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piceuscelus · 3 years

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loved your ovi fic!! I'd love to see another. Maybe Geralt is sick of Jaskier trying to follow him on hunts so he tries to scare him off by using him as bait for a monster with an ovipositor who pumps him full of eggs. The eggs have to stay inside a host for 24 hrs, so Geralt plugs Jas up and watches gleefully as the grotesquely swollen, sobbing bard has to painfully waddle around after him for a whole day, too big to fit into his fancy clothes. He might just let Jas come on more hunts after all

hi i want to do So Many Things with this and not the least of which is write like 10k of jaskier being stuffed and then paraded around, but i’m supposed to be keeping this short(ish) SO

bless you and your cow, have your dub-con oviposition and geralt being questionable and horny

Geralt expects that the threat will make Jaskier back off, maybe finally make him feel afraid.

Apparently, it’s as fruitless as expecting Jaskier to stop following him.

“If I let you come on this hunt, I’ll be using you as bait.”

Jaskier blinks. “...well,” he says. “I suppose. What do you mean, exactly, by bait?”

Geralt sighs and rubs at his temples. “Exactly what I said, bard, I don’t speak in metaphors and half-truths like you. You’ll be bait. Tied up in the forest to lure the creature in.”

Among other things, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

Jaskier hums. “Well, that seems easy enough. Is this a particularly violent monster?”

“...no.” Geralt shakes his head. “It’s not malevolent at all.”

“So you’re not killing it?”

“No. I’m helping it. Sort of. More helping myself and a mage willing to pay a whole lot of gold for something that’s rather hard to obtain.”

“...alright,” Jaskier says. “I trust you.”

Geralt frowns. You shouldn’t. “Leave your lute and the doublet. It’s not likely to be kind to your clothes or anything else in its way.”

Jaskier nods. Of course, now is when he decides to be obedient.

– – – – –

“So what kind of monster is it? I’ve seen those bestiaries of yours.”

“Elementa,” Geralt answers. “Came with the Convergence. It’s made mostly of slime and tentacles.”

“Disgusting!” Jaskier says brightly. “Should make for a good drinking song.”

Geralt bites back on a snort. “Yeah, sure,” he murmurs.

– – – – –

Geralt isn’t quite sure which is the worst part of this: the fact that when he tells him to, Jaskier strips naked as if he has no qualms about being entirely bare in a monster-infested forest with Geralt staring at him, or that when he ties Jaskier up, the bard’s cock starts to fill.

His does, too, but he knew that would happen. After a century of life, shame is kind of hard to come by.

Jaskier is humming quietly to himself while Geralt finishes with the ropes. The bard is standing a few feet in front of a large oak, legs spread shoulder-width apart and arms stretched above his head. There’s rope around his ankles that’s anchored to stakes on either side of him, pulled taut so he can’t close his legs, and the rope around his wrists is secured to a thick branch above his head.

He’s vulnerable. He’s looking around the clearing as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Geralt wants to fucking ruin him, but he knows that the monster will do that for him, so he holds back.

“Is there anything particular I should do to lure the creature out?” Jaskier asks as Geralt begins to pack up. He’ll be close enough to watch, but the monster isn’t likely to come around if it can sense too much silver.

“No,” he shakes his head. “The smell of you will be enough.”

“The smell of me?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt gives a pointed nod to his half-hard cock.

The bard at least has the decency to flush. “You have very nice hands,” he says, as if that’s any kind of explanation or excuse. “So the monster is, uh...interested, I suppose.”

“Yes.” More than, Geralt thinks. It’ll think you’re the perfect host to lay its eggs. “I’ll be watching.”

He makes no more promises. After all, he’s not withholding the true intent of the monster – or this hunt – for shits and giggles. He’s trying to teach Jaskier a lesson.

“Alright,” Jaskier agrees. “I’ll be here.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, and makes off for the tree he’d scouted before beginning to tie Jaskier up.

– – – – –

It takes barely ten minutes after Geralt’s scent has faded away for the monster to show up. It’s a brilliant blue, looking like the water of a lake at high noon in the summer, and moves a lot like a river might, if water were thicker than it is. At first, it looks like a mobile puddle, really, but then, as it gets to the center of the clearing – finally catching Jaskier’s attention – the tentacles appear. They’re darker in color, more solid, but no less slick and viscous, Geralt knows from experience.

He’s far enough away to not alert the monster, but he’s close enough to see the microexpressions cross Jaskier’s face, to hear his sharp intake of breath. To smell him, just faintly, on the wind. He’s more turned on than before. Go figure.

