Her Secret Place: Conclusion

Her Secret Place

Conclusion

by The Preve

Based on pictures by MB 109-DA

The author wishes to thank MB 109-DA for his permission in writing the story.

Warning: explicit sex and monster erotica. Not for the young apes.

Back In The Unnamed Academy, Far From The Fields We Know.

Knock! Knock!

Demethys, Superintendent:

"Enter."

The Headmaster walked in, wearing a sheepish look. "Um, we resummoned the shoggoth as the Board ordered. It's in the, uh, gymnasium."

"Very good. Those two students may be idiots but it's not often the Academy gets to study a shoggoth, especially during mating season. The penalties still apply though."

"Yes, their corporal punishments are scheduled for fourth hour, after tea. It's just, um, there's been a complication."

"A complication?" scowled the Superintendent. "What did those morons do this time?"

"Um, I think it's best you see for yourself. The situation requires someone of higher rank to decide a course of action."

The Superintendent drew a derisive sniff, left her chair, and accompanied the Headmaster to the gymnasium.

The gymnasium was a huge, domed building, almost a coliseum, with a giant, spread out, exercise floor, and a sizable pool (formerly a lake, around which the dark elves built the gym).

Much of the exercise equipment was in storage, cleared for the spell circle holding the shoggoth.

The creature was an impressive specimen, young by its standards, almost immensely old by others.

The writhing, pulsating mass of tentacles, eyes, and slime throbbed in a frenzy of activity, indicating some agitation.

"My, the big fellow seems a bit angry," Demethys remarked.

"Maybe, perhaps," replied the Headmaster. "It could be something else. Just watch."

The Superintendent watched, annoyed. "I hope this show is not for my benefit, Vanikimal."

"Keep watching," the Headmaster smiled.

She saw it then; a pale white object emerging from the throbbing black mass. A hand, followed by a slender arm. The hand opened and closed, as if attempting to grasp an unseen object, before a group of tentacles grabbed and twined around it, drawing the hand back into the mass.

Shortly after, another pale object emerged. A white back and shoulders, "Very well-shaped," thought Demethys, sloping down along the spine, then curving upward to the soft, hilly slopes of,

Very well-shaped haunches. At least we know this creature is still in heat.

Evinced by the shiny, oily black tentacles corkscrewing, and sliding, between the crack in the globes, and into and out of the unfortunate creature.

"And it looks like this one is in heat as well," thought Demethys, noting a squirt of cum from the

Human?

The back and ass submerged into the shoggoth, followed a short time later by a reemergence, this time from the front.

New hills arose, breasts, pale and pink, with tentacles planted on their nipples, milking them like udders.

A torso followed, flat belly rippling beneath the tentacles slithering over it.

Then a groin and pussy, tentacles delving within.

A brief glimpse of a face rose up. "A lovely specimen," thought the sharp-eyed Superintendent. The human's eyes were closed, but her plush lips sucked on a tentacle as a mouth to a cock.

The body sank back into the mass, and the throbbing pulsations continued.

Demethys noticed the two idiots,

Azaril and Vanikpar,

were present. Vanikpar's breeches sported a sizable lump. Azaril had cast off all pretense, and pants, and stroked, openly, his hard, dark gray, cock.

The Superintendent would scold them, if not for her own damp pussy and hard nipples. Even dark elves sometimes refrained from calling the black kettle.

"I guess it's been a while for me," she thought.

The Headmaster was the only one showing some discipline. His sect, though, was known for self control.

"So," said the Superintendent, "it looks like we caught something extra."

"Yes, but what are we going to do with it?"

"Let the shoggoth have its way with her, unless you want to get in the middle of that."

"No, no," the Headmaster replied, "but we need to figure how to get it to the pool."

"Yes, there's that. And when it's done with the woman, we can figure a use for her too. It's been awhile since we've had a human," Demethys licked her lips.

"Quite," answered Vanikimal.

"I'll inform the Governors. Post notices on the bulletin regarding viewing hours, and study sessions . . . and get that idiot to put his pants on."

"Yes, Mistress."

Some Months Later, Dokkalfheim Time, In The Unnamed Academy, In The Large Pool, Far From The Fields We Know.

Carla moaned and shuddered with a laborious orgasm. They were coming.

