**”The Rite of Naming, An Heir Annointed”**
Maia opened the door and gestured for Althea to pass through the threshold; leaving the sanctum of her new boudoir and entering the unknown. The purple-clad blonde stepped into the hallway, immediately recognizing the hewn stone tunnels from before. No doubt about it, she remained within the blasphemous walls of the cult’s domain. The door closed and locked behind Maia, and she joined Althea’s side. The pale, nearly monochromatic handmaiden offered Althea her arm for support. Again, a moment of reticence and Althea took a step back, feeling the cold stone against her bare heel.
“Lady Althea, I assure you that no harm awaits you at the end of this tunnel,” Maia bowed her head respectfully. “On the contrary, your divine son and rapturous pleasure are the only things you will find ahead,” Maia took the priestess by the hand and gave it a reaffirming squeeze. This simple act of compassion and the girl’s cool touch steadied Althea’s heart. Memories of her gushing climaxes returned, bringing with them a flush to her cheeks. Maia smirked, narrowing her smoky eyes playfully. “You see? I only wish you knew just how lucky you are, my lady,” she mused and led Althea on her first step forward. “I envy you, you know. I envy how much his grace will fill you,” Maia bit her lip and rubbed a hand over her own trim midriff.
“Maia, I…” Althea narrowed her eyes and tugged on the pale girl’s hand, halting them both. “How can you accept all of this madness?” the priestess knit her brows and fought back the welling tears of despair. “I am a servant of Helestria, and I will always harbor her light,” Althea pulled her hand free and wrapped her arms around her middle, unwittingly sheltering the twin half-demon children/grandchildren that gestated within. To think she was an imminent grandmother… by the doing of her own son. And Althea had not yet seen her twentieth winter.
“Fear not, my lady, for you are cherished. Yours is the womb that bears the fated fruit of pestilence,” Maia bowed at the waist again, and again Althea glimpsed her charcoal-gray areola. The handmaid’s plump nips tented that thin, black silk of her promiscuous tunic–No! Althea refused to dwell on these lewd imaginings. The gothic handmaiden took the acolyte by the hand and again led her down the stone, windowless dungeon corridor lit only by sparse sconces bearing eldritch green flames. Trapped in this prison of entropic sin.
At last they reached a pair of broad, looming stone doors, large enough for two ogres to pass one another without squeezing or ducking their heads. Etched into the center of each door was the baleful, six-eyed skull of Nihilipox. Each eye was set with a beautifully-faceted emerald. Maia approached and pulled a small loop of leather which was immediately followed by a thunderous gong in an unseen chamber above the doors. At first nothing happened, but then the heavy stone rumbled, and the heavy slabs of stone ponderously swung open.
Althea’s human eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light within. Maia led on without delay, and they arrived at a balcony leading out into a dark expanse beyond. A rope bridge stretched out into the darkness beyond. They paused at the balcony, and the anxious acolyte examined this oddly empty chamber. A waist-high stone wall encircled the balcony, assuring one they would not plummet into the dark below, but as Althea gazed into the murky unknown, she began to see it bubble and churn. A moat? That’s when the smell finally reached her nose. It stank of death. After the suspicious pampering of her new domicile, this was a stark reminder of the cult’s corruption. Without a doubt, what churned below was a vast lake of that familiar, black ichor. So much filth and polluted expulsions.
“My lady, he awaits us.” Maia gestured toward the rope bridge, but this time she stood behind Althea and urged her forward to lead the way. “Come now, your son yearns for his mother’s love and affection,” the black-haired girl offered a wide smile, pushing gently at the acolyte’s back. And the mother complied, her bare feet struggling to find balance on the rope bridge, but Maia was with her all the way. Halfway across the bridge, and she finally saw the dim light of glowing runes in a vast and complex array. Some kind of altar sat at the center of a hexagonal platform that must have been nearly thirty feet across. Those glowing green runes scrawled across the entire breadth of the platform. Hooded figures encircled the altar at the middle. Althea craned her neck upward, following the thick, dark iron chains that suspended the hovering stone slab from the inscrutable ceiling. By the looks of it, the entire platform hung midair above the ever-churning lake of demonic ichor. The essence of Nihilipox.
