Lair of the Cryptmother Ch. 4 [Dark Fantasy][Body Horror][Light Gore][Noncon][Breeding][Preg]

**”Baptism of Ichor”**

Althea rested a hand over her heart and sighed softly. She needed strength now more than ever; dawdling would lead only to dwelling. She found an old, dusty broom handle without the brush and used it as a walking stick, helping her avoid any more trips and stumbles. “Luminae,” she murmured, and the head of the walking stick glowed in a soft, pale light. Not quite as effective as a torch, but now she could see that at last the tunnel path crept uphill. The acolyte prayed she would see the light of day again soon and be rid of these awful nightmares. If no one warned the villagers of Sapila about the dangers lurking beneath the mountain, then she feared what disaster loomed on the horizon.

Althea paused her thoughts as a mundane but daunting sight now entered the dim light of her make-shift staff. It looked as though some of the tunnel floor had been dug away, intentionally leaving a darkened pit. Now the only way across the pit was a single wooden beam no shorter than twenty feet in length. The priestess swallowed hard at the thought of falling into the black pit below. Perhaps the fall was meant only to incapacitate? She gingerly approached and held the staff over the pit like a fishing rod. At first she noticed no signs of life, but that changed with the sound of a low, rasping groan. By Helestria’s light, could someone be trapped?

“Hello?!” she called, only for her voice to echo softly down the stone hallway ahead of her. No response except for another dry, wordless groan. How long had they been down there? Still unable to see, Althea crouched near the ledge, gripping the adjacent wooden beam to avoid plummeting from her perch. The compassionate priestess reached out over the pit with her faintly-glowing broom handle, but it only managed to illuminate the underside of the beam and the rough-hewn walls of the pit. If only she still had a torch.

Althea weighed her options. She could try to help this person in need, but what if they were wicked? But what if they tried to do her harm? How would she even get them out of the pit? Oh! Fabian had left his pack outside the storehouse, so she could go back and see if he had any rope. Or she could continue on ahead and ignore the sound of the stranger in the pit, but would Helestria forgive such negligence? Even then, she feared the prospect of crossing such a narrow beam with her poor sense of balance. But then, perhaps *that* was Helestria’s true test of faith? Gah! So many choices!

Althea paused at the edge of the pit, still mulling over her options. She lazily bobbed the glowing end of the broomstick, peering into the darkness. Still nothing. “Hello? Are you injured?” she called again in desperate futility and looked back toward the storehouse, silently lamenting her fallen companions. But then just as she was about to retract the wooden rod, Althea felt something snatch the broom. Whipping her head around, she gasped at the sight of rotten fingers gnarled around the stick, muffled light peeping between its clutches. A raspy growl was followed by a swift jerk, and Althea felt gravity betray her. “No-no-no–” she cried out, flailing her arms before tumbling down into the darkness.

SPLAT! Althea’s chest and face impacted the putrid muck at the bottom of the swampy pit, but thankfully it was soft enough to spare her any broken bones. She all but peeled herself up off the sticky floor. It smelled like rotten fruit and really, really bad eggs. The battered priestess reached out for her staff, but a heavy foot pinned the stick to the floor. She scrunched her eyes hard and opened them wide, drinking in the dim light. And that’s when her heart sank. Before her loomed the stooped figure of a man, but the buzzing flies and bloody clothes betrayed the truth. This was no longer a man. Its raspy groan rolled out of its throat, and as it stepped closer, the pale light washed across its face. This undead lacked a nose, and much of the tissue on the left side of its face had been gnawed away. It was missing its left arm, but something small wriggled around the stump at its elbow. They were worms. Another wretched moan rose in the creature’s throat, and it shambled one step closer, raising its intact arm toward the prone priestess.

No! She would not die here. Althea tried to stand, but immediately slipped back into the muck. That’s when a second groan rose behind her. Another one?! Althea reached for her holy symbol, but a fat hand covered in blisters seized her wrist. She yelped when its grip tightened, dropping the symbol into the mud. Althea gazed up at the bloated behemoth behind her. Was this… an orc? It may have been once, but now its sickly, yellow eyes belied the pale hand of plague. It seemed that her eyes began adjusting to her dim surroundings, for now she saw the patches of weeping pustules that lined the undead orc’s bear chest. This one showed far less rot, but Althea feared whatever insidious blight it carried in its glistening ulcers. Adding to this sense of bloated sickness, the orc’s belly protruded outwards, likely filled with the noxious gases of decay.

“Helestria, protect me! I do not wish to die here! I have so much more to offer you!” she pleaded, head bowed in prayer, her wrist still in the orc’s slimy grip.

