Sludgeon (Sludge in a Dungeon)

A Short Story by Bo Blackstar

[fantasy violence, convenient garment damage, f/monster, rape, ooze, mild inflation, all-the-way-through, surrender to pleasure at the hands of a creature so inhuman it defies all we know about life]

There are times when I question my decision to pursue the path of the hunter. To leave what I now realize was a sheltered and blessed life behind. To intentionally walk paths inhospitable to human life. To follow a mentor considered by most to be a mad monster, and who may or may not actually care if I lived or died.

Today was absolutely one of those times.

The dim, dank catacombs beneath Dunwerth had been there longer than the current city. They belonged to the long-dead inhabitants of the long-dead city of Ankhyr, razed to ruins before the Saints walked the world. The construction was ancient, forbidden, and largely forgotten. It was an environment dominated by slime and fungus, lit only by my small alchemical hip-lantern, and inhabited almost exclusively by vermin.

Really, really big vermin.

With a shrill screech, the wolf-sized rat leapt at me, sharp claws and huge teeth ready to tear me apart. I ducked under the lunge, stabbing up with one dagger and slicing with the other. My slightly-curved blades bit into rodent flesh, and when it landed it tumbled clumsily, dead. Unfortunately, it wasn’t alone. A second huge rat slammed into me from behind, knocking me to the grimy floor. It was tearing at me immediately, my only protection the sturdy canvas of my coat. Biting back a curse, I got a leg under myself and kicked off, throwing the unusually sized rodent. There was a loud tearing sound, and most of my coat went with it.

The third giant pest was rushing in, and I had to turn my attention for a moment to stab the bastard in the neck and face before returning to the one still thrashing the tatters of my coat. I liked that coat. The stupid rat gnashed at me with its giant teeth again, but I slipped past and stabbed the last living rodent more times than was probably necessary.

Stupid damn coat-ruining rats. Whatever, I was nowhere near finding what I was looking for. At least it didn’t feel like I was. This was only the first level of the catacombs proper. Something had been driving unnatural things up into the city proper. The good mayor of Dunwerth’s answer was to seal up any sewer or other tunnels connected to the old catacombs. As a hunter, I knew that it would only be a temporary solution. As a non-idiot, I realized there were too many possible ways into the ancient catacombs to realistically cover them all. It had taken me less than a day to find a way in and down.

To find out why these things were bubbling up, I had to go further down. I shook out my short crimson hair, wiped the rat-blood off my freckles, and pressed on.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rusted axe came down fast, tearing through the mosses that hung from the relatively low ceiling. I ducked left, taking a quick roll through the half-inch of soppy grime on the floor, and came up with a blade in each hand. One fluid motion. “Never waste time doing one thing when you could be doing three”, that’s what Lady Prospera always said that one time. I spun and rushed back toward the tall, skeletally thin frame of my attacker. The humanoid creature was a Pthumerian, the not-quite-human people of Ankhyr, worshipers of dark gods and profane ideals. They were essentially extinct, but their guardians survived to continue their duties through some blasphemous rite.

I drove my blades into the guardian’s chest, one through the ribs and one in below. He staggered back, rotted shroud jostling around him, but the guardian’s inhuman toughness kept him standing. He batted me away with one arm, shockingly strong for his thin frame, but I wasn’t exactly ordinary myself. I spun with the blow and came right back in, pulling my daggers out of the guardian and plunging them back in a half-dozen times before he could even recover a grip on his big axe. He oozed black blood and fell to the ground with a raspy wail. The Pthumerian guardians, with their too-long necks, were very tough. They were not, however, unkillable.

“Not this time, loser,” I informed the oozing corpse, and cleaned my blades off on my tight pants.

And that was when the second guardian burst out of a moldering coffin and swiped at me with a rusted sword. Caught unaware, I responded to the attack by using my finely honed reflexes to flail and fall backward onto my ass. The slice turned into a harmless graze; the pitted blade was of poor enough quality to actually be impeded by my tight vest. Sadly, the garment did not survive.

As the guardian tried to stab down and finish me off, I spun to the side and up onto my knees. In the same motion I slashed at his hamstrings, sending him toppling to the ground where I had just been laying. Before he could try and right himself I was on his back, stabbing a half-dozen times through rusted mail and into his unnaturally sustained organs. The important ones. It died, and I took an extra minute to make sure nothing else was going to jump out at me before cleaning my blades and putting them back away.