The monster investigates for a moment, tentacles leaving sticky trails over the ropes first, and then Jaskier’s feet and calves, his wrists and forearms. Jaskier makes an odd, choked sound, then giggles and squirms – ticklish.

Interesting.

Slowly but surely, the monster’s explorations move toward Jaskier’s center, until there’s one sliding curiously over his cock, and – judging by the short, sharp noise Jaskier makes as he rocks onto his tiptoes – his ass.

“Fr...friendly, aren’t you,” Jaskier pants. “That’s – oh.”

Geralt almost wishes he’d tied Jaskier differently, so he could watch the process of the monster slowly working a tentacle into his ass, but he’d only had so much rope and limited options for how to get Jaskier tied properly. It’s an unfortunate loss, but he does get the next best thing, getting to watch Jaskier’s face as the reality of what’s happening starts to dawn on him.

He squirms, feet wriggling in the damp soil, hips twisting. “Geralt, Geralt,” he calls. “This is – are you – ”

Geralt doesn’t reply. He doesn’t need to, not really. He’d said he'd be watching; he didn’t tell Jaskier he would be listening, or that he’d come to the rescue.

Again, he’s teaching the bard a lesson.

He can see the moment the tentacle breaches Jaskier’s body from the way the bard’s eyes go wide as his mouth drops open. Seemingly against his own will, his hips rock back and then forward again, and he moans, loud and clear.

Well. That’s interesting.

He’d expected Jaskier might, but….

The tentacle sinks deeper, then pulls back and thrusts again; once more, Geralt wishes he could see it properly, watch Jaskier’s hole stretch around the slimy girth of it, but he can’t move now. It will have to suffice to see the movement of the tentacle and Jaskier’s face.

It doesn’t take long to work up to the right point, the tentacle brutally efficient in its job of stretching Jaskier’s ass wide and slicking him up. Jaskier is moaning throughout the process, eyes crossed when they’re not closed, body shaking where the ropes are suspending his weight. His cock is much more than half-hard by now, and as Geralt watches, it throbs and drips a string of precum to the forest floor.

“Geralt,” Jaskier mumbles weakly. “Geralt, you….”

He doesn’t finish. Geralt doesn’t wonder what he was going to say, watching with anticipation as the preparing tentacle slips away and a new one replaces it. Jaskier whines when the first leaves, and then whines again, louder, when the second appears.

“Oh, what,” he mutters, wriggling his hips again. Two tentacles appear at his sides, wrapping tight around him like the rope, functionally immobilizing him. He gasps sharply, eyes flying open wide, and then he’s doing it again as they slam shut again when the new tentacle behind him starts to push inside.

“Big,” Jaskier whimpers, lashes fluttering. Geralt allows himself a small, nearly-silent chuckle. Big, indeed, he thinks. It’ll get worse.

This tentacle sinks inside with a slow, steady pace, no thrusts at all. Jaskier is panting and whining at the stretch of it, at the fullness, his cock bobbing and drooling as he shifts as much as he can with how captive he’s become. Geralt can tell the moment that the second tentacle reaches the right depth, because he can just barely see the way Jaskier’s belly bulges around it.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines again. “What is it – what’s – ”

His eyes go wide again and he properly tries to struggle this time, no more wriggling but instead trying to thrash. He doesn’t get anywhere, held tight with Geralt’s rope and the tentacles still around his waist. Geralt’s eyes flick to the part of the tentacle still resting on the ground, behind Jaskier’s calf, where he can still see it. There’s a slightly darker shape moving through it, up toward Jaskier’s body.

He bites his lip and watches intently, wanting to capture the exact moment that Jaskier feels the new stretch, as well as when the egg is deposited in his guts.

He catches both. Jaskier’s eyes widen even further somehow, and he chokes out an alarmed noise; once the egg is past his rim, he just squirms fruitlessly some more, and then he’s choking around a deep, startled grunt when the egg slips into his belly. Geralt can see the bulge of it, and his cock throbs in his breeches.

Jaskier is panting. “Geralt, this is – what is happening, this isn’t…. Fuck.”

Another egg makes the journey, and Geralt watches everything repeat, sees the way Jaskier’s cock jerks and pulses as it settles into his belly, too. Another, and then another – half a dozen, a dozen, two dozen.

Finally, Geralt watches the twenty-fifth egg pump into Jaskier, where his belly is already swollen, lumpy with the eggs and probably aching. Jaskier’s cock is, impossibly, still hard, purpling at the tip and shiny with the wealth of precum smeared over the head.

There’s a moment where the tentacle pulls out slightly, then pulses one last time before it drops to the ground, and the monster begins its slow crawl away. Geralt watches it go out of the corner of his eye, most of his focus on Jaskier where he dangles from the ropes, exhausted and clearly in pain and still wanting, somehow.

