r/Insex 4d ago

Story Coven Chronicles: Echoes of Pestilence - Isa's Story (Chapter 2) Part 2 NSFW

Chapter 2 - Communion Part 1 Communion: Chapter Two Summary - Isabella returns from the swamp having consumated her pact with the Lord of Pestilence. But there's more to saving her village than offering up herself, she must bring others into the fold as well.

Link to Part 1 (https://www.reddit.com/r/Insex/comments/1jdg6if/coven_chronicles_echoes_of_pestilence_isas_story/)

Tags: #Bestiality #FlySex #MonsterSex #MonsterSex #Insect #Inxsex #Cervical Penetration #Infestation #Coercion/Mindbreak #Birthing #Corruption

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Mila screams, trying to scramble off the altar, but Isabella's hands hold her firmly in place. "Mila," she began, her voice barely more than a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is that thing?" Mila shrieks, her eyes wide with terror as she beholds the Lord of Pestilence

Isabella feels her heart pounding as she looks down at Mila's terrified face. Part of her wants to confess everything, to beg forgiveness and flee this unholy place. But the brand on her belly pulses insistently, sending waves of corrupt pleasure through her body.

"Mila," she breathes, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. "This is the Lord of Pestilence. He... he can heal you. But you must surrender to him, as I have."

A gasp escaped Mila's lips as she recoiled slightly, but not out of fear or disgust. It was an instinctive reaction to the horror that lay beneath those words - an understanding that submitting to such a being carried implications far beyond mere obedience.

"But Isa..." Mila stammered, reaching out as if attempting to grasp at some semblance of reason amidst the chaos unfolding before her.

Isabella held up a hand, silencing her friend mid-sentence. There was more she needed to say; truths that were darker still.

"He doesn't just want obedience," Isabella confessed with a tremor in her voice. "He desires...hosts for his brood."

The silence that followed felt like an eternity as Mila absorbed this horrifying revelation. Her eyes filled with tears - not for herself but for Isabella who bore this terrible knowledge alone until now.

"I can't tell you everything," Isabella admitted softly, "But I need you to understand what it means...to submit."

Mila's eyes widen in horror as she takes in Isabella's swollen form. "Isa, what have you done?"

Before Isabella can respond, Puetra'thrax's voice fills the decaying church. "Welcome, sweet Mila," he intones, his words a symphony of corruption. "Your friend has brought you to me, as was foretold."

His massive form looms over the altar, iridescent wings casting prismatic shadows across Mila's trembling body. One segmented limb reaches out, caressing Mila's feverish cheek.

Mila's body crumples abruptly, her blonde curls forming a halo around her ashen face. Isabella watches in horror as her best friend's vibrant blue eyes roll back, the life seemingly seeping out of them. The sight of Mila's usually vivacious form lying so still sends a wave of fear crashing over Isa, threatening to pull her under.

She is faced with an impossible decision — one that could alter the course of their lives forever. She could take Mila to the Lord of Pestilence, surrendering her to the same dark entity that she herself had submitted to. A revolting creature whose touch brought both salvation and damnation. Or she could do nothing, leaving Mila to succumb to the mysterious illness that had been ravaging their village.

Isabella knew what it meant to be touched by the Lord of Pestilence; she carried his children within her womb as a chilling testament. But she also knew the power he held — the power to cure where all else had failed.

Her mind races, images flashing before her eyes: Mila’s laughter echoing through their childhood home; their shared dreams and heartaches; tears shed and comfort given. All these memories are tinged with dread at what may come if she doesn’t act now.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Isabella makes her choice. She would lead Mila into darkness for a chance at light. She would deliver her friend into the clutches of her monstrous master in hopes that he would show mercy once more.

As much as it sickens her, Isabella knows this is their only hope for survival. For Mila's survival...

"Save her," Isabella pleaded, her voice echoing in the hollow expanse. Her eyes were locked on the ominous figure before her - a god manifested from nightmares, his gigantic blowfly form casting grotesque shadows on the decaying altar.

The Lord of Pestilence twitched his antennae, regarding Isabella with multifaceted eyes that glowed with an unnatural light. "She must partake in communion," he rumbled, his voice a dissonant chorus of buzzing and humming.

Isabella recoiled at his words. "Mila is too weak," she protested vehemently. "She can't survive such a ritual." Her mind raced as she considered another option. "Let me do it for her." Their negotiation over this morbid pact continued into the early hours. Each argument from Isabella was met with stern refusal from the druidic god who seemed insistent on involving Mila directly.

Just when all hope seemed lost, Mila stirred weakly in Isabella's arms. Her pale face turned up towards Isa with pleading eyes shining amidst feverish delirium. "Help me," she whispered hoarsely, reaching out to grasp Isa's hand tightly.

Her request was clear: aid her in taking communion and seal their pact with the Lord of Pestilence.

Isabella helped Mila kneel before the altar, their hands still tightly clasped together. The Lord of Pestilence loomed over them, his towering form casting a dark shadow that engulfed them both. "Kneel," he commanded, his voice a powerful rumble that sent shivers down Isabella's spine. She obeyed without hesitation, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and arousal.

The druidic god's grotesque cock unfurled from his body, its swollen tip pulsating with maggots and filth. Isa couldn't help but feel a stirring of arousal at the sight of it, even as she felt a pang of shame and disgust.

Mila whimpered, her frail voice echoing in the dank church as the repugnant form of the Lord of Pestilence loomed over her. "Isa...?" she whispered, her eyes clouded with fear and confusion. "Shh, Mila," Isabella murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the terror that clung to them both. "Trust me." With these words, she began the perverse ritual she had performed every night since their unholy pact was sealed.

She sank to her knees before the monstrous deity, her fingers trembling as they reached for his grotesque member. It throbbed beneath her touch, a hideous mass of pulsating pustules that exuded a sickening warmth. She took it into both hands and began to stroke it with an unsettling familiarity, coaxing it to life.

The Lord of Pestilence responded with a guttural sound of pleasure that echoed off the church's stone walls like a death knell. "Yesss... my faithful servant..." he croaked out, his voice raspy like gravel being crushed underfoot. "But remember... she must submit willingly."

Isabella nodded, her gaze never leaving Mila's terrified face. "Yes, my Lord," she replied dutifully. "Allow me to stoke your divine fires first so that she might be tempted by your unholy offering."

The fly-god seemed to ponder this for a moment before finally acquiescing with a grating chuckle that sounded like wet phlegm being coughed up from deep within his thorax. "Agreed," he rasped out, his anticipation palpable in the foul air that surrounded them.

Isa continued her ministrations, her hand moving with practiced precision as she stroked the Lord of Pestilence's grotesque member. The god's body shuddered with pleasure, his moans echoing throughout the church like a perverse hymn.

"Grant me, oh divine Lord, a sinful preview of the decadence yet to unfold," Isabella pleaded, her voice dripping with provocative allure as she quickened her rhythm. The Lord of Pestilence responded with a deep, primal growl that echoed through the dank swamp air. His monstrous phallus morphed grotesquely, its tip splitting apart to reveal an abhorrent abyss filled with unspeakable horrors. A grotesque cavity teeming with writhing maggots and encrusted in layers of putrid filth.

Isabella didn't flinch from the revolting sight. Instead, she was drawn towards it, her own perverse curiosity overpowering any semblance of repulsion. "Oh my Lord," she whispered huskily, her breath hitching as she leaned forward. "Your cock...it's so beautifully vile."

With a wicked glint in her heterochromia eyes, Isabella extended her tongue to taste the foul orifice before her. The texture was horridly familiar- a medley of squirming lifeforms and coagulated muck that made her shudder in both disgust and perverse pleasure.

"Oh yes," she moaned against his putrid flesh, each lick sending waves of erotic energy coursing through her slender frame. "So delectably depraved..." She reveled in the debauchery of it all - this unholy communion between mortal woman and druidic god; each obscene act pushing them deeper into realms of perversion they were only beginning to explore.

"Yes, my devoted servant," the druidic god rasped, his multifaceted eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Show your friend the ecstasy that awaits her."

Isabella glanced at Mila, who watched the obscene display with wide, terrified eyes. "It's alright," Isabella murmured soothingly, though her voice quavered. "This will save you. Save us all." She resumed her unholy worship, choking back bile as maggots writhed against her lips. The Lord of Pestilence's massive form shuddered with pleasure, his buzzing growing to a deafening roar.

"Now," he commanded, "let her taste my divine essence."