When the two girls arrived at the end of the bridge, one of the hooded figures stepped forward. “At last, we feared she would not come,” said a familiar, raspy voice. Althea recognized the sagging flesh and potbelly of that accursed fanatic who led the first ritual. It was that woman’s fault that Althea met this fate. An anger boiled in the blonde acolyte’s blood. “He awaits you, girl,” the raspy woman said with a sweep of her arm. Althea’s ocean eyes followed her direction before finally beholding the altar at the heart of the platform with clarity. It was much bigger than she imagined from a distance, but now it was clear why. Lying on his back atop the altar was the tall, sinewy, half-rotted form of her son, the Heir of Nihilipox. “At long last, we may now begin the ritual,” the woman placed a withered hand upon Althea’s shoulder, but the young girl immediately recoiled.
“No! I don’t want this. You all disgust me!” she spat and crossed her arms over her chest, shielding her heavy, milk-laden bosom. The priestess stepped back, but was met by the cool, comforting embrace of Maia’s slender arms wrapping around her shoulders from behind. Maia pressed those plump black lips against the blonde girl’s nape, exhaling a surprisingly chilly breath against Althea’s back.
“Be at peace, my lady,” the handmaiden whispered softly into Althea’s ear, and it worked. The pounding drum in her chest slowed to a steady beat, and her knees felt weak again. When Maia pressed her brisk nips against Althea’s back, it stirred up that familiar warmth between her legs. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the priestess thought she felt a bit of dampness in her loins.
“As… as you say,” Althea said with a soft sigh, her eyes hanging half-lidded in a slight stupor. Again she gazed upon the altar and that glorious creature resting atop it. The Heir of Nihilipox. Her son. Though he lay prone, something stood tall and firm. His black, gangrenous cock reached toward the heavens, like the hardy mast of a proud flagship. In the dim, green torchlight Althea could barely make out the ulcerous lesions and fat blisters ripe for popping deep inside her. Filling his own mother with his vile excretions. “What am I doing?” Althea accidentally spoke aloud.
“You are a mother who has yet to bless her child with a most important gift,” Maia began, her hands clasped against one cheek in adoration for the whole moment. Sensing Althea’s wariness, Maia gracefully strode toward the altar herself and reached out one pale hand toward the crotch of the demonic prince. Her fingers barely rested upon the veiny, mold-speckled heft of his inhuman testes.
“W-What gift? Please… speak plainly,” Althea slurred her words and pressed a palm to her forehead. Her mind was swimming, and she couldn’t tell if it was the presence of her demonic son, the seductive aura of her handmaid, or the hormones of her unholy pregnancy. Perhaps all three.
“Why, you must name him, of course.” Maia smiled again and gave the thick gonad a tender pat before bringing her fingers beneath her nose. She inhaled deeply and her eyes crossed while the first signs of color reached her cheeks. “Ohh… why couldn’t it have been me?” Maia mumbled and immediately shoved the musk-scented fingers toward her crotch, wherein she began fervently masturbating.
“Maia! Compose yourself. At least wait until the ritual has begun, for Nihilipox’s sake…” the raspy crone scolded. Althea watched as her embarassed handmaiden picked herself up and straightened her tunic. This elicited a deep chuckle from the prone heir.
“Come… mother,” the beast rumbled and reached his arm of tentacles out, slowly stroking the length of his shaft. Althea’s jaw went slack when she watched the girthy rod swell up even larger, now the size of a man’s arm. She unconsciously pressed a hand to her tummy, remembering the reaming she received from that unholy breeding tool just the night prior.
“Oh–um–yes! This is the Rite of Naming, my lady, and you are to mount your chosen mate; your son,” Maia continued with her head bowed toward the mighty demon. She held out a hand to help Althea up onto the altar, as if she were about to mount a horse. No, by the looks of it her son was undoubtedly more endowed than any stallion in the realm. Even if that impressive amount of meat was plagued with pustules and malignant blemishes. “You must oblige, Lady Althea, for this is as fate has decreed. You alone will find our Heir’s true name in the throes of sinful passion.”
“Fate… has decreed,” Althea slurred again. Oh no. That sinking sensation returned, she could feel it. Darkness ebbed at the edges of her vision, and it felt as though her willpower receded into the inky depths of her clouded mind. Sluggish steps carried her to Maia and the altar, and before she knew it, Althea stood atop the stone slab beside her hideous offspring and his tantalizing cock. When her hand laid upon his chest, the priestess felt the tepid lukewarm flesh of her monstrous son. She felt his six-clawed hand wrap around the back of her waist and guide her up above his lap. Her bare heels rested on his hips, but the left one plunged into an open ulcer, like a wet, fleshy crater in his torso. This should have sickened her, but it only brought a pang of pleasure to her already moist womanhood. She felt all of this, but she was powerless to stop it. After all of her struggles, that darkness dwelling in her heart had grown stronger than ever. “My sweet boy,” Althea said with an empty-eyed smile.
