and loved the material, but when she had sat down in front of the test… well, something had happened, and she wasn’t sure what. The midterm was a blank spot in her memory, or nearly so. Something about a knife. She wished it were completely blank instead of tinged with a suffocating creepiness that narrowly evaded her conscious recollection.

Abigail shook her head to clear it and suddenly realized that she was sitting on the damp floor of the lobby. Had she fallen? She was more tired than she thought. Rain pounded on the glass where her back rested and the sky outside was completely black, except when thunderous peals of lightning illuminated the deserted quad. A quick glance at her phone told her she was running late, so she picked herself up and bounded up the stairs.

The stairway ended on the third floor, but a sign pointed her towards the East Tower where Professor Ward’s office was located. The Hall seemed to be completely empty, and the raging storm gave the meandering passageways a dreamlike quality. Like most of Miskatonic University, Jermyn Hall had been built in stages over more than two centuries, and none of the halls or stairways lined up in a rational manner. Abigail began to shiver in her wet clothes when she finally found the door to the East Tower and ascended to the top floor.

The stairs emerged into a small study with packed with crowded bookshelves and vacant workspaces, as well as a huge picture window that looked out over the University. Across the study was a door with a nameplate that read, “Professor Simon Ward” — it was closed, but light stretched out from beneath it and played across the floor.

Abigail knocked softly on the door and belatedly attempted to straighten her clothes and hair. Almost immediately a woman’s voice beckoned her to enter, so she took a deep breath and did so. Professor Ward’s office occupied the other half of the tower’s top floor, but Abigail felt immediately claustrophobic when she stepped inside. The picture windows were covered by thick curtains, and the air was warm and heavy with the smell of incense. The floors and walls were burdened with layers of artifacts and tomes accumulated over years and laid down like geologic strata. A fireplace roared in the corner, casting eldritch light dancing around the room. A massive, ancient desk dominated the room, covered with open manuscripts, and behind it sat Professor Ward holding a magnifying glass. His graduate student, Victoria Keen, stood beside him, and the two were leaning over the desk as if Abigail had interrupted a rather serious bit of inspection. They were silent when she entered, and continued their study as Abigail stood awkwardly before them. The room had but the single chair, taken by the Professor, and no computer or sign of any technology beyond lightbulbs whatsoever.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Professor Ward,” Abigail said, and it came out in a whisper.

The Professor set down his magnifying glass, peered at her, and then gradually broke into a smile. He was young for a professor, and his smile lit up his face. Several of Abigail’s freshman friends had crushes on Ward, which wasn’t surprising considering his handsome appearance and the peculiar tales of adventure that constituted most of the curriculum of his Fundamentals of Anthropology course. Still, Abigail shivered when he looked at her… probably just because of her wet clothes.

“Good evening, Miss Carter,” Professor Ward said. “We were just reviewing your midterm. Very interesting.”

Abigail stammered and her words came out in a jumble. “I know, Professor, it must be a mess. I wasn’t even sure if I wrote anything at all… I mean, I studied a lot… I really love your class. I want to major in anthropology. I didn’t feel good that day, and the test… it was so weird.” Professor Ward tapped his fingers on the desktop and stared at her. Victoria frowned. Abigail twisted her feet on the floor and continued, “I mean, I’m sure I will do better –”

Ward cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Be quiet, child. I’m not going to bite your head off. You’re soaked and shivering… hopefully from the storm and not from worry over your grade.”

Abigail nodded and clutched her fingers in front of her. “How did I do? Can I… can I see my test?”

Ward and Victoria both glanced down at the paper on the desk and then back up at Abigail. Victoria spoke to Ward in a low voice, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Professor.”

Professor Ward spoke without looking up at Victoria. “Tell me, Miss Carter: did you notice anything strange while you were taking the test?”

Abigail shook her head. How could she explain it, anyway? Did she pass out during the test like she had in the lobby just a few minutes ago? The suffocating feeling returned and Abigail staggered, nearly falling to the floor again. Somehow Ward caught her and lowered her gently to the rug in front of the fire. The warmth of the flame washed over her body and Abigail felt the harshest edge of the chill leave her.

“What did you see, Miss Carter? What did you feel?”

The warmth gave her courage to speak and as the chill retreated her mind unveiled some of what had been hidden. “Blackness, emptiness, unending. No stars, nothing I could see. But just behind me, there was a presence. I turned and turned but couldn’t find it. Always on the edge of sight. Couldn’t breathe. And then… a knife. That’s all I can remember.” Abigail’s shoulders slumped and she fought to not curl into a ball by the fire. “I must just be tired, Professor, or sick. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

From the desk Victoria said, “Professor, this is too dangerous. Remember Emma….”

Ward put an arm around Abigail. “No, Victoria. This is the chance we’ve been waiting for. We have to take it.” He leaned down and spoke into Abigail’s ear. “I can help you remember, if you’ll let me. I’ve encountered this before, and I can help you.”

Did she want to remember? She couldn’t sleep, and now she was blacking out at random times. The blank spot in her memory filled Abigail’s gut with ice, but she couldn’t ignore it. What had happened to her? Abigail nodded wordlessly.

“Good girl,” Professor Ward said. “Very brave.” He laid another log onto the fire and then drew Abigail to her feet. “Victoria, the nepenthes please.” Ward held Abigail’s hands and stared intently into her eyes, his own dark eyes flickering in the firelight. “There will be… consequences. A price to be paid. There always is. You must not hesitate when the time comes.”