My vest was sliced down the front, and not conveniently down the buttons, which had actually happened before. There was no repairing it this time, so I left it behind. The silk blouse beneath was a little scratched but still pretty much fine, thankfully. Down one more piece of clothing, I carried on, now more alert for tomb defenders jumping out from everywhere.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There were more guardians, but no more got the drop on me, which meant they all died and I was fine. The next level down seemed mostly inhabited by luminescent fungus, fairly ordinary bugs, and pale lizards maybe a foot long at most. The whole place was humid and muggy, which meant there had to be some source of heat nearby. Perfectly innocuous, which was of course crazy suspicious. Despite my trepidation however, nothing attacked me as I made my way through the labyrinthine dungeon. After quite a while of mental mapping, I narrowed my options down to a single path that would lead deeper.

Unfortunately, that path was down a completely submerged hallway, steps leading down into calm water. An underground stream had broken in some time ago, and by the temperature of the water it was connected to a hot spring. At least I wouldn’t freeze getting through there, but I also had no idea how long it would be before I found air again. Thankfully, I had a trick for that.

My amazing mentor, Mistress Prospera, hadn’t just taught me how to kill monsters. Our relationship had begun when she’d used blood alchemy to cure me of a horrible illness. Blood alchemy was, naturally, deemed unnatural and blasphemous by pretty much everybody. Nuts to them, though, I was alive because of it. More than alive, in fact. The process had made me stronger, faster, and tougher than most people. Just like the mistress. There were a lot of other benefits and side effects, too.

Closing my eyes at the edge of the flooded hall, I concentrated on one of the tricks I’d actually practiced. I didn’t have a firm grasp of the science behind it, but with some effort I could set up my body to oxygenate my blood without the need to breathe. It was invaluable for fighting monsters that lived in water, or that liked to try and smother or choke you.

After a minute I was fairly certain it was working. Just to make sure I stopped breathing for a bit, and sure enough my lungs did not burn or scream for air. It was still vaguely uncomfortable, but I knew I wasn’t going to die. I doused my alchemical lantern, and I was ready to go.

Okay then. Time to traverse an underwater hallway.

Yay. Lucky me…

At least the water was warm. Closer to hot than warm, actually. As I stepped in and finally started swimming beneath the surface, I was given the distinct impression of dunking my head into a hot bath. Kind of a nice change of pace from the cool caverns I’d been going through above. If I pretended really hard, I could imagine I was actually having a great time relaxing in a hot spring. I had to pretend really, really hard, though.

The drowned hall was covered in mosses and stringy plants that clung to me as I passed by. Minerals from the hot spring probably made a perfect environment. Little blind fish flitted about, fleeing from me in a way which all too often caused them to brush against me unexpectedly. Not comforting in the relatively narrow, dark, submerged space. One of the stupid fish got lost under my blouse and I probably looked like I was having a seizure trying to get the slimy bastard out.

After a few minutes I passed by what I assumed was where the spring had broken into the hall. There was a rush of hotter water coming from one side, and I stuck to the other side to avoid being boiled as I went by.

Not far past that, I felt something close around my boot and pull. I was yanked hard toward the wall, my foot pulled into another crack in the wall. I was dragged in up to mid-calf before my boot stuck on a narrower bit of the opening. My sense of direction was completely thrown off, and I struggled not to scream. I didn’t need to breathe, but if I tried I would still get a lungful of water, and that would be a problem.

Whatever had my foot was still pinching and tugging. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to go shoving my hand anywhere near. I tried planting my other foot on the edge of the wall and pushing off to help me pull away, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. Then I felt something gripping and pinching higher up my leg, smaller than whatever was holding me in place, but probably similar. I definitely didn’t want to go shoving my hand in there.

Using my free leg, I kicked into the crack in the wall at whatever was there. I felt a few small limbs of some kind crack and withdraw a bit, and the smaller pinching stopped. I kept kicking, and felt the harder thing that held my boot so tightly. It wouldn’t budge! Not good. I was starting to get a little light-headed from exertion. My body was oxygenating my blood, but it was not as efficient a system as normal breathing. The longer I struggled the less I would be able to.

A second powerful pinch grabbed my second boot and pulled, both now jerking my feet around trying to drag me deeper into the broken wall. Once again I felt the smaller pinching and pulling return, something (or many somethings) gripping and tearing at my boots and pant legs, scratching at me and trying to draw me deeper in, even if that meant doing so in tiny pieces.

No way! I am DONE with this!

Drawing one of my daggers, I slashed down around my ankles. I couldn’t see what I was stabbing at, but that was alright because at that point I didn’t really care about my attacker. I sliced right through the laces and buckles of my boots, and then with a bit of fevered effort I managed to wrench my feet out and kick away as fast as possible. I kept my dagger in hand, waiting for a minute to let my heart slow down again. Eager to be out, I got my bearings and carried on, finally climbing out of the water and into a dry(ish) section of the dungeon a few minutes later.

