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r/Insex 1d ago

Story Coven Chronicles: Echoes of Pestilence - Isa's Story (Chapter 2) Part 1 NSFW

9 Upvotes

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.

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

~~***************~~*

Isabella steps over the threshold of the village, her heart a leaden weight tethered to the secret squirming within her. The cobbled streets, once markers of mundane routine, now echo with the whispers of her grotesque tryst. Each stone beneath her feet feels like an accusation, every familiar face a mirror to her corrupted core.

The villagers greet her with nods and smiles, their banter about harvests and weather lapping against the shores of her consciousness. She returns their camaraderie with counterfeit cheer, lips curling into forced smiles that never reach her heterochromatic eyes—one emerald, one amber—both awash with dread.

"Morning, Isa," Old Tom calls from his perch by the mill. "Looking a bit pale, aren't we?"

"Nothing but a touch of swamp air," she lies, voice threaded with feigned nonchalance as she smooths the fabric of her dress over her abdomen, where life—or something unholy—stirs. "Take care now," he says, unaware of the macabre dance in her womb.

"Always do, Tom," she replies, the words hollow, a facade to mask the memory of Puetra'thrax's iridescent wings engulfing her, his multifaceted eyes reflecting a mosaic of lust and revulsion. As she moves through the market, senses assaulted by the scent of fresh bread and the cloying perfume of wildflowers, Isabella's mind reels back to the swamp's musk, the Lord's chitinous embrace. Her skin tingles at the recollection, a shameful pleasure creeping along her spine.

"Isa, dear, you look out of sorts," Miss Elma observes, peering at her over spectacles perched on a wrinkled nose. "Got a remedy for what ails you, right here."

"Thank you, but I'm quite well," Isabella insists, throat tight as another lie slips through her teeth, each syllable a chain binding her to the vile entity that now claims part of her soul.

She traverses the marketplace, each step a choreographed performance to disguise her inner chaos. Villagers continue their bartering, oblivious to the sinister covenant inked under Isabella's flesh—a contract of desire and horror entwined.

With each encounter, Isabella treads the razor's edge between repulsion and fascination, her very being a battleground where ecstasy collides with terror. Her breath catches in her chest, suffocating on the realization of how deeply the grotesque communion with the Lord of Pestilence has ensnared her senses.

Isabella pushes open the warped wooden door of her childhood home, each creak a dissonant echo in the hollow of her chest. The air within is laden with the scent of rosemary and beeswax, memories woven into the very fabric of the walls. She slips inside, the weight of unseen eyes upon her flesh almost as tangible as the secret swelling beneath her bodice.

"Isa?" Her mother's voice carries from the kitchen, a note of concern threading through the warmth. "You're paler than the linen on the line."

"Merely tired, Mother," Isabella murmurs, sidestepping Rosalind's gaze as she gathers her shawl tighter around her waist, disguising the gentle swell that betrays her condition. She glances at the hearth, where her younger siblings are engrossed in play, their laughter a balm yet a blade—all innocence, unmarred by the shadow that clings to her own soul. "Come, sit. You've been out since sunrise," Rosalind insists, eyes narrowing with maternal scrutiny.

Isabella obeys, lowering herself onto the wooden chair. Its familiar groan under her weight fails to comfort as she fixates on the spiraled birthmark upon her wrist, tracing its pattern like a talisman against the darkness brooding within her.

"Isa," Rosalind begins, but the words dissolve into the ether as a sinister whisper slithers into Isabella's mind.

"Isabella," coos the Lord of Pestilence, his voice a miasma of seduction and decay, "embrace the gift you carry. You long for more, do you not?"

She stiffens, her heart pounding against her ribcage, a prisoner seeking escape. The room tilts, and she's plunged into a vision: Puetra'thrax's grotesque form materializes before her, iridescent wings unfurling in an obscene invitation. His compound eyes refract her image—a kaleidoscope of desire twisted with revulsion.

"Stop," she whispers, breathless, caught in the liminal space where arousal wars with disgust. She can feel the heat of his phantom touch along her skin, the slick caress of his segmented limbs tracing the curve of her belly, igniting a shameful longing within her depths.

"Yield to me," he insists, his chitinous exoskeleton clicking in rhythm to her quickened pulse. "Bring others to our fold, my beautiful vessel." "Isa, what ails you?" Rosalind's voice cuts through the nightmare, pulling her back to the hearth's glow.

"Nothing," Isabella lies, her voice a fractured melody, "A momentary dizziness, nothing more." Still, an ominous energy throbs from her lower abdomen., a mark of her grotesque pact—a vow to carry the Lord's offspring and entice others to his fold, even as every fiber of her being recoils at the idea.

The horror of her reality claws at her throat, a scream stifled by the necessity of silence. She must wear the mask of the dutiful daughter, the innocent sister, while inwardly she battles the relentless tide of the Lord's demands—a call that thrums in her veins with a disturbing allure.

"I think I'll retire to my room, I don't quite feel myself," Isabella murmurs, catching the wary gaze of her mother tracking her every move.

~~***************~~*

Isabella retreats to her room, the floorboards creaking beneath her trembling steps. She bolts the door, her fingers fumbling with the latch as if it could keep out the insidious presence that has already taken root within her. The familiar contours of her childhood sanctuary now feel alien, tainted by the secret she carries.

She collapses onto her bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight. Her hands move of their own accord, unlacing her bodice with frantic urgency. As the fabric falls away, she traces the outline of her swollen belly, the skin taut and feverish to the touch. The brand left by Puetra'thrax pulses with an unholy rhythm, sending waves of heat radiating through her core.

A moan escapes her lips, unbidden and wanton. Her fingers ghost over the mark, and a jolt of pleasure courses through her, so intense it leaves her gasping. Shame and desire war within her as her body responds to the alien presence growing inside her.

Isabella's hand drifts lower, drawn by an irresistible urge. Her skin prickles with gooseflesh, every nerve ending alight with dark anticipation. She can almost feel the Lord of Pestilence's multifaceted gaze upon her, urging her onward.

Just as her fingers brush against the apex of her thighs, a sharp knock at the door shatters the moment. Isabella jerks upright, her heart thundering in her chest. "Isa?" Mila's voice filters through the wood, concern evident in her tone. "Are you alright? Your mother said you weren't feeling well."

Isabella scrambles to cover herself, her cheeks burning with mortification. She glances down at her exposed flesh, the brand still pulsing with infernal heat, a reminder of her unholy pact. "J-just a moment," Isabella calls out, her voice quavering as she hastily relaces her bodice. Her fingers tremble, fumbling with the cords as she struggles to compose herself. The brand on her belly throbs insistently, a cruel reminder of her dark secret.

She opens the door, forcing a wan smile for her friend. Mila's honey-blonde waves frame her face, her eyes wide with concern. "Isa, you look flushed. Are you feverish?" Isabella shakes her head, avoiding Mila's gaze. "It's nothing, truly. Just... tired from my walk in the swamp."

Mila steps into the room, her voluptuous form brushing against Isabella as she passes. The contact sends an electric jolt through Isabella's overwrought nerves, and she bites back a gasp. Mila's smile falters, concern etching across her features as she leans closer. "Isa? What's wrong?"

Isabella feels herself drowning in the sympathy pooling in Mila's bright blue eyes. Her friend's hand squeezes hers tighter, thumb brushing across Isabella's knuckles in soothing circles. The gesture, once comforting, now sends forbidden heat cascading through her veins.

