A thirst quenched.

The hunched, winged cultist departed, leaving the heavily-pregnant priestess with the remaining four. Andre, still holding her breast like a bag of gold coins, gave it a small squeeze. Althea winced and a spurt of the thick, spoiled milk jet across the top of her taut, grimy belly. Though vomiting up the slurry of ichor and worms eased her nausea some, Althea still suffered a terrible headache, and her body felt heavy and sluggish due to her burdensome, imminent motherhood. She licked her lips with thirst, and this elicited a chuckle from Edgar.

"Zhe lookz thirzty," the fly-covered man sneered as he plucked his waterskin from his belt. Immediately, Althea's eyes lit up. How long had it been since she last quenched her thirst. Even with the foul taste of her own milk tainting her tongue, her lips remained chapped and dry. "Do you need a zwig, my zweet?" he waggled his brows, causing a maggot to fall from his scalp like slimy dandruff. Andre glanced between the two of them with an expression of amused curiosity. Althea loathed these cruel men, but her bodily needs superceded her sense of dignity, at least in this moment. She gave Edgar a **** nod, he approached the prone, pregnant priestess. But when he uncorked the waterskin, he simply turned it upside down and let it pour out onto the filthy floor of the prison cell, wasting every drop. Despite her **** dehydration, Althea still mustered a tear in the corner of her ocean blue eye. "Oh pleaze," he mused, "Felixz will be back zoon with plenty to zate your thirzt."

Althea's attention snapped back to Andre. The burly man crowned with oozing sores rested his heavy hand atop her prominent dome of flesh. Her arms were free, but she knew better than to fight back. Even were she not so grotesquely pregnant, she would stand no chance against this many opponents. And without the grace of Helestria's light, Althea's heart only sunk further into despair. And so she endured the brute's touch. "Oh, yes. You're coming along nicely," he murmured. "Who knew you would take to the ritual so well? The master certainly didn't expect such a success." Despite his gloating, Andre seemed particularly talkative among the members of this mysterious **** cult. The small ember of hope in Althea's heart flickered brightly. Perhaps, through him, the priestess might learn the wicked cabal's intentions.

"What do you mean?" Althea sniffled, turning her head away from the man's hand on her belly. His rough palm slid lower, now cupping the underside of her protruding dome. His thumb ran a circle around her outie navel, pausing over each skull of her cursed mark. Lower still, tracing his fat fingers back and forth across the warm flesh of her mons. Andre laughed.

"Did you think you were our first attempt? Ha! Not even close. We tried this same ritual a dozen times before we found the right girl," the stocky cultist explained before rising to his feet. He loomed over her like a wall of a man. The collar and front of his robe parted some now, and she could make out familiar patches of the vile, black mold growing in spots on his chest and neck. Almost like a grisly leopard hide. Althea swore she saw some of the patches emit tiny puffs of black spores.

"W-What happened to the other girls?" Althea asked, unconsciously bringing her knees tighter together. Even as she asked, she felt her unborn offspring flip over inside her stretched womb. This sent another wave of dizzying nausea to her head, but it passed. Considering this was the longest she had gone without being **** by one of these monsters, her spawn was surprisingly more active than it had been during any of the ordeals. Was it nearing its birth? Regardless, Althea knew she was running out of time. She would have to play along until she found an opening.

"They were immediately zombified, little more than mindless husks. Or should I say mindless vessels," Andre bore his yellow smile and plucked a wriggling worm from Edgar's shoulder, holding it out toward the swollen priestess. "We always need more crawlers, so now they're little more than womb cauldrons for maggots." A hacking cough echoed from somewhere in the hallway, and a moment later hunchbacked Felix came into view bearing a tarnished, bronze goblet. "Ah, you're back. Took you long enough," Andre snorted before tossing the maggot into his mouth. He chewed it methodically and swallowed.

Her sister priestesses had been reduced to undead brood vessels? The horror of such a terrible fate shook Althea to the core, but she had little time to process the thought as Andre fully shed his robes. Althea's eyes darted all over the man's broad frame. Those cursed spots of black mold were everywhere. His chest, neck, back, arms... all over, like an inverted starry sky. Then he began untying the waistcord of his ragged trousers. Althea's eyes darted between Andre's pants and the newly-arrived goblet. What did they have in store now? Though the contents of the goblet remained a mystery, she could see a faint green glow illuminating the underside of Felix's hairy chin. Before she could scramble deeper into the cell, she felt the huge, muscled hand of Ivan wrap around the back of her skull. The sheer size of it made it look like he was cradling a baby's head. Althea's panicked blue eyes shot between the grizzled brute holding her hair, and the spotted wall of a man disrobing in front of her.

"Bear witness to one of the many blessing of Nihilipox, girl," Andre tore off his ragged pants and threw them aside. Althea simply gawked in horrified confusion. His cock was... wrong. Was it even a cock at all anymore? The density of the black mold condensed around his groin like a black, fungal carpet. There was no sign of a dick at all, just a pair of swollen, mold-covered testes. But when nothing happened, Andre looked down at his crotch and scowled. "Hmph. Guess I need some inspiration. Izaac, why don't you have yourself a drink, mm?" Andre nodded his blistered head toward Althea, his eyes locked onto her modest, leaky chest. With great zeal, the jawless, bug-eyed man crouched in front of Althea and let his proboscis flop against her collarbone. She tried to squirm, but Ivan's firm grip held her fast. She found herself unable to escape as the awkward, fleshy suction cup probed around her chest. It felt like a warm, sticky, rubbery pancake. After a moment it finally reached one of her nipples.