That thick, slime-slick rod exuded a heady, pungent musk. It took all of Althea’s resolve to not simply leap upon the tool and impale herself to the hilt–to rejoin that odioius union with her son. With impressive self control, Althea instead seated her firm backside atop his half-rotten leg. This close and there was no turning back. Althea heard muted chanting begin in the background, but her mind was utterly fixated on the pulsing, vein-stricken heft of breeding meat before her. Licking her lips, Althea brought the spongy, black head of his cock to her pursed mouth and gave it a gentle kiss. Another twitch ran up the length of the beastly rod, and she decided to steady it between her hands. The tool dwarfed her petite fingers, but the doting mother stroked her soft hands up that incredible length, letting her palms cup the underside of his flared cockhead before sliding back down the length. The Heir let out a growling shudder of pleasure before playfully scraping one of the claws down her back. Althea gave him a giddy hiss of pained pleasure and arched her back. This only achieved bumping up her huge teats against her son’s girthy shaft. At the familiar touch of those fonts of corrupted nourishment, the demonic heir tightened his grip around his mother’s waist and all but pulled her up against the underside of his cockshaft, hardening it like a flexing arm between her fingers.
“Easy now, child,” Althea said softly. Something was different though. Unlike last time, it felt as though she still bore some measure of control over herself. Almost as if some part of her mind or soul wanted this; this lurid, incestuous attention. “Let mommy make you feel whole,” Althea purred and again pressed her heels into the meat of his hips. But this time, she bucked her hips forward and lined up that spongy, black mushroom cap against her abused pussy. “There you go,” she cooed and gnawed on her lip. When she dropped her knees some and plunged the tip inside, Althea let out a shiver and her eyes crossed in bliss. “Ohhh, welcome home, baby,” she slurred, rubbing a hand over her flat tummy. This was madness, she knew that, but it felt so good. And then she felt a familiar cold and slender hand press against the back of her golden head.
“How does it feel, my lady?” Maia murmured with palpable envy. The raspy crone dropped out of the continuous chanting to call Maia’s name with a scolding tone, but when it failed to get the handmaiden’s attention, the potbellied crone just grumbled and returned to the ritual.
“Ummnnphhh, I missed this,” the darkness in Althea replied. Her knees quivered, and she felt Maia grasp one of her hands comfortingly. With her new friend’s aid, Althea lowered herself down the thick length of her son’s rotten cock. At that moment one of the plumper blisters burst against the ceiling of Althea’s stretched tunnel, sending a spark of oily stimulation throughout her nethers. The priestess opened those vibrant blue eyes and gazed at her beautiful companion. “I want you to–onghh–I want you to j-join me,” Althea struggled to speak around the return of her son’s cock within her bruised cunt.
“My lady, whatever do you mean?” Maia asked, her amethyst eyes wide with a lustful lustre. This was the first time Althea saw the girl look truly surprised. Maia glanced down at the gathered circle of hooded chanters before looking back to the half-hilted priestess. It was a sweet sort of nervousness that Althea did not expect from the headstrong handmaiden.
“Sit on–angh–sit on his face. Let his tongue explore your deepest desires,” Althea said between ragged breaths. Sweat beaded on her brow, and the building pleasure forced droplets of sour milk to drip from her engorged teats. “Share in this moment with me, Maia,” the priestess pleaded with those foggy, empty eyes. This brought another blush to the otherwise alabaster attendant.
Maia simply nodded obediently and climbed atop the altar, this earned them both a rumbling, purr from the Heir. Nervously, Maia straddled one leg over the Heir’s neck, now standing above his inhuman face. Althea could see his long, skull-like muzzle tear open those nebulous knitting lips before his black, serpentine tongue emerged from the tip. It lashed down the crease of Maia’s pert, pale ass cheeks, smearing them in a coating of the slimy, sweet elixir-flavored saliva. This pulled a surprised and breathy gasp from the gothic girl’s lungs, and she thrust out her chest, back arched.
No doubt the fanatical crone disapproved of this disruption in the planned ritual, but she took no action to quash the Heir’s lusty indulgences in one of his cultists. Althea failed to recognize that this hedonistic invitation did nothing to cleanse her tainted soul. Her knees buckled again, but she still had nearly half of the heir’s length to take. Maia reached back and squatted down some, nestling her tight backside directly in front of the Heir’s maw. And in accepting her invitation, the bestial demon dragged its slimy tongue across her tight asshole before slipping inside.
