Deeper and Darker

They lope towards her through the water, and Morgause takes a panicked step back, almost losing her footing as her feet slip on the submerged walkway.

In the soft blue light of the chamber, she can make out their forms more clearly than she’d like, and gasps as she realises what she’s seeing.

Though they resemble the Priest - from her what? Vision? Transposition? - with scaled skin and pelagic features, here and there she can make out signs of what they once were. The broad brow of a Human male, and the slender ears of an Elf. These are more of the prisoners, transformed like the Orc she’d seen, into hideous mockeries of man and fish.

“Hecate, let doom fly against my foes, let them feel my angry blows!” She barks out the spell, slipping onto her knees as the faster of the pair - its scales a sickly green - swipes a webbed hand at her.

Bolts of witch-light dance from her fingertips, coruscating across the creature’s body, sending it splashing back into the depths.

But the other has circled around her, and as it lunges, wrapping red-scaled arms around her waist, she can only scream in terror.

She has a split second in which to gulp down a mouthful of air, before she topples into the water.

Morgause writhes and squirms in the creature’s grip, arms flailing for the surface, which recedes rapidly as she is dragged deeper into the eerie waters - lit with the same glowing algae.

She kicks her feet, trying to swim her way free, but to her horror finds her ankles gripped tight by the returning green-scaled creature.

They pull and push at her, snapping at one another viciously. Morgause’s eyes bulge, her lungs already burning, as they travel deeper still.

Then she feels something - no, two something’s - press against her body, and she very nearly lets her air go in a scream. The two creatures are hard, their aquatic cocks throbbing angry and proud, prodding against her squirming form as they push themselves against her.

She could almost laugh, were it not for her imminent drowning. Twin members jostle for her attention as she tumbles in the water, pushing against any soft part of her body that they can, even as the pair snap at each other.

I’m going to drown, while two Fishmen fight over who gets to fuck me.

“She died as she lived”, they’ll say.

An idea occurs to her, so insane that she may as well try it, even as her lungs strain, her chest aching as she finds herself on the verge of losing consciousness. She takes the red scaled creature in her hand, pumping feverishly, more for its attention than its pleasure, and presses her lips to its strange, slippery face, her eyes wide with a **** attempt to communicate.

It seems to work. It’s not quite a kiss but a lip-lock, the creature’s mouth too wide and flat for a proper grapple. But a seal is formed, and she sees its gills flutter, and feels air pumped into her **** lungs.

Her mind reels at the insanity of her situation, but she doesn’t waste time. Still pressed tight between the pair, her breasts threatening to spill free of her gently flowing clothes, she fumbles for the green creature, small fingers wrapping around its shaft too.

Morgause shuts her eyes, letting herself be supported and carried - who knows where - by the eager pair. Occasionally, her mouth is pressed to one or other of them, and as she strokes them more purposefully now, they seem to understand her meaning: you help me, and I’ll help you.

With each gasp of borrowed air, she works them a little faster. Her legs flail lazily, and she feels a fresh warmth in her stomach as she grips a slender cock in each hand, letting their tips rub against her body - her pert rear, her pillowy breasts - but always pumping as she tumbles through the water.

She feels them pulse and throb in her hands, and finds herself enjoying the warmth and texture of them, flexing her palms to increase their pleasure, rolling her wrists.

The green one - she thinks so, from the angle, it’s hard to tell - shoves its tongue into her mouth as it breathes for her. Thick and strangely rounded, she finds it almost thrusting between her parted lips, faster and faster as she strokes it.

She can feel them writhing now, their grip on her tightening, squeezing, and knows they’re both close. She opens her eyes, feeling the water sting them, and though her world is a morass of half-light and blurred shapes, she can see them thrashing against her, see their members straining in her pale palms.

With a strange puffing effect, they climax one after the other, their seed emerging in clouds. As she continues to sink, Morgause screws her eyes shut again, her face passing through the mess of cum. They float together for a moment, the creatures sluggish in their satisfaction, and Morgause can see no other opportunity but this one.

With no sense of direction, no idea how deep she is, she squirms free, kicking her legs to send her jetting through the water. A shift in the lighting grabs her attention, and she dives upward for it, arms clawing at the water, legs flicking frantically.

With a retching gasp, she breaks the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering as she sucks greedy mouthfuls of air. Her fumbling hands find solid rock, and she heaves herself up, her sodden dress threatening to drag her back down into the depths.

Panting, her chest heaving, she flops onto the stone, staring up at a cavernous ceiling that is not the one she left behind.