The Smut-Quest of Unknown Kadath
By H.P. Lurvecraft
Smutty Lovecraftian satire (cosmic horrotica). Happy Valentine’s Day, Medium.
When he had ceased his infernal tickling, the night gaunt dropped me rudely to the floor beyond those cyclopean walls I had so often seen in nightmare. I sprawled there on the parched, ashen ground, trying to find my bearings. A great onyx tower rose above me. No cracks or fissures showed a clue as to how it had been made — it rose up perfectly smooth and uniform, as if it had been grown there by some terrible, vast entity. Only a single entrance marred its perfect visage and from that opening came a tall, gaunt figure.
He approached across that dead place. His grace captivated me, my fascination mixing with fear to form a heady cocktail in my mind. He leaned over and I could finally see his face. His large eyes, high cheekbones, long lashes, unmistakably noble bearing. A smile flickered across his thin lips. Or something like a smile. Perhaps it was a smirk.
“Why have you come here, Dreamer?”
His tone was quiet, indifferent, but he bent down languidly and took the collar of my shirt in his fist, hauling me up by it so that I dangled before him.
“You have captured the gods of this place,” I gasped out. “They spoke to me in my dreams.”
“Did they now?” His long fingers insinuated themselves around the buttons of my shirt, caressed my skin, seeming to grow as they did, to slide around my waist, across my back. The sensation was impossible, maddening….
“Let go of me,” I protested feebly.
One tendril like finger found the waistband of my trousers and slipped inside, seeking out my most intimate areas. Teasing me and fondling me. I writhed in his grip, but he held me fast.
“You are but a toy to me, Dreamer. Do you really imagine you could challenge me? Back to your world, you puny ape-thing.”
I clung to him, held by a thread of pleasure, too confused to know whether I wanted him or hated him. Why had I come here? I no longer knew.
Reality split before me, his face slicing into a million shards and in each shard a cruel, amused smile and those eyes. I could see the stars in them. The horrible, cold, unfeeling emptiness of space.
The vast uncaring blankness devoured me and spat me out into my own bed. I awoke with a start, covering in sweat. I had failed at my mission and my cock was still hard.
Take the horrotica challenge here.
Read one of my gothic fairy tales here:
