The Dark Horror

This story is based on an excellent set of images by a 3d render artist called Snapshotz3d.

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CW: Sexual encounter involving horror elements, monster stuff, and dubious consent. Please consider this before reading further.

The Dark Horror descended like storm clouds over still waters. The light shrank back before it, the air grew thick and heavy, and the very sky seemed to sink beneath its weight. Its shadow fell over a Flower of Elvenkind--a maiden mere centuries old who awaited its arrival with quiet resolve. She was stretched out supine in a sacred grove, her supple form cushioned by emerald grass and gleaming with the inward light of her immortal life.

Dark forces were eroding the barrier between her sacred home and the outside world. The forest of the immortals was beset on all sides by evils older even than Elvenkind itself, and the twilight of the undying race was at hand. Once proud and certain of their future, the elves were growing weary and beginning to lose hope. The evils of the outside were the stuff of stories no longer, and their power was growing with each passing season. The maiden, in desperation, had made a bargain with the worst of those forces--ransomed herself for the future of her people and their sylvan home. She'd offered the Dark Horror her beauty and her immortal body, and now it had come to claim its prize.

She sat up at looked about her in alarm as horizonless dark swallowed up the light. The sun shrank away behind gathering pillars of living night. The silver leaves that adorned the grove's ancient boughs grew dull and leaden, and a cloying wetness took the place of the grass beneath her. All at once she was alone in empty space, and the warm summer air was replaced by simple vacancy. Whether her verdant surroundings had just been hidden from sight, or whether she'd been whisked away to some nether plane, the maiden could not say. But whatever the case, the effect was the same, and she shrank before the enormity of the void that had surrounded her.

Though the darkness had eaten up the beauty of her sacred grove, the maiden's own allure remained undiminished. She was young, by the measure of an immortal, and she looked after centuries as a Human might after just two decades. Her body was tall and statuesque, and her skin clear and shining white. She leaned back on slender arms and her long, gleaming legs were drawn up tight against her chest. Her eyes were green as the grass in her sacred grove, and darted furtively about, searching in vain for signs of something--anything--in the darkness around her. Her lips were parted between rosy cheeks, and her breath came quick and short. Flaxen hair that had once moved in the breeze now hung straight down and spilled over her shoulders, and her pointed ears rose up through the delicate tresses to salute a sky that wasn't there. She sat there for a time, with nothing but the sound of her breathing and her quickening pulse. She did not second guess her decision to parley with the enemy, but her mind raced as she considered what it would be like to meet her foe in this place of unyielding nothingness.

She did not know how long she waited there--there was nothing to tell time by after all, and she had the sense that she might wait a thousand years in that place without realizing it. Whether she sat there for a minute or a millennium, it was a rustling behind her that finally signaled the end of her vigil.

She gave a soft cry and her breath stopped for an instant. Her eyes went wide, and she was on her feet in a heartbeat, whirling on her heel to find the source of the whisper-quiet disturbance. She was certain it had come from behind her, but she stared into the dark and found it unchanged and empty. She wondered if there had been a sound at all, or if her mind had simply dreamed up something to fill the silence.

Standing fully upright now, she was a true vision--immortal beauty embodied. In spite of her fear and the cowed look on her angular features, her body was proud and radiant against the malevolent darkness that enveloped her. Her long limbs and lean trunk were almost aglow, and she had only two scant garments to cover her, fringed with gold and woven from silk whose luster matched that of her perfect skin. One hung loosely about her waist, cinched on either side with simple rings, covering only her most intimate parts and leaving her legs bare. The other hung over her breasts. It barely masked their fullness and covered little more than her nipples, whose faint impression could be seen through the fine material. These were the ceremonial garments of one who intended to commune with the gods, and though it was no deity of hers that she was to meet, the Elf could think of nothing more fitting to wear than this.

Across her delicate ribs, just below the round undersides of her breasts and above her pale stomach, was a vibrant floral pattern, painted in colors drawn from crushed flower-petals. Like her garment, it was meant to increase her beauty before the eyes of the gods, and she'd wondered as she applied the dyes if it would matter at all to the Dark Horror.

