HIS INFERNAL BRIDE by Iwiwt

“Its” feet were cold.

It didn’t know much, but It knew where Its feet were, and that they were frightfully cold.

Its mouth was dry too, and Its tongue and teeth tasted foul. It tried to work some saliva into Its mouth but the air was impossibly stale.

Something bumped Its shoulder. Then, bumped It from behind. It was jostled amongst the crowd repeatedly, pressed against bodies that It couldn’t really make out. It knew they were there; they made little noises, grunting and huffing in the dark, but they refused to be seen. Maybe they couldn’t. One of them sobbed pitifully behind It. Another brayed like a mule somewhere further on.

A nudge from behind forced It to stumble into the form in front of It, forcing It to bounce awkwardly between two of the irresolute bodies ahead. Another rough shove on Its naked shoulder drove It further on. One even grabbed Its arm, screeching fitfully, as it slung Its body painfully onward. It went on like this for a time, bouncing and careening off the vague forms in the cold, wet dark as It was jostled toward the front.

It tripped through the last rank, skinning Its knees against the rough ground painfully. It looked down at Its hands, seeing Its limbs as though for the first time. Its fingers, Its arms. Its body.

The air pressure changed uncomfortably as It clambered to Its feet, vacuuming inwardly against the space’s boundless confines abruptly, only to be replaced by something heavier and more oppressive. A croaking rumble that seemed to vibrate Its molars shushed the thronging congregation at Its back.

The heavy bass trembling carried on intermittently, as if in speech or commune, as the thing came into view. The speaker hadn’t moved, not that It could tell anyway, but had allowed itself to be looked upon at last.

An amorphous bundle of rags, for the most part, carried on muttering in its impossibly low cant, producing a length of a feather with which it scratched loudly upon a sheet of vellum on a table before itself.

“H-hello …” It said.

The quill stopped scratching. The raggedy mound of fabric shifted uncomfortably, obviously unused to being addressed. Its breathy baritone voice rumbled at It incomprehensibly.

“No! How would I know where I am!”

The thing rocked in its seat as if in laughter, making a tick on its ledger as it did so.

“ADA!” the thing accused in its ancient, croaking tongue.

The proclamation struck her like a hammer blow between the eyes. All at once, she knew. She remembered.

Reeling from the onslaught of memory and self-aware discovery, she hardly registered the scribe’s scrawny hand slamming a crude stamp upon the sheet before passing the leaf over his shoulder. Something retrieved it from the shadows at its back.

“It … it worked?” she asked breathlessly. The scribe bobbed forward by way of confirmation. “I’m … I’m to be his? Forever?”

Languidly, the scribe’s unseen partner stretched its pallid claw into view, crooking a long digit slowly to beckon her forward. Sick with the impossible joy of her selection, Ada stepped forward to follow as she’d been bid.

Padding onward, Ada’s eyes welled with the tears of unbelief. The things she’d done to be here, now, all seemed baseless and trivial next to the honor she was to be shown here.

Passing the scribe’s table proudly, Ada relished the honorific bow that the little freak offered her from its seat. She should have known, she realized smugly; she was wearing white after all. And why shouldn’t she? She WAS his bride.

She was gifted the full measure of her sight once more and looked upon her groom at last.

A behemoth, truly, Ba’Gamnon sat upon his stony throne in idle repose; a god in his own right, his titanic form dwarfed Ada entirely. Braziers set about his chamber and cast a warm light that rippled across his utterly terrible body. He stank of nothing so much as the unbridled slaughter of a million foes, each corded muscle scarred and marked with hieroglyphic tales of victory. It was all Ada could do not to fall to her knees before him. A heavy door slammed shut behind her.

She choked with the realization that her lord’s fleshy hammer had already been fished forward from the remains of his tattered pants, and writhed with a terrific power as it stiffened before her very eyes. Ada couldn’t be certain whether her lord’s blinding cowl prevented him from seeing her properly, but she told herself that his profane arousal was at least in part due to her relative nudity; as his bride, she yearned to be wanted by him. She flushed with an addict’s craving as her mouth finally began to water; the mammoth cock between his legs was surely too big for the geometry of her insides, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. It was going inside of her, one way or another.