Those first few breaths were amazing. An incredible relief as I finally felt a little less out of my element. A little safer and a little-- ohcrapbadguys!

I rolled out of the way of the first attack, some kind of giant bug pouncing from the darkness, its carapace faintly glistening in the dim light of the glowing fungus. I lunged before it could turn, punching my daggers through its chitinous hide and leaving oozing holes. It let out a shrill cry and kicked violently, knocking me hard enough to send me flying. I landed and rolled a bit, which gave me a fresh appreciation for the coating of moss on the stone of the labyrinth-tomb. It was soft, and surprisingly thick. So thick I actually sank into it a little. More than a little. Holy crap sinking!

I scrambled forward as fast as I could, but the floor came away at my waist and my lower half fell into a pit of plant flesh. The bizarre living pit closed around me up to my hips, immediately starting to undulate in a swallowing motion, hundreds of tiny thorns pulling at me and scratching me through my pants. With a surge of survival-driven strength, I hauled myself back out, aided by using my daggers like pitons. I crawled several feet away before getting to my feet, and upon scanning the poorly lit hall for any more threats I found only a thick trail of bug-blood heading off down a side passage.

Praying for a moment to just breathe, I shook out and turned the key on my lantern. The alchemical agents inside reacted together and once more flared to life, providing a half-decent amount of light to see by. No threats, but there was definitely damage. My legs were covered in hundreds of tiny, shallow scratches that itched something awful. I could see this plainly, because my pants had been completely shredded! I was basically wearing the blasted remains of a black skirt, which provided about as much coverage as would the wearing of a loose net.

“Saints-forsaken son of a bastard!” I shouted at nothing in particular and everything in general. It took a lot of slow, deep breaths before I was able to let that go. There wasn’t much for it, of course. I was deep underground and still hadn’t seen anything that would explain the rise of monsters out of here. I cut away most of the rest of my pants, until I was basically left with belt loops around my hips, my skivvies, and a sopping blouse to protect me. Honestly at this point I felt like ditching the blouse would look better, but I wasn’t giving this stupid dungeon any more of my clothes without a fight.

And so, looking and feeling ridiculous, I found my way down to the next level of the Pthumerian tomb complex.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This far down, the luminescent moss no longer grew. I was on my own, guided by the light of my hip-hung lantern. There was still growth here, though. The odd clumps of moss and hanging vines produced strange silhouettes along the walls, ceiling, and floor, and an odd noise haunted the halls. It was a soft, vaguely wet sound. Like… mud, maybe? It seemed to get closer and further without reason, barely audible at the best of times.

I hated it. It didn’t help that this level was even more of a maze than the others, with a ton of dead ends that made me double back time and again. After hitting my fortieth solid wall at the end of a long and twisting passageway, I took a moment to let out my frustration in the most calm, professional manner possible.

“Crapping piss fuck bleeding ass garbage shit hole! I hate you! I hate hate hate hate you! Aaaaaahhh!!!”

After delivering an entirely justified and logically sound stab to the wall, I turned around and started back. Then everything went dark.

Some huge, vague mass dropped from above. I narrowly managed to backstep out of the way before it buried me, the thing instead dropping to the floor with a heavy splat and spreading out like a spilled hunk of jam. For a second I thought a soft section of earth had caved in.

Then it moved.

The shapeless mass started to rise and concentrate into a central form again. I didn’t waste any time, and immediately started slashing at it with my blades. It cut easily, and seemed to have a consistency something like molasses. The consistency wasn’t very… consistent, though. Parts of it seemed thicker or thinner, flowing at different speeds as it reshaped itself. Clumsy limbs reached out at me, swiping ineffectually as I slashed and stabbed in a rapid flurry. Each strike bit deep and clean, but I honestly wasn’t sure if I was hitting anything vital.

After losing a few goopy limbs, the amorphous creature seemed to shudder and withdraw into itself a bit. A big mass of it rose upward, writhing as if in agony, and I took my moment to strike. With it thinned out like that, I could stab deeper into the core and hopefully hit some kind of heart or something. I rushed in, stabbing in a powerful frenzy, driving my blades in all the way to the hilt a dozen times in a few seconds.

So. Stupid.