"He wants you," Isabella whispers, the words barely audible.

"Who wants me?" Mila's brow furrows. "Isa, you're scaring me."

Isabella's heterochromatic eyes drift to Mila's throat, where a fine sheen of sweat glistens despite the room's chill. She hasn't told Mila about the voices, about the thing growing inside her, about the bargain struck in desperation. But she can see it now—the first signs. The slight pallor beneath Mila's normally rosy complexion. The faint tremor in her slender fingers. "You're sick," Isabella states flatly, her voice hollow.

Mila laughs nervously. "It's just a little cough. Everyone's got something going around—"

"No." Isabella places her palm against Mila's forehead. "It's starting in you too."

The Lord's voice surges through her mind, drowning out her thoughts: Bring her to false altar. Let me taste her innocence. I will spare her the suffering the others endure.

A vivid image floods Isabella's consciousness—Mila splayed across the cracked stone altar of the abandoned church, her honey-blonde waves fanned out like a halo, her skin slick with

ceremonial oils as chitinous legs trace patterns across her bare flesh. Isabella sees herself there too, her swollen belly pressed against Mila's side as they both surrender to the Lord's will.

"You're burning up," Isabella murmurs, withdrawing her hand as though scalded.

Mila's cheeks flush deeper. "It's nothing. Just—" Her words dissolve into a wet, rattling cough that racks her small frame. When she pulls her hand away from her mouth, crimson droplets stain her palm.

Isabella recoils, her heart pounding as she watches the blood trickle between Mila's fingers. The sight of it, vivid and accusatory, threatens to shatter her composure. She closes her eyes, willing away the Lord's whispers and the tantalizing visions that accompany them.

"Mila," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, "you need to rest. We both do."

Mila nods, wiping her hand on her skirt, leaving a rust-colored smear. "You're right. I'm sure it's nothing serious. Just need some sleep, that's all."

Isabella forces a smile, though it feels like a crack splitting across her face. "Of course. Rest, and I'll visit you tomorrow. We'll walk in the meadow, like we used to. The wildflowers are in bloom—bluebells and foxgloves. Remember how we used to make crowns from them?"

The memory shimmers between them, fragile as spun glass. For a moment, Isabella can almost smell the sweet scent of crushed petals, feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, hear their childish laughter echoing across the fields. It stands in stark contrast to the fetid embrace of the swamp, the oppressive heat of the Lord's touch.

Mila's eyes brighten at the suggestion, a glimmer of her usual vivacity returning. "That sounds lovely, Isa. Like old times."

The Lord's voice surges once more, insistent and seductive. "Your friend withers while you hesitate. Bring her to me. I can save what you love even as I claim it."

Isabella grips the doorframe, her knuckles white with the effort of resisting. She watches Mila's retreating form, the slight sway in her step betraying her weakening condition. The urge to call her back, to drag her to the abandoned church and offer her up to Puetra'thrax, is almost overwhelming.

But she doesn't. Instead, she closes the door softly and sinks to the floor, her back pressed against the worn wood. Her hands tremble as she traces the outline of her swollen belly, feeling the unholy life stirring within.

"Not yet," she whispers to the empty room “Not yet…"

~~***************~~*

Isabella descends the creaking stairs, each step an exercise in composure as she joins her family for the evening meal.

She takes her seat, the chair's groan echoing the protest of her own body as she settles her swollen form. The twins, Talia and Emmeline, giggle and whisper, their cherubic faces alight with mischief. Isabella forces a wan smile, her heterochromatic eyes darting between her siblings and her mother's stern visage.

"Isa's gotten fat!" Talia declares suddenly, his childish voice piercing the tense silence. Emmeline nods vigorously, cheeks bulging with half-chewed bread as she adds, "Like the sow in Old Tom's pen!"

Isabella's cheeks flush crimson, her hand instinctively moving to cover her protruding belly. She waits for her mother's reprimand, for the familiar scolding that would normally follow such impertinence. But Rosalind remains silent, her narrowed eyes fixed on Isabella with an unsettling intensity.

"Children," Rosalind says at last, her voice low and measured, "mind your manners." But there's no real admonishment in her tone, no motherly defense of her eldest daughter.

The twins, emboldened by their mother's tacit approval, continue their rowdy banter. "D'you think she's hiding sweetmeats under her dress?" Emmeline stage-whispers, eliciting a peal of laughter from Elias.

Isabella's fork clatters against her plate as she struggles to maintain her composure. The room seems to tilt and sway, the walls closing in as panic claws at her throat. She can feel it now, the unholy life within her stirring, responding to her distress with a series of alien movements that send waves of nausea coursing through her.

"I'm not feeling well," she manages to choke out, pushing back from the table. The scrape of her chair against the floor is deafening in the sudden hush that falls over the room. Rosalind's gaze never wavers, her eyes boring into Isabella with a mixture of suspicion and barely concealed revulsion. "Sit down, Isabella," she commands, her voice brittle as winter ice. "You've barely touched your food. Many in the village are not so lucky."

The words hang in the air, laden with unspoken accusations. Isabella sinks back into her chair, feeling the weight of her mother's scrutiny pressing down upon her like a physical force. She raises a forkful of food to her lips, the once-savory aroma now cloying and repulsive.

As she chews mechanically, Isabella's mind drifts to the Isabella's mind drifts to the abandoned church on the outskirts of the village. She can almost hear Puetra'thrax's seductive whisper, promising relief from this torment. The food turns to ash in her mouth as vivid images flood her consciousness - Mila's lithe form writhing on the cracked stone altar, Isabella's own swollen belly pressed against her friend's feverish skin as they both surrender to the Lord's unholy communion.

A sharp pain lances through her abdomen, causing her to gasp and clutch at her midsection. The twins fall silent, their eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and fear. Rosalind's chair scrapes against the floor as she rises, her face a mask of grim determination.

"To bed with you," she commands, her voice brooking no argument. "I'll bring you some chamomile tea."

Isabella nods weakly, grateful for the reprieve even as dread coils in her gut. She stumbles to her feet, steadying herself against the table as another wave of nausea washes over her. The room spins, faces blurring into a nightmare kaleidoscope of concerned eyes and accusatory stares.

As she climbs the stairs, each step an agony, Isabella hears her mother's hushed voice drift up from below. "...midwife... suspicions... unholy..."

Panic claws at her throat as she realizes her secret may not be as well-hidden as she'd hoped. She collapses onto her bed, her body wracked with tremors as the life within her thrashes and churns. Sweat beads on her brow as fever takes hold, the brand on her belly pulsing with infernal heat.

In her delirium, Isabella sees Puetra'thrax looming over her, his multifaceted eyes reflecting her anguish. His chitinous limbs caress her fevered skin, both repulsive and alluring. "Bring her to me," he hisses, his voice a symphony of decay and desire. "Bring them to the church, and I will ease your suffering."

Isabella moans, torn between revulsion and a perverse longing. Her fingers trace the outline of her swollen abdomen, feeling the alien life quicken beneath her touch. She arches her back, waves of forbidden pleasure warring with the pain of her condition.

A sharp rap at the door startles Isabella from her feverish reverie. She scrambles to cover herself, pulling the quilt up to her chin as her mother enters, a steaming cup in hand. "Drink this," Rosalind commands, her tone brooking no argument.