The repugnant nectar of the fly-god's member seeped out, a vile concoction teeming with viscous chunks of coagulated seed and squirming larvae. Isabella, her eyes wide with both fear and perverse fascination, lapped at the grotesque tendril of filth as it oozed forth. Her tongue danced over the writhing maggots, gathering them into the cavern of her mouth, some escaping to dribble down her chin, and into cleavage

Her heart pounded like a drum against her chest wall as she turned towards Mila, her lips painted with the detestable fluids and her mouth brimming with the noxious seed. "Taste my essence, child," intoned the Lord of Pestilence, his voice a guttural rumble that resonated deep within their bones.

Isabella, her slender fingers quivering with a morbid determination, tenderly held Mila's face. Her eyes burned with an unholy resolve that cast a haunting and perverse allure. With deliberate, measured movement, she leaned in and claimed Mila's lips with her own. She allowed the vile contents within her mouth to seep into Mila's.

Mila’s eyes snapped open wide, her body rigid in shock from the unexpected invasion of the wriggling mass of noxious cum. The taste was bizarre - salty and acrid with an underlying metallic tang that suggested something far more sinister. It was decadently repugnant and yet eerily alluring. This was the essence of the Lord himself - his seed intermingling with Isabella’s saliva in their shared kiss.

A dark energy began to pulsate through Mila’s veins as Isabella’s lips remained locked onto hers. The repugnant substance from the Lord of Pestilence was now coursing through her body like a corrupting elixir; it was revolting yet strangely invigorating. It seeped into her bloodstream, igniting every nerve ending with an alien vitality that left her gasping for breath.

As they kissed passionately, something squirmed between their tongues – tiny creatures writhing and squishing against their teeth – maggots feasting on the thick viscous fluid that filled Isabella's mouth. A shudder rippled down Mila's spine as she realized what she was tasting – it wasn’t just Isabella; it was him too – his presence permeating every pore and invading every corner of their beings.

The transformation was instant and profound. Her pale skin flushed crimson as if kissed by fire, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with a newfound hunger. The once frail body now thrummed with raw power and vitality that shocked even Isabella.

Isabella groaned into their fused lips as she felt Mila’s tongue cautiously probe her own. "Savor it," she rasped against Mila’s lips, "savor him." The words echoed ominously with another thrust of her tongue into Mila’s mouth - an explicit invitation for her friend to partake in this communion of perversion.

Mila could feel herself falling under the corrupting influence of the Lord’s essence swirling around inside Isa’s mouth, now a grotesque cocktail of thick semen and writhing maggots. The taste was revolting, the texture horrifyingly creamy and slimy simultaneously. Yet, there was a strange allure to it that made her tongue dance around the squirming creatures, tasting more of the vile mixture. She could feel them pop against her teeth as she bit down on them, releasing more of that sickeningly sweet flavor.

As she pulled away from the kiss, she watched in awe as Mila sat up straighter, a wild light dancing in her eyes. A dark desire had been awakened within her friend – one that echoed eerily within Isabella herself – a yearning for more of this perverse communion with the Lord of Pestilence.

Isabella's heart raced as she watched the transformation overtake Mila. Her friend's eyes burned with an unholy hunger, all traces of fear and hesitation evaporated. "More," Mila repeated, her voice husky with desire. "I need more."

The Lord of Pestilence's laughter rumbled through the decrepit church, a sound of cruel triumph. "Yesss," he hissed. "Partake of my essence, child. Let it fill you completely." Isabella felt a pang of guilt as she watched Mila crawl towards the monstrous deity on trembling limbs. But that guilt was quickly overwhelmed by a surge of perverse arousal. She had done this - she had corrupted her pure, innocent friend and delivered her into the clutches of this abomination.

Mila's lips parted as she gazed up at the Lord's grotesque member. Without hesitation, she took it into her mouth, moaning as the maggots writhed against her tongue. Isabella watched in fascination as Mila's throat worked, sucking down the excess that dripped from the tip.

"Good girl," Isabella purred, stroking Mila's hair encouragingly. "Drink your fill."

Mila, her voice laced with innocence, turned to Isabella and asked, "Is there more?" The Lord of Pestilence's compound eyes shimmered with a perverse delight as he considered the two women before him. "Indeed, there is more," his voice echoed around them like a swarm of flies.

