You accept and rut with the wug

Bile rises in your throat from the sheer revulsion at the suggestion. Stooped as he is, the wug is smaller than you. You stare down at the creature and his scaly naked hide, the macabre necklace and the alien way his fins flick and tint red with growing arousal. Rejection sits on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow back it and your vomit. This isn’t just for you. It’s for Brigette. You glance at the green skinned woman, seeing her fear and how she shies away from the wugs chanting her name. You must. For her.

“I agree,” you say as stoically as you can. You spread your arms out and dip in a slight bow as if offering yourself to sacrifice, the gesture bringing the salient water to your navel. “I will commune with your tribe on behalf of the goddess.”

The air around you changes. The wugs whisper among themselves, croaking enthusiastically. Their fins flick in the air with a clicking of communication. There is something different in the way those bulbous eyes look at you now. Fear pours ice water down your back. Oh well. Too late to take back what you said.

The chieftain grunts contemplatively. “You do us a great honour,” he warbles.

You gulp. “It is Tokonga who does so.”

“Yes.” The wug wades towards you solemnly and you need to resist the urge to take back up your sword and hack his head. Instead you plant the blade in the trunk of a nearby tree and wait. The sword won’t aid you now.

The chieftain pauses and eyes the weapon with interest. When his attention returns to you, he kneels before you in the water. You feel his webbed fingers against your shapely thighs, running across the curves and tracing the shape of your ass. It is an oddly solemn procedure, his eyes focused on your stomach and his mouth firm in concentration, and as he touches you, you cannot help but tingle with expectancy. The wug’s fingers are cold but tender, almost reverent, and you again wonder what it actually means to speak for the goddess.

He grips you firmly by the hips and raises you up. He’s strong. You grab the trunk of a mangrove as he pushes you against it, lying back at an angle among the twining roots. You draw up your knees, finding fooholds, supporting yourself in this position, the pose reminding you of a woman waiting to give birth.

Just then you gasp as something slick and long brushes against your folds. You bite your lips to hold back the moan. You look down between the valley of your heavy breasts to see the wug’s tongue slide back into his mouth. He lowers his head and brings it back up, licking at your moistening folds. You shudder at the feeling but grow warm to it.

You turn away from the scene and search for Brigette. You find her among the mass of wugs. She has drawn nearer you both, standing almost beside the trunk. She constantly gives nervous glances at the close circle of sea wugs. Your eyes move down Brigette’s body and stop, transfixed at the sight of the green woman’s hand wandering about the curves of her breast. Is she…aroused at this?

You turn back in surprise as the wug parts your lower lips with his webbed fingers and examines your pink flower. He nods.

“Voice of Tokonga. It is time.”

Your voice is hoarse with fear as you answer, “Yes.” You hear the dull thump of drums belting through the air. The sound vibrates through you strangely, and your legs shake as the wug chieftain clambers up the trunk, his necklace of teeth swaying, but he is not the only one. Several warriors, their fins larger than their brethren and their hide pierced by rings of metal, climb about you both. They look down silently as their chief crawls over top of you. Your eyes dart between them and your heart catches in your throat as you see the pink wedge of their cocks slide out. You dare not say anything and betray Brigette.

Turning your attention once more to the chief you watch as the pink flesh of his reptilian cock slides further from the flaps of his stomach. He aligns himself carefully with you velvet folds. Not since the imp have you been entered, and certainly never as this. Your heart pounds in anticipation.

The wug moves in slow, the cold feeling of his cock against the heat of your box bringing a moan to your lips, the wedge shape of his bitch breaker sliding deeper into you. “Tokonga, bringer of life,” the wug chieftain intones. “Accept this one. You bore high fathers in womb to hide from enemies, and released them strong. From your bounty brought food to high fathers, nursing them until strong enough to leave. Create oceans for them to swim and escape enemies. Watered earth to bring it food. Gave females of other races form to serve as ash'a'ro. Honour you, great mother.” Your thighs quake as he pushes further in. You are well stretched after being **** to take the imp’s cock the other day, and manage to take the wug entirely.

The wug pauses then. “You took all,” he says humbly. “Good omen.”

You shudder at the sensation of him filling you. “Th-the goddess is pleased,” you manage. The wug’s fins flick with what you understand to be pleasure. You hold your breath as he begins to move. It is no rough pounding, forcing himself upon you as the demon had done. It is long and slow, tender, beyond loving, something greater. It is worship.

Your eyes roll in unaccustomed pleasure. Despite yourself you begin to move with the creature violating you. You slide against the smooth fabric of your robe, your immense breasts heaving and swaying as you saw against the wug’s cock. You try not to look at it, but this proves a mistake. Eyes are all around you, watching, the whole of the wug tribe perhaps, their bulbous eyes taking in the sight of your violation. Above you, the wugs who had climbed the tree have begun to stroke themselves. Pre drips from their cocks like milk from Brigette’s breasts. Some lands on your face, and you turn away in disgust.

And always the heady beat of those mysterious drums.

You realize suddenly you are grinding harder against the wug. Your every nerve feels alive to the smoothness of his flesh and that of your robe as you rub against the tree. Feeling something prod your ass you maneuver slightly to the side and hiss as a protruding root slips into the crease of your rear.

“Oh goddess!” you groan as every thrust of the wug sends the nub of bark rubbing against your hole.

Brigette moans. You look to her and almost stop moving in your shock. Your sister stands, surrounded by worshipful wugs. She has climbed the beginning of the mangrove to gain some distance and thus can be seen by the whole tribe. Her body shakes as one hand mauls her immense breasts, milk squirting from them, running down the underside of her breasts and along her thighs and into the water, her other hand buried deep inside her cunt, furiously frigging herself. Her head is thrown back, whorish moans spilling from her mouth as she watches you be fucked by the wug.

“B-Sister!” you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” Brigette moans. “Sister, I’m sorry.”

You did that, you realize, stunned. Watching you getting fucked by this creature drove her to that. Bliss overtakes you.

“Voice of the goddess, you are pleased?” the chieftain of the wugs croaks.

Your attention snaps back to the wug. “Yes!” You gasp and resume moving against him. “Yes. Pleased. Don’t stop.”

The wug nods and leans forward. Unexpectedly, his huge lips latch onto your breasts and begin to suck. You cry out as stars of pleasure explode behind your eyes. His webbed hands maul your massive breasts, squeezing and stroking as if milking them. “Nnn!” You can’t think straight. Pleasure thrums from your cunt, ass and breasts. You cry at as these sensations reach your stomach and thrum through you in tandem to the drum beats.

The wug chieftain takes his lips from your breasts. He licks some fluid from them. “Yes. Voice of Her. Voice of Totonga. Be her body. Accept this one’s flesh. Please. Let me spill inside you. Give me honour to seed you.”

“Yes!” you scream, your voice echoing through the mangroves. “Seed me!” The wug croaks and lurches inside you, burying himself as deep as he can. His seed pumps inside of you, filling your insides with his potent batter. You cry out again as your own pleasure peaks. Cum spills all around you as the surroundings wugs climax, draping you in their seed.

Gradually, the moment winds down. The wug chief stays buried within you for a moment or two, then slowly slides free. You are a sweating mess as you lie beneath him, covered in ropes of wug cream. Your legs feel like jelly and your head in a cloud of afterglow.

The wug chieftain raises himself off you and watches you. He seems to be looking or waiting for something.