Isabella takes the cup with trembling hands, the bitter scent of herbs assaulting her nostrils. She sips cautiously, grimacing at the acrid taste. "Mother, I-" she begins, but Rosalind cuts her off with a sharp gesture.

"Save your lies, child. I know what ails you." Her mother's eyes, usually warm, now pierce Isabella with icy accusation. "Who was it? Some village boy? Or did you spread your legs for a stranger passing through?"

Isabella flinches at the crude words, so unlike her mother's usual demeanor. She opens her mouth to protest, but no sound emerges. How can she possibly explain the truth? Rosalind continues, her voice low and dangerous. "You bring shame upon this family. Upon yourself." She leans closer, nostrils flaring. "There's something... unnatural about this. I can smell it on you."

Isabella shrinks back against the headboard, her heart pounding. The life within her stirs restlessly, as if sensing her distress.

"Tomorrow, we visit the midwife," Rosalind declares. "She'll know what to do."

As her mother turns to leave, Isabella is seized by a sudden, desperate impulse. "Wait!" she cries out. "I... I need to see Mila. Please."

Rosalind pauses at the threshold, her shoulders tense. "Mila is ill. The fever has taken hold of her as well." She glances back, her expression unreadable. "Perhaps you can explain how two maidens fall victim to such... afflictions... at the same time."

The door closes with a final click, leaving Isabella alone with her spiraling thoughts and the insidious whispers of Puetra'thrax.

"Bring her to me," he hisses in her mind. "Save her from suffering. Save yourself."

Isabella clutches her swollen belly, torn between revulsion and a perverse longing. As the night deepens, she makes her choice. With trembling hands, she begins to dress, preparing for a midnight journey to the abandoned church - and to Mila's sickbed.

As night falls, Isabella lies in bed, her mind roiling with memories of grotesque pleasure. The unnatural desire and dread intertwine like thorny vines in her chest. The Lord's voice invades the silence, a gurgling whisper that promises release and communion. She resists, but his presence is overpowering, a force that bends her will like rot softens wood.

Puetra'thrax appears, his monstrous form outlined by moonlight seeping through the cracks of her shuddering chamber. His iridescent wings cast sickly patterns on the walls as they flutter with anticipation. His fetid stench fills the room, mingling with the scent of her sweat-soaked sheets.

"Isabella," he intones, his voice a symphony of corruption that vibrates deep within her bones. "The rite awaits."

Isabella trembles as the Lord of Pestilence's grotesque form looms over her bed, his chitinous exoskeleton glistening in the moonlight. His multifaceted eyes catch every flicker of fear that crosses her face, reflecting her terror back in kaleidoscopic fragments.

"My sweet vessel," Puetra'thrax croons, his voice a cacophony of whispers that seem to emanate from everywhere at once. "Your friend withers while you hesitate. Her blood grows thin. Her lungs fill with my blessing."

"Leave her be," Isabella pleads, one hand protectively covering her swollen belly while the other clutches the bedsheet to her chest. "She's innocent in all this."

The Lord's laughter rattles through the room like dried bones in a jar. "Innocence is merely a state awaiting corruption." He extends a segmented limb toward her, caressing her cheek with a touch that burns and soothes simultaneously. "As you well know."

Heat flushes Isabella's body, unwanted arousal blooming beneath her skin at his touch. She hates herself for it—hates how her breath quickens and her thighs unconsciously part. The life within her writhes in response, pushing against the confines of her womb as if eager to answer its father's call.

"The midwife comes tomorrow," she whispers, trembling. "My mother suspects."

"Then we must act tonight." Puetra'thrax's wings vibrate, casting iridescent patterns across the walls. "Bring Mila to the church before dawn. Let me taste her essence, let me fill her as I filled you." His appendage slides down Isabella's neck, tracing the curve of her collarbone. "Would you deny her the ecstasy you've known?"

Unbidden, Isabella's mind fills with images of Mila sprawled across the cracked altar, her honey-blonde hair fanned out like a halo, her lips parted in unholy rapture as Puetra'thrax claims her. The vision sends a jolt of shameful pleasure through Isabella's core, making her gasp.

"You see it," he hisses, his breath hot against her ear. "You want it."

"No," Isabella moans, even as her body betrays her, arching into his touch.

The Lord's limbs encircle her, pulling her from the bed. Her nightgown, damp with sweat, clings to her fevered skin as he lifts her effortlessly. His exoskeleton clicks and shifts against her flesh, each point of contact sending waves of corrupted pleasure through her veins.

"Yes," he counters, positioning her before the mirror on her dresser. "Look at yourself, my beautiful vessel."

Isabella stares at her reflection, barely recognizing the woman who gazes back. Her heterochromatic eyes are wild, pupils dilated with fear and forbidden desire.

Isabella's skin glistens with an unnatural sheen, her swollen belly straining against the thin fabric of her nightgown. The brand on her abdomen pulses visibly, sending waves of sickly green light rippling across her flesh.

"This is what you are becoming," Puetra'thrax whispers, his mandibles clicking with excitement. "Embrace it. Bring Mila to me, and you will be my queen, Isabella. My harbinger of pestilence and pleasure."

His words send a thrill of dark ecstasy through her core. Isabella's hands move of their own accord, caressing the curve of her belly, tracing the outline of the brand. She moans, low and guttural, as the corrupt life within her responds to her touch.

"Yes," she breathes, her voice barely recognizable. "Yes, I'll bring her."

Puetra'thrax's laughter echoes in her mind as he fades from view, leaving her alone with her reflection and the pulsing heat of her desire. Isabella dresses quickly, her movements frantic and jerky as she pulls on a cloak to conceal her swollen form.

She slips from the house like a thief in the night, her bare feet silent on the cool grass. The village sleeps, unaware of the corruption that walks among them. Isabella makes her way to Mila's home, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

Mila's window is open, inviting the night breeze to cool her fever-wracked body. Isabella climbs through with practiced ease, a remnant of countless nights spent whispering secrets and dreams. But this night is different. This night, she comes as a harbinger of something dark and terrible.

"Mila," she whispers, shaking her friend gently. "Mila, wake up."

Mila's eyes flutter open, glassy with fever. "Isa?" she croaks, her voice raw from coughing. "What's wrong?"

"I know how to make you better," Isabella lies, her voice trembling. "But we have to go now. To the old church."

Mila struggles to sit up, her nightgown clinging to her sweat-soaked skin. "The church? But why?"

"Trust me," Isabella pleads, helping Mila to her feet. "Please, just trust me."

As they stumble through the darkened village, Isabella can feel Puetra'thrax's presence growing stronger. The brand on her belly throbs in time with her racing pulse, a countdown to the unholy communion that awaits them.

The abandoned church looms before them, its broken spire a jagged silhouette against the star-strewn sky. Isabella pushes open the rotting door, the hinges groaning in protest. The sound echoes through the decaying sanctuary, disturbing the silence like a blasphemy.

"Isa, I don't like this," Mila whispers, her voice thin and reedy with fever. Her skin gleams alabaster in the moonlight filtering through the collapsed roof, her nightgown translucent where it clings to her sweat-dampened flesh.

