Across Blac Seas of Infinity

Author's note: This tale of Lovecraftian cosmic horror will make more sense if you start with chapter 1. Warning: this chapter is pretty dark and contains some non-consent elements.

*****

Pekid moonlight cast a sickly pall over Miskatonic University and Abigail shut it out with the thick curtains of her dorm room. Her roommate Maria was staying with her boyfriend tonight, and this would be Abigail's best chance to investigate the tome that Professor Armitage had lent her; hopefully it contained some information about the mysterious Knife that had taken over her life two weeks ago. Pickman dormitory was quiet - most students were out eating, drinking, partying... drowning their minds in banality of existence. She longed to return to that life.

Abigail would have preferred to read the tome under the bright sun of a clear New England afternoon, but privacy was hard to come by... and she wanted a chance to investigate the leather volume without supervision by Professor Ward or Victoria. Sharing with Victoria the memory of her first orgasm had been embarrassing enough already, and who knew what this tome contained?

She sat cross-legged on her bed in her nightgown with the Knife resting across her legs. The blade was hot against her skin and it was a struggle to resist the incessant urge that had been swelling inside her since she had obtained the artifact: to slip its hilt deep into her vagina and feel its warmth inside her. Her fingers traced over the carven wood, lines and ridges, solid, heavy. It would fill her so perfectly. Complete her.

With a jerk she pulled her hand away from the Knife but left the troublesome artifact resting on her folded calves. Not tonight. Not ever. But maybe when she learned more about it... then she could handle it safely. The Knife was somehow connected to a fertility goddess called Shub-Niggurath, among other names, and over the past fortnight Abigail had learned better than to dismiss such mythology as superstition. Better safe than sorry.

She forced her attention to the tome and inspected it with a critical eye, attempting to apply the techniques that Professor Ward was teaching her. It was no more than an inch thick and bound in soft leather, but it lacked a title or any other external markings. When Abigail ran her fingers across the cover she had a sense of foreboding, but Armitage hadn't indicated that the tome was dangerous - only that the memory inside was disturbing.

"Enough stalling," Abigail told herself. "Let's get on with it."

She opened the cover and was in another time and place.

--

It was dark and the same bilious moon hung overhead, but Abigail wasn't at Miskatonic University. A stepped pyramid floated in the moonlight above the remains of an adobe village, and Abigail crept among the huts with a spear in her right hand and a single thought on her mind: find a woman and a safe place to spend the night while the last of the fighting died down.

As she picked her way through the village she realized that despite being fully aware of her mind and body, she had no control of her actions and limited influence over her thoughts. Most startling of all: she was a man. Her name was Punchau, and she was on the winning side of a drawn-out battle that had ended at nightfall. She needed rest, water, food. She felt the man's aching body as if it were her own, and his thoughts flowed like a river through her consciousness.

Movement caught Punchau's eye by a hut on the perimeter of the village and he moved towards it. Inside the hut was a woman huddled with her daughter, and when Punchau entered they began begging for their lives. Abigail didn't recognize the language, but Punchau knew it and the meaning of the words formed unbidden in her mind.

This hut, this woman, were exactly what Punchau was looking for, and Abigail felt a sense of relief wash through her. His voice was a raspy baritone, "Shut up, woman. Get me food and water. I'll protect you tonight if you take care of me."

"Yes sir, thank you, thank you. But my daughter, please," the mother began to babble as she collected a few pathetic scraps of food from the corners of her hut. Punchau swung the butt of his spear at the woman to shut her up and it landed solidly and drove her to the dirt floor.

"Where is your husband?" Punchau asked.

"He was fighting, sir, out there."

"Then he's dead," Punchau said. Good, that meant the hut should be safe enough. He ate and drank everything he could get his dirt-encrusted hands on. He had killed one man himself in the fighting that day, and now he would sleep with this woman. It was a foolish superstition, but his father had taught him that victory in battle came from balance between death and life: kill one man, fuck one woman. So far, so good.

