**”The Heir of Nihilipox”**
Althea lay there, a feeble mess of grime, sour milk, and birthing fluid. At last the immense pressure in her belly was gone, but in its place she felt the cold, sinking realization that she had entered an unwilling role of motherhood. Spent and exhausted, the young priestess propped herself up on one elbow. Though her stomach still showed a slight distension, she knew it would flatten out eventually. What she was not prepared for, however, was the slimy, lukewarm tentacle of her bastard offspring flopping against the inside of her thigh. The contact made her flinch, but fear and shock seized her body when she finally gazed down upon the awful thing that had brewed within her youthful womb.
It had the general shape of a humanoid face, that much was clear, but that was where the similarities ceased. Her newborn son’s face was twisted into a ghoulish and macabre parody of an infant. It’s flesh was a noxious, bile-colored yellow, with thick, dark green veins running beneath its waxy skin. In place of one of the offspring’s eyes there was a honeycomb of porous flesh. Thin, noodle-like roundworms peeped their lengths out of the numerous holes, like pestilent meat oozing out of a sausage grinder. Its mouth was more reminiscent of a toothless lamprey, round and puckering as it gaped mindlessly at the air. At a glance, Althea knew the thing craved the vile nourishment spilling from her corrupted teats. A patchwork of small lumps and pustules covered the back of its head, but the familiarity of the babe halted at the base of its neck.
Below its malformed head, the wretch cast aside any shred of its humanity. In place of a left arm, the tiny thing had a trio of slimy tentacles sprouting from its shoulder, each as thick as a grown-man’s cock. The right arm looked mostly normal, though Althea counted six fingers, and the arm itself bore strange markings. They looked like runic tattoos, but the longer she looked, the more she recognized the fuzzy, black texture. It was that damnable black mold again, though now it grew with purpose. Distinct patterns and sigils ran up and down the short, yellow-green arm. Even more disturbing was the nigh-translucent cavity in the infant’s chest. Covered in a thin layer of that same off-color flesh, there was a hollow chamber where its heart should have been, and inside there was something writhing around, like a lively black eel.
Below its waist, the child sported a eight larger tentacles in place of legs; each one expelled a constant seepage of putrid ooze. These all squirmed and thrashed blindly between Althea’s thighs. Though it hardly looked alive, her abominable son drew long, ragged breaths. Each inhale seemingly inflated a patch of thin-skinned blisters on its back, and each exhale deflated them. And then it opened its other eye, and the young priestess saw a familiar ocean blue staring back at her. If ever she doubted that such a disgusting thing sprang from her loins, that piercing stare shattered any self-delusions. She was a mother, and this was her child.
“Congratulationz, my zweet,” Edgar leered before scooping the infant up in his filthy hands. “You are the mother of peztilenze, and your bloodline shall zpread death upon thiz world. In the name of Nihilipoxz,” he added with a hissing laugh. When the spawn floundered in his grasp, Edgar loomed over Althea. She felt another familiar plop of a freshly belched maggot land on the creamy flesh of her quivering thigh.
“Take it away. Please… I’ve done what you asked,” she said through weak and shallow breaths. But Edgar showed no sign of retreating. Instead, he held out the dripping, horrid newborn for Althea to take into her own arms. She wanted to vomit, but she found her body moving on its own. Perhaps it was her maternal instincts, perhaps this was some new curse the heretics had placed upon her, but either way she took her slimy, thrashing offspring into her arms, cradling it like something far more precious than it appeared. “No… I don’t want… this.” But plead as she might, her inhuman son lashed one of its arm tentacles around her throat. Not tight enough to choke her, but tight enough to secure itself and reel its face closer to her weeping bosom. As she expected, it secured its puckering, monstrous mouth around one of her leaky nips and drank deep of her vile milk.
Shock still consumed the poor girl. Only now had she noticed the violet light of the magic circle had faded as she lay back on her elbows, watching this tumorous, sickly spawn–her chid–sup at her breast, seeking the lifegiving mother’s milk within. Althea coughed softly when in its zeal, the squirming bastard brat tightned its coil around her neck while lassoing a second of its left arm tendrils around the base of her plump, ripened tit. With the precision of a skilled farmhand, the tentacle squeezed over the expanse of her heavy breast from base to nip, wringing the spoiled, nauseating milk free like she was some sort of cursed cattle. Against her sense of dignity, Althea felt a small shudder escape her pursed lips. Despite the humiliation, she felt a warmth blossoming in her strained loins.