The arena was crowded. At least she thought it was an arena. It looked like one. She didn't know the language, so she didn't know what these people called this place.

All she knew was these "Dark Elves," (as the shoggoth called them) made no attempt to rescue her.

She might have asked for help, but every time she opened her mouth, one tentacle or another stuffed it. At least the shoggoth kept her fed, with what she didn't want to know. The dark elves wouldn't have helped in any case.

"You amuse them,"

the shoggoth told her.

"You are an object of interest to many . . . and desire to some. They are waiting for me to finish with you."

"How long will you be?"

"At my pleasure."

So Carla endured a continuous fucking, for however many months in this place. Time didn't seem to matter here, as in the cave.

She knew on some level, this creature was changing her. She never grew hungry. She didn't have to perform the bodily functions associated with the toilet. The orgasms were unending.

It didn't surprise her to see her belly swell, and her breasts; the former with whatever spawn it put inside her womb, the latter with milk, or at least it might be milk. On those rare occasions where a tentacle would leave a swollen nipple, the fluid squirting from it was black as oil.

Today she was on her back, partially submerged, resting against the shoggoth. Her glistening, pale, round, extremely gravid belly, her swollen melon breasts, and her light blush-pink, straining, moaning face, rose from the water like small islands.

Tentacles accompanied her hands, running over the curves and contours of her heavily pregnant body.

Things moved within her womb. She could feel them, not hard forms bouncing against her walls, but liquid, gliding across them.

Her belly rippled and vibrated. Fluids already gushed through her pussy.

Spectators sat in the seats, watching with varied levels of intensity.

Like the show fuckers?

She noted the silence; not complete, however. Some whispers buzzed among the students, and teachers, along with her gasps and grunts, and the wet sounds of tentacles, water, and semi-fluid monster babies slurping through her vulva.

She also took note of four dark elves observing near the edge of the pool. Two exuded an air of authority. One, a regal-looking woman, strongly attractive, the other, a clerkish, scholarly man.

The other two looked barely out of their teens, but she couldn't know. No telling the actual age of these dark elves.

"The human's pregnancy sits very well on her aesthetically, Mistress," remarked Vanikimal.

"Yes it does," agreed Demethys, licking her lips. She'd observed the woman's belly and breasts grow this past half year. The Board was pleased. It meant no magic expended on acquiring more shoggoths.

That is, if we can prevent this one from eating its young, as some are known to do.

Normally, the Superintendent wasn't into pregnant women but some, like this one, carried a certain beauty when swollen with progeny.

She glanced at the two morons who'd created this situation. They were behaving themselves, albeit Vanikpar's gaze carried more intensity than Azaril's.

Humph! Azaril likes his pain, Vanikpar likes his pregnancy. Amazing, the idea these two idiots will go far in the mage guilds if they create more accidents like this.

"What is to be done with the human after she is finished. Send her back to her realm?"

"No, if the shoggoth lets her go, the Board has plans for her. There's a bunch of research, experiments, new ideas the Academy wants to try. The woman will make a good test subject."

"Oh," said Vanikimal, "This human is in for an interesting stay, I suspect."

"Yes, she is," Demethys licked her lips again.

A Year After Some Months Later, In The Unnamed Academy, Far From The Fields We Know.

Carla moaned and squirted cum. She was nude. Her body glistened, head to toe, with sweat, slime, and oil, all streaming in droplets to the spell circle beneath her.

Tentacles held her spreadeagled and suspended. Tentacles slurped in and out her wide open pussy.

The creature holding her, this time, was not the shoggoth. The shoggoth no longer had use for her. It had their progeny to play with.

The dark elves, as made clear by Demethys and Vanikimal, did however, Demethys most especially.

The thing was a god, apparently. Some deity named

Shug-Niggurath.

Basically a bunch of tentacles with hooves, eyes, and teeth.

It was supposed to be female, which meant Carla was in a lesbian fuck session with a

Great Old One.

Whatever that means.

The purpose of the exercise was to see if her body could absorb some of the deity's knowledge. The dark elves tattooed some innovative spells onto her skin to that effect. Plus, they reinforced the spell circle, which held, just barely. Shub was a deity after all.

Some of the magic bled outside the circle.

Several students and a couple of teachers committed suicide. Five students and three teachers went insane. Two students went on a killing spree.

