No, her struggles attract more unwanted attention.

Althea shook her head against the imminent blackout. No! She was a priestess of Helestria, and she would not break here! The maggot-filled man swayed slightly as the purple worm thrust in and out of her tightly-clamped mouth. Between each dizzying deluge of the slimy maggot stew, Althea realized that the guard looked increasingly fatigued, as if each spurt drained him of some of his energy. A fourth bulge rose up the purple worm, and Althea watched the man's jaw fall slack, along with his grip on her wrist. Now! With one hand, Althea gripped the length of the purple parasite, clenching her small fist right above the rising bulge. She swiftly yanked it as hard as she could, and dislodged the worm's sphintered tip from her lips with a wet pop!

"Ugh, thank the mother--Now get off of me!" With the oral anchor removed, the priestess raised her knee and stomped her bare heel down onto the cultist's black slipper. The man's foot crumpled under her stomp with a wet crunch like rotten wood. The sound and sensation of liquifying a human foot turned Althea's stomach, though that could also have been the belly full of worms and lively, tentacled spawn she carried. Her captor grunted, but it sounded more akin to confusion rather than pain. Off balance and beleagured by multiple maggoty climaxes, it was easy for Althea to shove him away. In her peripheral, she saw him fall onto his back with another wet crunch. At last the priestess was no longer in his clutches. Or so she thought, until something squeezed her butt. "What?!"

To her horror, the man's four-fingered arm had detached at the wrist. It's ring finger stump was still lodged in her asshole, and she could feel something tickling her insides. Like a string or filament poking out of the rotten nub. And that's when she noticed nine squirming tendrils sprouting from the black-blue, necrotic wrist. These were black in color and no thicker than a piece of straw. They whipped about, lashing against her pale, cum-stained thighs. "No! Get it out!" Althea squealed and reached back to grab the wrist. When she tried to pull, the fingers of the rashy hand dug into the meat of her ass cheek, anchoring the stump all the way up to the knuckle. "Nyah! Not there! Please--stop!" the priestess lamented, but despite her cries the knuckle tendril scraped itself along the walls of her rectum. It almost felt like something-- glorp! Althea went wide-eyed. Inside her ass, the tendril was planting hundreds of tiny, bead-like eggs along the inside of her rectum.

"Nooo!" Althea moaned, her knees buckling. She felt her butt flex and clench reflexively, only helping the disembodied zombie hand to remain latched in place. "Nnghh... I have to... get it out... before..." her fingers twitched weakly around the rotten wrist. She watched the nine flailing tendrils all start discharging dollops of thick, sloppy green roe. The spray of tiny eggs clung to Althea's skin and hair like gobs of jade-colored oatmeal. When she leaned against the cold, black stone wall, she only managed to pull it free after bending over at the waist again and jutting out her butt in an embarassingly lewd posture. The knuckle popped free, and she felt the thin, black tendril twirling out of her asshole like an animated string. It kept laying the slurry of green ovum even after returning to the cool air of the ritual chamber. Several gobs drooled down between the crack of Althea's pert, small cheeks. The priestess stood up and held the hand out at full arm's length. When the tendrils tried to coil around her forearm, Althea squeaked and flung the severed hand across the room.

A moment of peace, at last. She leaned her sweating forehead against the soothing, cold stone. What a nightmare this had all been. Even in that moment she heard the maggot man clawing at the stone floor, unable to drag himself closer with one rotten hand. The purple worm whipped through the air angrily, spurting several more loads of black ooze and maggots onto the floor, but unable to reach the cleric after whom it lusted so fiercely. Althea laid a hand over her belly, and her eyes went wide. "What? When did the mark change again?" the priestess gawked at the growth in her tummy.

By now she could no longer deny it. Althea was pregnant. With what, or by whom, she could not say. A cold sweat erupted across her body, covering her sticky, stained skin in goosebumps. She had not lain with a man... or no living man... Could this be the product of that disgusting orc? Or the worm-filled man? Could this be the result of that strange ritual? Regardless, her belly had become a distinct dome. Every slight movement felt awkward as she tried standing straight up. The new center of balance would take some time to adjust. Time Althea lacked. A fifth skull wreathed her belly, leaving only four small spots unchanged. What would happen in the wake of nine skulls? Her small hands cradled her belly. From their place beneath the gravid swell, she couldn't even see her feet without leaning forward. As an acolyte of Helestria, goddess of life, fertility, and harvest, Althea was well-versed in childbirth. Though she dreaded what horrid thing would fall from her womb when the time came. For the briefest of moments, the girl was thankful that the crazed woman slashed open her robes. It provided her burgeoning belly room to breath, though the rest of the green robes had long since crusted over by the numerous fluids staining its fabric. That's when Althea felt the ground tremble.