As the thing drained her breasts, so too did the amusement drain from the gathered men. Andre snapped his fingers, signalling Izaac and Felix to heft up the bulk of Ivan’s corpse. The three men exited without a word, leaving the crawler-laden Edgar to keep watch over the girl. She lay there with heavy breaths, labored and fatigued from the strenuous birth. He began pacing around her like a cat stalking its prey. If the cat was covered in clumsy, tumbling maggots and persistent, frenetic flies. The others had left them alone, which lit a small spark of hope in Althea’s chest. She had slain one of them with a single spell. Perhaps she would find an opportunity to do so again. This thought was quickly shunted from her mind, as her unwanted heir detached itself from her breast with a wet shlorp before latching onto the other nip.
“He’z a hungry little one. Az greedy az hiz father, I zuppoze,” he mused. “You’ve done well, my zweet. He iz a fine zpezimen. A magnifizent tribute to hiz father’s will.” Althea couldn’t help but notice Edgar was not looking at her at all any more, but at her child. Was he so enraptured by the hideous thing? Was he waiting for something?
And yet, before she could ponder the thought, she felt a quivering pulse shake through the spawn’s whole body. A deep oscillation. And unless her mind was playing tricks, it felt as though her newborn bastard had almost instantly doubled in weight… and size. Looking down proved it. She winced as it finally put its third tentacle to use. The one on her neck remained anchored in in a loose, fleshy noose. The one on her second tit resumed its milking motions. But the third had a more insidious intent. This tiny, foul abomination let its tendril snake down the sticky skin of her recently deflated tummy before coming to rest at the top of her mound. There it smeared its slimy secretions all across the underside of her navel and between her hips.
Althea’s eyes shot open wide. Surely it didn’t intend to violate her… right? She was its mother, even if it only showed the scarcest signs of humanity. Yet when it finally finished its milky binging, she saw the beginnings of its transformation. The thing’s face no longer bore the soft, spongy features of a newborn. Its visage looked gaunt and skull-like, with sharp cheekbones, a pointed chin. The puckered, suckling sphincter of a mouth had stretched and twisted into a fanged, ghoulish maw. More monster than mortal, but still it remained the fruit of her loins. Edgar let out a deep and dark laugh before squatting down between Althea and the cell door. He wished to watch, it would seem.
When she felt it loosen its grip on her neck, Althea quickly shook the inhuman spawn off of her and scurried away toward the back of her small, stone cell. She couldn’t tell if she had good timing or of what followed was in reaction to her rejection, but the Heir of Nihilipox once again shook and shuddered. Its flesh bulged and swelled in odd places, like the surface of a boiling stew or swiftly-rising bread dough. At once it gained an amorphous shape before the rest of it seemed to grow in proportion, evening out its limbs and figure into a new, more horrific form. When the twisting and warping of flesh subsided, she saw a somewhat humanoid shape lying in a fetal position on its side. Its back was to her, and by her judgment it must have been only a head shorter than her.
“By Helestria’s light…” Althea murmured, and upon hearing its mother speak, the prone, curled-up creature stirred with a wet, throaty hiss. Its clawed, six-fingered arm slapped against the floor, bent at an angle no mortal could replicate without dislocating their shoulder. Patches of the skin had stretched so quickly that numerous holes tore open, like fabric stretched beyond its limits. She could see the dark, rotten muscle moving beneath with each motion. Althea’s wretched spawn hoisted itself upright with a swift, jerky motion, still facing away. In place of its skirt of leg-tentacles, it now had a pair of digitigrade legs ending in goat-like hooves covered in the familiar black fungus. In fact, it seemed to leave a small, slowly-spreading patch of the black mold everywhere it stepped. The priestess saw the mix of awe and terror on Edgar’s face. Gone was the fly-covered man’s arrogance and lewd leering. He bore a countenance of abject horror.
With a wet popping sound, the creature’s triple-tentacled left arm snapped into its socket, adjusting to the increased length and girth of each rope-like appendage, now each the breadth of a man’s forearm. From this angle, Althea counted nine knife-length bony protrusions jutting out of the stooped abomination’s spinal column. In that moment, Edgar actually took a step back toward the prison cell entrance, his eyes glancing at the door ajar. When the Heir let out a gurgling roar, Edgar tried to turn and slam the door shut behind him, but he only made it a single step before the spawn had one tentacle around his throat the other two around each of his arms at the wrists.
“No-ghlkk–Mazter! N-Nihilipoxz! Protect m–” Edgar pleaded through the constricting tentacle’s embrace, but it was in vain. Before he could finish his cry for help, the spawn yanked him back and plunged its six-clawed hand into the man’s back and through the front of his chest, up to the elbow. Clutched in its black-nailed grasp was the man’s still-beating heart. Edgar groaned once before slumping limply in the Heir’s grip. It tossed him aside before at last turning to face its mother.
