Even for one such as I, traveling through the extra dimensions can be... pretty rough, especially in my current state of exhaustion and delirium. I knew I had to proceed quickly: It was only a matter of time before I would be unable to maintain the spell and seething chaos would close in and end our escape with utter destruction. It was pretty high stakes.
The girl - if that is a way to describe her - was brought to the ground immediately by the primordial fluidity of unformed substance swirling around us. Of course, there was no 'ground' to which she was 'brought,' rather she simply failed to make one beneath her... but this is not the space for me to engage in an discussion of the quasi-physical nature of the intra-planes. It suffices to say that I brought her along with me.
Why, I may ask?
A good question. Surely she would try to subdue and repurpose me for her own ends, giving me my spellbook only when it would avoid an otherwise assured annihilation of us both.
But she did owe me quite a debt, as she would no doubt be dead and indeed among the dead were I not there. The idiots probably did not even know about the Jo'Tal, but that is not entirely their fault: They're retards.
And then the thought crossed my mind.
She had been bled by their weapons.
I felt somewhat stupid for forgetting such an important detail, but having remembered it I could not help but set aside my disciplined perfectionism that had brought me so very far, to such great heights, and instead of feeling shame at my absentmindedness I felt a small mischievous smile curl along my lips.
I reflected on her massive frame, or what contortion of it existed in this particular consciousness-ontology, and I demanded reality to straighten.
She appeared before me, in her full height, drooling from whatever her addled mind was perceiving here in entropy. Her hair fell messily around her head, her mouth open, like she had just... well.
Her eyes fluttered as if dreaming. Blood seeped out of puncture wounds from her brown, purple and now necrotizing upper arm where a mace, wielded with enough power to crush a man's ribcage, had collapsed into nearly unyielding muscle. But the Jo'Tal weaponry was not merely physical. It was clear that Undeath had already begun its campaign against her.
Veins, some two-fingers in diameter, screamed from the skin on her arm as they defiantly pushed blood and life against the bruised and infected muscle of her tricep, staving off the curse her body was encountering. Her life was yelling to be saved.
It was then that I felt that jarring twinge of self-consciousness, the body's reminder to the mind that it should realize that it is alive, and then I became dizzy. I squinted and furrowed my brow, as if that would help, and I blinked several times. I could not help but close my eyes, and after approaching a dangerous level of vertigo, I recalibrated my senses and reopened them, although I had trouble processing what it was in front of me.
Against the backdrop of the indescribable, I took in her breasts, her chest, the muscled shelf of flesh. My mouth was open. Her massive bosom pushed up and down and out. It sheened with sweat and veins pushing to its smooth surface. So heavy and full, suspended forward and upward, almost as if held up from underneath. Her cup and saucer of a nipple was just above my head. I took a step closer and her breath brought her massive breasts slowly higher. A breath in this chaos and I could feel my erection against the ragged trousers the retards had given me. A breath of my own.
I broke out of my reverie staring at her areola, ruminating that its size dwarfed me as a baby in front of a mother, and I purposefully failed to confront the strangeness of such a thought.
I gazed down her jutting abdominals, covered by plush womanly flesh. I lackadaisically lingered on them. I could feel myself getting aroused as I looked lower, towards her flaring hips into her patchwork leather pants, into her crotch, where all of her veins, where all of her body seemed to lead me.
But I had something else to examine.
I began to kneel. I could feel my consciousness falter from some change in blood pressure. I quickly stood up, reset myself and slowly descended next to her, nearly fainting a second time.
And then I stumbled and fainted. Again, it was not in any way actual ground but the word suffices. My eyesight tunneled. I blinked and sat leaning down to face the tented crotch of my pants.
In the coming seconds, I returned to the swirling unworld - luckily my subconscious had maintained control of it - and I saw before me the woman towering like some sort of monolith of order in this place and in this delirium.
Even on her eight foot frame, even as every part of her seemed out of proportion, a living testament of how much meat could be packed on a human being, her legs made the rest of her look nearly sensical. Her thighs each contained whole hogs of muscle, and perhaps were even larger than that as I had never actually seen a hog. While both had stretched the stitching of her patchwork trousers, her right leg had ripped it to near shreds. The cloth nonetheless seemed to be stuck on her only from the quasi-adhesive her blood and sweat had formed.
I crawled and kneeled closer to see beneath the crimson. Her thigh had swollen ridiculously around the wound. Massive veins throbbed in front of my eyes. I could feel my mouth open wider and I could feel a small disgust creep up my throat. Around the perimeter of the cut, I saw the same browning of her flesh as on her arm but denser and more complete.