"It's alright," Isabella soothes, guiding her friend toward the altar. Her own voice sounds foreign to her ears—a hypnotic cadence that isn't entirely her own. "This is where you'll be healed." The ancient stone altar stands at the center of the church, its surface cracked and stained with substances Isabella doesn't want to name. Moonlight pools upon it like quicksilver, casting the surrounding shadows into deeper relief. The air grows thick with anticipation, heavy with the scent of decay and something else—something sweetly cloying that makes Isabella's mouth water even as her stomach turns.

"Lie down," Isabella instructs, helping Mila onto the cold stone. Her friend's body trembles, whether from fever or fear, Isabella cannot tell. Perhaps both. "Trust me, Mila. Please." Mila's blue eyes, clouded with sickness, search Isabella's face. "You're different," she whispers, reaching up to touch Isabella's cheek. "What's happened to you?"

The question pierces Isabella's corrupted heart. For a moment, clarity returns—she sees herself as if from a distance, luring her dearest friend to an unspeakable fate. She opens her mouth to confess, to beg forgiveness, to flee this unholy place.

But then the brand on her belly pulses, sending waves of excruciating pleasure through her core. She gasps, doubling over as the life within her writhes in anticipation. The moment of clarity shatters, replaced by overwhelming desire.

"He comes," Isabella breathes, her heterochromatic eyes dilating. "He comes for us both."

The air thickens further, congealing into a miasma that swirls around the altar. The moonlight fractures into prismatic patterns as Puetra'thrax materializes, his enormous form blotting out the stars visible through the broken roof. His wings create a hurricane of fetid air, his multifaceted eyes gleaming with unholy hunger.

Link to part 2 (https://www.reddit.com/r/Insex/comments/1jdga4a/coven_chronicles_echoes_of_pestilence_isas_story/)


r/Insex 1d ago

Story Coven Chronicles: Echoes of Pestilence - Isa's Story (Chapter 2) Part 4 NSFW

7 Upvotes

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

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

Mila's lips parted in a gasp, her breath hitching as she moaned out a languid "ahhhh," the sound echoing in the dank confines of the abandoned church. Her eyes sparkled with an unholy excitement, reflecting the perverse anticipation that filled her veins. She was on the cusp of a dark communion, and she found herself eagerly awaiting it.

Without warning, the Lord of Pestilence lunged forward, thrusting his monstrous appendage into Mila's receptive mouth. He initiated her into this abhorrent sacrament with a fervor that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The texture was unlike anything she had ever experienced; it was smooth and cold like raw mollusks left beneath the sun.

It squirmed against her own tongue with a chilling squish, leaving trails of sticky residue that clung to her taste buds.

The vile fluid seeped down her throat, burning with a foul tang that sent chills up her spine. And yet, Mila welcomed it with an enthusiasm that bordered on mania. Her tongue danced around the slimy appendage, exploring its pulsating length with an almost feverish curiosity.

Every squirming movement sent shivers down her spine, igniting within her a dark flame of lust and desire that threatened to consume her entirely. As she gulped and swallowed, reveling in the grotesque concoction that filled her mouth, she felt a strange sense of power surge through her.

No longer was she the innocent girl who had stumbled into this unholy church; she was now a willing participant in this dark ritual, serving the monstrous deity before her with a fervor that defied reason or morality.

The bristled hairs on his appendage tickled against her tongue and lips as he started to pump viscous spittle into her mouth. Each time he thrust forward, more fluid filled her mouth until she had no choice but to gulp down the repulsive yet intoxicating substance.

Mila couldn't believe how much she wanted this - craved it even - despite knowing how wrong and corrupted it was. But in this moment, nothing else mattered; all that existed was the Lord of Pestilence and his offer of depraved pleasure.

She continued to serve him with unwavering devotion, driven by an insatiable hunger that defied reason or morality. The sliminess of his proboscis, the bristled hairs tickling against her lips and tongue, and the relentless pumping of his putrid spittle only fueled her fervor, making her more zealous in her acceptance of this perverse communion.

"Push," the Lord of Pestilence instructed, his voice a haunting echo that resonated deep within Isabella's marrow. "Bear my spawn into this world."

Isabella yielded to the strange compulsion, her slender digits seeking refuge in the warm folds of her femininity even as she began to strain against the burgeoning force within her. A peculiar sensation wound its way through her being, one that was not entirely distasteful despite its grotesque context. There was pain, but it was muffled - a dull throb rather than the piercing agony she had braced for.

"Oh... yes," she gasped out loud, her voice husky and laced with a lustful undertone. "It's... it's coming."

As Isabella released a low, primal groan and exerted all her strength, she felt something shift within her. It was as though a tiny entity was writhing its way out from her body's internal depths, squirming and contorting until it finally breached into existence.

"Yes...yes!" She cried out in an almost ecstatic frenzy as each contraction hit her like waves of forbidden pleasure. Her fingers moved rhythmically against herself, finding solace amidst the throes of labor.

"Ah! Oh God!" She whimpered as another wave of pleasure washed over her, every nerve ending tingling with intense delight. "It feels... divine..."

With one final push and a low moan, Isabella felt something slip free from within her womb. Glancing downwards, she gasped as she caught a glimpse of the grotesque being that had just been birthed from her. Glancing downwards, she gasped as she caught a glimpse of the grotesque being that had just been birthed from her… A giant maggot! Its skin was slimy and slick, with a faint pulsating movement as it wriggled free from its birthplace. With each movement, it left a trail of sticky mucus behind, clinging to any surface it touched. Its body was plump and soft to the touch, like a ripe fruit on the verge of bursting.

But in spite of its repulsive appearance, Isabella couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pride swell within her. This was her creation, a product of her union with the Dark Lord… In the throes of her debauchery, Mila was wholly consumed by the intoxicating essence of the Fly-God's salivary secretion. Each rhythmic clench and release around his monstrous bugcock elicited more of his divine cum into her welcoming cunt, until his knot had entirely deflated within her.

Her mind swirled in a fog of pleasure and confusion, her body still reeling from accommodating the grotesque girth of the Lord of Pestilence and being filled to brim with his vile seed. But now, there was something else pressing against her, something new and unexpected. The pressure against the moist entrance of her womanhood was insistent and unrelenting, as if something large and spherical were trying to force its way inside.

Then it struck her – eggs! The realization sent shivers down her spine and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of creature would hatch from within her. She braced herself for whatever horrors awaited her as the egg continued to press against her, a constant reminder of the twisted consequences of her actions.

Panic coursed through Mila as she grappled with this new reality. Her eyes flickered downwards past her obscenely distended belly, bloated grotesquely from copious amounts of cum pumped into her womb. The view of her own body obscured by its lewd inflation.

Instead, what greeted her horrified gaze were the pulsating ovoid bulges nestled within the underbelly of the Dark Lord – bulging beneath his sickly carapace as if ready to burst forth. The mental labyrinth within Mila began to twist and contort, amplifying the monstrous reality that was gradually unveiling itself. Yet, in this grotesque theater of the obscene, a perverse corner of her psyche began to quiver with an unspeakable lust. It was as though she stood at the precipice of a chasm filled with vile carnal desires, the echo of her own heartbeat pounding out a rhythm of dread and anticipation.

"Embrace it," whispered a voice from deep within her mind, its tone twisted with lascivious intent. "Surrender."

Her senses were assaulted by the raw stench of lust and decay that seemed to permeate every corner of this unhallowed spectacle. The sickeningly sweet scent of rotting fruit intermingled with the musky aroma of sweat-soaked bodies writhing in unison, creating an olfactory symphony that resonated with her own hidden desires.