The clammy hands of an unseen attendant clasped a heavy iron bind around Ada’s neck, and she quivered at the knowledge that she was truly, wholly-owned now. She’d never have considered anything like an escape, having come so far now, but the pitted metal collar may as well have been a wedding band for all it represented to her.

The hulking giant inclined his head toward her fractionally, shifting in his seat as the fleshy log between his legs bobbed to its full, turgid height straight up before her. Her knees shook. It was time.

Stepping forward, Ada resolved herself to clamber up into his lap to mount him herself, but Ba’Gamnon honored her further by stooping to pluck her off the ground himself in one meaty, gauntleted fist before slapping her to his hot, hard stomach. With care not to slip off of him, Ada looked down at the branch of unholy cock-meat behind her; her lord had taken to gazing about his chamber lazily, waiting for her to take him into herself, into her body.

It was never going to fit. Not in her pussy, even as wet as she was, not in a million years.

Reaching back awkwardly, Ada scooped a stinking handful of pearly emission from the bulbing head of the demi-god’s cock, nearly laughing at the realization that each of the fat, heavy balls below was nearly the size of her head. She decided she’d like to know what it felt like to lie beneath them and rest them on her squishy body after she was done making love to his cock.

Slapping a gooey hand between her ass cheeks, Ada smeared her lord’s precum against her asshole in the hopes that it might ease his cock’s entry into its rightful berth within her. It would have to do. Wrestling the hefty pillar toward herself, the slippery shaft refused to cooperate; she just couldn’t manage the slimy weight of it and hang onto her precarious perch at the same time.

Languidly, Ba’Gamnon deigned to assist her again, reaching down to aim himself toward Ada’s puckered, gooey ass.

This was it.

This was her purpose.

This was …

Enough cock to split a weaker will asunder; the deathless deity’s battering ram plowed into Ada’s body as a marauding conqueror. The unreality of his physical dominance must have surely rearranged whatever physiology Ada had brought with her to this plane because there was simply no chance that her organs could have simply coexisted with ten kilos of greasy shaft up her gaping asshole.

Ada cried out in horror as she realized what the pressure behind her diaphragm must have meant, and again with sheer bliss as she realized it was working. Too cum-drunk to question the sorcery that allowed her to survive the invasion of so much dick at once, Ada’s squeals and yelping cries of limitless joy very nearly pleased the god-king.

Ada used everything she had to ride him, retching at the popping, springy sensation of his bunched mass bundling against her screaming hole each time she let her weight fall against him. She grew used to the suffocating punch against her lungs as he battered her from within; she wondered if the ghostly impression of her cheeks puffing with a mouth full of cock from the wrong end was just her sickened imagination, or if such a thing were possible here.

In time, Ba’Gamnon’s hot breath huffed more insistently at the top of Ada’s head, and she began to weep openly at the thought of his seedy torrent flooding into her, at the idea of becoming a breathing vessel for his acrid cum.

“GAH!” she screamed, knowing that his explosion would surely mean a reprieve from the punishing, gaping assault until he was ready again.

Ada’s sorrow built, too, with the understanding that she’d feel woefully empty, spiritually and physically, until he desired to make a sleeve of her for his cock again.

With a bellowing snort, the fallen god clamped a meaty fist around Ada’s torso again, shoving her down onto himself as his pendulous balls began to draw upward; the first gushing spurt of his ejaculation made Ada’s eyes water, the second filled her head with cottony incomprehension as she came furiously onto him.

With disgusted glee, Ada realized she could hear his flooding spurts gurgling their way into every corner of her insides; the mounting, urgent pressure in her gut built until she was sure she’d belch it up if she didn’t work at keeping it all in.

The hulking beast pistoned his living toy up and down onto himself with wanton abandon as Ada let the comfortable embrace of unconscious over-stimulation take her; as Ba’Gamnon finished with his plaything and pulled her off himself to set her aside, Ada’s last thoughts were of the the delicious sloshing sensation in her grossly distended tummy.

Set next to his throne on the bare rock floor, Ada slept in a peace she’d never known in her time on earth. She dreamed of nothing more than an eternity spent with a gut full of her husband’s wretched cum.

THE END