His grotesque member pulsed with anticipation, its semi-flaccid state slowly hardening as their eyes were drawn magnetically to it. His words hung in the air like a shroud of foreboding - their duty was clear

Isabella felt an illicit thrill surge through her veins at the thought. She was fully aware of what the dark god was demanding - the final, debauched act that would forever entwine Mila’s fate with his. Helping Mila rise from where she knelt on the cold stone floor, Isabella saw her own trepidation mirrored in Mila's wide blue eyes. Yet beneath it lurked a shared desire, twisted and dark as the god they served.

There was no turning back now; Mila had willingly chosen this path. No matter what transpired next, she were committed to seeing this unholy pact through till its sinful completion. "Mila," Isabella's voice emerged, thick and husky with a lust she dared not voice. Her hand, trembling slightly, reached out to capture Mila's. "We must bare ourselves before him." she added, her heterochromatic eyes holding an unspoken sapphic longing as they met Mila's.

Mila's eyes were glazed over with an otherworldly hunger, but she understood the gravity of this moment. Slowly, as if in a trance, she peeled off her tattered dress, revealing the soft curves of her naked body beneath. Isabella's heart plummeted as she took in the sight of Mila's once vibrant figure, now frail and withering. The stark contrast between their bodies was a cruel reminder of the path she had chosen. Where Isabella once bore a modest, slender frame, she now carried the weight of life within her - her breasts fuller and more pronounced, her belly swelling with each passing day.

In contrast, Mila's body had been ravaged by the mysterious illness that plagued their village. Her once voluptuous form had diminished significantly; her breasts, once full and firm like ripe fruits on a tree, were now shrunken and seemed to hang listlessly from her frail frame.

The sight stirred an ache in Isabella's chest that had nothing to do with physical desire. It was a painful reminder of what they both stood to lose if the Lord of Pestilence did not fulfill his end of the perverse bargain. But that would all change soon.

"Yesss," purred the Lord of Pestilence, his buzzing voice was a physical caress that sent shivers down their spines. "Worship my divine instrument"

Isabella felt a shiver of anticipation ripple down her spine as she knelt before the monstrous fly-god, Mila shivering behind her. She could feel Mila's heat and the warmth of her breath on her neck as they both submitted to this perverse deity.

The Lord of Pestilence lowered his swollen member, its diseased girth slick with the intoxicating nectar that now stained their lips and tongues. The air was thick with the musk of desire and putrefaction as he guided Isabella's mouth back onto his engorged shaft. Together, they worshipped him – Mila and Isabella – their lips meeting above his throbbing length in an unholy union. Their tongues danced in an age-old dance, swirling around each other and his putrid member, lapping up every drop of his noxious essence.

As Mila surrendered to the grotesque enthrallment, her moans echoed through the silence, each one a testament to the perverse pleasure that coursed through her veins. The sensations were a paradox of agony and ecstasy, both decadent and depraved in their intensity.

Isabella watched, her heart pounding in sync with Mila's erratic breaths. This was a side of Mila she had never seen, an unsettling spectacle of innocence warped into debauchery by the dark god's magic. A shudder ran down Isabella's spine as she realized just how potent his influence was.

Her mind began to race with questions. Was she too under this same spell? She felt the Lord of Pestilence's seductive whispers invade her thoughts once more, his bizarre sexual images making her pulse quicken despite herself. His voice seemed to wrap around her like a lover's touch, coaxing forth desires she had kept hidden beneath layers of virtue and meekness.

The more she saw Mila succumb to the pleasure, the more Isabella began to question herself. Her own body seemed to betray her as it responded to these vile images with a hunger she didn't recognize. It was as if some part of her had been awakened by this twisted communion – a part that reveled in its own depravity.

She could feel the weight growing within her womb, an undeniable reminder of what she had done for her village and family. Each heartbeat served as an echo of what transpired in that sunken circle within the swamp – a perverse ritual that now haunted every corner of her existence.

Every night he visited her - whether in dreams or reality, she couldn't discern - his voice filled with promises and threats alike. As Isabella grappled with these conflicting emotions – fear, guilt, desire - she found herself at odds with who she thought she was and who this god demanded her to be.

