Published in Issue #7 of Shroud Magazine, The Journal of Dark Fiction and Art
Brooke and Dorian are a golden couple who’ve had all of life’s favor until their car inexplicably breaks down on their return home from the Halloween celebrations in Arkham, Massachusetts. They would get stuck in creepy Innsmouth in the middle of the night! Could rumored legends of the transformation of Innsmouth’s seafaring residents be true? They’re about to encounter some disagreeable denizens in this Lovecraftian assault.
alloween’s lookin’ up. We’ll take this one inside, won’t we love?” said the older woman.
“Yes Mommy,” said the younger female, who’d been quiet up to now. She smiled at Brooke as if to say, I’m about to do your boyfriend. Brooke had the silly thought of liking her bracelets.
“Have at ’im, Ro” Merrow called to the older one as the women dragged Dorian toward the building. “I’ll be in t’ help ya secure ’im in a minute. We’ve got a lovely one ’ere.”
It was the last thing Brooke heard as Merrow turned to take her from Dylan. She felt his warm breath on her neck and his massive hand between her legs as she passed out cold.
* * *
Dorian woke hanging in the air, chained to a big winch inside the old factory. The older woman had drugged him. He saw a needle in her hand and had dozed off moments later. He must have been hallucinating; he’d sworn he saw not a needle, but a thin, fleshy appendage withdrawing back into the woman’s hand. Now the old woman flipped a switch on the wall and his body was dropped down to the floor. His feet were chained to another winch and his legs were spread. The two devices kept him tautly spread out, lying naked on his back along the cold cement floor.
“Want a lick, Undine?” the older woman said to her companion. The two of them approached him and began to perform oral sex quite efficiently. He winced and let out a low moan. There was some degree of stimulation, and the young one, who worked her tongue on his balls, was not altogether bad looking. She was just beginning the stages of the transformation, and it gave her exotic features, like a pretty Asian girl. Even in his terrified state, with his concern for Brooke, Dorian noted that Undine had a tremendous body. But the older one was in the far-advanced stages of the Innsmouth ugliness, and though she sucked at his cock most earnestly, he was too sickened to ever become aroused. He saw the scabrous creases on the sides of her neck, the patches of yellow hair on her head, and the bulbous watery blue eyes that never once blinked as she slurped away.
“He needs help Rona,” the young one gurgled. “We don’t turn him on.”
This time Dorian knew he wasn’t dreaming. A fingerlike object darted out from the palm of the older woman, and what could only be described as a stinger whipped out from the end of it. He jerked and screamed as it jabbed into the side of his penis. It hurt like hell. He could feel its poison go right to work with an unbearable burning and itching impossible to soothe with his hands bound. He stiffened to a statue-like consistency, swelling to three times the size of his normal erection, in both length and girth.
“Hydroid Viagra,” Rona said, cackling while Undine giggled. To Dorian’s horror, the sea crone was determined to be the first to ride. She lifted her skirt and her skin below was grayish in color. She slid onto him. Dorian felt terribly violated, but relieved that it felt like regular intercourse. He could see that an extremely thick film was emerging from the old woman’s sex. It was sticky and it dangled, stretching off his pubic area as she rode up and down. It reminded him of the substance that came off his catch when his Dad took him fishing as a kid. When he had held the fish to take the hook out, the sticky film that came off its skin made it impossible to grip the creature. The sight of this, added to the hag’s rotting seaweed smell, made him want to vomit.
Suddenly he felt something brush against his ass. As the old woman bucked atop him, something blue-gray and ridged rose behind her head. She had a tail! It was over three feet long and had a pointed, serrated tip. Dorian’s eyes followed it as it fell out of sight. In the next moment he experienced the most gut-wrenching pain he’d ever felt as the thing was inserted into his anus. He could feel it tearing the walls of his rectum as it was unceremoniously pushed in and out. He let out a guttural scream. It went in so far he became sick to his stomach; he turned his head and vomited a bit to the side. The women laughed even harder.
Next Undine was about to climb aboard his still petrified tool. He was at least thankful she was somewhat attractive.
“You’re in for a treat, young man,” Rona said, looking at him with her unfocused bug-eyes. “Undine’s very special, hehehe, aren’t you my darling?”
“Yes Mommy,” Undine replied by rote. She lifted her short jean skirt and exposed her genitals to Dorian. They looked normal- for the first few seconds. He watched in terror as her inner lips began to part by themselves. They parted and gaped halfway to her thighs then another layer of reddish lips emerged. They also opened and revealed something that made him fight against the chains; all along the inside of her vaginal walls were rows of sharp little white teeth.
As Undine took him, Dorian screamed until no further utterance would come out. He was being mangled, and knew he was bleeding badly. In an odd twist, her equipment also performed an incredibly strong suction action, which overrode the pain Dorian felt and actually caused him to ejaculate inside her. She moaned and squealed with the utmost pleasure.
For his part, he tried to hypnotize himself by concentrating on her fascinating jewelry, which bobbled and reflected the light. He could see the imprint of weird scenes etched around the pieces, depicting a story of man and sea creature, a story from a time human history couldn’t fathom. Yet somehow Dorian felt that man had knowledge of such stories deep within. He saw pictures of the transformation and evolution; pictures of the god who made it happen, a creature the size of a city block with a hundred eyes and tentacles. Somehow he knew this deity was not formed in the shrouded mists of the Earth’s past, but in the whirling gases of some far off place, a place modern man would never see, yet knew as his womb.
* * *
Brooke was living her own nightmare. Merrow was first to enter her. He was so strong he could hold her arms above her head, pinning her motionless with his body. He was an enormous mass of muscle and didn’t hesitate. He shoved the whole thing into her on the first thrust. She’d gotten a glimpse of it when he first pulled it out of his pants. Her eyes opened wider as she emitted no sound against the rag stuffed in her mouth. She swore his joint was over a foot long and its head was the size of an orange. It had a silvery blue tinge. There’d been no vaginal lubrication at all. When it went in, a muffled shriek came from the depths of her stomach. She lost her breath and wretched, gagging already from the rancid fishy smell that permeated the area. Her opening was being stretched beyond capacity; she was certain it was split and bleeding.
She was absolutely shocked to her core at what she experienced next; a wave of shuddery pleasure. There was a sudden and overwhelming thrill as the massive cock nearly bisected her. She could feel undeniably that her juices were beginning to flow. She was not just wet, but soaked, and her moans became louder with each thrust. An ecstasy washed over her that she’d never experienced with poor Dorian or indeed any previous lover.
As Merrow let go of her hands she actually threw her arms around his back and clutched the ridges of his thick black sweater. She was imbued with a spiritual reckoning; an atavistic sense of belonging overtook her. Her mind floated in the depths of an amniotic fluid as her body shook violently. Without embarrassment she wailed incoherently as she came and came in swells.
© Richard Alan Scott