The Call of Sar'laag-neh
 
 
Lindsay woke up to the sound of dripping water and found herself lying on her belly over a damp, cool surface. She felt uncomfortably chilly before she quickly found out the reason behind this unseasonal cold was due to the fact that her beautiful, supple body was naked.
 
The blonde tried to identify where she was, but wherever she happened to be sequestered was too dim to see anything clearly. As her eyes adjusted however she realized that rather than being steeped in just inky blackness like she had thought at first, there was a phantasmagorical yet dim greenish glow emanating from somewhere, like a parade of corpse-fed fireflies burning through a haunted swamp. Eventually Lindsay's eyes began to adjust more to the oppressive darkness to the point that she could perceive that she was in some sort of stone dungeon of considerable age and mustiness, and that there was also a large pool of murky water in one corner of her prison.
 
Lindsay was surprisingly calm about her situation. Although a dreamer, she was also a very rational woman, and the thing which bothered her most was not her ordeal, but the fact that her mind was so hazy. She'd definitely escape her prison, but first she needed to rejog her memory on how she actually got there in the first place.
 
Her head hurt a little bit, but Lindsay made an effort to remember, and soon, the memories started to flit back slowly.
 
 
 
...
 
 
When Lindsay first noticed the bookstore, she was sure it hadn't been there on the previous night. Still, she entered it, bibliophile that she was, and found a place in subpar condition lit by a dim electric lamp and a drowsy young man slacking off behind the counter. She took the liberty to take a look at the several dusty volumes on the multiple shelves which covered the walls, inspecting them title by title.
 
It didn't take long for the blonde to realize that she had unknowingly stumbled upon a treasure trove of rare volumes and obscure first editions. She recognized a very damaged edition of Cotton Mather's "Wonders of the Invisible World", John Bathurst's "The Worship of the Serpent" and the infamous "Malleus Maleficarum", but it was the Occult section that took the cake in Lindsay's mind.
 
She gasped at Chandell Prinn's forbidden "De Voris Mysteriis" and thanked Heavens for her German classes at the sight of von Junzt's "Unaussprechlichen Kulten". Several other volumes of antediluvian lore and cryptic sorcery she had only heard awful rumors about until now filled the section, and she couldn't believe their relatively unexpensive prices. It was exactly what she was looking for!
 
 
...
 
 
Lindsay's recalling of the past was interrupted by what sounded like a huge splash which startled her quite a bit. Could it be that there were fish being kept in the dungeon's pool of, until now, stagnant water?
 
The blonde shuddered after remembering a nightmare invoked by the nocturnal reading of a book of nautical horrors written by a sailor and Great War soldier, a dream-episode haunted by fantastic "sirens", loathsome salamander-like creatures which lived in slimy pools of water and fed on unlucky victims who dared to approach their lairs.
 
But surely it was only a great rock dislodged from the ancient ceiling which fell into the pool and caused that huge splashing sound. Yes, that was certainly the explanation, Lindsay affirmed to herself before returning to her reminiscences.
 
 
....
 
 
Lindsay B. Loch was a writer of weird fiction and unusual stories, completely unknown by the greater literary scene but moderately respected in reclusive circles of lovers of the outré and connoisseurs of the macabre. Her fiction was highly derivative from the pulp masters from the 20th century, and she published mostly in fanzines, where such works as "The Festering of the Slime" and "The Dweller of the Deep" earned her more than a few praises.
 
Until now, her only book was "General Martense and Less Pleasant Blokes", from an obscure publisher with a very limited number of copies and illustrations by Lee Blue Coile. Not only a writer but an avid reader, those were the reasons why she was so elated by her find of the Occult section of that dingy bookstore.
 
For a long time now Lindsay felt that her stories had lacked something of the real eldritch and horrific, the true hideous aspects of which purportedly ruled the universe in paradoxical anarchy. She spoke with fellow macabrists and interviewed supposed dabblers in esoteric systems and dark arcana, but nothing satisfied her deeper thirsts for knowledge. She still felt like the true darkness was missing, and her soul, both as a writer and as a curious human being yearned for it. Lindsay longed to learn the songs the demons sing as they swoop between the stars, or hear the voices of the olden gods as they whisper their secrets to the echoing void.
 