Most of the observers, though, maintained their sanity, and took notes.

Carla, herself, came through the experiment, body and mind intact (a parting gift from the shoggoth.

What did you do to me?

You'll find out, little ape. So will the Academy, I suspect, 'chuckle!'

). The status of her soul remained questionable.

The resilience of Carla's body proved a gift and a curse. On the one hand, her stretch marks, and extra birth weight, disappeared only a few weeks after the shoggoth discarded her (albeit her breasts retained their larger size).

On the other, it enabled the dark elves to subject her to whatever black experiments they could conjure up.

Her mind remained intact as well. As earlier mentioned, it amused the shoggoth to keep her sane, in order to fully appreciate the dark knowledge it bestowed upon her.

Shub-Niggurath was certainly impressed. She battered the woman with eons of black magic and she didn't break.

"Most impressive craftsmanship by the shoggoth, little ape,"

she chuckled before disappearing to whatever Outer Dark from whence she came.

A Few Days Later, In A Private Residence, In A Bedchamber, In The Unnamed Academy, Far From The Fields We Know.

Carla moaned and squirted more cum. She was in Mistress Demethys' bed, nude, oiled, on her back, in orgasm.

Demethys, also nude, also oiled, was between her thighs, eating her out. Her tongue glided over and into Carla's soaking wet pussy, licking the cum.

The social mores of dark elves would admonish her for sporting with a lowly human, but the Superintendent was a woman given to never giving a fuck. Besides, tribbing this one was always fun.

Carla waited until Demethys finished. The Superintendent raised her wet face and licked the cum from her lips.

"Have you considered my request, Mistress?"

Demethys said nothing, merely laid back and spread her legs.

Carla moved her body forward, bringing her pussy and the Superintendent's together. The two began their trib, talking between grunts and moans.

"It is . . . urg . . . highly unusual to have . . . mmm . . . a human . . . ughn . . . study magic among us but . . . uuhhh . . . not unheard of . . . ai . . ."

"It's just . . . ohhh . . . I'd rather do something . . . uuuughhh . . . more with . . . oy . . . my time than just . . . oooo . . . fuck . . . fuck Old Ones, Elder Things and . . . ah! Oooo! . . . Dark Elves."

"You're just a . . . oh . . . mmm . . . lowly human and . . . ai . . . experiment . . . oh . . . Technically you have to . . . Hela's cum! That feels good . . . do what we tell you . . . oh! . . . Fuck! . . . Still, you've absorbed . . . mmm, yes . . . a lot of magic . . . People are starting to get scared . . . ah . . . mmmm . . . Maybe I can convince . . . oh fuck! . . . the Governors to let you use . . . oh . . . yes . . . your body . . . as tuition . . ."

The two women fucked through the night, and slept through the morning.

Five Years Later. International Falls City Hall.

The council chamber was packed, as well it should, given the recent event. Quite a bit of the public were present, as were law enforcement.

The majority of attendees were media: print, broadcast, online; local, state, national, plus quite a few Canadian, and some international.

All were present for the press conference, to be presented by the police chief. The subject of the press briefing would garner considerable attention in any case, but rarely on this level.

The unique circumstances surrounding the case created a massive frenzy. After all, it was rare a long-term kidnap victim reappeared so suddenly, and in such a questionable manner. Everybody wanted the answer: what happened to Carla Adachi-Somby?

The police chief, Martin Cuswick: "I welcome the public and media to this press briefing. I want to make this quick, so I ask that everyone refrain from asking questions until I've finished the summary of the case. I have a busy schedule, so make your questions quick and concise. Now, the summary:

On June 12, 20.. Two bike riders, local, we will not name them, they're witnesses, came across the nude body of a young woman, approximately in her mid to late twenties, in a somewhat secluded niche, on the shoreline of Rainy Lake.

The woman was revealed to be unconscious, several tattoos and occult symbols were located on various areas of her body.

The area in question was the same location where Carla Somby was officially reported missing, five years ago.

The bikers immediately alerted emergency services. The woman was taken to

Falls Memorial.

She was positively identified as Carla Somby.

A medical examination was conducted. Results are pending. Now for the questions, you," Chief Cuswick pointed to a local reporter.

"Harry Akeley, KSDM. What is Carla Somby's current condition?"