Like a fly to honey, Izaac let out a gurgling buzz of glee and furiously latched his proboscis onto her puffy, darkened nip. What was once an awkward suction now tripled. By Helestria, how did it hurt and feel good at the same time? The fleshy tube squeezed and tugged, but it needed little effort. A deluge of foul, spoiled milk erupted from the font of Althea's breast, its excess dribbling down from the perimeter of Izaac's sucker before cascading over her gravid, filth-stained belly. This caused another sloshing shuffle from the monster growing inside. Althea cursed the strange sensations pooling in her loins. Fully invested in the disgusting dairy delight, Izaac gripped the base of her modestly engorged bosom in both hands and began kneading the flesh. She was a priestess of Helestria, now reduced to a milk cow for these deformed and debaucherous madmen. Between her fast and shallow breaths, Althea glimpsed a disturbing transformation.

It seemed Andre found his inspiration. As he watched Izaac suckle at Althea's tit, a portion of his black mold groin began sprouting a familiar mushroom stalk. Though this one was thicker than those she had seen with Lorna and Fabian. If anything it looked like... a cock. Althea's stomach dropped. The tenebrous, fungal shaft looked spongy and fuzzy, though it held firm and rigid. With each swaying movement a miasma of black powder fell from its length. By Helestria, what was he going to do with that wretched thing?!

"That's better. As I was saying--bear witness to the blessing of Nihilipox," Andre said with a sneer. He stepped closer and snapped his fingers. When Izaac failed to detach himself from his gluttonous indulgence, Andre grabbed him by the back of the neck and ripped him away. The sharp tug on Althea's teat made her yelp, but she found a brief moment of relief as the feverish suckling was beginning to numb her nipple. "Open wide, priestess, and accept our lord's blessing." Althea simply sat dumbstruck at the thick, moldcock that stood firm in front of her face. When she failed to obey, Andre snapped his fingers again, and Ivan pulled down on the back of her head, tilting her face up and causing the girl to involuntarily open her mouth. In that brief opening, Andre thrusted his hips forward and plunged his pungent prick between her chapped lips.

"Mmglph!" Althea gagged. By the goddess, it was so dry! The rough texture of his inhuman cock scraped her parched throat, and she could feel a powdery layer clinging to the insides of her cheeks and the top of her tongue like baking flour. To her surprise, it was not the worst thing she had tasted so far, though that only led her to worry that she was growing desensitized to the horrors she faced. But there was hardly any time to think as Andre pulled his dick out halfway and jammed it even further into her throat. "Ngmph!" The sawing motion continued for a few short minutes as the other men offered little more than wicked laughter. Finally his pace reached a new height before he buried his fungal dick all the way to the hilt. The patchwork of fuzzy black mold on the man's crotch ticked Althea's nose as her face was pressed into his groin. But what came next was not a torrent of seed, or a splattering of worms. Oh no, Althea was to suffer a new torment.

"Ngh, that's it you little bitch. Take it all!" Andre let out a guttural growl as his mushroom cock plumped up inside her mouth before erupting a cloud of dry powder directly down her esophagus. It caked her throat even worse than the surface of his cock had, and everywhere it touched left a warm, tickling itch in its wake. "Ahhh, yeah. Take all my spores," Andre grunted. Spent, he at last pulled his thick, spongy cock from her mouth. At the same time, Ivan released the back of her head and she was free to fall forward onto her hands and knees, gasping and coughing. Althea thought her throat was dry before, but now she literally could not breath. Each inhale seared her insides as if she had swallowed hot coals. Thoughts could not form in her mind, and her head spun. Was this it? Was she going to die here?

And only then did hunched, fly-wing Felix approach with the tarnished goblet. On one knee he offered the cup to her in a mockery of a wedding proposal. Even moments ago Althea would have denied them the satisfaction of her willingly accepting the unknown elixir, but with each raspy breath her will dissolved. The priestess of Helestria accepted the goblet and its ominous, bubbling green contents. It was a liquid and that was good enough for her. Anything to clear the putrid spores from her throat. Without even taking a moment to pray to her goddess, Althea brought the drink to her lips and guzzled it all down without spilling a drop. Incredible! Perhaps it was the recent sequence of traumatizing horrors, but this was arguably the best drink she ever tasted. It was cool, refreshing, and sweet. Not a hint of putrescence or corruption. The pain in her throat was gone, and the elixir had even washed away the taste of her rotten milk.

"Zhe didn't hezitate at all. What a zweet, dutiful girl," Edgar smirked as a fly crawled across his face and into one ear. Andre took a step back, leaving only strong-armed Ivan beside her. A tingling sensation ran throughout Althea's whole body, but something deep within the girl's core told her not to fear it. And for the first time in what felt like ages, a flicker of radiant light returned to Althea's heart. Her trembling, blue eyes stared at the palm of her hand, and the priestess watched a small glow form in her grasp. Some way, somehow, her divine power had been restored. Did Helestria finally hear her pleas? Had she somehow regained the favor of her sacred goddess?