Follow the lights to your new life

The last of your resistance dies as the Saint’s sword clatters to the cold stone. You walk onward towards the light, your head tracking their presence even as you move beneath them. Something cold touches your back and you gasp as it presses you to the hide of the creature. Its skin is thin and pliable to your touch, your hands sinking against it like into a sack of water. The lights laugh as they dance overhead and you smile at them. You moan as something bulbous presses against your puckered back entrance.

“Relax!” your voice rings in your mind. “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine!”

You sigh, sagging against the creature, sinking against its skin. With a pop the bulbous tip of its finger slips past the tight ring of muscles. You groan, moving with the finger as it pushes in and out of you. Such tenderness. It’s all so beautiful. Nothing could ever make you leave.

Something in you calls attention to a fleshy nub in the skin of the creature. You open your mouth automatically and instinctively suckle on it. The flesh against your breasts and hands ripple with a shudder and something squeezes into your mouth. It’s bitter like something over salted but you suckle greedily at it. You don’t even need to stare at the lights to feel their calming presence.

You never notice the time as it passes, nor when your lips fuse to the hide of the creature into a feeding tube of flesh. High tide brings fish to the creature’s feet and it sups easily, passing nutrients to you through the joining. Soon enough your body begins to join with its. But that’s fine. You stopped thinking for yourself some time ago.

Eventually, all that remains of the paladin Sabine and elf Glenda are a pair of fleshy lumps on the angler king’s hide, little more that a patch of what was once hair and reproductive organs hanging off its skin. It’s ironic that you never lose your virginity, despite the fact that a month after you become a part of the angler king, your womb, visible through the gradual paling of your flesh, begins to swell with the shape of bright pink eggs. Another two months, when the tide is at its greatest and washes in waves against what was once your body, your virgin hymen is finally broken as it undulates slowly, squeezing out the pink eggs into the waters. The pull of the tide soon takes them out to sea. Had you still an awareness, you might have felt pride at this, but as it is, you only know yourself as an extension of your master.