Amidst her futile struggles, Althea’s wrist remained firmly in the orc’s grasp. Despite her capture, however, it seemed to be waiting for something. No life lingered behind its milky, yellow eyes, and its tusked jaw hung slack. Each jerk and thrash from the priestess only caused the numerous blisters to wobble in a sickening, fluid undulation. Althea slammed the fist of her unrestrained arm against the orc’s domed gut, only succeeding in rupturing one of the larger translucent cysts with a wet pop! The priestess stifled a gag as the warm, oily secretions coated her clenched fist. It stank of putrid fish, and she wiped the fluid from her arm in a panic.

Only then did the orc release her. Feeling hope well in her chest, she kicked her feet out, scrambling backwards from the towering, lumpy undead… and right into the front of the worm-filled zombie. He gave her another groan, and Althea turned just in time for the zombie to catch a fistful of her golden locks, now stained with the foul slime that coated the pit floor. “Gah! Let me go, you fiend!” Althea shouted, swiping at the zombie’s bony limb. It held fast, and that’s when she saw it in the dim light. Something stirred beneath the human’s trousers. Surely it couldn’t be his cock, he was dead. Something serpentine pressed against the tattered, bloodstained fabric before at last bursting free.

Coated in a thick, black, tarry ichor hung a milky white, two-foot-long worm as thick as the acolyte’s wrist. It slowly raised its head and bobbed about, only inches from her face. Althea watched in horror as the very tip opened up like a fleshy flower; more of the black ichor dribbled from the tip, but she could also see several dozen pink beads the size of her thumbnail plop out onto the sticky floor. Were those eggs?

Althea considered her position for a moment but immediately realized what the wretched things had planned for her. Alas, opening her mouth to scream was a foolish idea. No sooner than the first shrill cry rang out, the zombie thrust its moldy, rotting hips forward, spearing the fat, white worm between the acolyte’s lips. It tasted worse than it looked, coating the girl’s tongue in the cold, oily, and awfully bitter ichor. Through muffled cries, Althea prayed silently to her goddess for salvation.

In and out, the zombie thrust its parasitic cock in a deliberate, sawing motion. Althea gagged as the worm was buried up to the hilt, forcing her nose against the undead’s slimy, rotting crotch. THUMP THUMP THUMP! Continuing the rapacious face-fucking caused a number of smaller worms to fall from their host’s rotting flesh and sprinkle the acolyte’s hair and shoulders. She could feel them crawling along her body, seeking the warmth of her nubile flesh. Foul, black streaks lay in the wake of the small worms, staining her robes with more of the foul serum as they slowly marched toward the collar of her vestments.

With one final, hilting thrust, the zombie groaned again, and Althea felt the worm bulge in her mouth before spurting a fountain of the bitter, black ooze down her throat. The sensation of the soft, beady eggs rolling down the back of her tongue brought another gag, and despite her efforts to comply with her body’s instinct, she could not purge the vile stuff from her throat. GLULK GLULK GLURGHL! Althea twisted and thrashed, but the zombie’s deathly grip held fast, ensuring not a single egg escaped its nesting place in the depths of her stomach. Each load poured down her throat like lumpy pancake batter, rife with the putrid, oily taste. A particularly heavy splash of the ichor erupted from her nostrils, filling her nose with the dark, coagulated cum.

Only after the last spasm wracked the zombie’s body, did Althea feel the undead fingers loosen. As the spent corpse collapsed in a heap, she stumbled back on her rear, propping herself up with her hands behind her. The priestess panted heavily, desperate for air, despite its foul, musky stench. A strand of the black ichor dangled from the corner of her trembling lips before adding to the dark stains at the front of her soiled vestments. Despite Althea’s momentary respite, she shuddered at the sensation of the small worms slipping beneath the fabric of her robes. They inched down her back and burrowed between her modest cleavage, wriggling into any pocket of warmth they could find. Despite the disgusting implication of being covered in worms, Althea scarcely had the energy to stay upright after the vigorous oral assault.

Althea heard another groan, and this time it was from the orc behind her. She craned her neck, but before she could fully turn about, the orc’s brutish grip now wrapped around the back of her neck. In one motion it forced her face down into the muck and her ass up in the air.

“No! Please!” she cried as its other hand seized a fistful of her robe’s skirt. Fabric shredded as the undead brute tore it away, revealing her creamy thighs. Her white linen undergarments remained miraculously unharmed and unstained by the foul muck coating everything. It mattered not, as the orc only tore those away as well, casting them into the slime beside them. Their shadows stretched long from the meager broomstick light, but she felt the warm, humid air tickle her exposed womanhood.

“I’m begging you! Don’t do this!” Tears streamed down Althea’s cheeks and she tried to push herself up from the floor, but the vacant-eyed orc clamped his cold grip tighter around the back of her neck. This close to the floor, and the stench of rotten meat overwhelmed her senses. But… there was a part of her that almost… enjoyed it. Enjoyed the degradation. The filth. Althea felt her stomach turn, but still she could not purge the foul ichor from her belly. In that moment, the orc flopped its flaccid, blistered cock down atop the acolyte’s exposed ass, hotdogged between her modest cheeks. It felt cold, lifeless. Worse yet, she felt a seeping wetness coating the corrupted cock.

