It takes another two weeks for the rest of my guild-mates to join us in these rooms. It's awkward as hell, as they are all immediately taken to the side alcove, half-delirious with lust, and impregnated. We're allowed in when the lamia leave to clean them up as best we can.
I have the most at 6 eggs, with Nik having the least at 3. I don't think I'd be able to tell he was carrying if we all weren't naked all the time. It's weird how fast we all got used to that.
All of us are angry at the world, taking it out on each other. I'm sure if we were not all so weak then there would be fist fights. Nik is amazing, doing his best to calm down tempers and make everything easier. Most of us, me included, spend time in denial. Though it's hard to deny when you can feel the eggs moving inside you.
There's an underground stream that feeds a tub, and all of us relax in it. It takes the weight off our stomachs and allows us to regain some muscle tone. It takes a month before I feel safe walking without worrying about my legs giving way beneath me. Dignity?! What is that?
The worst is the constant horniness. All of us frequently leave wet patches behind on the cushions, as every movement seems to rub the eggs around inside, sending sparks of pleasure. Yet none of us can give ourselves relief. I'm sure we've all tried. Gods, I've certainly heard enough echoing moans to last a lifetime. I've been trying for weeks now to reroute my Qi to minimise how much I lose to the damn eggs. I think I've had some success but it's hard to tell; it's like trying to change how a river flows with a child's bucket.
None of us have tried to destroy the eggs since Argiv's failed attempt. Lamia guards observe our every move from the doorway, whispering in sibilant tones as they watch. The rare times I'm able to use Qi-sight let me observe more Lamia monitoring us from a distance. Escape almost seems a dream at this point. Argiv giving us a constant reminder of our fates if we disobey our captors; he spent a week unable to see, hear, move or talk, one ability lost for each egg he endangered. He barely moves anymore, even now when he isn't restrained. "Broken" the lamias whisper as they gossip outside in the hall. I hate it, hate them. In the back of my mind I hate Argiv too, for trying to kill his eggs, for breaking... and it just makes me hate myself more for failing them all. Flesh crafting is terrifying when you have no way to escape or resist. I can't help but curse at my amber eyes when I see them reflected in the pool.
I hate the way everyone's eyes seem to track me as I move, waddling across the cave from the water to my piled nest of cushions. The rocking movement causing me to shudder as the eggs roll inside of me. Gods, I want to cum! Is it still called cumming with a vagina? If what I have is even called a vagina... Urgh. Fuck my life. Or rather don't. Unfuck my life please!
I keep my eyes on the floor, partly in order to not fall. I do not trust my balance or reflexes at the moment. Partly to pretend that no one can see me. Of course, the fucking bane of my life; the Consort, chooses to announce his entrance at that point. If anyone wasn't watching me, they are now, especially as he startled me enough for the eggs to rock harder within me, drawing a moan out of me as pleasure sparks up my spine.
YOU ARE READING
A Cultivator's Cauldron
Short StoryA cultivator is taken captive by a group of lamias who modify him to suit their needs. They need an incubator... Ergo: smut Warning: non-con, slavery, please don't read if this will trigger you Also possibly terrible writing.. wrote most of this at...