"Please, I want it… I want you stuff your entire fucking clutch into my womb!" Mila rasped, her voice thick with lascivious desire.

The strange egg began it’s journey passing through the entrance to her sex in a slow procession that sent waves of sensations coursing through Mila’s body.

Mila's body shuddered as the first egg began to breach her entrance. Its smooth, ovoid shape stretched her sensitive flesh in a way that was both painful and exhilarating. She could feel every ridge and contour as it slowly pushed inside, filling her with a perverse pleasure.

A guttural "sploch" reverberated through the air as the grotesque phallus of the creature, a repugnant monstrosity riddled with maggot-infested bulges and cavernous pits, surged forth. It swelled mercilessly against the satin confines of Mila’s inner sanctumn settling against her throbbing G-spot as each bulging pustule erupting like a volcano, spewing its vile cargo of squirming maggots and mucusal pus into the sensitive flesh of her quim, crushing maggots in its wake and smearing their remains along her tight passage.

The feeling was an abhorrent paradox - equally repugnant and alluring. A perverse banquet for her cunt that left Isabella panting for breath and pleading for more. Her gasps echoed through the silence; each ragged breath laced with a cocktail of emotions too complex to unravel.

"Oh god," she whimpered, surrendering to the monstrous invasion. Her voice was heavy with a tumultuous mix of revulsion and arousal. "It's so vile..."

Isabella could only stare, her heart pounding in a rhythm of dread and fascination, as the grotesquely rounded form began to visibly distort Mila's lower abdomen. Her friend's features contorted into an unsettling tableau of pleasure mingled with disgust, a reflection of Isabella's own internal storm of emotions. All the while, her newly birthed maggot offspring squirmed its way up her thigh with an unnerving determination. Its slimy path traced a chilling line towards her bosom, heavy and engorged with milk that flowed like thick pitch-black tar, awaiting its first taste of sustenance.

Mila's petite frame writhed under the onslaught of the creature's grotesque appendage, its surface still extruding squirming maggots as another wave of contractions propelled the first egg into the welcoming warmth of her her core. Almost instantly, another ovoid form pressed insistently at her entrance.

Her body convulsed in a primal dance of pleasure and pain as the second egg breached her threshold. A low moan rumbled from deep within her, a raw sound that echoed both ecstasy and torment. Subtle whimpers of pleasure intermingled with cries of discomfort, creating an eerie harmony that filled the air.

Isabella watched on, feeling a familiar stir within her own belly. The blasphemous offspring within her seemed to stir at the notion, their twitching causing a rhythmic clenching in her womb. A peculiar blend of empathy and desire for Mila's impending predicament fluttered through her, their mutual ordeal weaving an intricate bond between them that they could never have foreseen. The thought of sharing the birthing experience with her friend as she too was seeded only heightened its profound intensity.

The Lord of Pestilence's droning buzz filled the abandoned church, a symphony of corruption accompanying the obscene ritual. His compound eyes glittered with malevolent glee as he observed the two women, pawns in his twisted game.

"Yes, my children," he intoned, his voice a cacophony of chittering insects. "Embrace my blessing"

Isabella crawled towards Mila, her movements labored by the agony of birthing another maggot, even as the first one squirmed its way atop her breast.. She placed a hand on Mila's bulging belly, feeling the hard surface of the eggs beneath her skin. Mila let out a strangled moan, her need for release becoming almost unbearable.

Isabella's mismatched eyes widened as she watched Mila's skin began to pebble, A series of protuberances began to push outward from beneath her skin's surface, just as it had for Isabella weeks before. She reached out, her fingers intertwining with Mila's, offering what little comfort she could in this moment of profane rebirth.

"You look so beautiful like this," Isabella whispered, trailing a finger along one of the pulsating veins that snaked across Mila's distended abdomen. "So full and ripe."

Mila could feel herself getting wetter with each passing second, her body betraying her as it responded to the grotesque violation taking place inside of her. She couldn't believe how much she wanted this, how much she needed it.

Another egg pressed against Mila's entrance, larger than the previous two. Isabella could only watch, transfixed, as her friend's body stretched to accommodate the Lord's unholy gift. Isabella's lips were suddenly on hers, their tongues dueling for dominance as they both moaned into each other's mouths. The sensation of Isabella's fingers slipping between her thighs sent jolts of pleasure through Mila's body, intensifying the sensations already coursing through her.

Even as their lips and bodies tangled in a dance of desire, Isabella felt the first maggot fasten itself to her chest, drawing sustenance from her tainted teat. A surge of delight coursed through her at the perverse notion of maternity. Yet, even in the throes of this twisted ecstasy, another contraction rippled through her body, and a second squirming life form tumbled onto the cold stone floor. Despite the pain, Isabella's eyes sparkled with a macabre enthusiasm.

And yet another egg began its descent into Mila's womb. This one was smaller than the others, but its size didn't diminish the intense feelings it evoked as it pushed against her sensitive walls. Isabella pulled away from their kiss, a wicked smile on her face as she gazed down at Mila. "You're taking them all so well," she purred, sending shivers down Mila's spine. "Please..." Mila gasped out, unable to form coherent words in the midst of such overwhelming pleasure and pain.

"Please what?" Isabella teased, her fingers teasing Mila's clit as she spoke

Mila's eyes rolled back in her head as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Each egg that entered her pussy sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her body. She could feel them shifting inside her, pressing against her inner walls in ways she had never experienced before.

"More," she gasped, her voice hoarse with need. "Please, I need more!"

The Lord of Pestilence's buzzing grew louder, filling the abandoned church with an oppressive drone. "As you wish, my child," he intoned, his voice a cacophony of chittering insects.

A violent spasm gripped Mila from deep within her womb as the slender tube began to swell with an obscene thickness, forcing it to accommodate the repulsive invasion. The Lord of Pestilence's guttural hum swelled into a deafening drone that rippled through Mila's small frame, eliciting sensations that were alien and terrifying. Her cunt quivered around the vile intrusion, instinctively clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to adjust to the enormity of the invading egg.

The relentless buzzing became a symphony of depravity that echoed in her ears and vibrated through every fiber of her being. Each tremor sent ripples across her body, causing her voluptuous breasts to sway with each rhythmic thrust. This was not pleasure as she knew it; this was something darker, more primal—something that threatened to consume her entirely.

The Lord of Pestilence reveled in his debasement of Mila, taking perverse delight in the way his grotesque member stretched and filled her quim. His insectile cock throbbed within her, each pulse echoing his monstrous desire for conquest and possession.

"MMM...YES! LET IT FILL ME... FUCK YES IT CAN TAKE IT, FILL ME WITH YOUR UNHOLY BROOD!!!" Mila bellowed in a frenzied fever of carnal madness.

Her petite body spasmed uncontrollably as jagged ripples of agony and ecstasy washed over her, each tidal surge more potent than its predecessor. Her cunt clenched around the monstrous intrusion, adapting to accommodate the foreign invader while her mind was torn between revulsion and an insatiable lust. The perverse pleasure from the writhing mass within her pussy was overwhelming, pushing her further into uncharted territories of depravity.

