Spongeknob Scarepants

CW: Triptophobia

Althea's neck began aching as she struggled to gaze back over her shoulder at the fly-covered man behind her. The young priestess had lived in ignorance to the horrors of Nihilipox and his sycophants for most of her life. And even though she had only just recently glimpsed a sweeping menagerie of unspeakable abominations, she was not prepared for this sight. Mold had become a norm, pustules became expected, even tentacles and maggots now caused her only a modicum of fright or disgust. But as Edgar's robes parted, Althea beheld a new horror.

Holes. So many holes. From the base of his ribcage down to his pelvis, Edgar sported a small, pale potbelly covered in a honeycomb of gaping fleshy holes. Each one resembled the pore of one's skin stretched to the width of a fingernail, but the meat lining these holes was black with corruption. He looked not unlike the sponges she once used to wash the temple floor, so full of these puckering holes. And as if reacting to her disgust, Edgar shivered in the nude and summoned a rainfall of maggots. The fat, white worms nested beneath his skin and began tumbling forth like a herd of lemmings. They fell from his middle before flopping to the floor in a strewn disarray, like a nightmarish parody of showering rose petals on a lover's bed. The shock and horror must have been plastered on Althea's face, for Edgar only leered lewdly at the young woman prostrated before him.

"Zee zomething you like, my zweet?" the vile man chuckled. Flies swarmed around his head and a dark, lusty fire burned behind his eyes. Only in this moment did Althea realize who among this group was truly the most powerful. Ivan had possessed brute strength, Andre was the largest and most aggressive... but a malevolence loomed in Edgar's shadow, chilling Althea to the bone. Althea would have called out for her goddess to protect her, were she still not gagged. Even with her magic restored, she felt the flames of her faith flicker and waver beneath the oppressive shadow tainting this man's soul. Edgar took another step toward her, and now she felt one--two--three maggots plop down onto her lower back. Immediately, they began inching their way toward her chest, to sup at her wretched milk, no doubt. "The time haz come, prieztezz. Rejoize, for I shall dezpoil you in the name of Nihilipoxz."

Althea squirmed in futility, but the two men held her in place. Edgar dropped to his knees with a thud, shaking loose another half-dozen maggots or so. Some landed on her back, others on her legs and feet. And as they writhed upon her flesh, she felt a second stabbing pain ripple throughout the lower half of her swollen belly. Althea grunted into the gag and twin jets of putrid milk added to the growing puddle of sour nourishment beneath her. Her middle stretched and warped, but it felt as though the beast within danced in celebration rather than violent thrashing. Nonetheless, it remained active in its anticipation of birth. Edgar positioned himself behind her, and the priestess could feel his cold, lifeless skin press against her backside. Was this man even alive? Could the cult have created some sort of sentient undead? Before she could continue her train of thought, she felt something long, cold and porous flop down into the crack of her ass. No... it couldn't be... Althea looked back once more to see his gray, hole-ridden cock resting at the ready, perched between her ass cheeks.

Then the fly-covered cultist did something unexpected. He leaned over her and reached a hand down to press against the side of her belly. Stranger still, he let out a soft, hush of consolation. "Zoon, my prinze," Edgar cooed, "Zoon you will enter thiz world and claim it for your father." His dark eyes locked with Althea's. "Zoon you will plant your own zeeds at the root of your family tree," he added ominously before giving Althea's tummy a gentle pat. As if in understanding, the spawn pressed back against Edgar's hand, and it sent a jolt of sudden warmth to Althea's core. "For now, my zweet, I will initiate you into a life of blizz and pleazure beyond your wildezt dreamz." The latticed cultist buzzed a chuckle that was joined by the other three. "Paint me a magic zircle, ladz." Edgar commanded before slapping a cold, cupped hand against the curve of Althea's rump. "I want to hear our little zweetnezz beg for my zquirming giftz."

Felix and Izaac each plucked a strange stick of glowing green chalk from within their robes and set to work inscribing glyphs and sigils in a circle around the two imminent lovers. This was wrong. She had read about magic circles and how they are often used in binding or transformational rituals. Was their intent to keep her still? Or did they seek to change her? And if the latter, change her into what? And almost as quickly as they began, the two fly-like cultists finished their final runes at the same time. The green chalk lit up like torchlight before changing into a deep indigo color. What could it mean? In that moment, Edgar bent forward and untied her gag. He then grabbed hold of the base of her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. "Mmm, you are zuch a zplendid zpezimen. It'z quite the shame that I'll never get to zee your full potential." Wait, what did he mean by that? These monstrous cultists mentioned a ritual later, but they took action early. Did they seek to kill her? Althea's mind reeled, and when she tried to crawl away from the honeycombed man, she felt her face bump up against an invisible wall. The priestess slapped a hand forward and it also collided with the unseen ****. She was trapped in the circle. Trapped with him. "Now, now. Zhere'z no rush, my zweet. Let uz join together and bring the heir of Nihilipoxz into the world."

"Please, spare me. I don't want to die," Althea begged. She sat curled up against the wall of the circle. There was hardly any room within the magical array, but she tried to stay as far from him as possible. Edgar let out an inhuman laugh, like a swarm of hundreds of flies. Althea's eyes lowered to his groin, only to notice his cock had hardened and nearly doubled in size. Worse, the swelling left a number of the maggots peeping their heads out of the holes lining his cock. They all wriggled with anticipation of nesting within her depths.

"You are not going to die, zweet girl. You are going to be reborn. For you are a Bride of Nihilipox," Edgar explained. He rose to his feet, casting a handful of maggots to the ground from the sudden motion. "Andre prepared you with hiz burzt of zporez, but my gift, along with goddezz tearz you drank, will initiate your umbral baptizm." So the circle was to bind her, and their combined cruelty was to change her. The flames of Althea's faith wavered, only to redouble in vigor. She was unbound and once again had her voice. If these goddess tears of which he spoke rekindled her connection to Helestria, then the sacred mother would surely aid her in striking down this horrid man. Althea also rose to her feet, but Edgar simply crossed his arms over his chest. Three more maggots plopped atop his feet. "Do you zurrender yourzelf to the pleazure and glory of Nihilipoxz?" Even as he asked, Althea felt another contraction tear through tummy. They were coming so quickly now. Would she even be able to escape the cult's lair before going into labor?