Like a falling tree, the huge mass of the ooze monster slammed down onto me, flattening me immediately. The weight and force of the blow was intense, but even with my head spinning I tried to recover. I shoved against the creature, and my arms pushed inside it! I kicked off the ground and managed to get myself up a bit, but the thing just flowed down around me and into the space I’d created. I was buried, and in a few seconds pulled up into the living mass of black slime. Without leverage, I strained my arms trying to move my blades around inside it, hoping to cause some degree of discomfort. It was doubtful the thing had actually felt anything I’d done to it the whole time, but dammit I was trying. While I did, I focused on setting up my blood to oxygenate itself again, which would at least give me some time to figure out how to escape.

The sludge monster was moving me, squeezing and twisting as if trying to figure me out. It was so bizarre, constantly enveloped by it and yet able to feel specific pressure from any point at any time. Completely, inescapably bound and restrained, unable to see, barely able to move, and totally at the mercy of this… thing.

I mentally grumbled at myself for having fantasies entirely too similar to this.

The sludge pushed its way into my nostrils. I couldn’t hold it back, and when I screamed in reply it rushed into my mouth. The thick, animate goop surged down my throat, pouring into me, and I was immediately grateful for my self-oxygenating blood. My face wasn’t the only target, either. Despite my best clenching the aggressive ooze forced itself into my ass and pussy, filling me out and reaching deeper. I gurgled another cry at the intrusion, shocked at how swifty and completely it made me reach my limits.

Then, while I flailed uselessly in its organic mass, it tried to force even more of itself into me! It expanded, like some sick pervert was trying to inflate balloons in my insides and I was helpless to stop them. I’m not exactly shy when it comes to size, but this was something different. There was no absolute limit that needed to fit. It was a creature several times my own mass trying to stuff its whole being into my stretched holes.

I groaned and quivered. I was still trying to stab or figure out another way to escape, but the constant pressure and movement between my legs and all around me was getting… distracting. Everyone’s fantasized about tentacle monsters. The way they bind you and claim you completely. This was a whole other level beyond that, and I had fallen victim to it.

A particular swirl nudged at my clit and I moaned through the sludge. I realized I was already rolling my hips like a greedy whore, a thing I had been accused of being on more than one occasion. I looked, but couldn’t see anything. I listened, but could only hear the churning of the sludge and my own heartbeat. I groped around, but only felt more roiling ooze.

Fuck it. I couldn’t think straight like this. I let go of a dagger and moved that hand down to my nethers. It was a struggle against the sludge, but an effort well worth it. I bucked and mewled in the belly of the slime, giving myself to the constant undulations as it pumped itself into me. I could feel it swirling in my guts, always pulling me wider, the alien movements of living ooze caressing every inch of me inside and out.

I rubbed my bud until the lights came on. I shuddered and kicked in the animate mass, screaming silently into it. The creature, if it could be considered one at all, gave no reaction. No change in tempo or effort. I rode out a truly great orgasm, and it didn’t care. There was something a little appealing about that, actually.

The plan was to take a moment, catch my breath (figuratively speaking), and think of a way out with new clarity. Only, I didn’t get a moment. It never stopped. Everything was tingling sensitive from my climax, and the sludge just kept going. It was even more distracting than before. I couldn’t hold a sentence in my head, let alone an escape plan. I gave a muffled whine and tried to swim my way out. There was no way of knowing if I was getting anywhere, and all that insistent pressure and movement had me fast tracking toward the second peak.

I groaned and tried to curl into a ball. It was then I realized that I was actually bulging a little there was so much of the living sludge inside me. And it still wasn’t satisfied. The utterly implacable nature of the thing only made it hotter, and my resistance broke. I touched myself again and went sailing off another cliff of ecstasy even higher than the first.

That one took so much out of me I stopped moving altogether. But the ooze didn’t. It kept right on along, stretching and pressing at me. I slipped into another peak and lost the last sense of space I had left. They kept coming. No matter how sore and tired I was they just kept coming. Never a hint of recognition from the awful sludge. The only time I could see anything other than total blackness was when my vision went white from another punishing orgasm.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I woke up coated in grime on a cave floor. I had to expel leftover sludge from pretty much everywhere, but I was free, somehow. I figured the thing got tired of trying to digest me. I managed to find my weapons, then sat against a wall to gather my thoughts. Every last inch of me was sore and sensitive. I was exhausted, starving, and thirsty as hell. But I was alive.

The sound of fluid moving came from down the tunnel to one side, and I sprang to my feet. It was time to move on. There were other horrors to face before I could leave this place and take a hot bath. I was so exhausted, the idea of facing them was a bit worrying.

Here’s hoping they just want to plunder my holes, too. I think I could deal with that.