So for her that bookstore was a treasure throve of terrible lore, and above all else, of inspiration. Those books were forbidden in so many countries and repressed so earnestly for a reason. They were the real deal.
 
Taking a pile of them in her arms, which she took a long time to select considering she could only buy so much with her funds (which as a writer, weren't much), she awkwardly walked towards the counter and took a moment to inspect the sleeping young man before awakening him.
 
He was quite unremarkable, although there was something peculiar and slightly repellent about his features. Something almost like an ichthyic strain. She also noticed a strange pendant which the young man wore, of a material similar to yet infinitely distinct from gold, with a symbol like a deformed devil-fish or squid.
 
"Excuse me... excuse me?" Lindsay called him a second time after her first try failed to awaken him.
 
"Hm? How may I help you?" The young man answered, still looking a bit groggy.
 
"I'd like to buy these books, please."
 
"Oh... I see," Was it just her impression, or did a faint grin appear on the man's uncanny features? "Interesting choices. As you're our 100th customer, I'll let you take them for just $1, but just this once."
 
"Wait, are you serious??" Lindsay couldn't hide her excitement as her trembling hands lifted a coin from her fairly barren purse.
 
"Sure. I hope you enjoy them, and come back to buy more, of course."
 
The writer couldn't quite believe in his claim that she was the 100th customer (it looked more like she was the 1st), but she wasn't going to discuss it with a man who intended to give her practically free books, and rare ones on top of that! Lindsay thanked him heartily and raced home with her newfound acquisitions.
 
 
...
 
 
Lindsay's memories were interrupted once again by an event in the present moment. Was it just her, or did her breathing sound amiss? She held her breath as a test and... the sound of breathing persisted.
 
Strange, and very alarming. Could it be that there was another person there with her? But who could it be? Another prisoner or... something else entirely? Something which intended to do her harm?
 
Lindsay shook the troubling thoughts away, and for the first time, rose from the damp floor. Looking down at her feet, she saw that there were no shackles of any kind on her ankles. She was free to explore around the dark murkiness of her enclosure. She wondered about half-blind until she found a wall, and walked around the dungeon in search of her unknown company, guided only by the faint green effulgence which filled the place and always afraid of ending up in the pool which had started filling her with an unplaceable horror.
 
She searched for who knows how long, and found neither exit nor her companion, and all the while still that breathing persisted. Lindsay started to wonder if she wasn't maybe going insane, or already was in such a state. She felt like the protagonist in Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum", and her tenebrous prison was starting to get on her nerves.
 
But if she was mad or not, the only thing which could reveal it to her would be remembering, so Lindsay went back to her journey down memory lane.
 
 
...
 
 
Lindsay read obsessively for several days, harnessing occult data with a relentless hunger for more. What started as a casual reading rapidly turned into a fervent study, with the writer taking notes as she went along while also making correlations between the points where she believed the lore in her multiple sources intertwined.
 
Ideas for new stories were starting to pop up in her head seemingly with every sentence, and she felt like she'd have material to fill three new books by the end of the month. She, of course, visited that dingy bookstore several times again, always taking home at least one new book with each visit. Lindsay soon started to notice that she wasn't the only frequent haunter of that dismal place, as she started to notice some reoccurring faces there.
 
It was easy to start recognizing them because they were all very beautiful women, who sometimes bought books and sometimes talked about them with the young man who worked there. The one she saw there most was a foreign, esoteric looking woman with black hair, a Roman nose, and wearing tight robes which showed the imprints of her large butt and massive breasts.
 
This woman made quite an impression on Lindsay, mostly because of her mysterious exotic beauty, but also because she never bought any volume, instead bringing new books for the young man to sell, and also spent a long time conversing with him in whispers.
 
Once, while browsing through some new grimoires and tomes in the Occult section, Lindsay caught bits and parts of a long dialogue being held between this unknown woman and the young man in a room accessible through a door located behind the counter.
 