"In a coma. Doctors are monitoring the patient. Her aunt has been notified. She requests privacy for the moment. Next, you."

"Enoch Bowman, KSTP. Is there any indication of sexual assault?"

"A rape test was conducted. Results are pending. Next, you."

"Randy Carter, CBC. Do you have any suspects, or clues as such, to her abduction?"

"A rolled up document was found in her hand. Forensics are going over it. The writing and symbols on the document correspond to the tattoos on her body. Next, you."

"Alastair Danforth, BBC. What does the document say?"

"Don't know. The language is foreign, unknown to us or local experts. We're consulting with specialists from Miskatonic University, and the FBI's occult division are sending agents. We will update as the situation develops."

The reporters asked more questions, most variations on the earlier ones. After going over the same facts repeatedly, Chief Cuswick found no more use for the press conference, and ended it, to the reporters' annoyed barks.

Carla slept through much of the first week's frenzy. Conspiracy theories exploded within the first hour after her discovery made public news. Words like hoax, cult, human trafficking, government, along with scapegoating of whatever minority, vulnerables, and targeted prominent persons, oozed all over the internet.

The results of the rape kit, and medical examination leaked to the public, and started a new frenzy.

While they offered no clues as to the perpetrators, two things were evident: the first, the patient had been engaged in, or the victim of, repeated considerable sexual activity from, possibly, multiple individuals.

Second, there was strong evidence the patient had given birth multiple times over the previous five years.

Another, minor, frenzy came from anomalies found in Carla's DNA. X-rays and MRI's uncovered changes in her musculature, particularly around her uterus, pelvic, and stomach muscles.

"An increase in elasticity," George Kirowan, MD, and chief of staff, Falls Memorial, told Chief Cuswick. "Whoever kept Carla captive made sure those areas would be able to hold large amounts of 'ahem' fluid . . . or, um, children. We found a sizable increase in ova production. Almost as if she'd been turned into a baby factory."

"How in the hell could this happen?" the stunned and horrified police chief asked.

"Hormone injections, fertility treatments. No sign of surgery on her body, post disappearance. You've read the report on the rape kit."

"Yes, I did." The police chief shuddered with rage and horror. A young woman, kidnapped by whatever sick cult lurked out there, held for five years, raped repeatedly, and forced to bear the children that came of them.

That poor woman. If I catch any one of those sick fucks, he won't make it to jail. I'll figure something out, and I'll make it slow.

"Keep it under wraps. I don't want people out there speculating."

"Doctor/patient confidentiality, Chief. I'm certainly not going to violate that woman's privacy. God knows the hell's she's gone through."

The doctor's phone buzzed. "'Scuse me." He put it to his ear, listened, his eyebrows raised. "The patient's awake."

Cuswick and Kirowan returned to the hospital. The attending nurse reported.

"She's awake, and confused, but otherwise her vitals are good."

Doctor Kirowan smiled but noted some slight agitation on the nurse's part.

"Helen, is something the matter?"

"Oh, uh, no, nothing," the nurse responded. "Just overworked, I think." She certainly wasn't going to mention the brief moment, while checking the patient's vitals, the young woman opened her eyes, and the nurse swore they were pitch black.

Sure the patient blinked, and they were a normal dark brown but . . .

A trick of the light? Strange reflection from the fluorescents? I think it's time to use my vacation.

Kirowan and Cuswick agreed, it was best to allow Carla Somby time to recover before conducting an interview. A psychologist would be called in to monitor Carla, and gently bring her up to speed. She would also be present during the interviews by the detectives and FBI. No others, with the exception of her aunt, would be allowed access, including reporters.

Meanwhile, Cuswick would consult the Miskatonic experts regarding the tattoos and document.

The FBI and consultants, while offering some illumination on the symbols and writing, couldn't offer clues to the identity of Carla's abductors.

"Some of the tattoos are script," a Miskatonic consultant said. "Ancient, a mix of Dokkalferic, Latin, and other dead languages, thousands of years old."

"What the hell is, what did you say, Dokkalferic?" Cuswick asked.

"Some ancient language, allegedly spoken by dark elves. Some elements of Norse but fairly unique, and has no other equivalent. The common theory is it comes from an ancient tribe in Scandinavian prehistory."