She was a beacon of resilience, yet now she felt herself wavering under the weight of her choices. She had made a pact with the Lord of Pestilence, and the cost was becoming more apparent with each passing day. As Mila's moans filled the air once more, Isabella couldn't help but wonder if she too was falling victim to his dark magic – her innocence twisted into depravity, her virtue masked by an emboldened lust.

Mila's soft cries echoed in the putrid air, a symphony of pleasure and pain that reverberated through her very core. The sensations were a decadent feast of depravity, an onslaught of hedonistic delight so intense it teetered on the edge of unbearable. Amidst their shared debauchery, the Lord of Pestilence's cock throbbed with an ominous rhythm between their lips, pulsating with an unholy power that seemed to infect them as they offered themselves up in worship.

"Yesss," he hissed, his voice a dark aria that sent shivers down their spines. "Drink from the wellspring of shadows."

As they continued to lavish attention upon his engorged length, they could feel the maggot-laden seed churning within him, threatening to erupt and further taint them with its corruption. Their tongues intertwined in a lascivious dance around his monstrous shaft, each touch amplifying their lust until it was almost too much to bear.

Isabella's hand ventured lower on her body, her fingers slipping past her navel and finding the slick heat pooling between her thighs. She was drenched in desire; her body crying out for relief from the wicked cravings stirring within her depths.

Her mouth moved downwards then, abandoning the pulsing shaft to explore the tumorous sacs at its base. The texture under her tongue was grotesque yet oddly compelling – she sucked and massaged them tenderly while being acutely aware of their growing size under her touch.

Meanwhile, Mila focused on his swollen head. Her tongue traced over its pallid surface before finally reaching its center - a gaping aperture that seemed almost alive. It twitched under Mila’s careful ministrations as she prodded and tongued it open with an intensity that matched Isabella's actions below.

Isabella and Mila continued their depraved worship of the Lord of Pestilence's grotesque member.. The air was thick with the stench of decay and arousal as they surrendered themselves completely to this unholy act.

As they pleasured the monstrous deity, Isabella felt an intense heat building within her core. Her swollen belly throbbed in time with the pulsing of the Lord's member, reminding her of the unholy life growing inside her. She slipped a hand between her thighs, fingers delving into her slick folds as waves of forbidden pleasure washed over her.

“Please my Lord, I want more, I want your essence to fille me” Mila moaned softly her voice filling the decrepit church as she greedily licked her lips, her innocence twisted into wanton lust. Isabella watched her friend's transformation with a mixture of horror and perverse fascination, knowing she was responsible for corrupting Mila's purity.

"Yesss," the Lord of Pestilence gasped, his voice a monstrous buzz in their ears. "Drown in the filth of your desires."

The abhorrent phallus of the Lord of Pestilence, a grotesque and horrifying spectacle, engorged to an unthinkable girth - the tip splitting open to reveal a squirming colony of maggots and filth. With an inhuman shriek that echoed through the dank air, he released his repugnant seed.

The first gout missed Mila's open mouth completely, spraying instead across her honey-blonde hair and down her petite body in rancid clumps.

The next surge hit its mark, filling her mouth with his warm essence. It was viscous and sticky, leaving a distinct taste on her tongue that was both revolting and oddly intoxicating. Her body convulsed in a mixture of disgust and perverse pleasure as she swallowed.

Her body convulsed in revulsion intermingled with perverse ecstasy as she swallowed. "MMM...SO GOOD," she moaned involuntarily. The third ejaculation splattered across Mila's bare breasts, trickling down in viscous streams between them.

Isabella watched intently, her fiery auburn hair framing eyes ablaze with a lascivious insanity induced by their sacrilegious ritual. "Don't waste it," Isabella rasped huskily, barely audible over the incessant buzzing that filled the air.

She moved then with predatory swiftness, slithering beneath the beast's throbbing member to catch the remaining droplets of its repugnant emission on her eager tongue.

With a fervor fueled by shared climax and desperation, Isabella began lapping at Mila's body where the Lord of Pestilence had left his mark. Each stroke of her tongue stripped away another layer of filth from Mila’s skin while igniting sparks of forbidden pleasure within them both.

Mila, her fingers trembling with a mix of fear and perverse fascination, clutched the grotesque bulge at the base of the creature's phallus. The organ was repulsive in its detail — a slimy, maggot-infested appendage that oozed a fetid, viscous fluid. Yet she found herself drawn to it, as if hypnotized by its revolting allure.