“Angh! By the Unclean Sire!” she let out a throaty moan before clapping her hands to her knees to brace herself. That probing tongue plunged deep into Maia’s guts, crawling higher and higher, inch by inch. Althea leaned forward atop the Heir’s cock and bridged the gap between the two girls. Her hands cupped Maia’s cheeks, lifting her face to lock eyes before bringing the beautiful, smoky cultist’s lips to her own. “Mmm!” Maia moaned into the kiss before opening her maw wide and letting her tongue explore the warmth of Althea’s wet and welcoming mouth. Even lost in the unholy revelry, the blonde priestess noticed that like the rest of her body, Maia’s tongue was cold and soothing.
Showing his impatience, the Heir jabbed his hips upward a bit, coaxing Althea to drop down more. She complied and now sat three quarters the way down his length with a noticeably bulging stomach. Then the gothic handmaiden took one of Althea’s hands from her face and brought it down to her pale, flat tummy. Though Althea could feel the fat, wriggling length of her son’s tongue pressing outward. It reminded her of the oily eel-like excitement he demonstrated when she carried him in her womb. His six-clawed hand prodded between Althea’s shoulder blades and she knew it was time to go the rest of the way. When the young mother bent her knees a bit more, she at last dropped down the rest of his length, spearing her womb on her son’s pestilent cock. Althea’s body clenched in reflex, and she could feel a half-dozen blisters burst within her. Good, she would need the lubricating pus to work his shaft.
No sooner than Althea hilted herself, she sensed the tongue dredge deeper into Maia’s ass, bulging out her guts in a grotesque display of dominance. The gothic handmaiden let out a pained and muffled moan of pleasure, and before Althea could guess why, she found out first hand. From one end of the monochromatic cultist to the other, the snaking tongue erupted from the back of Maia’s throat and plunged into Althea’s mouth. Incredible, Althea thought. Her son was actually eating out Maia all the way through, just to give mommy a kiss. That rapacious, black muscle danced across Althea’s cheeks before lodging deep in her throat. By the goddess, it was that sweet spittle of his. Tingles coated her tongue and washed down her gullet. The first jet of girlcum sprayed around the Heir’s cock as Althea felt her warmth multiplying.
“GLLNGHL!” Maia gagged before blasting the Heir’s chin and neck with a spray of her chilly climax. She hung limply, the nigh endless tongue filling her insides now the only thing suspending her above the demonic prince. Althea’s lips mashed against her pale companion; some part of her revelled in the knowledge that Maia’s dark lipstick now smeared between their lips and dribbled down her chin from the deep, tentacled tongue-fucking.
With both women nearing their peak orgasm, the Heir hoisted Althea up with his claws, only to drop her back down onto the expansive girth of his throbbing cock. On the rise she felt her body close back up in a desperate relief, but then gravity and a bit of effort from her boy split her right open like a log of firewood. A spike of bliss railed her innermost temple, easily breaching the door of her cervix. And with each cervical reaming, the green runes surrounding the altar brightened just a little bit more.
Chanting intensified, and Althea felt a rush of heat flood her limbs. An unnatural fervor of lust compelled her legs to bring herself up and down in a slow, but quickening rhythm, matching the thrum of the gathered voices. If she wasn’t mistaken, Althea could even hear the thrashing ichor in the lake below reach a cacophanous pitch, like stormy seas. The Heir pulled his tongue from his mother’s mouth before retracting it down through the winding corridors of Maia’s belly before finally popping free from her newly gaping asshole.
Utterly spent, the gothic handmaiden slumped against Althea’s chest, though she plopped her squatted hips down on the Heir’s chest, unwittingly grinding her sopping, pale pussy over every rash and blemish on his unliving flesh. Althea’s swollen breasts jiggled and quivered against Maia’s cheek with each bounce upon her own son’s cock, but this position invoked a new maternal instinct in the young priestess. Between feverish moans, Althea again cupped Maia’s cheeks, but this time she brought the girl’s plump, smudged lips to her bosom.
“Drink, my sweet Maia,” Althea crooned in a soft and doting voice. There was no trace of the vigorous throatfucking she’d just endured, nor was there a shred of resistance. No, that Althea–the pure and defiant–lay slumbering in the warm, soupy ignorance of the girl’s unconscious mind. Only the darkness served as her guide for this momentous occasion. But the pale cultist accepted the invitation and locked her soft lips around Althea’s firm, aching dug. The young acolyte’s dark, matronly areola swelled on contact before erupting in a decadent font of spoiled mother’s milk. She felt Maia gag and flinch, but the priestess held her head in place, and shortly afterward the obedient handmaiden swallowed. Maia leaned harder against her lady’s soft chest before eliciting a hedonistic shiver of delight. Maia licked her lips and let out a small wet belch before latching on again. “Angh, that’s it, drink your fill,” Althea mewled, gnawing her lip in rapturous bliss.