The rustling sounded behind her again, and again she whirled around, and again she was met with darkness. Without thinking, she took a step forward--to what purpose she could not say--and she screamed when her delicate footfall found nothing but empty space. She realized, too late, that she had stepped over the edge of some invisible precipice. She screamed a second time as the ground went out from under her and she was falling, falling from nothing and into nothing, but falling without a doubt. Tepid winds rushed up as she plunged downwards, raking her flailing limbs, whipping her flaxen hair about her head, and undoing what little modesty her garments had afforded her.

As the wind crashed about her and she toppled head over heels through the void, she gradually became aware of a deep, throaty sound that was just barely audible beneath the gusts. It was a low, contemptuous laugh that mixed with the windblast and rippled over her limbs and loins like so many phantom hands. She was in a panic, heart pounding and screams piercing the silence, but when she heard and felt that sound, something else began to creep in besides her frantic, immediate fear. It was a dreadful certainty. Certainty of what, she could not say, but that low chuckle rose up to meet her and filled her with a colossal sense of the inevitable--of utter powerlessness before something nameless and all-knowing. And just as she thought she might go mad before the enormity of some unspeakable realization that roiled just below the surface of her awareness, her fall stopped.

The wind died abruptly and her tumbling body was righted. Her garments fell back into place and her hair fell back over her shoulders, unruffled. Her screams were cut short, as if an invisible hand had clapped suddenly over her open mouth, and even her breath slowed, as if willed to do so by something outside of her. She was once again upright, but after a moment she realized that she was not standing upright, but instead being held upright.

Something had her by the legs. Something was twisting and shifting up past her knees and around her thighs--something thick and soft and cool to the touch. A knot wound up in her chest then and her face fell into a terrified scowl. There were no screams left in her, and she was hoarse from her fall. When she finally managed to look down at what it was that had her in its clutches, what escaped her throat a simple, exasperated sigh.

It looked at first as if the darkness had thickened about her--as if the black had become blacker where her legs were. She didn't know whether she ought to fear it, whatever it was, for she couldn't say whether it was really there at all. Perhaps she was simply floating, and the rest was in her head just as the rustling had been earlier.

The longer she stared down at the shifting shadows below her waist, the more they came into focus. Her eyes might simply have been adjusting, or perhaps the things that moved about her legs were still coming into being. At any rate, they did not remain as simple shadows, but began to resolve into ropes and coils of living flesh. They were like the arms of some great sea creature, boneless, rippling, slithering, curling, and rustling. They were making the same sound she'd hear before her fall, shifting against eachother and against her supple skin, and making dry, dragging sounds in the silence.

The maiden could not see past the tendrils that twisted about her legs--couldn't make out what kind of monstrosity it was that they belonged to. Did it lurk just out of sight, or had it sent up these grabbers through the barren strata between realms to clutch at her from afar? It did not matter. As soon as she saw with her eyes what it was that she felt against her bare legs, her fright turned to disgust and terror. She became at once desperate to kick free and climb her way back out to the light of her grove, bargain be damned, and she flexed her lithe limbs in preparation for a struggle.

Whether they felt the minute, preparatory contractions in her extremities, or simply sensed her intentions, the tentacles tightened about her legs and were joined at once by more just like them. The Elf tried to twist--to kick out her legs, or at the very least move them--but to no avail. The grip that those limbs had on her was not rough or constricting, but it was as stone, utterly immovable, and she could only groan and strain and nothing more.

Her heartbeat was quickening again, and the moment's peace that had come over her after her fall evaporated. She turned her head to look about her, bending her body forwards then backwards, clawing and prying and striking with her free hands at the unyielding coils of those many limbs. She made the most of what movement was left to her, and her upper half became a blur as she flailed and writhed and thrashed against her captor. Her cheeks flushed with exertion and sweat stood out all over her like dew on the grass in her lost grove. Her hair became a tangle as it bounced about her frightened features, and her green eyes grew wide with fear. The white coverlet over her chest fell askance, leaving her heaving breasts bare, and beneath her full bust even the floral pattern with which she'd painted herself was beginning to run and smear.