The Jo'Tal magic had been doubly injected into her and it was only then that I truly processed how dire her situation was. My purpose extinguished any lust or exhaustion; I needed to move fast.
I stood up. Past her breasts I saw her eyes still fluttering, a cold sweat lacing her face. Her breathing had become more irregular and gasping. I began to bring her 'forward,' looking for an exit from this place. My magic would not work well here.
And the question still stands: Why did I bring her?
She was clearly human; a cursory glance revealed no particular abnormalities in her lineage. Yet, well, something was... amiss.
Her face gave her age at twenty if not younger, yet her size, her strength could not have been something developed in that small number of years. Perhaps it was gifted, by bloodline, by fate, by gods.
More to the point and more simply, whatever the reason, I just did not have it in me to leave her to not exist.
And she had saved me.
So, I would return the favor and I would save her...
for myself.
---
For several 'minutes' - the word suffices - she dragged against unreality, accompanying me by my effort, occasionally opening her eyes wide, crying gibberish in this complete and substantive Nothing for some sort of help against the toxin of Undeath consuming her soul.
With a finality, with a mortality, I remember audibly thinking a calm 'Ah' as I found a place to withdraw ourselves from the madness.
A simple breath and the spell ended and the world returned. She collapsed; I dashed away.
At a good forty feet, I found a rock to sit upon and examine my spellbook. I was to take no chances. I expected her consciousness to return in the next few minutes, but it could be sooner and she could be dangerous, and so I found some appropriate shrubbery to hide behind.
In short time, her body rustled in the clearing. I stared intently, ready for her to stand, but instead she simply continued to writhe.
I paused.
I opened my spellbook when I heard her shriek in pain.
I was flipping through it when I heard a gurgle. I looked over and saw her back disgustingly contorted as if some how a good stretch would defeat the most dire of necromancy.
More writhing and another shriek.
It could, of course, be a trap, some sort of ploy of hers to lure me out and browbeat me into submission.
Another shriek.
By this point, I was pretty certain. She was weak, she had to be. The Jo'Tal were now consuming her deepest parts, what was most essential, and she could have no recourse without rescue.
I stood up and pushed past the foliage. My gait was long and slow. Her writhing was now drawn-out and sickly. Her skin had become an almost grey.
I stopped a few feet from her. Her dirt-covered pants were now coated in necrotic fluids gushing from her wound. She was turned away from me on her side. The broadness, the bulges of her back quivered.
I stepped a foot closer and I could hear her labored breathing. With a quickness, with purpose she rolled her shoulder towards me. I quickly backstepped several paces.
She spasmed slightly and turned her head. A gasp spat out of her lips, saying at first
"Please"
My head descended and my mouth contorted as I saw a black liquid dribble out of the corner of her mouth
"Please, help me"
Her muted veins pushed to the surface of her skin. They had already begun to turn dark as night. Her eyes closed. She mouthed it again.
"Please"
Stretched out and poisoned before me was what should be a queen, a twenty-year-old warrior-giantess muscle-queen, maybe also some sort of fertility symbol or goddess or something. Maybe she produces milk for the young and the town 'elders' think that they will grow up to be powerful warriors. My mouth shrugged for my shoulders as I ended my daydream. Perhaps she's just the girl everybody wants to fuck, but here she was, nothing more than dying before me. I shifted my weight, wiped the crust I had developed along my lips, and looked down.
Her meaty arm flailed at the dirt in front of me, grasping at the soil before my feet.
"Please"
The whisper hit my ears. I shook my head as I felt myself getting aroused, then I rolled my eyes, hoisted my left hand and brought its precious contents up to my face.
The pages were getting uncomfortably moist in this forest. The font lost some of its precision, but my Tongue had not. The words echoed off the trees.
My eyes closed as I became relaxed in such a perfect and glorious statement. The tendrils of magic sprung out of my language, through the crystalline structure of reality and into her.
I could feel her blood coarsening, her being shrivelling, her organs slowing. She was so weak.
I traveled through her torso, up the tendons in her shoulder to the thickness of her arm, black and putrid, nearly falling apart. The Jo'Tal sensed my presence, my purpose, and ran. The muscle tensed with vigor and strength as I gripped it. It had carried me so far.