Althea beheld the face of her firstborn son, the Heir of Nihilipox. Its gaunt, skull-like face was long and stretched beyond human measure, not unlike some kind of deer or elk. The sickly, bile-yellow skin still clung to its face, and it still sported the porous honeycombed eye. Purple worms danced in and out of the holes like a crowd of revelers. Its fanged, ghoulish maw now seemed to fight against a constant fusing of translucent, yellow flesh, as if its lips were magically fusing themselves shut. As such, it tore ragged holes in the taut mouth flesh each time it opened its long jaw. And that grin reached from ear-to-ear– though the thing had no discernable ears. A singular, gnarled and twisted horn sprouted asymmetrically from the right side of its forehead, just above the ocean blue eye. Althea had seen identical blue eyes each time she looked in the mirror. It was the only resemblance to her that her mutant son bore, but it chilled her to the bone.
The child-sized beast brought the quiet and tremorless heart of Edgar before its noseless, monstrous face. At once it snapped open its jaw and tore its melded lips with sickening determination. Althea could actually hear the thing shiver with delight at its self-inflicted pain. Before the flesh could knit itself together again, the Heir of Nihilipox bared its yellow fangs and black gums before feasting on the dead man’s heart in demonic, cannibalistic glee. Its bloodsoaked maw rasped a gluttonous belch. Fed maternal nourishment and a dead man’s heart. Milk and blood brought upon the Heir newfound and nightmarish changes.
From its height at a head shorter than Althea, the spawn quivered and flexed with low, sadomasochistic rumbles of pleasure and pain entwined. Again it swelled outward, its muscles bulging in asymmetrical growth. Claws sharpened, fangs pointed, and overall the beast’s muscle mass and height blossomed. Her demonic son now stood a head taller than even Andre. If it tried to leave the cell, it would have to duck its head–and horn–below the doorframe. The abomination’s three arm tentacles had split into six, though strands of the thick, viscous mucus still clung between them. Surely, this must have been an expected part of the ritual. But was this even its final form?
This sadistic fiend had gestated within her what seemed only mere moments ago, and yet its cold, baleful stare… the grotesque transfiguration… it all felt as if time stretched thin over eons. And in that moment, Althea knew. The gloaming, fermented soul that flickered behind its familiar and familial blue eye was as a shard of the Abyss itself. A fragment of Nihilipox nested within this horrific thing–this rotten fruit of their unholy union.
The macabre, bestial creature loomed above its mother. In such a short time it had grown so much. Althea sat speechless as it took a plodding step forward, sprouting a new patch of the tenebrous fungus in its wake. They were alone now, and the priestess feared for her life. Though at some level she knew this thing–her son–would not take her life. She would have scurried further, were she not already back against the wall. Althea turned her head and shut her eyes, awaiting the end. But it did not come. She slowly peeped one eye open, only to find her monstrous child’s face mere inches from her own.
“What do you want with me? Please, just leave me be,” she murmured softly. It shook its head like a flustered dog and blasted its hot breath through small tears in those ever-melding lips. “Please, I’m not–I don’t want to be your mother,” she whimpered. At the last word, the beast rose to its full height. Althea could see the bony spines on its back quiver and rattle as it let out a deep, rumbling growl of pleasure.
**”MO…THERRR…”** it bellowed in a husky, coarse voice that came out partially muffled by its chaotic, shifting mouth. Althea blanched. It could speak. Which meant it could think. This was no mere beast, it had will and purpose. But to what end? As if answering her thoughts, Althea’s abominable son whipped forth its six, serpentine appendages. One coiled around each of her limbs at the elbows and knees, another around her waist, and the last around her throat. In harmony the rope-like tentacles hoisted her from the cold cell floor. She did fight it for a moment, but the moment its tentacle mucus touched her skin, she felt a flush of heat flood her body. Could the sticky, foul-smelling stuff be some sort of aphrodisiac? Thoughts clouded as passions took hold. The Heir held her aloft before him. Althea now hung suspended in her son’s iron grip, powerless to the beast’s fermented desires.
“No… I can’t. No more…” Althea said in soft, breathy voices as the thick tendril continued coiling around her neck. “Please stop,” she shivered. The new mother put up little fight at this point. Her body hung suspended above the floor, and her son reeled her closer in. The skull-faced abomination split its nearly nonexistent mouth again and let its hot breath wash over her face.
**”More… No stop…”** it growled before letting out a rattling, dark laugh. A black tongue laden with pustules and blisters slithered out of its long, bony snout and slathered her cheek in its rotten saliva. Just like the ooze-slick tendrils, the saliva electrified her skin, sending a reluctant shudder throughout her bound body. Althea parted her lips and moaned softly, her blonde brows woven in unwanted yearning. Seeing its mother’s soft mouth so open and inviting, the inhuman Heir of Nihilipox plunged its thick, lengthy tongue between its mother’s plush lips.