Jaskier whines when Geralt re-enters the clearing. “Hurts,” he rasps. “I – Geralt. They won’t...come out.”

“It’s plugged you,” Geralt explains. “The eggs have to stay in a host for 24 hours. The plug it made will dissolve in about half an hour, but I’ve got another to make sure they stay.

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Tw – twenty four hours?” he asks breathlessly. “Geralt, I can’t – this is – ”

“You wanted to come on a hunt,” Geralt shrugs. “I needed bait and an incubator.”

Jaskier whines. “What – what if I hadn’t come along.”

“I’d have done it.”

“...you say that like you’ve done this before.”

“I have. Not very often, but it’s lucrative. I’m going to untie you. Lean on my if you need to, but don’t press your stomach against anything too hard.”

“...fine.”

Slowly, Geralt unties Jaskier – feet first, and then arms, letting the bard lean on him and then lowering him slowly to the ground while he gathers the rope and stores it away. Once everything is packed, he grabs the plug he’d brought and walks back over to Jaskier.

“Legs open,” he orders, and Jaskier squeaks, but does it. His cock has softened, but only just, and Geralt feels his own throb again. He gets the plug into Jaskier’s ass with as much professionalism as he can, then stands and offers a hand out.

Jaskier gapes. “You’re – we’re not going, are we?”

Geralt raises a brow. “Yes,” he says. “We need to get to the next town before sundown. Find an inn.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, voice rising in panic. “I’m – my clothes won’t fit like this. I can’t just – we have to camp.”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “If I had done this, we’d be moving on – so we’ll move on. Come on, up.”

He reaches out and grabs Jaskier’s wrist to pull him up. Jaskier shouts and stumbles to his feet, groaning loudly as the eggs shift. Geralt watches in fascination as his cock starts to harden again.

He’s clearly in pain, and upset, and a myriad of things that Geralt would think would squash his arousal.

And yet.

“Maybe if you’re good and walk along until we get to the next town, I’ll let you come,” Geralt offers.

Jaskier sucks in a breath, then whimpers when that clearly hurts him. “Geralt,” he pleads, but Geralt just shakes his head, and the bard sighs. He settles a hand over his bulging belly and grunts.

“...okay,” he says. “Help me get my boots back on, and okay.”

Geralt does just that, carefully not letting himself grin.

– – – – –

Jaskier is whimpering three minutes in. Ten minutes in, he’s crying. Fifteen, and he’s sobbing, shoulders shaking as he holds his belly.

All the while, his cock never flags all the way.

Geralt watches him, pleased, as he sobs and gasps and stumbles, naked as the day he was born aside from the boots. His belly is starting to bruise, mottled from the inside because of the pressure, and his knees are shaking with each step he takes.

By the time they can see the town on the horizon, the sun casting a gold-orange glow as it sets, Jaskier is gasping, heart rate almost dangerously elevated, and his eyes are hazy. Obviously, they can’t enter the town like this – no matter how much Geralt wants to, wants to see the looks they’d get, a Witcher on his horse with a swollen, bruised bard stumbling along behind him looking well-fucked and ruined, a plug settled in his ass.

So just outside, in a dark patch of trees, he stops, and pulls Jaskier into the shelter.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps. “Geralt, please, this is – too much, too much.”

“Nearly a whole day to go, bard,” Geralt says, not unsympathetically. “But I did say I would give you a reward, no? And we need to get you somewhat decent to go into town, anyway. Come here.”

Jaskier lists into Geralt’s arms immediately, whimpering, and Geralt carefully situates him so there’s no weight on his lumpy belly, but he doesn’t have to hold himself up at all.

It only takes two strokes and a soft murmur of, “Very good, Jaskier,” to make the bard come with a cracked scream.

When he’s done convulsing through the pleasure – likely jostling the eggs around his insides, which either hurts or feels incredible, Geralt knows from personal experience – he goes back to sobbing.

“Geralt, Geralt,” he whimpers. “I, I can’t.”

“Yes you can, bard,” Geralt says. “Just a little more.”

Jaskier sucks in a sharp, ragged breath, and Geralt feels the way the cramp rocks through his body. His own cock throbs heavily in his breeches, but he continues to ignore it. He can deal with it later – maybe even have Jaskier deal with it….

But later, all the same.

“Come on, Jaskier.”

“...o-okay.”

#celus writes #celus prompt fill #celus monsterfucking CW #celus dub-con CW #celus non-con CW #celus oviposition CW #fun fact i used to think i was wholly neutral on ovi but uuhhhhhh i was Very Wrong #Anonymous

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philicheesecake · 3 years

Text

(U.L.) The Last Hunt

Synopsis: Three hunters seek out the trace of an unknown monster, only for the hunt to take a dangerous turn.