“Helestria… guide me,” Althea groaned as the undead orc’s rancid musk made her head spin. Was this how her goddess saw fit to end her life? At the hands of this monstrosity? The brute released her neck and clamped both mitts around the girl’s bare waist. What remained of her robes clung to her petite breasts, coated in the viscous rot. Now able to move her head, Althea craned her neck just in time to see the orc pull its hips back. It was lining up its putrid, warty cock with her shaved, unsullied pussy. A choke caught in her throat when she watched one of the larger, darker pustules lining the unliving prick burst and expel a dribble of the familiar black ichor.

“No–” Althea cried out, but it was too late. In one thrust, the orc plunged its cock between her folds, stretching her cunt around its impressive girth. She could feel every lump, every nodule. The blistered shaft retracted momentarily before driving in all the way to the hilt; she felt the orc’s bloated belly slap up against her ass. Pain, oh so much pain. In her anguish, Althea clenched her jaw and tightened her muscles around the abomination’s cock. Unfortunately, that caused every single one of the blisters and pustules to burst inside her vaginal canal. Despite its cold, congealed texture, the foul essence left a strange tingling sensation wherever it touched. Even now, she felt a buzzing in her mouth and throughout both pairs of lips.

“Why… Helestria… save me,” Althea groaned as the orc began sawing in and out. However, something felt different. The debaucherous part of her that enjoyed this, that darkness creeping in the back of her mind, it only seemed to grow stronger. Each pounding slap of the thick meaty tool felt easier than the last. Each thrust felt less and less resistance. A warmth welled in her chest, and her face grew flushed. Still, Althea knew this was wrong.

Althea’s moans of anguish laced with hints of reluctant pleasure. These were in turn met by the raspy, hollow groans from her unliving partner. Its tempo hastened and she felt one of the blisters adorning its rotten, bloated belly splatter atop her lower back. Its dark contents dripped down the crack of her ass before coalescing upon the monster’s malignant shaft. Just in time for it to slide back in to the hilt, lubricated by Althea’s budding lust and its own rancid precum. At last the orc buried its corrupted cock up against the neck of her womb, its tip finally piercing her deepest recesses.

All at once, it let loose a rattling howl and emptied the contents of its zombified balls inside her. The cold, viscous spunk filled her inner sanctum, quickly reaching full capacity. Althea shuddered, feeling her tummy stretch and bloat beneath the undead’s climax. Still bent over on hands and knees, she propped herself up on one forearm and pressed a hand to her middle. By Helestria, she could feel it expanding. Glancing downward confirmed, as she watched each spasm of the orc’s tool swell her belly inch by inch. Before long, she looked to be in her second trimester of pregnancy. But again, this was a foul and forsaken mockery of her goddess’ grace. A spurt of the vile ichor escaped from her overstuffed cunt, splashing upon the floor, adding to the carpet of rotten scum.

Finally concluded with its purpose, the blistered orc fell backwards into the muck like its worm-laden companion. Althea sat upright, one hand gently stroking the side of her distended gut. The unholy creature that plundered her maidenhood lay still, returned again to a proper corpse. Althea tried to stand, but winced under the pressure and weight of her bloated belly. Her robes were all but ruined by the orc’s tearing and the foul substance now coating most of her body. Even without her burdensome condition, she knew not how she would escape the pit. Althea grasped her glowing walking stick and staggered to her feet.

Now standing and aided better by her light spell, she noticed a crevice in the wall of the pit. The orc would have been too big to fit, but she herself was a petite woman. Though in her current condition, she wondered if her belly would be able to squeeze through the narrow gap. Alone with the two corpses, Althea vied for a most humiliating option. Squatting low while leaning forward, both hands on the stick, she clenched her abdomen, face contorted with determination.

The acolyte felt the pressure lessen as a bucketload of the ichor splashed about her ankles. Again she clenched, and more of the disgusting serum gushed from her abused cunt. With each release rose a familiar tingling pleasure, and the young priestess gnawed at the corner of her lip. Althea prayed for Helestria’s forgiveness as a shiver of delight ran up her spine. Her waistline lessened, the priestess wrapped what remained of her robe’s skirt around the front to mask her exposed and sopping cunt. Tying it in place, she looked again at the gap and strode forward. Yet there, behind her hope and determination lurked the shadow of lust ignited deep in the recesses of her heart and womb. And even still, changes beyond sight or notice now took hold in the most sacred core of Althea’s being.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kbws4q/lair_of_the_cryptmother_ch_4_dark_fantasybody