To her surprise, Quinn woke up. Her throat was raw, her pussy and ass aching, but she was breathing. Without opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and winced at the roughness of her raped throat. When she exhaled, there was a hint of blood that flooded her nostrils but otherwise she was alive.
She tried to move her limbs, but a powerful grip kept her in place. Her movement seemed to trigger other movements and the coils of tendrils wrapping around her limbs shifted slightly, reminding her that she was helplessly trapped in the beast's grip.
A wave of pleasure rolled through her and gathered in her aching pussy. She was still caught, destined to be fucked by the monster once again. A ghost of a smile curled her lip. For all of her terror and fear while running, the orgasm of being fucked was more than she could ever imagine. She almost felt sated.
(Open eyes.)
Quinn's smile faded. She thought she heard something but it echoed in her head with the deep rumble that she had never heard before. It was primal and powerful, filled with an overwhelming urge to obey, to submit.
Her pussy clenched with the intensity of the mental command. Hot juices dribbled down her thighs as she wondered if she imagined it.
(Open eyes.) The voice was deep and powerful; she could easily imagine it was the sound of a bear or dragon.
With another surge of heat dribbling from between her legs, she forced her eyes open. Slime coated her face and dripped off her eyelashes as her vision came into focus.
She was staring at an immense black eye. It was huge, easily five meters across. A sapphire pupil focused on her. Inside the eye, she could see the storm of some terrible intelligence staring at her.
Fear surged through her.
(Not my chosen.) The force of the voice pressed against her, ignited the fear and pleasure at the same time.
Trembling, she looked at the edge of the eye. It was the same mottled blue skin of the tentacles but there was a lot more of it. Her eyes grew wider as she stared at it, taking a long moment to realize how large the creature was that had captured her.
Gulping, she continued to look to the side. When she saw the edge of the bay through the tentacles on her right, the shore looked like a hazy line of buildings and farms.
Shaking more violently, she turned to the other side and saw the other side of the bay. It was just as far away but she saw the end of the labia, close to where her home was.
She gulped as her muscled tensed. There was only way she could see the ends of the bay so easily, she had to be inside it. A low whine rose in her throat as she looked over her shoulder.
The Clit was exactly where she expected to see it. Smoke rose from from dozens of fires in the city. Large swaths had been pulverized by the tentacle attack. She could even see the library, which had been laid bare by the tentacle attack. The path she had run along had been destroyed, a ragged line up to the point the tentacles caught and raped her.
The city was at the wrong angle though. She was too high to be seeing so much.
Even knowing where she was, she looked down. First, she saw her breasts. They were still held by the tentacles and her large mounds jutted from her chest like two balloons. The flesh was red and her nipples were dark in color. She wanted to touch them but her hands were helplessly caught.
Below her breasts, she could see her abused pussy. The red-rimmed opening looked like it had been through hell, but for the time being, it felt distressingly empty. She whimpered at the hungry need that boiled up inside her, an aching to be filled.
(Soon.)
She moaned and focused at the waters below her. No, it was blue but it wasn't waters. It was the gaping maw of Mosar, with glass-like teeth glinting like waves. Slime poured in rivers along the ridges of teeth and rippling tentacles that lined the mouth. In the center was the creature's throat, where it looked like a massive tentacle had been coiled up.
As she watched, it clenched down and she felt a rush of heat at the idea of being crushed to death by the immense jaw. It would be a brief and brutal death.
Reality stopped her thoughts. There was no brief end for her. She was an Omelas, a victim to be raped and tortured until she died. There was no quick and easy death for her, only a slow one. Her father's words came back, it took the last one three years to die.
She shuddered at the thought and forced her eyes up.
(Omelas. Not my Omelas. Other's Omelas.)
She stared into the too-large eye and nodded. She didn't know how to respond to the immense thoughts in her head.
(Use noise hole.)
Quinn gulped. “I-I….”
(Omelas no travel, no leave. Why?) The tendrils tightened around her thighs, forcing them close. She felt the raw skin of her pussy grind together and cringed at the sensation.
“M-My mother and father took me away. Because… because of what I am.”
(Omelas price. Price for defense. Price for safety. I protect city. I protect water. They give me Omelas. My price.)
She nodded.
(Use noise hole.)
“I was too young.”
(Parents anger the creature who made you.)
Made her. Quinn shivered at the idea she was made for fucking. She took the tentacles well enough. She could still remember how easily the creature stuffed its tendrils into you.
The tendrils holding her shuddered and the giant eye twisted for a moment. (Smell good. Tastes good. Ready to serve.)