thud... thud... Footsteps sounded from somewhere beyond the chamber doors. Oh no... Whatever was coming sounded big... and heavy. The pace picked up into a charge. thUD--THUD-- SLAM! A huge, bulky figure blitzed through the half-open door, blasting the wood from the hinges in a shower of splinters. Althea turned away, shielding her face. A few scraps of wood bounced off her back and flank, but she remained unharmed. The cacophany passed as quickly as it came, and she found herself huddled in silence-- near silence. Wet labored breathing, like the ocean tide, burbled from behind the young cleric. There stood over ten feet of muscle, fat, and sagging, pustulent flesh. Althea had never seen an actual ogre in her life, let alone a zombified ogre. Though it sounded like the thing was breathing, she suspected it was in fact the sound of various gases bubbling and churning inside the thing's bloated, rotten body.

The blistered orc in the pit paled in sheer grotesque repugnance compared to this unliving ogre. Althea's head barely came up to the apex of the ogre's gas-engorged gut. Rips in the flesh revealed coils of maggot-covered viscera and intestines, looped inside the sagging sack of the ogre's belly like rat-gnawed lengths of rope. Flies buzzed around the slack-jawed giantkin's tusked maw. It stood with its thick, muscled arms dangling at its sides. Abscesses, welts, and open sores covered every inch of the ogres' blanched, greenish skin. Bile and pus of all shades of yellow, green and brown streaked down the brute's bulbous body, giving it a glistening sheen of pungent rot and filth. Its nose had long since rotten away, along with most of the left side of its face. Althea watched a particularly fat, black fly land on the ogre's cloudy eyeball, and the thing didn't even blink. But those sickly cataracts stared down at the young cleric with a focused, unholy lust. Despite its horrific appearance, its current position left a very tempting opening through the splintered entrance. Althea took a wary step away from the brute and closer to the doorway. Her blond hair hung in matted clumps around her shoulders, and she breathed as quietly as she could. She noticed she had one of her hands rested atop her belly and recognized it was a motherly, shielding gesture. The thought disgusted her, and she recoiled her arm before taking another step. The ogre lurched, shifting its weight with a heavy, plodding step forward. Such a simple motion sent its incredible bulk and loose flesh wobbling. Patchworks of damnable black mold melded with pockets of pustules and abscesses along the folds of the ogre's flabby bulk.

A stand-off. Neither the petite, pregnant cleric, nor the fly-shrouded, obese, rotting ogre made a move. Althea feinted to her right before barreling left to the doorway. Unfortunately, the broad-shouldered ogre swiped its muscled, worm-infested arm, effectively clotheslining the poor girl. "No! Wai--ngh!" she cried out before the giantkin cut her off with a thick arm around her throat. And then it pulled her in close, slapping her buttocks against the cushioned seat of his domed, festering belly. Each gnarled vein and spongy patch of mold felt... wrong as it caressed her rump. Headlocked, Althea brought her small fingers to its forearm and clawed in feeble futility for freedom. To the girl's disgust, the ogre's tepid, ochre-green flesh tore away in strips like paper machet. By all the gods, this was the worst smell yet. Soured milk that had been left to rot in the stomach of a dead pig for a fortnight. That was the closest thing her cloudy mind could conjure in such vile proximity to its source. And her eyes... those fearful, nauseated blue eyes sunk their gaze when she felt something wet and spongy streak a slimetrail across the sole of her dangling foot.

Barely visible beyond the crest of the ogre's gut, Althea saw the tip of the monster's inhuman cock. Aside from the wretched black veins, orange, fluid-filled blisters, and the degree of decomposition, the size alone was equal to Althea's two hands clasped in prayer. Did... Did it intend to use such an unsightly tool... on her? "No... not again--please! Helestria! Mother goddess, help me!" The priestess cried out as the ogre began sliding her further down the globe of his ulcerous, putrid flesh. She felt the slimy, cool cockhead smear across her calf, like a beast probing for warmth. All the while, the thing in her belly rolled and churned.