Tracing down her chest, tracing the smooth, bloodied, now healing skin of her bosom, I wrapped around her breasts, her nipples, her waist, her hips. I chased the toxin to its source and dove into the wound, into her thigh as it spasmed and expanded around me, as the flesh and meat of the most powerful of creatures regained its livelihood.
I paused. The Jo'Tal had scattered, but it was deep into the leg that the tip of the blade had penetrated, and it was here that the Jo'Tal were still lurking, seething with the desire for flesh. I proceeded deeper and deeper into more meat than is possible, until I saw the last bastion of the Jo'Tal before me. The domains of our magics stared each other down, knowing we each wanted the same thing. To share the same temple, a bargain must be struck.
With no words and with nothing at all, I slinked away and up her massive limb, up the skin between her legs, past her inner thighs' muscles flaring into each other, and past her young, tight vagina.
A sigh came over me, and my eyes opened. The spell had ended, and the Nuhan is a lonely place.
She gasped for air somewhat disgustingly. I backed away, ending about thirty feet away from her when she caught her breath.
She spotted me. Her head turned to me and she quickly leaned up on her arms. I pulled my spellbook out in front of me, shifting the pages until I reached one that might be particularly important were she to charge.
"You're.."
I remained silent.
"We're alive."
This was correct.
"Yes we are."
She began to stand up, grimacing as her wounded leg bent and flexed.
With a startle, she felt at herself, at her leg, her arm, her body, perhaps even her mind. I felt that I should be diplomatic.
"Before you come running at me, before you decide to suffocate me again"
A stern gaze quickly turned to face mine.
"Know that you have been gravely injured"
She wiped the caked black liquid from her chin, neck and shoulders.
"And that you nearly died."
Her thick neck cocked her head to a side.
"And"
"So you saved me? Is that what you are to say?"
She had successfully interrupted me. I was just a little too tired to do anything about it.
"You and your magic saved me? Right?"
I was poised and patient.
"Is that supposed to mean that I'm to trust you, Yark? Huh?"
The ground rumbled every other step as she slowly limped towards me.
"But, now, you see, everything is just about back to normal, except that you have that fucking book. Nothing's changed, you see. I'm alive, you're alive, you're going to get me into Urh'yarosh, and then I'm going to kill you. Nothing's changed."
My eyebrows raised.
"I am not asking you to trust me."
The words were slow. Her body still lurched towards me.
"I am asking you to think deeply about yourself and to realize what I have left still writhing and multiplying inside of you."
My face was blank as she approached.
"You can feel them."
"You will never not feel them."
She then closed her eyes and winced. A few seconds of agony later, she leered at me and perhaps at the situation she was most certainly in. The Jo'Tal had held up their side of the bargain, as I knew they would. I smiled.
She knew she could not justify killing me. She knew that her soul was in my capable hands. She knew that I was in complete control, and she knew that she wanted to show me her fury.
So she stood there, stifled, her skin turning red with anger, her eyes trying to cut through my body. I also stood there, proud and invulnerable, meeting her gaze.
My neck creaked downwards. I lackadaisically stared at her breasts, then up the slabs of muscle that held her breasts high and feet in front of her, then to her stalwart neck, and then back to her clenched, girlish face. She was probably super pissed.
It occurred to me then, once I had closed my mouth, that maybe in addition to being super pissed, she also might be scared and confused, as laughable as those emotions tend to be. I chuckled softly. A brief shake of my head.
Her features screamed to herself and others that she should never be scared, that she should never be afraid, that she can rip a man's limb off and then fuck it.
But now she was encountering no mere man. She had been invaded by a deeper and more dangerous enemy. It was ravaging her body.
This is fear, here in the forest, here in the middle of nowhere, here in the middle of herself.
She continued to look at me, but her face had changed, her posture more slumped. Another wince and she broke her gaze to close her eyes and take a step back.
She knew that I was her way out of complete annihilation, out of becoming nothing more than one of the same wraiths that consumed her entire band of 'soldiers.' And she probably knew that she was just too tired of fighting.
And so she collapsed onto the ground, splaying her bloodied, ridiculously swollen leg out in her descent. She looked down at the dirt away from me, and after a moment a tear neatly ran down her dusty cheek. And then she began to softly cry.
I realized full well that she had just lost many she loved to an ambush of apparitions, and I realized full well that her mind had been chewed up and spat out by primal chaos, and I realized full well that she knew that she was effectively enslaved to me, but I was expecting her to show a little more decorum.
I found a rock and sat on it. The forest insects sang their songs over her whimpers and I waited for her.
The Nuhan was a lonely place.
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