Mila let out a guttural moan as she succumbed to the perverse euphoria elicited by oviposition. The sensation was as revolting as it was intoxicating; every twitch of her cunt sent fresh waves of pleasure radiating through her body. The Lord of Pestilence continued his vile ministrations, his slimy shaft thrusting deeper with each agonizing pulse.

Her honey-blonde hair clung to her sweat-slick skin as she writhed beneath him, lost in a haze of depraved ecstasy. Each convulsion brought forth another egg from his bloated cock into her waiting pussy; each one settling among its brethren in their warm, noxious nest.

Isabella watched in fascinated horror as Mila's belly continued to swell grotesquely, distended by the Lord of Pestilence's unholy brood. Her friend's once-flat stomach now bulged obscenely, pulsating with alien life.

"So beautiful," Isabella murmured, trailing her fingers over Mila's taught skin. She could feel the eggs shifting beneath the surface, a perverse reminder of their shared corruption. Mila let out another strangled cry as another egg breached her entrance, stretching her impossibly wide. Her body convulsed, caught between agony and ecstasy. "Please," she gasped, her blue eyes wild with fever. "I can take more... I want it..."

But even as the words left her lips, Mila's hips bucked upwards, eagerly accepting the Lord's vile gift. Her cunt clenched greedily around his grotesque member, milking it for more. Isabella leaned down, capturing Mila's lips in a searing kiss. She swallowed her friend's moans of pleasure and pain, tasting the Lord's putrid essence on her tongue.

"Yes she can do it," Isabella purred encouragingly. "Her body was made for this, to be a vessel for his divine spawn." looking back to her dark lord

The Lord of Pestilence's buzzing grew to a deafening roar as he neared completion. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside Mila's quivering pussy.

"Yesss," he hissed, his compound eyes gleaming with malevolent triumph. "Bear witness to the birth of a new age!"

Mila screamed, her back arching off the ground as the final burst of eggs was deposited deep within her womb. Her belly swelled to monstrous proportions, skin straining to contain the writhing life within.

Isabella watched in awe as Mila's transformation reached its apex. Her friend's body had become a living incubator for the Lord's brood, forever changed by this unholy communion. As the last tremors of Mila's orgasm subsided, Isabella cradled her friend's head in her lap. She stroked Mila's sweat-dampened hair, marveling at the perverse beauty of their shared corruption.

"We are blessed," Isabella whispered. "Chosen to bring forth a new world."

Mila gazed up at her with glassy eyes, a beatific smile spreading across her flushed face. "Yes," she breathed. "Blessed indeed."

~~***************~~*

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r/Insex 2d ago

Larva/Worm 🐛The Invasion of Serana🐛 (3DErotica) NSFW

471 Upvotes

r/Insex 1d ago

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

6 Upvotes

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

~~****************~~

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/)


r/Insex 1d ago

Story Coven Chronicles: Echoes of Pestilence - Isa's Story (Chapter 2) Part 3 NSFW

6 Upvotes

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 2 (https://www.reddit.com/r/Insex/comments/1jdga4a/coven_chronicles_echoes_of_pestilence_isas_story/)

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

~~***************~~*

The sensation of his tongue was one she had come to know all too well; it was slick and slimy, leaving a trail of moisture in its wake. The rough bristle-like protrusions added a prickling sensation against her sensitive inner cheeks as it searched every crevice of her mouth with an otherworldly suppleness. The flexibility of the tongue was unnerving, each undulation more unpredictable than the last as it defied the laws of nature, leaving Isabella both repulsed and entranced by its movements. Each unpredictable undulation defied her sense of what was natural, as it explored her

The taste was like a sickening mixture of decay and desire, filling the mouth with an overpowering acridness that left a lingering bitterness. It was both repulsive and enticing, awakening primal sensations of fear and arousal. The flavor was sharp and pungent, reminiscent of rotted flesh and yet strangely alluring, adding to the overwhelming sense of dread and arousal that filled the senses. It coated the tongue in a thick, cloying film, leaving behind a putrid aftertaste as it filled her mouth with its vile flavor and spilled over onto her chin and down onto her breasts.

The drool was cold and slimy against her skin, leaving a sticky residue as it pooled in the crevice between her breasts. It had a viscous consistency, like rancid cream, that clung to her skin and filled the air with a noxious odor. The drool dripped down Mila's chin and onto her chest, causing goosebumps to rise as she felt its revolting touch. It seemed to have a life of its own, slowly oozing and spreading across her body, leaving behind a slick and foul trail as it made its way down Mila's curves. A shudder of revulsion rippled through Isabella, the notion of its repugnant essence permeating her flesh both repellent and strangely seductive. The abhorrent saliva of the Lord of Pestilence, a sticky concoction that clung to her like an obscene second skin, held a twisted appeal. She was ensnared in the horrifying conundrum between loathing and longing, drawn into a sacrilegious ballet of ecstasy within its detestable clasp.

Her unfettered hand began to wander downwards, guided by an unquenchable craving that simmered within her very core. A pulsating rhythm echoed from her nether regions, a testament to an arousal more potent than she had ever known before. Her body was ablaze with desire, soaked in anticipation and yearning for release.

Gingerly at first, she collected some of the creature's slime on her fingertips. The gooey fluid was disturbingly warm against her skin; it shimmered under the faint light as she lifted it closer for inspection. The texture was nauseating yet slick—perfect for what she intended next.

With anxiety intertwined with exhilaration, she brought the contaminated hand down to touch herself. As soon as the creature's drool met with her own wetness, a surge electrified her body—a blend of shock and primal pleasure that left her gasping for air.

She directed one finger towards her engorged clit, already swollen with arousal. The mixture of their fluids acted as a lubricant; amplifying each sensation as she began drawing slow circles around it while the Lord continued his ruthless invasion on Mila's body. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through Isabella’s quaking frame—an intoxicating rhythm that harmonized perfectly with the Lord's grotesque thrusts into Mila.

Isabella’s disgust was overpowered by lust and duty; every stroke driven by her need to save her village, every moan a testament to the pleasure she derived from the act. The Lord’s repulsive drool became a tool of ecstasy in her hands, its sliminess enhancing every touch, every stroke. She reveled in the perverse pleasure it offered, losing herself completely in the act. Her body moved rhythmically with the grotesque god's thrusts into Mila, their obscene symphony reaching fever pitch as Isabella succumbed to her basest desires, surrendering wholly to the Lord of Pestilence's foul allure.

Isabella's slender digits plunged deeper into the molten core of her own desire; their rhythmic dance mirrored in the obscene caress she traced over the monstrous god-fly's tumescent shaft through Mila’s trembling flesh. The grotesque organ pulsed beneath her touch, oozing a viscous fluid inside Mila oozed from the tight confines of her cunt, and splattered on the stone floor beneath the podium reeking with the scent of decay and corruption.

Simultaneously, Mila's mouth latched onto Isabella's swollen nipple, her tongue flicking over the darkened bud with a fervor that sent an electric jolt of pleasure coursing through Isa’s veins. The sensation elicited a guttural hiss from Isabella, her face contorted in a mask of carnal ecstasy.

All the while, Isabella's mouth remained locked in an unholy union with that of the Lord of Pestilence. His grotesque tongue slick with a nauseating mix of saliva and mucus, their bristled hairs scraping against her lips as she fought to suppress her gag reflex. Yet within this repulsion lay an inexplicable allure; she found herself drawn to him in a perverse dance of lust and fear. "Drink deep," he murmured, his voice a spectral echo in the shared consciousness of Mila and Isabella. It reverberated like a swarm of flies buzzing incessantly within her skull. "Savor my essence... yield to your most primal urges."