Another seatdrop onto the necrotic, blistered cock of her monstrous offspring, and Althea felt her own climax nearing. Maia pulled her head away from the nipple long enough to utter a single request of her lady: “Shout his name for us, my lady. Gift him the full blessings of Nihilipox!” And then she immediately popped the other nipple into her mouth, guzzling away with gluttonous zeal.
“Ongh–All hail–aaawnnnhh–” Althea squealed, throwing her head back as her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth. Her eyelids scrunched shut, but when Maia took the nip between her teeth, the blonde mother flung open those ocean eyes and let out an intoxicated, climactic shriek. “All hail the Heir of Nihilipox!” she continued and brought herself up one last time, knees barely holding out. Althea held herself for only the briefest moment before dropping back down onto that thick, veiny cock, feeling every weeping pustule eek its bileous seepage into her hungering, motherly depths. “All hail Thraxilkhan!” she howled, and her son unleashed the floodgates. A veritable tide of pungent, polluted cum surged directly into Althea’s fertilized womb, painting the unformed, incestuous offspring in his virile, demonic seed. She could feel herself once again bloat outward with the unfathomable cumload. Her son’s cock bulge vanished beneath the swelling cum bubble that was Althea’s abused and putrified womb.
All around them the green runes exploded with baleful light. Wondrous shapes and symbols composed of greenlit magic filled the air, floating upward like dust on the wind. And then a black, searing energy blossomed from the nine markings wreathing her navel. Silence fell on the chamber, as even the viscous ichor lake grew still.
“You performed remarkably,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled. It was her boy, but something changed. Though still dripping with lurid darkness, the intent behind the words seemed different. They bore clarity and purpose. A maligned intelligence and cunning. “This form that was once little more than blood and rot has finally emerged,” the heir continued. “You have gifted me a title, and in this coronation the will of my father may be wrought,” he continued. With his tentacled arm, the Heir hoisted Maia’s limp body from atop his chest and gently placed her on the platform beside the altar. Sitting up, his long, bestial skull leered down at his cum-bloated whore of a mother. He let out a earthshaking chuckle. “As was foretold, the child of light, crowned in gold, would name the beast and darkness unfold.”
“What?” Althea asked, the cobwebs of her mind melting into filaments of forgotten shadows. She was returned to herself in the present. Once again in control. Though as she looked down and felt the sensations of fullness displacing her internal organs, she nearly vomited. “By the goddess… not again,” her voice and heart sank at the sight of her expanded belly. She cradled it with shaky hands, feeling the taut flesh and sloshing of her son’s cum. When she felt his claws begin to pull her up off of his rod, she went wide-eyed. “Wait, no!” But it was too late, her monstrous bastard dislodged his thick cockmeat from her gaping pussy. Weak in the knees and stretched so thoroughly, Althea was unable to keep the cum inside, and a heaping bucketload of smelly, rotten cum dumped out of her tainted pussy. “Not in front of everyone…” she whimpered softly, covering her face with her hands as she fought off tears.
“But there is more you yet realize, mother dear,” Thraxilkhan spoke again. “You have taken me into yourself when already ripening, and so you shall suffer a most dire blessing from my father,” he explained and placed his large, six-clawed hand over her belly. “For each night that falls, you shall see a full moon’s change in your cradle of unlife,” he spoke.
“Why must you monsters always deal in cryptic riddles?” she panted softly, feeling the exhaustion creep up on her. Thraxilkhan, the awakened prince of death, only laughed at the remark.
“For every day that passes, your womb shall ripen as much as you would in a month’s time,” the Heir elaborated, his claws playing with the stretched and deflated tummy. “The fruit of our salacious union shall birth into darkness after only nine nights. And such will be any gestation of yours, for the rest of time. This is the burden of your blessing,” he tore his mutant mouth into a devious, fanged smile. “Glory be to Cryptmother Althea!”
And the crowd of fanatics all chanted as one: “Glory be to Cryptmother Althea!”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kbx1nu/lair_of_the_cryptmother_ch_13_dark_fantasybody
[Chapter 12](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kbx012/lair_of_the_cryptmother_ch_12_dark_fantasybody/)
Chapter 14 (coming soon)