"...the 12th Revelation... written by a lunatic... do as found on the Cthäat Aquadingen, and it will come... city greater than Innsmouth next time... Deep One breeding camps... that damned Lord Boleskine... but it still lives... Cthylla..." That last word was intoned with great reverence and satisfaction.
 
Soon the conversation ended and the mysterious woman stood at the doorstep. She turned around and whispered cryptically:
 
"But always remember this: that is not dead which can eternal lie,"
 
Lindsay stood there for a moment trying to find the meaning in those strange words when the woman started walking towards the exit. Their gazes met, the woman smiled and winked, leaving a bedazzled writer behind. Shaking the effects of that strange interaction off, the blonde went back to her search. She soon gasped, taking a book out of the shelves with avid interest. It was nothing less than an English edition of the Necronomicon, John Dee's translation. She had at last found the supreme obsidian gateway to nethermost realms of shrieking fright.
 
"I want to buy this book," Lindsay told the young man at the counter decidedly. He stared at her then at the book, wide-eyed. He shook his head.
 
"Where did you find it?! This book isn't for sale!" He said between his teeth.
 
"It was in the Occult section," The blonde explained, annoyed at the man's reaction. "Why can't you sell it to me?"
 
"Must have put there by mistake..." The repulsive young man mumbled, then snarled. "Because I can't, and that's it! Now give it to me!"
 
"No!" Lindsay pulled the book towards her chest as he tried to take it out of her hands. She would not be thwarted now! "Sell it to me, dammit! How much do you want for it?!"
 
"I told you, it's not for sale!" He insisted angrily.
 
"Fine, here!" Lindsay took several dollar notes from her purse and slammed them on the counter. "I'll buy with that!"
 
"W-Wait, lady..." The young man's anger seemed to subside, as he instead tried to reason with Lindsay. "Please understand that I won't be selling it. It was a mistake, it being in the Occult section. My personal collection was where it was supposed to be...
 
Lindsay took more notes from her purse and slid them towards the young man. She wouldn't give up.
 
The bookseller looked at the money on his counter and blinked several times. He appeared to be weighting the situation in his mind. He snapped his fingers, then he nodded and sighed.
 
"Alright, lady. It's yours," He quickly took the money. "But just because you're a regular."
 
Lindsay took the book and rushed out of the bookstore, holding it like a mother would hold her child. The money she spent in this one volume would be a nightmare for her finances, but it was all worth it in her mind. She would have preferred a Greek or, if wildest dreams could come true, Arabic edition, but any copy of the Necronomicon was enough. She couldn't wait to get home so she could start to read it, then whole new vistas of trans-cosmic gulfs would open themselves before her mind, and she'd become the writer she'd always wanted to be.
 
Soon she was completely immersed in her reading, and the further she read the more she understood that this highly expurgated book was the piece of the puzzle that had been missing all along, and soon a much wider lore of terror began to come together, a lore of forgotten cyclopean cities under the sea, in the heart of the mountains, in the nethermost caverns and in the polar waste. A lore of supranatural beings which squatted gibbous and repulsive as titan-gargoyles guarding the dark corners of the earth and the airless abysses of space.
 
There were tales of Keys and Doorways, of monsters who fed with gluttony on human beings of soft skin and supple bodies, and of profane cults which held festival and ritual when the time was right to serve those Dark Ones dwelling where mankind couldn't behold save only in wild nightmares inspired by psychic emanations of dead gods entombed in slimy temples.
 
This last subject was the one which interested Lindsay the most, and the cult of choice in her studies soon became that dreaded cult of Great Cthulhu and His Great Old Ones, perhaps the most widespread secret society in all the world. Sadly, even the Necronomicon was shy of mentioning this terrible group, save only by hints which only the initiated could detect.
 
Lindsay gasped as she reached a couplet of terrible implications:
 
 
That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may die.
 
𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔩𝔦𝔢,
𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔞𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔡𝔦𝔢.
 