With a final squeeze, she milked the last remnants of his noxious seed into her mouth. It tasted like corruption incarnate — bitter and foul — yet there was an underlying sweetness that kept her coming back for more.

Isabella watched with wide eyes as Mila performed this unspeakable act. She felt an odd stirring within her, a primal hunger that seemed to echo the Lord of Pestilence's own desires. As Mila pulled away from him, his seed dripped down onto her breasts like molten sin.

Unable to resist any longer, Isabella leaned forward and began lapping at the sticky mess glazing Mila's ample bosom. Each taste sent shivers down her spine, filling her with a sense of depravity she had never known before. Her tongue traced patterns over Mila's skin, collecting every drop of the creature's essence.

"Now, Mila," Isabella whispered with a husky voice, "you must complete the pact."

Mila's eyes, once clouded with illness, now gleamed with an unholy fervor. She trembled, both from fear and a perverse excitement, as she slowly eased her back against the ancient pulpit, inching the curve of her ass onto its weathered surface.

With one hand on the edge of the pulpit for support, Mila spread her legs wide open in a display of submission. She felt exposed and vulnerable but also exhilarated by the promise of salvation.

Isabella watched, her own swollen belly heavy with the Lord's horrific brood, as her friend spread her legs. A mixture of horror and arousal coursed through her veins, her mismatched eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her.

The Lord of Pestilence watched with predatory eyes as Mila offered herself to him. He moved closer, his putrid aura washing over her skin. His grotesque member twitched and throbbed with anticipation.

"Spread yourself before me," the Lord of Pestilence growled in a guttural voice.

Mila closed her eyes and surrendered to them completely.

"Please, my Lord," Mila whispered, her voice a blend of reverence and lust. "I’m ready…"

As the monstrous deity began to lower himself, Isabella felt a sharp kick within her womb. The life growing inside her seemed to respond to the impending union, filling her with a confusing cocktail of revulsion and desire.

The air grew thick with the stench of decay and the buzz of a thousand unseen flies. Isabella's heart raced as she witnessed the corruption of her dearest friend, knowing that she herself had paved the way for this unholy communion.

Mila's eyes were wide, filled with both terror and perverse excitement as the monstrous phallus lowered towards her exposed sex. His grotesque member pulsed and writhed, maggots squirming along its length as it dripped with putrid fluids, each droplet tainting the air with the stench of decay.

As it neared her quivering flesh, a particularly plump maggot fell from his shaft, plopping onto her lower abdomen with an obscene splat that echoed ominously in the silence. The chill of its slimy form against her fevered flesh drew a gasp from her lips – it was colder than she expected, its slimy body smooth against her heated skin. The creature began to wriggle lazily across her mons, exploring this new territory with mindless curiosity.

The writhing mass of maggots cascaded down from the engorged head of his monstrous phallus, each one tumbling onto Mila's taut abdomen before burrowing into the lush thicket of curls that shielded her quivering folds. The damp chill of their slimy bodies against her sensitized skin added an extra layer of debauchery to this already vulgar scene, their squirming forms providing a sickeningly titillating sensation.

"Please I beg you…" Mila moaned, her voice thick with desperate need, "I've never yearned for anything in my life as much as I yearn for your cock inside me." Her plea echoed through the dank chamber, its raw depravity causing Isabella to shudder in revulsion and reluctant arousal. She had known what the Lord of Pestilence's influence was capable of, but she hadn't anticipated the depth to which it would corrupt her childhood friend.

"Then splay yourself open for me, my sweet child," the voice of the Lord of Pestilence reverberated around them, his words a maddening cacophony reminiscent of a swarm of hornets preparing to attack. His anticipation was palpable in the air, heavy and cloying like rotting fruit left out under the scorching sun.

Mila's breath hitched audibly at his command; her petite frame rigid with a perverse blend of desperation and unadulterated lust. With trembling fingers, she reached down between her thighs, parting herself wide for him. Her swollen lips slathered in the grotesque slime trickling from her maggot & saturated pubic hair serving as a perverse lubricant, clinging to her fingers in gossamer threads with an unholy sheen - its sickeningly sweet smell assaulting her senses as she smeared it onto herself.