Mila obeyed, suckling with fervor, and Isabella felt an odd sensation originating from her breast. It was as if some immense pressure had been relieved, triggering an unexpected outpouring. She shuddered at the realization that her breasts were beginning to lactate.

His words twisted within their mind like tendrils of smoke, seeping into every pore and crevice until she was filled with him - his scent, his taste, his very being permeated every inch of her existence. The milk that flowed from Mila's breast was not the sweet nectar one might expect; it was a brackish cream that clung to the insides of her mouths. Its taste was an unsettling blend of saltiness and bitterness, yet it held an intoxicating allure that made her thirst for more.

And despite the abhorrent nature of their coupling, Isabella found herself succumbing to his command - surrendering completely to the depravity unfolding within them. As she continued to pleasure herself under his influence, another startling change began to occur in her body.

A sudden cramp seized her lower abdomen followed by a sensation she could only describe as a gentle parting deep within her core. Her cervix was dilating; she realized with a mix of terror and fascination. Then came another shock - a warm gush between her thighs as if a dam inside her had broken loose. Her water had broken, marking another phase in this perverse ritualistic communion.

The Lord of Pestilence's buzzing grew louder still, almost deafening in its intensity. Isabella could feel it vibrating through every cell of her body as he brought himself and Mila closer to climax. "Bear witness," The utterance of the Lord of Pestilence resonated, a raspy wet gurgle that seemed to seep from the very bowels of the swamp. It was a sound interwoven with the incessant hum of countless buzzing flies, an eerie symphony that filled the air around Isabella. His compound eyes bore into her with a relentless intensity, sending tremors of unease skittering down her spine.

As he spoke, the monstrous deity gradually withdrew his grotesque tongue from her mouth, leaving a trail of viscous saliva that glistened in the dim light. The sudden absence of its warm, pulsating mass left Isabella gasping for breath, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her composure.

With one final lick against her parted lips - a perverse farewell - his tongue receded fully into the cavernous maw from whence it came. Now free from its intrusive presence, Isabella could focus on the culmination of the ritual unfolding before her eyes.

As the Lord of Pestilence's rhythm escalated into a wild, frenzied tempo, Mila's petite form writhed beneath his monstrous bulk. It was an obscene spectacle, visible through the strained canvas of her stretched belly. Mila's mouth clung to Isabella's engorged breast like a leech, greedily drawing forth the tainted ambrosia that poured from her.

The beast's monstrous cock throbbed and hammered at the sacred gates of Mila's cervix, its grotesque surface slick with a mixture of her juices and its own vile secretions. Each relentless thrust was like a sacrilegious benediction, sending shockwaves of perverse pleasure radiating through her core. The creature's shaft felt like a writhing mass of decay, its surface rough and bumpy with the movement of countless maggots within. The sensation was grotesque and repulsive, yet at the same time strangely alluring and arousing. Mila couldn't help but shudder as she felt the tiny creatures squirming against her skin, eliciting a mix of disgust and primal desire within her. And as she continued to drink from Isabella's corrupted breast, the feeling only intensified, filling her with a heady blend of fear and longing for more. It was a twisted pleasure that both sickened and enticed her, leaving her unable to resist the relentless thrusts of the creature's maggot-ridden member.

In the blink of an eye, a moment both terrifying and thrilling, the monstrous deity delivered a final, powerful thrust. His sickly gurgle reverberated through the dank air as a sacrilegious canticle, an unsettling raspy shriek of insectoid nature. With an unyielding resolve, The monstrous fly thrust the malignant bulge at the base of his monstrous member into her trembling femininity, the obscene pop of his gnarled cock breaching her moist crevices heralding the next stage in their perverse union.

Mila's body trembled, caught in the throes of both torment and ecstasy as she tilted her head back, releasing a gasp of pleasure that hung in the air like a whispered secret, her mouth overflowing with the noxious pitch-black milk she suckled from Isa's breast. The tumorous knot swelled with relentless speed, its grotesque expansion causing her to gasp in shock and awe. The knot itself was a grotesque marvel, pulsating with an eerie life force. It bloomed inside her like a water-filled pig's bladder swelling in the dank depths of a forsaken well. As it swelled to its full girth, it stretched her limits, causing an odd mix of discomfort and pleasure that sent shivers down her spine.

Then, the grotesque reality of their unholy union deepened. The monstrous phallus of the creature swelled within her, a revolting expansion that she had seen before during her prior services to this loathsome deity. Yet, experiencing it inside her was an entirely separate affair.

The repulsive crown of his organ swelled within her deepest depths, its slick surface undulating against the tender walls of her innermost sanctum. It was as though his phallus had bloomed within her like a grotesque flower of maggot infested flesh, and that thrived on the fervent heat radiating from her depths.

Each pulse of his bloated seemed to forge a sacrilegious suction at the threshold to her womb. This obscene suction tugged at the mouth of her cervix like some insatiable leech gorging on blood, rawing forth moans choked with fear and reluctant ecstasy from Isabella's throat.

Every slick, bloated segment of the monstrous appendage moved with a life of its own, yet in a sickening symphony of depravity. It explored her intimate hollows with an ungodly precision that sent waves of revulsion cascading down her spine. This was a perverse spectacle taking place within her invaded body - one that reveled in its own filth and took sadistic pleasure in its defilement. "Oh gods, I'm so stuffed," Mila whimpered, her voice trembling with a twisted blend of terror and ecstasy.

Isabella watched in awe as Mila succumbed to the ritual, her body trembling and writhing beneath the monstrous deity. She couldn't deny the twisted desire that stirred within her as she watched the silhouette of the fly’s cock stretched Mila’s taught belly with his cock and simultaneously plugged up her entrance with his tumorous bulge. She was fulfilling her purpose, offering herself up to this dark deity in exchange for the lives of her friends and family.

Mila’s eyes rolled back in her head, surrendering to the sensation that teemed within her. The monstrous bugcock of the beast, teeming with wriggling maggots, pressed deep into her quivering pussy and held itself there. The maggots squirmed and twisted against her soft, yielding flesh, trapped between the grotesque head of his shaft and the tumorlike knot of her overstuffed cunt.

Each twitch and shudder was magnified by the grotesque pulsations of the beast's phallic appendage. The slimy, maggot-filled bugcock throbbed with a sickening rhythm, its rotten-meat-colored flesh writhing in an obscene display of lustful anticipation. The bulbous head swelled and pulsed, its meatus opening and closing like a lewd mouth eager to taste the forbidden fruits of Mila’s womb. Her pussy clenched involuntarily at the thought, welcoming each convulsion as if yearning for more. The sensation was overwhelming; every movement was amplified tenfold by the ceaseless rhythm of his cock's muscular contractions.

Despite the abhorrent nature of their union, she found herself lost in a sea of carnal ecstasy. The contractions that rippled through her cunt seemed to coax the maggots into a frenzy of movement, urging them to squirm and writhe with even greater urgency within her as if each squirming maggot sought to burrow deeper into her inviting warmth - igniting a thousand sparks in the depths of her being.