"That is not dead which can eternal lie," Lindsay thought aloud. "Where have I heard that before? Wait, I know! It was that woman!"
 
That was it, this passage was certainly related to the cult of Dread Cthulhu. And if that woman was telling it to the bookseller... that alongside the other cryptic things they spoke about, and the bookseller's pendant... could it possibly be?
 
It wasn't uncalled for. The cult was spreading like a plague all over the world. It wasn't impossible that a branch (or an appendage, a tentacle) of it existed even there. And if it existed in her town, who else but that foreign-looking beauty and the ichthyic bookseller would be part of it?
 
Lindsay's heart was beating fast. She felt like had been caught in a spiderweb of intrigue and occult ritual. Negotium Perambulans in Tenebris, she thought. But it also felt like a challenge. The writer felt like confronting the young man and the woman about their secrets. She would show them that she too was a neophyte of the lore, a student of the arts. The blonde would impress them with her Knowledge, acquired so suddenly and so fast. They would bow before what she knew, and would be at her mercy, as she could expose them to the world for what they wore!
 
Next time she went to the bookstore, Lindsay had a determinated, firm expression on her face and brought alongside her the Dee-translated copy of the Necronomicon as a good luck charm and as proof of her initiation in that subject too hideous for sane conjecture.
 
"I know your secret," She told the bookseller.
 
"Pardon me?"
 
She immediately launched into spitting out all that she knew, the words flowing from her mouth as incantations from a warlock's, and she only stopped when all the secrets were laid bare. The young man simply stood there staring at her, a mixture of anger, puzzlement, pity, and respect in his expression.
 
"I have no idea what you're talking about," He finally said, snapping his fingers. "Perhaps you should consider reading less esoteric material and giving a chance to other genres. We got some new books which you'll certainly find interesting..."
 
"Wait," A female voice came from the door behind the counter. "She knows it, Jebediah. It's no use hidding it from her."
 
The owner of the voice soon opened the door. It was that mysterious woman.
 
"So it is true!" Lindsay exclaimed, her last lingering doubts finally being cleared.
 
"Indeed it is," The woman smiled sardonically, her amber-like eyes glowing. "And I must admit, you did a good job with your reaserch, Miss Loch."
 
"How do you know my name?" The blonde questioned.
 
"I know a lot of things. More than you can imagine. I am Tanith, and as you have surmised, I'm part of that antediluvian religion. You have potential, and your beauty makes me like you. I could teach you so many things..."
 
"Please do! I want to learn more!"
 
"...but not here. I know a place where we can have our talk, if you don't mind taking a cab with me there."
 
"Of course I don't! Let's go!"
 
Tanith laughed heartedly.
 
"You're so eager, child! I'd like to spend a night with you, as the exuberant ones happen to be my type. But I digress... let us go."
 
As promised, the blonde took a cab with Tanith, which left them in front of a very large building with neon lights and from which a loud cacophony of music emanated.
 
 
"Arkham House Club... a nightclub?" Lindsay thought aloud.
 
"Indeed. Quite the comfortable place too. You'll enjoy it. But do come in."
 
The duo entered the nightclub, and were welcomed by a group of buxom women in revealing clothing. All around the club there were such lascivious women, doing everything from pole dancing to serving drinks. Soon some of them found a table for the writer and the occultist, and the duo sat down to talk.
 
"Why did you chose here to talk of all places?" Lindsay tried covering her ears. "The music is obnoxious and loud."
 
"Where else?" Tanith chuckled. Then she whispered to her companion. "See those women, serving drinks and dancing? They're all members of the sect."
 
"WAIT, FOR REAL? Hm, excuse me. Really?" The writer couldn't believe it. Those hot ladies? Cultists of Cthulhu?"
 
A lady in a bunnysuit passing by happened to hear part of their talk, and turned her bubble butt towards Lindsay's face. The blonde noticed a green octopus tatoo on one of her huge buttocks. The woman smacked her ass playfully before serving them a strange flask with a drink.
 
"Here you go, cuties~" She and Tanith exchanged a knowing look and the woman winked, before going away to continue her duties.
 