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS FATAL VORE. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE FATAL VORE, TURN BACK NOW.

((Phili’s note: Though Wendigos are mentioned in this story, the adaption mentioned here are not the ones from folklore. The Unseen Legion discovered creatures with similar appearance and behavior that resembles the wendigo folklore and nicknamed these creatures after them, not having a better name for them)) ((Also sorry it took forever to get this posted! I was super nervous about posting fatal, but y’all have been warned anyways, so hopefully it should be fine))

---

There was a click as the magazine slid into place. The trunk of the big red van slammed shut. Footsteps tracked away from the gravel earth. A wind bristled through the canopy above, shifting the flecks of warm evening light that fell across the untrodden trail. Branches and dead foliage crunched over the three pairs of boots as the small hunting party began to search.

The mid-autumn air was crisp and chilly in contrast with the sun’s dull warm glow, and the fiery colors of the foliage that shifted at the change of season. The three figures were equipped with boots and jackets, and the tallest held a pack full of spare hunting gear to make sure all approaches to some unknown threat were covered.

“They’re more active at dawn and dusk, so we’ll have to watch our backs more as the sun sets,” the oldest of them, Josiah spoke to his trainee. He had dark baggy eyes and salt and pepper hair. While his features were much older and weathered, she was much shorter and younger, barely out of high school, with curly black hair pulled back into a big ponytail.

“How many wendigos have you killed?” The girl, Ruth pondered.

“Gah, lost count. Maybe seven?” The older man shrugged. “What about you, Rubin?” He glanced at the other hunter joining them. He was short for her age, but had a good build and curly brown hair and a goatee.

“Haven’t met one yet. This one would be my first. I tend to stick around the rowdy moon puppies mostly,” Rubin responded.

“I’ve always wanted to hunt a werewolf, I just have too unsteady hands to pierce their heart,” Ruth said. “I’m just sticking to the bigger targets until I can get a better skill with my gun handling.”

“Good idea. I don’t think it would be fun to come back from a hunt with puppy ears,” Rubin chuckled. “I bet werewolf bites don’t tickle.”

“I’ll bet,” Ruth said with a grin.

“Hey, wait here,” Josiah stopped ahead, holding out a hand as he crouched down to the forest floor, seeming to inspect a mark on the earth. The soil was unruly, but a faint mark could be made out. A footprint? But it was too large, even for a wendigo. Even then, it was difficult to make out whether it actually was a footprint, and not just some uneven ground.

“What do you think, Rubin?” Josiah glanced at the tracking expert of the hunting party.

Rubin bent down near the print, taking a good look at it as he took in a deep breath. “Don’t recognize what it came from, but it couldn’t have been here more than a day ago. This ain’t like anything I’ve seen before.”

Ruth glanced at her father pensively, taking a few steps ahead to try to see more tracks. Sure enough, about six or seven feet apart from the other print was another. “Guys, over here. There’s more.”

Josiah paced over to where she stood, glancing down at the new track. He could see it a bit more clearly. A left footprint. It was strikingly similar to a human’s own footprint, though there were indentations at the front of the toes that tore up the ground, distorting the front of the footprint by the disturbed earth. It was nearly a meter long from heel to toe.

“Rubin, is the one over there a right foot?”

Rubin glanced up from the track after a moment, nodding. “Yuuup.”

Josiah shook his head in awe. “Two meter strides. Damn. This thing must be huge.”

“Do you think we should head back?” Ruth asked. “If we don’t know what it is, it might be dangerous.”

Josiah frowned, picking at a mole on the back of his neck as he always did when he was deep in thought. Maybe nervous. Calculating their odds.

“We’ve been following these hunting patterns like a wendigo. Been twelve years since the last round of victims in this town, and three towns over, staggered at similar intervals. If we lose this chance, it might hibernate again and our chance will be lost. Chances are if it isn’t a wendigo, it’s still a close relative, and we can still kill it. We can follow the prints to at least learn about it, and if we get in over our heads, you can retreat.”

“Probably shouldn’t be relying on horror movies to predict the outcome for this, but...” Ruth looked at her father cautiously. “Going in over our heads is probably what’s going to happen if we don’t know what this is.”

The three hunters continued through the woods, finding the messy footprints leading in a rough direction deeper into the forest. The sun was beginning to set, overshadowed by the looming mountain range before them. On the mountainside, there were rocky cliffs and crevices looking over a small frothy stream that flowed noisily throughout the forest like a winding white serpent. The stream was shallow enough to wade through easily, though the mountain water must be very chilly. With a careful footing, one could cross by hopping from the slippery stones.

