Dive into deeper water

The mud clouding the bottom of the pond might provide just the sort of cover you need to confuse the mouther. Veering suddenly, you run three steps deeper into the mud-bottomed pond and then dive, splitting the water with the poise of a trained swimmer. You claw the mud, closing your eyes and letting instinct and your kicking feet draw you deeper and deeper. You feel the pressure of the mouther diving in beside you. It can't see you, not in this muck. Deeper, you feel the pressure on your eardrums, the burn beginning in your lungs. The mouther swims past, brushing you with a rubbery arm as it searches for you in the churned mud.

You swim deeper still, kicking onto your side and preparing to move back in towards the shore. Your lungs are aching now. Thirty seconds. Maybe a little more and then you'll be fighting not to inhale the water. You swim towards darkness of the mud. It's your only chance. Just as you are approaching the edge of the murk the mouther appears, like a shark emerging from beneath a ship, its dark shape and open, toothy maw are aimed right at you. Its one good eye looks at you with menace. You're dead, you realize. There is no way to outmaneuver it in this environment.

The mouther does not swallow you. It grabs your arms in one webbed claw and, with impossible muscularity, launches itself at great speed into the depths. You have to take a breath. Panic floods you as you inhale the water and kick uselessly. Darkness swallows you mercifully.

But a merciful **** by drowning does not await you. When you open your eyes you are in a strange chamber. It is lit blue by glowing anemones visible in a pool at your feet. The chamber is curved and pearlescent like the inside of a vast nautilus. You have been deposited atop a bed of damp algae. You are not restrained in any way, but you realize, to your horror, that you do not need to be restrained. The mouther has brought you to its breeding nest. Surely **** would have been **** than the fate that awaits you now.

Turning your head you see the mouther, reclining atop watery rocks, stripping the meat from the bones of a large fish with a crescent barb on the tip of its ghastly tongue. It notices you stirring and rotates its one good eye in your direction. It tosses aside the fish carcass and slithers down from the rocks, crawling towards you on all fours with great dexterity.

There is no conversation to be had with the beast. No reasoning. It seizes your waterlogged clothes in its webbed claws and shreds them with a few easy swipes. You try to kick it away but it is huge and powerful and easily turns you onto your back, pinning you to the kelp with one clawed hand. The immense hagfish tongue slops over your big tits and drips vile mucus over your face. It moves over top of you so that all you can see is its rubbery chest, mottled with greenish spots, and the bobbing length of its immense cock.

The hagfish tongue of the mouther slithers down your belly to your cunt and it runs over your vulva, mashing your tender folds and coating your pubic area in a thick, foul-smelling slime. You moan, a mixture of digust, discomfort and pleasure. Your big tits heave as you draw in **** breaths. Surely its huge cock will split you open. The shovel-scooped head, pale and thin, rubs up and down your slit. It beats it against your clit several times and you moan despite the terror causing you to squirm and writhe atop the slime-soaked kelp. The grip on your chest tightens. With a bestial roar the mouther drives its cock forward and harpoons your tender quim.

To your surprise, the broad tip folds as it enters you, driven by the fat shaft into your depths. To be sure, it is painful, stretching your lips and your uterus to their limits as it feeds inch after inch into you. The shovel-head collides with your cervix and you gasp as it pushes again, driving past it, stabbing into your womb itself and unfolding in your most precious and intimate place. As the mouther draws its hips back you realize the terrible purpose of the shovel-shaped cockhead: It is now lodged like an arrowhead in your womb. As the mouther draws back, its cock's shaft stretches but the cock head remains lodged within you.

It begins a steady, pistoning motion, its cock stretching out and cramming its fatness back in to fill your uterus with each thrust. This is an evolved process and the mouther behaves like an automaton, fucking you at a slow pace that increases very gradually. Your first orgasm fills you with self-loathing. You moan and arch beneath the hideous beast, your cunt gripping at the ridges of the cock shaft pistoning in and out. Your second orgasm is even more intense and you are angry, at yourself and at the monster that is using you for its vile purposes. Your third, fourth and fifth orgasms are pure, maddening pleasure and after that they begin to blend together.

After more than an hour your numbed cunt is being fucked rapidly by the mouther. The **** of its thrusts would knock you across the chamber if it were not still pinning you to the kelp bed. It emits a deafening warble and breathes in loud snorts. The cry increases in intensity and then you feel a bulge working its way up the shaft. It stretches you to new pain, moving all the way up your uterus and bursting out of the cockhead. A textbook flashes in your half-mad mind. The eggs.

"Its caviar deposited," read the passage in that book. "The greater mouther will then release fertilizing semen rich in hormones that will help ease the host organism through the gestation process."

Your human womb for the offspring of this creature. You cry your last sane tears moments later as the mouther's cock bucks powerfully inside you. Massive waves of its spunk flood your womb, overflow your uterus and pour out of you as it continues to fuck you. You stare thoughtlessly at its underbelly, only dimly aware of the orgasmic tide flowing into your womb, fertilizing the eggs and dosing you with massive amounts of hormones.

It is painful when the mouther withdraws its cock and licks you "clean" with its digusting tongue. You lift your head and look at your belly, already swollen with the sheer quantity of eggs and semen. The foul juices continue to ooze out of you for several more hours. You sleep and awaken alone. Your breasts are sore. Your body hurts all over. You sleep again. The mouther brings you a fish and you eat it raw. You breasts are growing. Itchy bumps appears on their surface.

Escape is completely forgotten. In the coming days you swell far beyond the size of a normal human pregnancy. Your distended belly makes it impossible to move so you lie on your back and the mouther drops morsels of food to you. The itchy bumps have developed into nipples. You now have more than a dozen of them, gray-green nubs bulging from your massively swollen breasts. Days later they begin to leak a thin, white milk. You taste some. It is sweet.

It has been three weeks by your count when you feel the first movement. The next day you can see it, the tadpoles squirming in your belly. Another week and the birthing process begins. You gasp as there is a massive discharge of amniotic fluid. The tadpoles are born live and squirming from your stretched birth canal, rolling out into the liquid. They are mouther tadpoles, but they contain just enough of your DNA that they know what to do. They crawl out of the stick fluid and as they are still being birthed they begin to crawl up to your breasts, taking hold of your nipples in their tiny hands and drinking your mother's milk.

Exhausted, your head drops back onto the bed of the kelp and you stare up at the curved ceiling of the chamber. You remember a passage from the book.

"A mouther mates for life. It will breed with a host again and again, sometimes keeping humans for many years before they expire from the stress of the repeated birthing. Those few rescued from such situations report intense happiness during their time with the mouther."

You look over at the beast that has sired the tadpoles now feeding from your breasts and you smile.