Gilhearth Manor

"ɴʜᴀ ʜʏʟᴀ ᴠᴜ ᴋʜᴀ ᴍʏʏʜᴀ... ᴜᴀʀ."

A wide smile dominates Eliza's paint-soaked face. With a dramatic turn, she extends her arms to the void. Her feet lift off the ground.

"Come and see."

Her voice is booming and not quite her own. A twinge of metal, something sinister; whatever invisible limb of Yydroth held her in the air was speaking through her, too. Despite the strangeness and the rising fear amongst the onlookers, few of the transfixed guests -- Olivia and Mabel especially -- could think of anything they'd want more.

Sure, it was all happening a bit fast -- Olivia hadn't even the time to process her first orgasm shared with another woman before the Gate had pried itself open -- but the sweetness of the words whispered in the ears of everyone and no one was undeniable.

"ᴋʜᴀ ᴠᴜʀᴀ ʏʏ ʟᴀ ᴊᴀ ᴀᴠᴀʜ ᴍᴀʀ..." Whatever it meant, it rang clear as a bell in their minds, alluring the eyes of those not already transfixed upon stairs -- upon Yydroth and her more perfect reality. Some couldn't help themselves and rose quite easily; others were seemingly coaxed from their lusting on the floor to their feet by other means -- one way or another, women and men began to filter towards the stairs -- and the floating Eliza -- before them.

Just beyond the veil of blackness was something beyond comprehension. Yydroth and her realm -- perhaps the two were not so distinct? - were unlike anything the guests had ever experienced. To those still leering from a night full of hash and opium, it was the escalation they'd come to expect from the Gilhearth parties, and no doubt was left that their whims were suitably indulged. The portal, Yydroth -- a parlor trick.

But to Mabel, and especially to the starry-eyed Olivia, it was something from a dream.

They clambered up the steps, captivated by that which awaited them just beyond the painted-on doorway. Yydroth's lair was a realm of soft, indescribable shapes; they were pearlescent, perhaps pinkish, in color, cascading around and across every surface -- and things that only felt like surfaces. Everything was lit from some unseen source in a dim, yet welcoming yellow glow. Soft, low humming filled their ears and filled their minds as they stumbled across the threshold into something unreal.

"...M-Mabel."

Olivia turns to face her newfound partner, only just then realizing that they'd been walking hand in hand. All around them, guests seem overtaken by some unseen pleasure; it comes to them in waves, twitching at first before the nude bodies begin to spasm, writhe, and drool upon the marblesque pseudofloor.

"I-Is this..."

"Of course it is." Mabel's words are hurried and firm. She knows the question, of course, the last vestiges of their shared hesitation. No place for that -- not here, not anymore. Instead, she pulls Olivia close and wraps herself in her embrace; the pleasure of Yydroth takes them both soon after, crawling up their spines like static.

Both women writhe and press themselves together, seemingly boundless and timeless in the floating maze of pearly decadence. Their bodies are hot, sticky, pulsating; with every heartbeat they push further together, fall deeper into the ecstasy that was their partner -- the ecstasy that was Yydroth. Moans, screams, howls -- they echoed through the abalone void like the chorus of a million angels.

Olivia presses her masked face up to Mabel's, looking deep into the other woman's eyes. Of course, being hand-fashioned, it bore a rather thin headband -- unsuited to the passion that now howled between the two bodies, a passion which the Gilhearth's approved masks had accounted for. Mabel's nails, decadently done-up and painted, were just long enough to snip them during a particularly frantic clutch against Olivia's back.

A tug, and her mask falls away -- the whole world with it.

She sees unimpaired.

There were no pearlescent curves and smooth edifices of warmth. None at all -- in their stead were dripping, lurid tendrils and pulsating surfaces of what looked to be soaked, vibrating meat. The entire space was an innard, a fleshy sac -- and the invisible pleasure of Yydroth was revealed to be the spasming of countless, equally-fleshy appendages, worming their ways in and out of the orifices of everyone inside the great, quivering chamber -- and Olivia was one of them.

Fleshy things wound themselves in and out of her asshole, probing her, spearing her; even more wound around her cock, her petite breasts, wrists, ankles; she was being violated by the visible-invisible things from every conceivable angle. Olivia was not alone, however; an almost equal number of the slick, slimy things coated everyone in the chamber, wrapped them up the way she'd been -- and some look even further along, the tendrils beginning to slide into mouths and ears...

Olivia shrieks. She desperately pulls away from the frightened and clueless Mabel, who clutches longingly at her the instant she's gone; whether or not she knew the truth as Olivia did mattered little, for her actions serve Yydroth all the same. Olivia attempts to kick away from the tendrils on her legs, but is pinned too close to Mabel to get leverage. With a shove, she pushes the other girl away, clamboring to the squishy, disgustingly-warm floor beneath.

It was all a mistake. She'd forgotten her hesitance, let her guard down; still her mind pulsates with some alien need, yet now her animal reflex is too strong to ignore. Yydroth grumbles, roars -- without the mask, it seems she speaks clearly, and what once hid within songs of decadence now revealed itself to be the churning of a deep and powerful maw.

So many bodies. Mabel was still behind, in the morass of sex and hidden horror, but freedom was so close. Olivia could see the manor just beyond the nearest crowd of bodies, mere inches above their heads -- and standing above them is the dripping, scowling face of Eliza Gilhearth.

The girl's taken aback just enough for the tendrils to reaffirm their grip on her ankle. Eliza's grimace turns to a sickening smile, and with a hand, she parts the still-moving crowd.

"Oh, there's nowhere to go now, dearest," Eliza coos, a thick tendril drooping from her cunt and running back into the depths of the cavern, "for our long evening is truly just beginning."

Olivia screams just wide enough for her mouth to be filled with Yydroth's pleasure.