Page 19 of Darkest Dredge

The eldritch artifact was cursed.

It’s not like I hadn’t considered it. I’d just been stupid enough to convince myself I could easily overpower the eldritch mask.

I hadn’t anticipated it having this kind of cosmic power, the kind that broke my bones and shredded my muscles, only to refuse them. Stronger. Bigger. Better—It tried to convince me.

Fuck that.

Couldn’t let it take control of me. There was no stopping its effects on my body, but my mind… Dark thoughts sprouted in my brain like invasive weeds, cropping up faster than I could cut them down. They swirled around my hazy view of her like hungry black shadows.

There she was.

Chest heaving with her ragged breaths. Glistening thighs, with a wet spot on the bed coverings beneath her. Making such a mess. Ripe for the taking.

Too fragile for me now. If I fucked her like this, I’d break her.

And so what if I did? She’s just a weak, pathetic human. She doesn’t even worship the Great One.

Primal need coiled in my stomach like a loaded spring.

No. Not primal. There was nothing animal about the thing taking over and mutating my mind and body. It was more like a virus. Its only ability was to infect and mutate.

The mask’s influence doused my mind in poison. I tried to shake it free. It gelled around me, leaving me feeling like I was encased in amber or molasses. Control had been stripped from me, like my muscles from my bone, and it tugged on my nerves.

I couldn’t stop myself when I reached for her, even when my mutated arm came into view. It was long, packed with more muscle than I’d had before and wrapped in grayish-green flesh. My fingers were tipped with long vicious black claws. I wouldn’t have believed the appendages were mine if it wasn’t for my tattoos. Letters inked my knuckles spelling out HOLD FAST when I made two fists—a classic nautical tattoo sailors used to get as an act of superstition. They thought it might increase their strength and prevent them from falling overboard in a storm.

They weren’t the only talisman tattoos I had meant to protect me while at sea. The eldritch symbols around my throat were also there as a ward against evil eldritch magic. Without the runes, would it have consumed my mind entirely?

I expected her to be terrified, laying there naked at the mercy of what I’d become.

Should have known better.

My Bea was a firecracker. While there was no missing the spark of fear in her oceanic eyes, she appeared more entranced than anything else.

“N–Noah? Are you in there?”

I opened my mouth, or whatever it was under the cluster of tendrils, to answer. A disembodied hum rattled in my skull, and when she jumped, hers too I wagered.

While I hadn’t figured out how to speak, or if I could even control my vocal cords, my senses sharpened. The cabin came into focus with bizarre, sharp clarity.

All five of my eyes locked onto the stunning creature on the cold bunk. The poor thing was shivering, her moon pale flesh prickling with bumps, each tipped with the tiniest nearly-indiscernible hair.

I could count every one in an instant.

I could see her from all angles, all bending in ways that rewrote my understanding of physics and geometry.

The surface she sat on offered no impediment—I had a perfect view of her ass spreading against it.

I could see her soft kissable nape and the crux of her succulent thighs.

Drawing all of her in, I reveled in cosmic ecstasy.

It was like a thousand new mysteries were asked and answered in a heart beat.

I smoothed my hand over her navel, my long fingers slowly gripping her, morphing with her curves.

The moment our flesh touched, an electric spark seared through us and ripped a sob from her throat. The taste of her pain flooded my senses.

Something within me twitched in arousal.