The tendrils coiled further down her legs, spreading her knees apart. It wasn't anything more complicated than sitting down, but the ease that the creature manipulated her sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her veins.
(You breathe. You no survive service.) The thoughts echoing in her head grew darker, angry. (You wake Mosar unable to serve.)
“I-I didn't know.”
(Fuck in water. Wake Mosar!) The anger filled her head, almost overwhelming. Images of ripping her apart flashed though her head, the visceral images more detailed than anything she could imagine. It was the creature showing what it could do to her.
Quinn whimpered through her sore throat and tried to press her legs together. The heat that bubbled from her abused pussy was humiliating but the smell of her growing excitement wafted through the sea air.
(Change my Omelas. Make her for me. You made for another. Made to fuck another. Your body unable to handle me.)
She cringed and felt a wave of fear.
(I shape my Omelas to handle me. To birth warriors, to take desire. Under the water it must happen and you still breathe.)
In Quinn's head, the “birth warriors” echoed in her mind. Was the creature going to impregnate her? Was it more than just rape?
(Yes.)
A spasm rolled through her body, her clitoris and nipples growing achingly hard. The idea of having something growing inside her was almost enough to push her toward another orgasm.
(Respond correct. Right smell. Right taste.)
“C-Can't you sleep until yours—”
(Once awoken, must continue. Your taste started the eggs.)
Another whimper. “E-Eggs?”
(Warriors. Eggs. Same. Many years recover from last battle, need thousands.)
The juices from her pussy flowed faster, rolling down her thighs and shins, over tendrils, to drip off her toes. She knew she couldn't hear them land on the creature below her, but her mind was overwhelmed with the idea of being impregnated. Like the vague monster in her fantasies, she found herself growing hot at the idea of it. Reality, as she found out, was far more terrifying and exciting than anything her imagination could handle.
(Surrender you and the warriors die. Twenty years lost.)
The creature was going to fuck her. It was going to breed her even though she wasn't the chosen one.
(Yes.)
The single, rumbling voice in her head clenched her stomach and sent off a spasm across her pussy. She wanted to feel it, to experience it, to know what she was made for. Whatever her fate, she was going to fulfill the reason she was made.
The tendrils around her body shifted. The eye grew larger as she was pulled close to it. It didn't blink, but she could feel the gaze staring at her. It felt like the creature was looking into her, peering at whatever made her. Her tight buttocks clenched in fear, no sure what to expect.
(You made with skill. Made to fuck. Made to hurt.)
She nodded, her breath coming faster.
(Centuries ago, the Omelas not prepared. Remember how to keep alive. It hurt. You scared. You cry. You live.)
She nodded, the tears starting down her cheeks. She cringed, unsure of what would happen next.
(You become my Omelas.)
She moaned with need. Her body was hot, inviting. She needed it. Exposed and helpless, she couldn't do anything to stop Mosar, but she still craved to be abused. Somehow the threat of pain and tears only added to the sharp edge of anticipation.
The creature's thoughts withdrew from her mind. It left her feeling empty, as if she was thinking in a hallow space.
She sighed and the anticipation began to ebb.
It quickly came back when a new tentacle came up in front of her. It came from deep inside Mosar's mouth but it was colored differently than the others. It was pale, almost white, but the skin was translucent. She could see liquid bubbling inside it as it swelled and contracted in front of her.
Tendrils wrapped around her neck and through her hair. She inhaled sharply as she felt the pressure holding her tight.
Eyes locked on the clear one, she tried to prepare herself but she didn't know what would happen. The unknown blended with the helplessness into a cruel pleasure that seeped through her body, heating her up rapidly.
The tendrils forced her head back as the tip of the clear one rose above her. She tried to resist but the tentacles easily forced her back until she was staring straight up, her throat a straight line from her lips to her stomach.
The clear tendril aimed down.
Mosar wasn't going slow or waiting. There was no foreplay or preparation, he was going to change her right then and there.
Quinn whimpered and tried to shift out of the way, a primal fear bubbling up. She shook her head, or tried to, but couldn't move. The tears rolled down her cheeks as the helplessness and fear crawled into her thoughts. The rapid shift from anticipation to fear was overwhelming. The immediacy had snuffed out her pleasure.
(Open mouth.)
The order came and she couldn't disobey. Trembling with the effort, she forced her mouth open. She could tell that it was going to pierce her, impale her maybe clear through her body. She didn't know, she had no idea.
The clear tendril speared down.
Quinn let out a scream, the loudest of her life.
Instead of thrusting into her stomach, the tendril wormed its way into her lungs, right against the one point that sent a desperate spasm ripping through her body. It was inside her air and she coughed violently to escape it.