She was so absorbed in her struggle that she did not notice at first when the Horror joined her.

It had been there all along, of course. It was the one that had brought her here. It was the rustling in the darkness. It was the one that had tipped her over the invisible precipice and then slowed her crazed fall. It was the one whose many limbs now bore her up and against whose grip she fought with such futile spirit. It was the one with whom she had bargained for the safety of her sylvan home, and now it emerged from the blackness behind her.

At first it was no more than two red eyes. Unmoving and unblinking, they were as embers in the dark. They rose up atop a heaping, formless body that quivered and swelled with ghastly respiration. Were the maiden to look back at it with her own eyes, she would have seen that it was indeed the same in appearance as those many-armed mollusks that swarmed in distant seas.

The shadows around it were alive with a tangle of twisting arms, just like those that gripped the maiden by her legs. Where there had once been black emptiness the space filled with their innumerable likenesses. Whether they were actually attached to the body that had appeared behind her, or whether they'd simply materialized out of the ether, it was impossible to say. But it was it was clear that the mind behind those red eyes bent the many grasping tendrils to its will, and by its will they now took the Flower of Elvenkind by her arms.

She screamed and thrashed her head back and forth, unable now to move anything but her neck. Her thick flaxen hair bounced and twisted, and through those whirling strands could be seen a face contorted with defiance and reddened by her straining. Those black, boneless arms moved inwards from her extremities now, encircling her upper arms and running gently over her inner thighs. She could move neither her arms nor her legs, but they quivered at the Dark Horror's touch, and her eyes rolled here and there as she watched the snaking appendages move about her.

Her chest was already bare from her struggle. The white coverlet that had hid her pink nipples from sight was hanging uselessly askance, and the maiden barely noticed as one of the twisting limbs took hold of it and removed it altogether. She started to settle then. All at once the fight left her just as quickly as it had come. Whether from exhaustion or acceptance or some dread hypnosis, she began to yield to the Dark Horror's numberless grips. Even her face was relaxing, and the blood leaving her cheeks, and her wide eyes narrowing as the inevitable unfolded.

There were now at least two tentacles wrapped about each of her delicate limbs, and they twisted and slithered, never still, always moving. They were dry and cool, but the sensation of their soft ridges against the maiden's skin set a warming fire in her that further mollified her straining muscles and took the urgency out of her movements. Indeed, she had begun to feel at ease in her perilous situation. Her limbs still twitched, and she gasped and whimpered at each fresh touch, but these were reflexes only.

Her thoughts wandered to her sacred grove, and she found herself remembering why she'd given herself over to this ghastly god-thing. She was purchasing continued immortality for her kin, and safety from the black terrors that swarmed about the borders of her forest home. The Dark Horror that had her now had given its word that he she and her home would be safe, if she would go willingly with it, and the Maiden's dread turned to gratitude as she considered the small price for which she'd bought her people's future. The monster that had her might be an evil older than time itself, but even such beings held true to their word, and she knew that it was no false promise that she had secured.

A sense of ease crept through her now, and she found her willingness turn to expectation. Indeed in, the quiet corners of her consciousness there may even have been the beginnings of desire. Her gasps and cries, and the shudders that went through her at the Dark Horror's touch, began to grow more animated, and she offered no resistance when its tendrils finally snaked up her legs to meet at her pelvis.

The silken coverlet that concealed her sex was rumpled, but nonetheless held her modesty intact. Her long, lean legs were bare right up to her hips, and her trunk was uncovered well below her navel, but the delicate garment that hung about her waist was still in place. The Dark Horror took hold of it in a deft, delicate movement that met no resistance. Indeed, the Elf looked down eagerly, cheeks flushing again, this time in excitement as she waited expectantly to see herself exposed. Her breathing grew deep and slow, and her bare breasts rose and fell with it.

With a whisper, the garment disappeared. It was impossible to say if the Dark Horror had actually unfastened it, or simply willed it away, but whatever the case, one moment it was there and then it was not. The maiden gasped, let out a faint laugh of delight, and a shudder swept through her body as she anticipated cool air between her legs. But she was not in her sacred grove, and there was no breeze here save for that which the Dark Horror willed. No draft rushed in to caress her naked sex, but her reaction was unchanged, and she quivered and thrilled as her last thread of clothing disappeared.