“I can check out the cave first and call you over if the coast is clear. Watch out for each other, ‘aight?” Josiah dug through Ruth’s backpack briefly before drawing out the flame thrower. He began to wade through the stream, shivering as the cold water soaked through his trousers and chilled him to the bone.

“Be careful, dad,” Ruth said in a low voice.

Josiah crossed over onto the opposing bank and stepped past the underbrush, making his way along the rocky wall against the bank. He passed further along towards the cave. At first, there seemed to be no trace of anything there. He began to move deeper into the dark crevice of stone, holding out his flame thrower warily. His boot bumped across a large leather sack, at first thinking it was a boulder. It was as big as he was. It had a long leather strap and leather buckles. It was weathered and looked as though it had been patched together over a dozen times.

He looked down at it, frowning slightly in thought. He crouched down to get a better look.

WHOOSH-

A massive hunched figure dashed out of the darkness. A clawed hand swept over, smothering his face to suppress the hunter’s shout of surprise. The flame thrower clattered to the ground and was quickly crunched beyond usage by an unseen force. It was completely silent and instantaneous. Josiah was dragged backward into the darkness by the cruel grip. He struggled, slipping his knife off of his belt and tried to jab it at the thing that held him. Large clawed fingers pinned his arms to his sides, rendering his attempts useless. His knife was quickly snatched and tossed aside.

He tried to shout for the others, but the pressure over his face silenced him, rendering it difficult to even breathe. A warm breath puffed on the back of his neck, making his hairs stand up. The wendigo. He felt something hot and slimy drip onto his shoulders and shuddered. What was that? He struggled harder to slip free from the grip. just hoping he could get free before this thing killed him or stored him in some dark tunnel to snack on later.

The warm air grew closer until he grew aware of a glistening thread of liquid drip down from in front of him. Something began to descend across his vision. Fangs. He choked in a startled gasp as the pressure loosened around his face, only allowing him to make a brief shout before his head was enveloped into the dark maw.

Drool soaked through his skin as the tongue roughly rubbed against his face and hair. The grip shifted around him, holding him firmly as it pushed him in deeper combined with a strong gulp. Josiah felt dread settle into his chest. This creature was going to swallow him whole?! He tried to shout for Ruth and Rubin, but that only got that disgusting slime into his mouth. The smothering tight walls of the throat made it impossible to even breathe! He felt more and more of him dragged within the suffocating passage as he heard the creature begin to gulp and swallow him the rest of the way down. The creature’s head tilted back, changing gravity to a disorienting angle as Josiah was completely upside down. He distantly felt his shoes being yanked off and let out a muffled yelp of pain, being some heavy duty hiking boots that couldn’t really be removed easily. He thought the creature must have broken his feet or something, because he definitely felt something snap in there.

His head soon pressed through a crushingly tight ring of muscle and passed into a slightly more open space. He immediately gasped for air, but the air burned his lungs immediately from the intense heat. He choked and coughed, feeling like he could never really catch his breath with how much each one hurt, and how the throat crushed his rib cage too tightly to really draw a full breath.

The rest of him soon followed into the tight chamber. At first, it seemed too tight, almost impossible for him to fit entirely, though it somehow stretched and groaned as it managed to engulf him entirely with relative ease. As soon as he was down, he could hear his captor’s loud breaths from its cleared airway. He gasped, kicking against the tight confines. He reached for his knife, only to remember the beast had taken it from him. He was trapped.

The air was so hot in here. It was difficult to even breathe. It was so tight and slimy. The puddle of fluids that would soon be his demise was already a few inches deep in the pit of the stomach. He could feel a strange numb sensation from mere contact. He sucked in nervous gasps. “Ruth! Rubi--” his voice was muted as the walls seemed to clench tighter around him, additionally with a foreign pressure from the outside that pressed down harshly over him. It was impossible to shout, or even breathe! He struggled to try to fight the walls off of him just enough to battle for weak gasps of air.

***

Ruth sighed anxiously as she looked down, checking the area while keeping her gun close. Her dad wasn’t gone for long, and she trusted his level of experience, though a part of her was still nervous about how unusually large this wendigo was perceived to be.

Rubin was sitting against one of the logs, messing around with their supplies and making sure everything was ready in case of emergency. He suddenly stood up with an alert expression. “Your dad. Something happened.”

Ruth gave him a confused expression. “What? I didn’t hear any—”

“Stay here. I’ll go ahead. If I’m not back in ten, get the dickens outta here.”