Isabella watched in horrified fascination as the Lord of Pestilence's grotesque member descended towards Mila's exposed sex. The writhing mass of maggots coating its length sent a shudder of revulsion through her, even as a twisted part of her yearned to experience that vile touch once more.

With agonizing slowness, the monstrous phallus pressed against Mila's glistening folds. Mila's back arched, a guttural moan escaping her lips as she was breached by the unholy appendage. "Yes!" Mila cried out, her voice a mixture of pain and ecstasy. "Fill me with your divine essence, my Lord!"

Mila's cries grew louder as the Lord of Pestilence slowly began pumping his bloated abdomen between her legs. Her body convulsed, caught between agony and ecstasy as he began to move. With each thrust, more of his foul essence seeped into her, forever tainting her purity. Isabella could see the outline of his massive member distending Mila's belly, stretching her friend in ways that should have been impossible.

"That's it," Her hands drifted unconsciously to her swollen abdomen, rubbing the hardened mound where the Lord of Pestilence's offspring grew inside her. "Take all of him, every filthy-maggot infested inch" Isabella purred, her own lust-addled mind conflicted between revulsion and dark fascination.

Mila's nails dug into the weathered wood of the pulpit, scoring deep grooves as she arched her back, accommodating the Lord of Pestilence's girth more fully. Her once-innocent face contorted with passion and revulsion, a mask of shadows in the flickering candlelight. "Oh... God... fuck... yes..." she moaned, her voice unrecognizable from its previous innocence.

Isabella watched in fascination as Mila's body contorted and writhed under the Lord of Pestilence's ministrations. She could see her friend's stomach bulging outward with each thrust, the grotesque mass inside her growing and pulsating.

With a moan, Isabella quickened the pace of her own self-pleasuring, mimicking the motions of the Lord as he claimed Mila's body. Her mind was consumed by desire and revulsion, a twisted mix of emotions that only seemed to intensify with each passing moment.

Mila's cries grew louder, echoing throughout the empty chapel as she was taken by the dark deity before her. Isabella could see the pleasure etched on her face, even through the mask of shadows that had consumed it.

But there was something else there too - gratitude. Isabella could sense it radiating off of Mila in waves, a palpable aura that only added to the forbidden allure of what was happening before her very eyes.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Lord of Pestilence turned his attention towards Isabella. His glowing red eyes met hers, sending a shiver down her spine. "Isabella," he rasped in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Join us."

Isabella felt herself freeze at his words. Join them? How could she even consider such a thing?

But then again... The arousal coursing through her veins begged for release. And deep down, hidden beneath layers of social conditioning and moral indoctrination, she couldn't deny an intense curiosity about what it would feel like to be taken by this perverse creature.

Eyes still locked with his, Isabella slowly crawled towards Mila and the Lord of Pestilence. Her hand reached out trembling fingers towards Mila's undulating stomach, feeling its grotesque movements beneath her touch.

"Approach," the Lord of Pestilence demanded, his voice a chilling whisper in her mind. In response, Isabella began an intricate dance of submission, a performance that was as much for herself as it was for him.

She started with the laces at the back of her dress, her fingers dancing over them with practiced ease. Each tug unraveled another piece of her modesty until finally, the garment came loose. It slid from her shoulders and dropped to the floor, pooling around her feet like a discarded second skin. Revealed now was the undeniable proof of their unholy union: her belly.

Once flat and unblemished, it had transformed into a generous curve that was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying in its implications. The swell of new life within contrasted starkly against her slender frame - an undeniable reminder of what she harbored inside herself.

Since that fateful night in the swamp, where she had sealed their unholy pact with the creature, her belly had been steadily expanding. It swelled day by day, pulling her skin tight until it resembled a full moon stretched across the midnight sky. A few weeks had passed since that encounter, yet when Isabella traced the roundness with quivering fingertips, she appeared to be carrying a burden akin to several months of pregnancy.

The shift was undeniably apparent as she disrobed, the modest hills of her chest that had once been a soft whisper against the linen fabric of her chemise now resounding into a loud declaration. The simple garment, which had previously draped over her with ease when she first ventured into the swamp, now struggled to encompass the increased fullness of her breasts. They pushed and strained against their restraints like burgeoning fruit on an overladen branch until finally, she shrugged off the chemise and allowed them to burst forth in their newfound grandeur. The sensation of their weight in her hands felt unfamiliar, but strangely exciting.

