A Cultivator's Cauldron

5. Flesh Crafting

Time blurs as the weeks pass.

The lamia require little light to see, so my room remains barely lit by the dim glow from the corridor.

The Consort continues to visit each day, his Qi invading me through the probe in my ass, slithering up through my veins. He's changing me somehow, I think, and renewing whatever initial bindings he placed around my Qi so that I can't reverse his taint from my body. I can barely sustain myself using ambient Qi and the little water he provides.

Some of the changes are obvious, some aren't.

It's hard to not be paranoid about every changing feeling though; I now get horny whenever I know he has entered the room. How do I tell if this is physical change or just conditioning?! Especially, as every time he enters the first thing he does is bite; his fangs injecting aphrodisiac...

Then there are the physical changes, the ones that would be easy to tell if I had a mirror, or light, or was even able to move. I know I've got shorter, smaller, I'm pretty sure he's messed up a lot of my pelvis. He's rearranged the stone holding me captive often enough that my body has to be changing far too rapidly for my liking. I know I've lost any hair I had below my eyebrows; I can feel that change in how the breeze blows across my skin.

The worst is that I'm not sure my cock is still there. That's a recent development, one I'm doing my utter best not to think about.

I spend a good amount of my time thinking of what I'm going to do when I get free. It helps me avoid the panic attacks, helps stave off the dread that I will never be able to recover from this.

I want to murder them all... I think I'm going to save the consort til last, maybe make him watch as I slowly torture his Queen. I want to make him beg, watch him cry as he is held immobile. I hate the fact that even thinking about him makes heat pool in my stomach. Fuck. I'm so fucked.

"Hello, sweet vessel, are you looking forward to finally fulfilling your purpose. You are going to be wonderful, I already know that."

His fingers trail across my skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. I do my best not to gasp at the sensation as the trail around my nipples.

"So responsive... I've practiced fleshcrafting for years to make you; a work of art fit for my queen!"

I feel slick drip down my inner thighs.

"Let's get you in position then..."

The stone seems to melt away from me, starting from pieces holding my head in place. It starts to slump to the floor, allowing me to move for the first time in weeks.

The male lamia catches me as I fall forward; stiff muscles unable to support my weight.

"There, there, it'll be okay, you'll get used to your new muscles soon enough"

My eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting during my captivity, and I'm finally able to look down at what they've done to me.

'What have you done to me; you've fucking removed my dick!! What the hell?! I'm going to murder you all!' At least that's what I try to say. Instead I'm just spluttering, unable to speak; the sounds I am able to make much higher pitched, more reminiscent of a pre-pubescent me, than the man I am... was? Fucking hell... I'm not a man anymore, am I? Nope I can still be a man; gender is what you perceive yourself to be, right?

The lamia carries me like a child through the door. I try to kick my legs in protest to start, but then one cramps and pain shoots up, drawing a pained squeak. I sound like a damn demented hamster...

The lamia murmurs nonsense as I'm carried through the stone corridors. The light hurts my eyes in places where daylight shines in, even as I welcome the pain, as it means moving; perhaps a higher chance of escape! I wish I wasn't so weak, so I could try to fight my way out. At the moment I can barely see or stand. The only thing I can do is try to memorise any details that might help, or see if I can find any sign of my guild mates.

As the corridors grow wider and more elaborate we start to pass other lamia.

"Consort" They bow as we pass. "Congratulations", "It's finally time! I wish you the best", "You look like you've outdone yourself with this vessel", "Off to the hatchery then? All the best." It was the last one that panicked me. What more could they do to me?

I hated this. Hated the way I felt like an object or a fussy child. Hated that the Consort seemed to be showing me off. Hated how easily he seemed to hold me.

Hated my weakness.

Hated the way he kept me needy and horny; his hand resting over the curve of my butt, fingers alternating between circling my asshole, taint and slowly fingering my other hole. Vagina? The unwelcome new hole anyway. The one slick kept dripping from as I panted and shivered in his hold, rasping out moans that always seemed to bring smiles to the passing lamia as they tasted the air with the tips of their forked tongues. Bastards.

I lost focus on trying to memorise directions as his finger kept curling in and out. The lewd wet sounds seeming unreasonably loud in the corridor, as heat seemed to pool at the base of my stomach. I bounced slightly in his arms as we walked, and my nipples rubbed against his tunic, hardening as they did so. Tingles started to run up my spine.

I could feel my wetness as fingers drew out again to circle my ass and draw stripes up my spine.

"Such an eager little vessel, so sensitive, so ready to be used"

Then back into my pussy, wetting themselves further.

"You wanted this even before I perfected you"

"Nggh...agh" I tried to protest.

His hand pressed into to my ass, grinding my pelvis against his tunic. My body too weak to resist, and my mind too wanton to protest. My new sensitive areas delighted in the pressure and pleasure, his tunic growing wetter. My body was helping, rocking weakly in his arms.

I was on the edge, needing just a little more to push me over when we entered what my arousal-blurred mind thought was a large circular room; colourful with large cushions and drapes and warmer than the rest of the compound had been.

"Captain Andrew?!" I think I hear, just as the consort bites down. The final touch of pleasure and pain pushing me over the edge. I cry out, stiffening before my forehead falls exhausted to rest on my captors shoulder, and we move onwards into another room. One of the few that is enclosed by drapes at the entrance.

"You are perfection" he whispers against my sweat-soaked body. "My masterpiece"

I moan weekly as my sensitive body continues to rock against him, my core pulsing, feeling empty now that his fingers are gone.

"Consort, you are late."

"I'm sorry, my Qu..."

"You were showing off! You could have done that after he's carrying these eggs and not me... I just want to get this over and deliver them so they can be nurtured properly, and you probably walked the long way round..." The Queen's rant as she chews her consort out would raise a wry smile to my face if not for my current circumstance and stupor.