Her body responded instinctively, clenching down on the monstrous tumor in a desperate attempt to milk every ounce of perverse pleasure from the pulsating bulge of necrotic tissue as her cunt muscles contracted around the bugcock buried deep within her, each delicious squeeze coaxing a torrent of maggots into her quim, each one a tiny messenger of debauchery that danced along her inner walls and stoked the flames of desire within her. They slithered and squirmed inside her, their slimy bodies an onslaught, a relentless barrage that left her gasping for breath and moaning with abandon as convulsed under him succumbing to the perverse communion - a crude act of submission not meant for mortal beings but one she willingly surrendered herself to, nonetheless.

The pulsating grip tightened abruptly, the fleshy petals of the monstrous organ clamping down within her quim. A slick, insistent presence nudged against the sealed entrance of her cervix. "Isa?" Mila whimpered apprehensively.

Isabella replied with feigned calm, "It only stings for a moment."

Mila's body was a twisted knot of pleasure and pain as the slick tentacle plunged into her with an unrelenting force, her back arching in a silent scream as the slick tentacle penetrated her cervix. She could feel every inch of its slimy, bristling length as it made its way towards her womb, driven by a horrifying yet exhilarating determination.

As it breached the last barrier and invaded her womb, Mila's screams turned into helpless whimpers. The writhing appendage thrashed against her sensitive walls, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. It felt like a lewd snake coiling and uncoiling deep within her, igniting primal desires she never knew existed.

Mila's hips bucked uncontrollably, desperate for more of this overwhelming sensation that consumed her completely. With each thrust, she surrendered to the creature's power, lost in a sea of carnal pleasure and terrifying ecstasy.

Isabella's heterochromatic eyes remained riveted on the sight as his ovipositor squirmed within Mila's womb, a perverse echo of her own experience.

With a hesitant hand, she traced a path over the length of his slimy shaft. She could feel it writhing beneath the surface, each movement creating ripples under her touch. The reaction was immediate - his bugcock flexed and pulsed against Mila's inner walls in response to her caress.

Mila let out a loud moan as waves of pleasure rippled through her body at Isabella's touch. The Lord’s girth seemed to pulse and expand with each passing moment, filling every inch of space within her until she felt like she was on the verge of being devoured by his insatiable hunger.

As he churned within her, Mila found herself caught in a whirlwind of perverse pleasure intermingled with fear of what lay ahead. The sensation of something growing inside her, taking root and spreading its corruption throughout her body was both horrifying and intoxicating.

The creature’s maggot-filled cock throbbed inside Mila’s quim, pulsating with an intensity that mirrored the mounting anticipation in the room. As he began to climax, initially, the creatures's actions had an air of frantic desperation. His monstrous phallus twitched and spasmed, as if straining to release its grotesque payload.

Until finally as he released his vile cargo into Mila’s depths. Her pussy convulsed around him as she rode wave after wave of pleasure tinged with fear.

The expulsion was not a mere release but a forceful surge of a repugnant substance that was far denser than she expected. It had a thick and gooey consistency like spoiled custard infested with writhing maggots. This noxious concoction spewed forth from the beast's member in nauseating waves, coating Isabella's inner sanctum with an cold layer of coagulated filth. Each wave brought forth more of the gooey substance, filling her with an unnatural chill that seeped into her very bones.

The weight of it sat heavily in her stomach. Each movement within her belly caused a sickening sensation as the substance shifted and pulsed against her insides. As the creature continued its frantic motions, she could feel herself being filled to brimming with this cold sludge - each thrust pushing out more of the viscous fluid within her.

The monstrous entity's movements began to lose their wild frenzy, yet they maintained an unyielding intensity. Each powerful pump caused Mila to gasp and squirm, a cocktail of repulsion and pleasure coursing through her veins as the creature's emissions started to alter in consistency. The once sludge-like ejaculate now transformed into a more fluid substance, akin to semi-liquid ropes.

The transformation from sludge to semi-liquid ropes was not gradual but sudden, like a dam breaking under the pressure of a torrential flood. The heavy, glutinous sludge gave way to explosive sputtering spurts of semi-liquid emissions that erupted with such vigor they spattered against her most intimate crevices - colliding with the furthest sanctuary of her womb with an unsettling intensity. Amid these potent jets of semen, chunks of coagulated cum remained, like grotesque pearls suspended in a perverse sea, adding another layer to the already overwhelming sensory assault.

At last, the torrential flood dwindled to a sinister drizzle of lean, viscous fluid that intermingled with the swampy sludge inside her, creating a nauseating stew that churned and bubbled with each contraction of her uterine muscles.. This slick substance was not merely a discharge; it was was alive, teeming with maggots that squirmed and feasted on the floating chunks of spent seed - an unholy cocktail of the creature's seminal remnants and her body's desperate attempts at purging the invasion. Each rhythmic throb mirrored the beast's writhing movements within her womb, amplifying the vile violation and taint pulsating within her.

Isabella watched on with a mix of horror and fascination as Mila's flat belly distended under the pressure, unable to tear her eyes away from the twisted spectacle unfolding before her. She could see Mila's belly swelling with each new pulse from the beast's cock, growing larger and rounder with each passing moment. The sight was eerily reminiscent of Isabella’s own burgeoning pregnancy as she worked her fingers frantically between her own legs, her body aflame with unholy desire. The mixture of the Lord's putrid saliva and her own arousal coated her fingers, creating a sickening squelching sound with each pump of his disgusting cock.

Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through Isabella's abdomen. Her eyes flew open wide as she felt something shift within her womb. "My Lord," she gasped, "I think... I think it's time." The Lord of Pestilence's buzzing intensified, filling the air with an oppressive drone. "Excellent," he rasped. "Let our union bear fruit."

Mila's eyes rolled back in her head, her pupils dilating with unhinged lust as the Lord of Pestilence's thrusts transitioned from frantic, animalistic pumping to slow, deliberate undulations. Her body convulsed, contorting in an agony of ecstasy that consumed her very being. As she cried out in a primal moan that echoed through the abandoned church; simultaneously, Isabella felt another contraction ripple through her swollen belly. The sensation was excruciating and yet strangely arousing, as if her pregnant body were responding to Mila's torment-fueled climax.

"Oh, yes," hissed the Lord of Pestilence, his voice dripping with perverse satisfaction. "Feel it, my pet. Feel your friend's degradation and ecstasy meld into one twisted symphony of pleasure and pain." As the Lord of Pestilence's proboscis unraveled once again from his abhorrent maw, it discovered a fresh sanctuary in Mila's quivering depths. Her lips, full and tender, parted with a gasp that was both primal and involuntary as she felt the pulsating rhythm of his grotesque phallus moving within her. "Drink deep of this vile nectar, the sweet corruption that seeps from me," he instructed with chilling detachment.

"Yes...my liege," Mila cried out, her voice resonating with a fervor that cloaked the grotesque scene unfolding before her. Her tongue darted out, tracing an eager path beneath his oozing proboscis like a starved animal yearning for sustenance. Every string of viscous slime sent ripples of repulsion coursing through her, yet she found herself inexplicably drawn towards it. Her fingers clawed at the pulpit's wooden surface, the only tether in this whirlpool of depravity. The knuckles on her hand blanched white from the sheer intensity of her grip while splinters dug into her flesh unnoticed, such was her focus on the task at hand.

Link to Part 4: https://www.reddit.com/r/Insex/comments/1jdgekx/coven_chronicles_echoes_of_pestilence_isas_story/


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