Ruth’s brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to protest, but the older hunter was already heading across the stream and towards the cave. She waited behind, holding her shotgun at the ready. Although she was more of a cautious person when it came to hunting, there was no way she was leaving here without her dad and Rubin.

Rubin approached the mouth of the cave with his gun in hand. He listened out carefully. Josiah’s voice was gone, but he could hear breathing.

There was a sudden dash of movement from the side and a huge hand rammed into him, pinning him against the cave wall. The wind was knocked out of him and he gasped, looking up at the monster. It looked almost human with its features, though something was off about it. The dark markings around the eyes, slit pupils, long, pointed ears, sharp fangs and claws. It towered at easily forteen feet tall. What the hell was this thing?!

Rubin snapped out of his stupor, struggling against the grip. Until now, his eyes had been focused on the thing’s face, then he glanced down for a moment and his blood froze. There was a squirming bulge in its gut. It just ate somew--

Josiah’s voice. Josiah’s voice was coming from in there--

The hunter’s eyes widened in dread. The creature’s snarling lips were drawn back to bare its teeth as drool hungrily poured over its lips, dripping onto his face. Rubin panted and grimaced. His heart raced as the creature brought him closer… He could feel his friend past the wall of flesh, squirming for his life… trapped. “J-Josiah--” Rubin stammered. The creature bent down, opening its jaws wide and its gross slimy tongue dragged across the hunter’s face, getting a good taste. Rubin shuddered, gritting his teeth. He had to get out of here. He had to get that machete and cut his friend out of this. Things were going far too south far too quickly, and he didn’t even know how long Josiah would last in there. The thought made him nauseous with dread.

“Do you miss your friend?” The giant’s voice rumbled, vibrating to its core. It could talk? Well-- it looked human enough… “Let him go, Goliath! S-seriously, mate--” “No thanks. I have a better way of reuniting you.” The giant’s jaws opened wider, beginning to descend over Rubin’s line of sight. His breaths hissed frantically through his throat and he struggled harder.

BANG!

A deafening gunshot cracked through the echoing chamber of the cave, skittering off the rocky walls. Ruth appeared at the cave entrance with her shotgun. Her fearful eyes were narrowed, trying to mask the emotion with confidence, but there was a shakiness in her figure. She had missed.

In a swift motion, the giant’s grip readjusted around Rubin. He was now practically pinned against the squirming bulge of his friend, and a claw was held at his throat, barely pricking the skin. He froze.

“L-let them go.” Ruth stammered threateningly.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, little treat. I think my claw might slip before you pull the trigger.” The giant’s voice was unphased by her threat. She seemed too afraid to pull the trigger with Rubin that close anyways. He was practically a meat shield. “Put the gun down and we can chat about this over lunch. Deal?”

Ruth grit her teeth, her face paling. She was shaking badly. She probably couldn’t hit the giant if she tried.

“Ruth, j-just get out of here.” Rubin pleaded. “I’m not leaving my dad.”

“I’m not giving you many options. Unless you want to join him.” The giant grinned through his fangs. “Be my guest.”

Rubin clenched his jaw nervously, watching Ruth’s expression as she glanced around the environment, trying to find some other way or loophole, or trick she could use to get them all out of there. For a split second, her vision was directed away just long enough for Rubin to act.

It went by in a blur, but suddenly the giant’s fingers were bleeding, he was free from the giant’s grip, and he was running straight towards Ruth. Ruth gasped, lowering her shotgun to the side for a moment before his hand grabbed hers and he tried to get her to run. “No!” She jerked back, firing the shotgun. The giant leaped after them, tackling her to the floor and snapped the shotgun clean in half. The squirming bulge of her father could be seen in clear view, practically above where she was pinned. Rubin gasped, ramming himself against the giant’s arm to shove him out of the way. He drew out a knife and jammed it into the giant’s shoulder, just missing the throat. He didn’t waste another moment before grabbing Ruth’s arm again and took off running. He didn’t realize until and that she was bleeding from her head. The impact must have concussed her.

The giant roared in pain, grabbing the knife out of his shoulder and pressed his hand against the wound. He could only glare daggers at them as they fled. He didn’t need to pursue them. He already had his meal.

Ruth was out of it, swimming in and out of consciousness as she was vaguely aware of a sizzling sound in her head. Trees passed over her blackening vision. The darkened sky. Then the back seat of the car. The low rumble of the engine was lulling to her foggy mind. Tears bit at the corners of her vision. She was too tired to think though… Must sleep…

***

Josiah was faintly aware of what was going on during the fight. Feeling Rubin’s form pressed against where he was captive. It was impossible to breath. The goopy, slimy fluids that smothered him threatened to suffocate him with each pulsating clench of the living chamber. He curled up tighter, feeling a heaviness in his chest. At least Ruth had escaped.