"Depravity is a key for humanity to become like the Great Old Ones, dear," Tanith continued, with a smile. "There's a word of occult doctrine being passed down when a woman does something as simple as twerking."
 
Tanith drank from the flask, which Lindsay now occupied herself with examining. It was red, and appeared to be sculpted as from a single ruby, which was of course a ridiculous idea. Lindsay's inspections were interrupted by a sudden kiss by Tanith. The writer was, naturally, caught off guard, but she didn't try to resist it, instead kissing the brunette back passionately. Tanith them released the liquid inside her mouth into Lindsay's own mouth, and the blonde drank it. The kissing stopped.
 
"What was that?" Lindsay asked, giggling and blushing. "It tasted good, like wine but more exotic."
 
"Oh, it was nothing. Hand me over that, will you?" Tanith asked, referring to the Necronomicon, and Lindsay obeyed groggily.
 
"How strange... my head feels so heavy... I'm going drowzy..." Lindsay yawned and rubbed her eyes. It was getting hard to see, and suddenly, she grew afraid. "W-What was in that wine?"
 
"I'll let you in a secret," Tanith ignored her question. "The hideout of my branch of the order is located beneath this nightclub,"
 
"W-What? So that's why you brought me here..."
 
"Indeed. I'll take you for a little tour there. But now you must sleep, you little busybody. You'll get what you deserve for succumbing to the lure of the forbidden." These were the last words Lindsay heard before falling into a deep and profound sleep.
 
 
...
 
 
So that was how she found herself in her present predicament! As Tanith had put it, she had indeed succumbed to her own curiosity and hunger for knowledge.
 
But how would she get out of it? Considering that she was beneath the nightclub and couldn't hear any of the loud music, she was too deep underground to scream for help. Even so, she tried, lest she give up on hope. She called desperately, for she knew what the cult was capable of, and feared the punishment she imagined they were saving her foor.
 
"It's useless," A female voice suddenly said, startling Lindsay to the point that she almost jumped straight up into the air. "Those who can hear you, don't care. It would be best if you simply accepted your fate like a good girl."
 
"Who are you??" Lindsay asked pathetically.
 
"I am that something you always wanted, just never knew. Now, become mine."
 
Abruptly, a figure appeared from thin air before the writer. It was a beautiful woman with green hair in a ponytail, a smile showing sharp teeth and naked breasts... no, it was a hideous cephalopod with a multitude of loathsome green tentacles which inquisitively grabbed and searched over Lindsay's body.
 
No... it was both. An attractive woman from the waist up, but a monster of the deep from the waist down. Was it Scylla from Greek myth? Or was it Mother Hydra, matriarch of the Deep Ones? Whatever it was, her tentacles had easily captured the blonde's body, and one of them had found it's way between her legs and into her crouch. Lindsay tried to protest but she soon found herself a moaning mess as the green appendage masturbated her with ease, and soon the writer was cumming despite her mind telling her that she should be afraid.
 
Breathing heavily, Lindsay's body was raised by the tentacles and brought closer to the female creature.
 
"Pleasuring hotties makes me damn hungry, you know? And you're my sacrifice after all! Don't look at me that way. Think of it as getting close and personal with one of the gods you studied so much~"
 
The octopus girl opened her mouth and slowly engulfed Lindsay's head before she could even let out a single plaintive cry. She gently but firmly grabbed the blonde's large boobs with several tentacles at once, eliciting a sound halfway between a cry of alarm and a gasp from Lindsay. Try as she might to struggle, the girl found all of her efforts utterly futile in the many-armed grasp of the cephalopod as she was forced to remain in place while the tendrils slid their neferious suckers over every inch of her bosom. Lindsay wondered if this humiliating ritual was some new perversion of the cult until she heard a rumbling moan of pleasure from the throat around her head, which instinctually made her recall of how octopi could taste with their tendrils; was this so-called deity similar to her ilk in that regard?
 