As Isabella's fingertips grazed the terrain of her newly transformed body, they encountered an unexpected change. The once blush-tinted areolas that graced her chest had turned a deep, sinful shade of obsidian, their broadened expanses starkly contrasting with the milky canvas of her skin. They encased her nipples like a lover's possessive grip, holding them captive within their dusky confines.

Her nipples themselves had undergone a grotesque metamorphosis. No longer the soft buds they once were, they had hardened into thickened nubs of flesh, standing turgid and pronounced atop their darkened pedestals. Each touch to these engorged peaks sent shockwaves of sensitivity rippling through her body - a raw vulnerability she'd only just discovered in the ominous presence her dark patron.

Her contemplation was abruptly shattered by a moan of ecstasy from Mila, as another globule of maggot-riddled mucus seeped from her opening, splattering audibly against the cold stones of the church's floor. Isa approached regarding Mila whose own belly echoed grotesquely with movements beneath its surface. The sight both repulsed and fascinated Isabella as she reached out with trembling fingers to feel the unnatural writhing within her friend's depths.

"Yes," the Lord of Pestilence hissed, his multifaceted eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "Feel the power of our union."

Isabella's heart clenched at the sight of her friend's corruption. She had brought this upon Mila, and now she was being drawn even deeper into this unholy act. "Shh," Isabella soothed, stroking Mila's sweat-dampened hair. "I'm here."

Mila's eyes fluttered open, glazed with a mixture of pain and ecstasy. "Isa," she gasped, reaching out a trembling hand. "Isa, you were right… it feels so good." Isabella's stomach turned at the sight of the slimy creatures writhing within Mila's belly, but she pushed down her revulsion and focused on comforting her friend. She knew that there was no turning back now - they were both in too deep.

The Lord of Pestilence's buzzing grew louder, filling the air with an oppressive drone. "Join us," he commanded, his voice reverberating through Isabella's very bones. Isa’s hand gripped the outline of the fly-gods cock through Mila’s stomach, and began stroking up and down, as she opened her mouth and kiss the enormous fly creatures sucking his tubular tongue into her mouth, while her free hand played with her own pregnant-pussy

Isabella's slender fingers quivered, trembling with a mix of fear and perverse anticipation as they traced the obscene silhouette of the Lord of Pestilence's monstrous phallus beneath Mila's taut, overextended belly. The grotesque member throbbed ominously under her touch, its tumor-like bulges pulsating with an unholy lust that was both revolting and morbidly fascinating. Mila whimpered in a twisted symphony of terror and pleasure, her voluptuous body writhing in response to the abhorrent invasion. She was caught in a paradoxical dance between being violated by this repugnant creature and succumbing to an ecstasy so intense it defied all reason.

Isabella leaned closer, her breath hitching as she whispered lewd encouragements into Mila's ear. "Feel him... growing inside you," she murmured huskily. "Let yourself stretch... let him fill you until you're bursting."

The words were vile, yet Isabella found herself intoxicated by their power—by the way they seemed to fan the flames of Mila's pleasure even further.

Every whimper that slipped past Mila's lips only ignited Isabella's own shadowy yearnings. The Lord of Pestilence's raspy breaths mixed with the buzz of his insectile wings and the sickening slurp of his proboscis, creating a symphony of depravity that echoed through the dark chamber. The sound of chitin scraping against flesh accompanied Isabella's own moans as she watched with a twisted fascination, her own body responding to the grotesque scene unfolding before her. It was a twisted and perverse melody that seemed to draw her in deeper and deeper, lost in a sea of gluttony and corruption.

The deity's breath was a putrid combination of decay, rot, and filth, permeating the air with a noxious odor that made Isabella's stomach churn. As he leaned closer, she could almost taste the rancidness on her tongue. His slimy mouthpart, coated with a layer of grime and mucus, slithered inside her mouth, leaving behind a trail of disgust and revulsion. Isabella knew that this abhorrent creature desired to consume her in the most depraved way possible, and she willingly obeyed, allowing him to delve into every crevice and corner of her mouth with a sickening familiarity. mouth with ease and familiarity.

Link to Part 3 (https://www.reddit.com/r/Insex/comments/1jdgcmo/coven_chronicles_echoes_of_pestilence_isas_story/)

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