The heat was incredible. Every bit of the harsh environment was sapping him of his energy. He couldn’t keep fighting. He had stopped struggling after the first half hour. It was too exhausting to go on. The deep puddle of fluids wasn’t stinging at least. It was numbing at most. He couldn’t feel his fingers. He didn’t even know if they were still there. He didn’t want to know.

His body fell limp against the rhythmic pulsing of the walls as the puddle grew deeper. His breaths were heavy. The burning air felt like it weighed a ton on his lungs. His consciousness grew further and further away. The loud gurgles, breathing, and heartbeat of the monster were the last sounds that met his ears before they became muffled. His head sank beneath the pool. A final breath choked out, gagging on the fluids that invaded his lungs before life fled his twitching limbs.

***

Ruth opened her eyes. Her head hurt. She could see the plain white ceiling above her. She closed her eyes again. She just wanted to sleep.

“Ruth,”

There was movement next to her. The ground she was on shifted slightly. It was a couch. Someone just sat down next to her.

“Dad…” Her voice came out quietly. She didn’t want any of that to be real.

“I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled. Her eyes opened again. Rubin was sitting next to her. He was disheveled. Blood was on his fingertips. His scarf was lopsided, barely concealing an old scar on the side of his neck. She sat up. The small movement gave her a headache. Whatever the giant did to her had really hit her bad. She could feel bandages wrapped around her head.

“N-no. We… we can still save-“

An arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. She froze. Her voice choked off. She stared numbly ahead, not knowing how to believe it.

He let her take a while to process this and go through the emotions while offering what comfort he could give. “Your dad told us to watch out for each other, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

She leaned her head into his shoulder and sobbed.

----------------------

Link to the rest of the series can be found here.

#-UL series-#unseen legion #rubin husk #ruth cynders #josiah cynders #gt vore #fatal vore #tw fatal vore

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dramaplustautology · 6 years

Text

Nature Untouched – Worm River

Summary: An ancient evil has returned to the land of the living, and is completely lost. One of its minions goes to biggest city to help find someone to help rebuild, and help put a map together of a world they had left to grow.

First part here: LINK

Index here: LINK

Second part here: LINK

I’m actually really afraid of worms. Like, you put a picture of one on the table, i’m leaving the building. Same is snakes :”P

This was the worst day of my life.

The morning came and I noticed that Avent had waded into the water to make sure none of the pebbles would get into his canteen. He was about to go on a short jaunt to hunt for breakfast and didn’t say hello when I decided to go join him.

“You aren’t wearing armour?” He asked, which showed how crazy attentive he was when he had never seen my armaments.

Right away, Avy noticed that I was surprised and pointed out the deep creases in my clothes.

“The guards back in the city have the same kind of lines when they’re off duty. Why don’t you wear yours?”

For one, it would scare everyone. Two, if there was anyone with a grudge around, they wouldn’t recognise me with it on. But most importantly—

“I look pretty tacky in it.” I admitted.

Snorting, Avy turned and headed Southwest where the land dropped off a cliff instead of sloped. If it did slope, it would be far more natural to see rivers or streams that ran from our base.

Instead, we ended up in a vast forest where the canopy was so thick, only speckles of sunlight dotted what little grass there was. Wide rivers wove around this forest like an infestation, making it seem more like the trees and brush were standing on islands.

If it weren’t for how fast the current was, leaving the riverbed bare of rocks or debris, I would have thought we were at a lake. Strangely though, we were in a forest with rivers that originated from nowhere, located on a cliff without a waterfall.

It resembled a snake nest more than a twisting river.

“What’s a snake?” Avy asked me.

“A very good snack.” I winked at him and Avy kept walking.

Despite how there was more river than there was land, Avy lead the way easily. Huge lily-pads acted as bridges for us, their blood red flowers sparkled just below the deceptively calm surface between the wide leaves.

“There aren’t any fish,” I mentioned, stepping on the dewed grass with my companion as he drained the rest of his canteen. He had a homemade short-handled net in his hand and if it wasn’t for fish, it might have been for bugs. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve seen any animals around.”

“They’re here.” He tossed a stray stick into a bush and the holo rats hiding inside scattered in all directions.

My heart jumped into my throat and my stomach tensed at the skittering balls of shiny grey fur.

Avy coughed, waking me up. When I thought about it more, Avy had woken way before the sun had risen, lit a fire, and got ready to go on a trip that was too far too much time be convenient. He could have easily found something in the fields or fish in the crater’s lake.