When she swallowed, she felt something clamp down on the tendril but it was forced open by the intruding girth. Air escaped her lungs as the tendril swelled open, keeping her throat and jaw open.
A wet surge of air rushed through her lungs, not from her own breathing but from the tendril that had forced its way into her. She cried as her chest swelled and her breasts aching for release. The tendrils wrapped around her mounds and ribs squeezed down, forcing the icy air out.
Something flashed in the center of the clear tendril. Helplessly to look away, Quinn stared at it as something came surging along the clear length. It looked like glittering ripples of green confetti, but as the greenish movement drew closer, she could see it was thousands of tiny fish. Each one was no longer than the smallest knuckle of her pinky finger, but the surge of them was terrifying.
Quinn tried to jerk out of the way but couldn't. She was forced to watch as the tendrils held her in place and the fish came rushing down it.
It took almost a minute for the fish to reach into her. As they passed her lips, she could feel them fluttering against her lips and against her tongue. The slimy tentacle kept them away, but the crawl of a thousand flippers along her senses sent irrational fears ripping through her mind. She cringed and closed her eyes, trying not to feel as they poured down her throat and into her lungs.
The feel of icy liquid pouring into some place they shouldn't be was too much. She tried to cough it out, her chest aching to clench shut, but the pressure as too much. Soon, the squirming mass of fish reached her lungs and poured in. It was terrifying how they seemed to crawl into hypersensitive parts of her body, swelling her chest as they forced their way into places she couldn't imagine.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she jerked and writhed. The tendrils prevented her from moving far and she sobbed as her lungs were stuffed with the thousand fish.
The pressure in her chest grew until she thought she would pop. Then the tendril pulled out slowly, working its smooth length past her lips as more fish came surging out. They packed tight into her lungs as the squirming mass filled her.
Some of the fish crawled up her throat as a surge of the icy liquid squeezed around the tendril. She gagged on the sensation, it was far worse than being raped by the tendrils. She tried to cough again, but the solid mass of fish inside her made it impossible to make a noise.
The tendril slipped out further and she felt the flap in her throat close against her lungs. Before she could cough again to eject it, the tendril surged back down and forced it close.
Quinn sobbed and bit down, trying anything to get a breath in. She was going to drown with the fish inside her, she had to do something.
There was a flash of light. It surrounded her and she looked for it, still able to move her head, but then realized it came from inside her. She was seeing it through her skin.
A burning sensation radiated from her throat, a sharp pain of something happening deep inside.
Quinn tried to sob, but no noise came from her throat. She gagged on the tendril and the crawling fish, forced to feel them squirming against sensitive places. Everything in her body said that she was suffocating, but she couldn't do anything. She was going to die, she knew it.
The clear tendril withdrew, slipping past her lips.
Inside her, the writhing fish continued to assault her senses, squirming against the nerves that insisted she was drowning to death.
Fear burned in her thoughts as she waited for the tendril to leave. It did and she coughed violent to clear the fish.
No air came out.
Her eyes widened even more and she tried again, pushing everything she could into expelling the fish.
Nothing.
A whine started to rise, but no noise came out. No air, no movement. Her overfilled lungs refused to move. She couldn't breathe.
Silence except for her pounding heartbeat.
Quinn strained to grab her throat, to do anything, but the tendrils kept her spread obscenely apart. She writhed and tried to scream, cry, beg, anything.
Nothing came out. Her lungs no longer worked.
She waited to suffocate, but no black spots swam across her vision. Only the squirm of a thousand fish caught in her lungs, violating her in a way that a thousand years of dreams couldn't come up with. They were caught inside her, somehow giving her air but refusing to let any of it escape.
The tendrils holding her surged down, yanking her toward the maw of the creature.
Quinn continued to struggle with her breath, trying to force the air out. Her body refused to give up and she kept thinking she was suffocating, a torturous sensation of knowing she was about to die as the adrenaline poured through her veins to defend her against something that could never happen.
It wasn't until the maw came around her that she realized that Mosar was about to swallow her.
The water came rushing up and the tendrils yanked her into it, plunging her into icy liquid. The impact shocked her, stripping off some of the slime, but then it was rushing away from her as the bright sky above her grew smaller. Mosar's mouth closed above her, the coils of massive tentacles sealing shut.
As Quinn saw the last sight of sky above her, she felt an orgasm born of fear and terror slam into her. She was made for this, but it didn't make the acceptance any easier.
When the darkness swallowed her, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about the fishes fluttering in her lungs or the water that surged into her nose and throat, down her stomach in a cool embrace of a living hell.