The vile-looking tongue tasted exactly like the divine elixir; sweet and sublime. But this was wrong. Not only was this creature unspeakably evil, it was her own son. She couldn’t enjoy such blighted, sinful indulgences–she shouldn’t… but it felt so. Damn. Incredible! After so long, after so much resistance, Althea at last surrendered to the madness and the pleasure. The priestess loosened her jaw and allowed her towering, undead son to throatfuck her with its seemingly infinite tongue. Deeper it crawled past her lips, painting her insides with the tantalizing aphrodisiac spittle. But the flush of heat was quickly gathering in her nethers, and Althea caught herself struggling against her bonds to squeeze her legs together from the rising itch of sexual tension.
The new mother threw her arms around her half-rotten demonspawn bastard and pulled its horned head closer, letting the abomination’s amorphous mouth mash against her own. The sensation of its constantly splitting and fusing lips against her own should have nauseated the girl, but she cared not, even as the endless tongue probed the depths of her throat. Althea drowned her woes in the momentous ecstasy of this dark taboo. And that’s when she felt a pressure against her soft, grimy skin. Though Althea had not seen a cock on her son, she now felt the thick girth of a lukewarm shaft pressed against her inner thigh. Pulling her head back far enough to glance down, she bore witness to a lumpy mass of gangrenous flesh. Black-green with rot and corruption, sporting dozens of oozing sores, but rigid as the most determined rigormortis. And fuck was it big. It shared the length and girth of a man’s arm. A strong man at that. Althea suspected the hefty breeding tool would only fit thanks to its own rancid suppurations serving as lubrication. But why did she want it so badly?
Althea could not wait any longer. The girl tilted her head back, and her spawn retracted its exploratory tongue. She gasped for air even as strands of thick, sweet drool clung between their faces. How could she have feared such a passionate lover? Was this a mother’s love for her son? A woman’s love for her man? Althea felt her mind scrambled by the feverish intoxication and an urge for further stimulation. Pressing her palm to the side of the demonspawn’s face, just beneath its worm-filled eye, she leaned in close and whispered softly, “Mommy needs you to fuck her senseless.”
A burst of incestuous vigor jolted through the abomination’s muscled, asymmetrical limbs. It let out a roar that sounded like a mix of a bear growl and a wolf’s howl. And in a blur of movement the dank, dingy air rustled through Althea’s hair as she was pinned up against the back wall of the cell. As it loomed over her, reeking of its sulfurous, demonic musk, the bestial monstrosity let out ragged, hoarse breaths through the small gaps in its lips. Althea was still bound body and limb in its tentacled grasp, but she felt her left arm come free. With it, she reached out and placed a hand atop the dinner-plate-sized blister on the monster’s chest; the strange fluid-filled sac in place of its heart that contained the writhing, squirming black eel. Althea’s fingertips traced swirling patterns across the taut and jaundiced flesh of her monstrous son as if teasing a lover. She watched as it sawed its hips up and down, rubbing the underside of its impressive shaft along her abused pussy lips. It still held her up by the thighs, waist, and neck, but her other arm now hung free. **”Needs… fuck… mo-mmy…”** the thing rumbled into her ear. Althea watched as the Heir of Nihilipox–her darling son–carefully splayed its six claws before pressing its entire palm atop her deflated tummy.
With her other hand, Althea reached down and cupped the bulbous head of her bastard’s aroused cock. It was so fucking hard, she could have sworn it was made of wood. But the twitching pulse of heightened arousal at its mother’s touch proved otherwise. Her baby boy was a real stallion, and she wanted to feel him inside her. “Put it… put it in me…” What was she saying? This was wrong! But alas, the voice of reason grew softer and more distant in her mind with each passing moment. Althea swallowed hard and licked her lips, feeling more of her rapacious offspring’s saliva tingle the lining of her mouth. She continued playing with the head of his cock between her fingers, now bringing both hands down to the top of his shaft. “I need to feel you deep inside… my beautiful boy,” Althea felt like a woman possessed.
Yet the son obliged its mother, and she felt the firm cockhead prod against the soft, stretched flesh of her gaping cunt. Zombies, ogres, and countless worms had already violated her. Was this really so wrong by comparison? At least she was willing–at least she thought she was willing… Unfortunately, the time for questioning her actions would have to wait, as she felt the first forceful thrust of her own son’s cock spearing her pussy. Less than an hour ago she birthed him into the world, and now he was already finding his way back inside. He filled her so much, but when Althea gazed down at their joined hips, she saw he was barely halfway inside. So. Fucking. BIG!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kbwza6/lair_of_the_cryptmother_ch_10_dark_fantasybody
[Chapter 9](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kbwyvm/lair_of_the_cryptmother_ch_9_dark_fantasybody/)
[Chapter 11](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kbwzoa/lair_of_the_cryptmother_ch_11_dark_fantasybody/)