“Is there something special in these woods?” I asked just as he finished rummaging through the foliage. He had found a mossy log, flipped it over, and discovered a couple of slugs hiding on the moist underside.

They glittered, resembling slimy tubes of sequins than actual slugs. Before I could ask why all the animals were so sparkly (what were there no birds around to eat them?), Avy took all of them and stuffed them in his mouth.

I almost vomited on the spot, getting teary eyed from how loud disgusting the sloshy wet noises from him sucking on them were.

Somehow satisfied, he spat them on the ground and swallowed the slime. I never dry-heaved so violently.

“What? I’m having a drink,” He frowned at me, looking at me like I was crazy. “Right, you’re all weird. Uh, these slugs are poisonous but only if you bite them. Otherwise, you can hydrate yourself on the slime they secrete to make that poison more potent.”

“There’s water right there!” I yelled, about to go in for a drink from the nearest river myself. Avent grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back, shaking his head.

Confused, I squinted at the river and noticed that even if it was clear and clean, rippling at the top, you couldn’t technically call it one.

Multiple times during our golden age, I was almost killed because of my bad eyesight. It was so bad that Celestra and Mach had to shove me on a slab to get a doctor to make it better.

My eyes are 20/20 now and I was almost killed again.

The spine wasn’t transparent but it was very close, only able to be seen at certain angles. It stretched the entire length of the river, or rather, the giant translucent worm that made the forest bed its home.

“In the city, you can’t reach these woods on foot or wheel by nightfall. The night eats everything it swallows but a few times, some hunters made it through and brought back barrels of these glass worms. They were slimy like the slugs but weren’t poisonous and thick as fingers. The markets began selling the worms like noodles.”

“Ew.” I gagged again.

“Didn’t know if that was the case,” Avy shrugged. “They sold high and weren’t worth the trouble of stealing. My siblings were always curious though.” He sighed, letting slip a little disappointment on the topic.

“The next time the hunters went to get more, they never came back,” He stared at the ‘river,’ its spine undulating as it slithered. “I always thought the night got them.”

Unless the hunters Avy was talking about had carried enough back to last a city’s population for years, the river of worms turning into just one giant monster so fast was…I don’t know enough about wildlife to say if that’s strange or not.

But, Avy’s sigh was a lot heavier than it was yesterday.

“You know,” I gently prodded Avy’s side with my elbow to make lighten his breathing. “The worm’s so big, it’s not going to miss a bit of skin.”

He shoved me hard enough to make me start hopping.

“What if it attacks us, idiot?”

Considering that the worm could wrap around the shore of the crater’s lake three times, I didn’t hold it against Avy for thinking I was dumb.

“Haha,” I rolled up my sleeve. “I can take it.”

My companion bit his lip, staring at me the same way he stared at the river.

Turning to the Worm River, I took in a deep breath and stuck out the tip of my tongue. Biting down to focus, I tasted the air, and struck faster than Avy had time to see, tore a chunk off the worm.

Its jelly flesh mad a wet slap on the grass beside him, shaking the ground.

The worm paid no mind.

“The bigger the beast, the less important the skin,” I said, watching the wound I left disappear around the bed of the river. “You don’t notice a pinch.”

Avy knelt by the meat, knife already out to cut the catch into more manageable slices.

“Want help with that?” I offered but Avy shook his head, fully focused on his work like a little kid opening a gift.

“You’re not afraid of the worm, right? Grab some of those flowers in the lilypads. I saw them being auctioned for loads back in the city too.”

“Will do.” I said, jumping to work.

Really, flower picking took what, five minutes to get a nice bouquet? With Avy safe on his own, I could jump around a lot faster plucking the flowers off their stems.

But I stupid. So so stupid.

I should have stopped. Or just kept picking flowers until I couldn’t walk. But my stomach was growling and they smelled too good.

Almost an hour later, Avy found me crawling around in the bushes.

“I’m done,” He announced, tugging back the leaves and scaring the spit out of me. “I can’t carry most of it but I’m sure you can handle the rest,” He said, tossing a different sack on my lap. “And I got you some rats.”

“Rats?” I would have shouted, all puzzled and insulted that he’d think I wanted rats for some reason.

Too bad I had three struggling in my unhinged jaw.

I frantically horked them down but Avy had already left.

He saw me! He saw how ugly I was! Why do I have to be so hungry all the time? He saw me swallowing rats!

I was perfect! Tussled black hair, eyes like gold, slim not lanky, down to earth but refined--

--AND SWALLOWING RATS.

I hate this. I hate everything. There’s no point in life anymore.

It’s time to go back to sleep.

#SorChrys (S)#Avent (S)#I'm gonna make an index post later

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