Her newly bare labia were full and pink, swollen and slick with arousal beneath her golden curls. Where just moments before the maiden had been in a panic, struggling madly against her captor's dread caresses, she had now grown languid and lascivious. While she struggled and groaned and screamed out her terror, the Horror had worked its way into her thoughts--had taken her mind in preparation for what came next. It had edged out the fear, the doubt, and the regret, and replaced them with total willingness. It had made itself a home in her, that it might lead her willingly to its ghastly bed and be one with her in mind as well as in body. It would know her completely, and feel their encounter as she felt it.

The Flower of Elvenkind was fully naked now, and her head lolled about as she watched her captor take further hold of her. Her arms and legs were held away from her trunk by black tendrils whose grip was at once soft and unshakeable. Those many limbs slithered and twisted about her, coiling and shifting over her extremities, searching over her stomach, lifting her breasts and letting them fall again. She gasped with each fresh touch--with each caress of her inner thighs, each brush of her nipples, and each stroke of her cheek.

The Dark Horror was moving all over her now, taking in her every soft surface, every nook and cranny. It searched up her ribs to her underarms, down her slender legs and between her toes. It coiled lightly about her neck, brushed over her shoulders, and roved down her delicate spine. It took hold of her lean buttocks and slid down between them, snaking up again over her mons veneris and feeling upwards along her stomach. The Elf's gasps turned to moans as she felt the Dark Horror's touch against her cleft, and she found that she'd regained just enough freedom to writhe in her pleasure.

There was not a part of her left untouched and unexplored, and there were times when her glowing nakedness could scarcely be seen beneath those countless dark embraces. Her eyes rolled and her mouth hung open. She moved her limbs to better admit the dark one's attentions, and there were times when its touch set her to shaking and heaving as if possessed. As the horror focused more and more on her nipples, her sex, and the valley between her buttocks, she grew wilder in her enjoyment, and even began to cry out in strange tongues. Her words had no meaning to her, save for in their breathless urgency, and she belted out crazed invocations in a voice that had 'til then known only quiet conversation and honeyed words.

The Dark Horror searched her mind and saw that she was ready. The old god's essence was roiling with anticipation, and its black awareness was lustful chaos. It had been tasting of her thoughts and feeling what she felt as it moved over her naked body, eager to feel as a finite being felt. As it sank deeper into her psyche and grew more and more absorbed by the waves of pleasure that were washing over her, it came to share her need. It knew that she would eagerly accept what came next, and indeed her eyes went wide with delight when a lone limb emerged from amongst the rest.

The grip on the maiden's legs tightened and spread them out a little wider. The tentacles that held her arms grew rigid too, and she found herself fully immobilized once again. But she wore a wide smile, and her green eyes glowed with keen anticipation, unalarmed that her power of movement had once again been taken away. She squeaked and sighed with pleasure at the feeling, and at the sight of the member rising up between her legs.

It moved without delicacy or ceremony, not lingering or caressing like the others. It emerged from the darkness and made straight for its prize, a tendril whose end was smoother and straighter than the others, stiff and rounded at the end. The maiden's labia lay open, engorged and glistening and ready to receive that darting shaft. She looked down, mouth and eyes wide in astonishment, pelvis quivering and breasts rocking with her quickened breath.

It entered her with ease. Her wetness was dripping down her inner thigh and her lips seemed to part of their own accord as the dark one's tendril slipped home. The maiden's eyes went even wider then, and her jaw fell open under the force of her cry. She wailed out her rapture, overwhelmed and powerless before the strength of the sensation that crashed through her. White stars burst before her sight, searing heat bloomed in her pelvis, and her mind reeled under the landside of her lust. Had she the ability to move, she would have pressed herself down upon the Dark Horror's member, forced it deeper into her and held it there until time itself was used up. Her thoughts became a storm-wracked ocean--of one kind, yet wild and unhinged. She cried again, and then even louder as she felt it begin to move inside her.