"Is there more?" Punchau asked, and the woman shook her head. Miserable peasants. "Take off your clothes and get on the bed." Abigail was horrified to speak the words, but she had no control over Punchau. The fighting always turned him on, and balance had to be maintained. "Or I can leave and you can take your chances with the next dozen warriors who come by."

"You will protect us tonight? From the others?" the woman asked.

"If you take care of me, the All-Mother will take care of you," Punchau said with a grin, and Abigail recoiled with horror as she shared in his arousal.

The woman nodded.

Punchau smirked in the dark as the woman sobbed and pushed her daughter into the far corner. He rarely had to use force, which he counted as a victory of its own. He was the conquering hero, and the pussy was his by right. The woman removed her cloak and laid on the pallet, trembling. Punchau was exhausted and stumbled down on top of her, dropping his spear and pushing his loincloth aside to free his cock. "Open, now," Punchau said, and the woman shook beneath him.

"My husband," she said.

Punchau laughed. "I might have killed him myself," he said. "What do you think of that? Does it make you wet?" Punchau thrust his hand beneath the woman's skirt and smacked her pussy, then used his hips to force open the woman's legs. Abigail felt a rush of adrenaline as the head of Punchau's cock nestled against the wet folds of flesh.

"Just do it," the woman whispered in a cracking voice, and Abigail's heart broke for her.

With a forceful thrust Punchau plunged into her pussy and Abigail groaned along with him. It was warm and wet around her, yielding. No wonder men loved sex so much... pussy was amazing. As Punchau thrust in and out Abigail was overcome by the sensation of power and dominance. She had risked her life. She had fought. She had killed. This pussy was hers to take as she pleased. A woman might be angry, terrified, violent... but it didn't matter, her pussy was soft and welcoming. The highest blessing of the All-Mother. Abigail drove her cock home harder and harder until the woman cried out, and then Abigail erupted into her. The feeling of release was like nothing she had ever experienced, but it was mixed with horror at what she had just done.

Afterwards, Punchau slept across the doorstep with his spear in his arms while the woman and her daughter huddled in the back of the hut. His instincts stirred occasionally when a group of drunken warriors would pass by during the night, but no one approached the hut Punchau had claimed.

Abigail woke with Punchau to the roar of the ocean and the squawk of seagulls that had come to pick over the remains of the battle. The woman brought Punchau more food, scrounged from somewhere, and he noticed her daughter for the first time. She was beautiful, and Punchau wanted her, but balance had to be maintained.

"Do you have a son or a brother?" he asked, hoping for an easy man to kill.

The woman shook her head. "We are alone now," she said, and seemed to notice Punchau eyeing her daughter. "Do you want me again this morning, sir?"

Punchau took the woman from behind. "Give me your arms. Put your face in the dirt," he ordered, and the woman complied. "I will stay with you and your daughter again tonight, I think," he said as he pounded her. "Find more food than last night." Abigail was disgusted, but Punchau was pleased with the arrangement. With a final deep thrust that made the woman squeal, Punchau came inside her with a grunt and released the woman's arms. She collapsed to the dirt floor and he wiped his cock of with the her hair.

Without another word Punchau grabbed his spear and made his way to the Pyramid of the Sun near the edge of the village to gather with the other warriors of the All-Mother. The sun was just rising above the mountains to the East, and the ocean to the West was glistening and beautiful. It was a glorious day, a day of victory.

The steps and base of the Pyramid were already crowded with warriors, but they yielded for Punchau as he approached and took a place of honor on the highest step below the flat summit. Punchau was a great warrior, and everyone knew about his ritual of balance - the younger warriors may have even believed in it. He smiled as the crowd hushed and three masked figures ascended to the summit.

In the lead was a woman wearing a cloak of feathers and a mask like the head of an eagle with a golden crown. Second was a woman wearing a dark cloak and a black spider mask with innumerable rubies for eyes. Third was a figure of unknown gender wrapped entirely in cloth the color of the deepest ocean. Behind them came numerous pairs of warriors, each pair carrying between them a bound and beaten male prisoner from the village.

The Eagle spoke in a voice that carried over the crashing waves: "The All-Mother has given us a great victory over her enemies, and today we consecrate the Pyramid of the Sun to her with the blood of their men."

The first prisoner was dragged up and bent backwards over a stone altar on the summit. The Spider drew a heavy knife from her belt and decapitated the struggling man with a single blow. Punchau and the crowd cheered as the man's blood flowed down the altar and onto the summit of the pyramid, but Abigail was overcome with nausea - not only because of the gruesome killing, but because she recognized the Knife. Her Knife.

The Eagle continued. "One of her warriors has earned the attention of the All-Mother. Punchau, come forward."

Punchau was surprised but not nervous - he was finally going to receive the honor that was due to him! He climbed the final step and stood before the masked trio. "The All-Mother honors me," he said, trying to appear humble. Punchau kept his eyes respectfully downturned, but Abigail longed to get a better look at the Knife.

The Spider stepped forward and Punchau stared at her feet. Blood dripped from the Knife onto the stone. "Forty-seven kills," she proclaimed, and the warriors cheered. "And forty-seven women." More cheering. "And though you may not know it, forty-seven children. It is you who honors the All-Mother with your service."

Punchau beamed and looked up at the Spider mask. The woman wore a black skirt and her face and shoulders were hidden by the mask, but she appeared to be otherwise naked. She held the Knife in her left hand, and Abigail recoiled as she absorbed its familiar details. It was the same. "My life for the All-Mother," Punchau said.

The Spider met Punchau's gaze, and Abigail saw blue eyes through holes in the mask. "The All-Mother's enemies form up against her, and she has need of your strength to conquer the Pyramid of the Moon. If you will give it, lay on the altar."

Punchau's heart pounded. Lay on the altar? "I don't understand," he said, as two warriors took his arms. He twisted in their grasp, but he couldn't overpower the two men. They dragged him to the bloody altar and pushed his body backwards over it while the Eagle spoke.

"With Punchau's strength the All-Mother will conquer the Pyramid of the Moon, and we will sanctify it to her with the screams of their women." Cheers erupted from below.

The Spider moved into Punchau's field of view and held the Knife up against the brilliant blue sky. It's dark metal was rounded and dull, but both Punchau and Abigail had seen the blade at work. As the Spider lifted her arms, the bottom edge of her headdress pulled up and revealed her breasts and erect nipples from below, but what caught Abigail's attention was the tattoo over her heart. The Eagle continued to talk as the Knife flashed down and Punchau was riven with blinding pain. Abigail's field of view spun as Punchau's severed head was tugged upward by the hair, and his last sight was looking down over the throng of warriors, cheering his sacrifice to the All-Mother as his vision faded to black.

--

Abigail collapsed out of her bed onto the floor and rolled around in agony, clutching at her neck and fighting off nausea. Her heart hammered and she nearly hyperventilated as she tried to bring her body under control. It was all so real... the horrific things she'd done... the feelings of power and glory... the sudden torment of decapitation... and the terrible realization.

She ran to the bathroom and tore off her nightgown, exposing the tattoo on her left breast and sending another wave of nausea through her body. It was the same as the Spider's. The Knife... how many had it killed? She had to free herself from it somehow. Destroy it. Or... discover some way to protect it. What if it fell into the wrong hands? She glanced back to the floor where it had fallen and panicked - it wasn't there!

It was several worried seconds before she noticed that the Knife was still in her hand, safe and sound.

*****

Author's end note: That got darker than I expected, to be honest. Please leave your thoughts in the comments. The next two chapters will clarify the stakes and set our heroine on her path.