His voice carried the weight of doom and Abigail shuddered. “I don’t understand. Maybe I should just go to the doctor.”

Ward squeezed her hands tightly and then released them. “Look into the fire.”

Abigail stood still on the rug in front of the fire while Ward and Victoria made some hurried preparations. The slender grad student tossed a bundle of dried flowers into the fireplace and Abigail watched transfixed as they smoldered and emitted a thick golden cloud of smoke that filled the room. The scent was sharp and dry, like biting into an acorn, and Abigail became uncomfortably aware of her wet skin. She breathed deeply as her senses expanded beyond her body. Professor Ward was saying something, but the words slipped past Abigail’s ears without penetrating her mind. A hand began pulling at her clothes, and suddenly Abigail couldn’t rid herself of the sodden cocoon quickly enough. Her fingers ripped at the damp cloth and tore it away from her body until she was standing naked in the blazing fire light.

Somehow as she gazed into the fire she saw her own reflection, cast back as if from a flickering mirror. Her long blonde hair was a whirling bonfire around her head, and her lithe form glowed in the dancing light and shadow. Abigail raised her arms above her head and twirled, admiring her fiery shape from every impossible angle.

Hands and arms enveloped her body, holding her firmly but not restraining her, burning hot against her radiant skin. Voices flowed around her, incandescent words in an unknown tongue, joining together and then diverging again. Her insides ached for the words to penetrate her, fill her. Hot fingers slid between her thighs and pressed against her wet pussy, drawing out a desperate moan from deep within her primitive flesh. The fingers pushed between her lips and into her body, impossibly thick, seeming to stretch her open to the inferno. Abigail screamed in terror and ecstasy.

Then, surrounded by blazing light rather than endless darkness, there was the Knife. It had an elaborately carved black handle in the form of some indiscernible creature, and a long, wide blade that tapered near the tip. The dark metal shined in the dancing light, razor sharp, and the point turned towards her heart. As it approached her left breast, the presence that thrust into her soul through her pussy began writhing in sync with the arcane chanting, pushing her to the edge of orgasm just as the blade touched her body.

“Now! Come!” A voice cried to her from a great distance, and Abigail had no choice but to obey. Great contractions ripped through her body as the knife cut into her skin, tracing lines of fire over her heart. She screamed and convulsed, impaled to the depths of her spirit, until the inferno faded around her and sweet oblivion swept her away.

—

Abigail woke up on the rug in front of the fireplace, now burnt down to darkened embers. She was covered by a thin sheet but still naked — her pussy ached, but it was a pleasant soreness that made her blush as she looked around the office and remembered the night before. Professor Ward sat at the desk scribbling notes; Victoria lay slumped in the far corner fast asleep. The curtains had been thrown open and the first rays of sunlight heralded the new day.

“Good morning. How do you feel, Miss Carter?” Professor Ward asked. He seemed hardly disheveled considering the night’s events.

Abigail pulled the sheet over her body and tried not to implode from embarrassment. “My mind feels clear now. What happened? Did we… I mean…?”

Ward removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “We restored your memory, and hopefully gave you some protection for the future.” He gestured towards her chest and Abigail peeked beneath the sheet, gasping when she saw the intricate figure that had been carved into her left breast. It didn’t hurt at all, and appeared to be more of a tattoo than a cut or scar. “That rune should shield you from the power of the artifact. Take a look.”

Before Abigail could respond Professor Ward threw a heavy object off the surface of his desk and onto the floor in front of her. The Knife. This time when she looked at it her mind didn’t reel, but an urgent need swelled inside her: she must possess the Knife. Dropping the sheet without a second thought, Abigail stretched forward and grasped the Knife with both hands, clutching it to her breast. When she pressed the dark metal against her skin her whole body erupted in furious sensation, hyper-awareness that reached into her every molecule. Her aching pussy throbbed and wetness began to spread between her thighs. She moaned and pulled the Knife away from her body, holding it lightly by the handle with the tips of her fingers.

“I didn’t expect that,” Ward said, and jotted in his notebook before returning his gaze to Abigail’s naked form. “I recovered that athame from a treasure hoard deep in the Andes, though the style doesn’t match any known civilizations from the region. Your reaction to its presence in class on Wednesday was quite unusual, but not unprecedented. I’m glad the protection rune worked, but I wonder if it is having some follow-on effects?”

Abigail turned the Knife over in her hands and was surprised to notice that the blade was entirely blunt — it couldn’t cut butter, much less carve into her skin. But it was so beautiful….

“I’m keeping it,” she said. Yes, of course she would. It was part of her body, after all. “Maybe I can figure out… what it is. Who made it. Why it came to me.”

Ward cocked an eyebrow and scribbled on his paper as she spoke. “Very well, but please be careful. Last night was….”

Abigail blushed again and pulled the sheet back over her body. She began gathering her clothes from where they had been hung near the fire and said, “Last night was what? Drugs? Some sort of hallucination?”

Ward watched her dress with unashamed interest while he answered. “Yes, but more than that. There are forces in this universe that mankind can never understand, and when we brush against their edges they change us forever. You’re not the same girl you were when you sat down to take this midterm, Abigail Carter.”

Professor Ward held up a sheaf of papers and Abigail trembled as he flipped through it: line after line of inscrutable text, arcane glyphs that warped under the human eye, defying comprehension. All in her handwriting.

“That’s impossible.”

Professor Ward tossed the papers back onto his desk and arched his fingers. “Miss Carter, reality is more flexible than you realize. Yet.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/657xqm/across_the_black_seas_of_infinity_ffm_cosmic