While she pondered this her world suddenly shifted against as the cthylla went back to swallowing its meal, moaning as she did so. When she gulped down her prey's breasts, the monster grabbed the left side of her behind with one hand and the right with two tentacles before starting to push Lindsay's body down her gullet mechanically. Even trapped halfway down an esophagus like this she could still scarcely believe that a seemingly humanoid's jaws could stretch to such a degree to accomodate her body. When the Cthylla began to grope around her waist in a similar fashion to how she had with Lindsay's chest, the blonde began to squirm around profusely with a "Hey, cut that out!" said more out of shock than because she thought it would work.
 
Suddenly there was a buildup of pressure all around her body before another lurching gulp pulled Lindsay down a good foot deeper as her head popped through a sphincter into an open chamber, her rear vanishing from the outside world as it passed the predator's lips. She was silentely thankful that her rump wouldn't be ravished any further until she realized that the tradeoff was that she was still being swallowed whole and alive. With her ass now conquered, all that was left to do was slurping those shapely legs down.
 
And the creature did so quite easily with a single long pull, her belly suddenly expanding as her stomach received it's supple occupant.
 
"Aaaaah, that really hit the spot~" The octopus girl commented cheerfully as she licked her fingertips, trying to catch as much of the writer's taste as she could.
 
Soon she heard the sound of a large metallic door opening, followed by footsteps approaching her.
 
"O Cthylla, scion of Great Cthulhu, preacher of Father Dagon, of Mother Hydra and of the Great Old Ones," A bowing Tanith said fervorously, accompanied by two busty robe-wearing fellow cultists. "You are hungry and we provide! We shall feed you with hot babes and you shall feed us with power!"
 
"Iä! Iä! Cthulhu fhtagn!" The other two chanted.
 
"...right," Cthylla (?) said awkwardly.
 
"Lady Cthylla, was the sacrifice I brought you this time satisfying?" Tanith asked, holding her breath as if her life depended on the answer.
 
"Hell yeah! She was freaking tasty! I-I mean," The octopus girl quickly corrected herself. "She was incredibly scrumptious. You did well, my servant."
 
"I see. It has been a blessing serving you so far, O Great Old One. Your father Great Cthulhu must be very pleased indeed if He allowed us to take care of His precious, sacred offspring."
 
"Sure. Dad's like, super approving of your work. He had trouble keeping me well fed in R'lyeh, but you guys are doing great!" The aquatic beauty made an 'okay' sign.
 
"Oh, this makes me so happy I could cry," Tanith admitted. "Feeding you is the most unholy service I have ever been able to do for our dark cause!"
 
"Although... I'm still hungry for seconds~" The octopus girl grinned, eyeing Tanith up and down.
 
"I see," The cultist smiled. "Then I shall serve you as best as I can."
 
Tanith quickly began to undress, throwing her esoteric robes away and walking towards her goddess fully naked and proud, herself looking like a Hellenistic fertility deity. She was grabbed by several tentacles, and brought closer to the one they called Cthylla.
 
"Oh my, you're so eager, my Lady!" Tanith giggled. The monstrous girl simply licked her lips.
 
"Let's dig in," She said casually, and the two other cultists whatched in awe as she hungrily scarfed down a woman way more voluptuous than her previous meal. In roughly only a minute Tanith could no longer be seen as anything but a prominent bulge in the scylla's midriff.
 
"Fuck, was she some quality meat! I mean, by Great Cthulhu, what a sacrifice!" Suddenly, her cheeks inflated, she punched her chest with a clenched fist and, "BooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooOOOOoooOOOOOOOOOooooOOOOOOOOURP!"
 
A mighty, raunchy belch echoed through the vaulted chamber of the dungeon, making the air inside it even more heavy and musty.
 
"As a foulness shall ye know Them," One cultist quoted the Mad Arab in explanation of the crass act to her fellow worshipper, who nodded understandingly.
 
"Hm, that was a solid 8/10," The living idol of the cult thought aloud, then turned her attention to the two cultists. "You may go now. I wish to be alone with my prey for some time, although I might eat you too later if I get peckish."
 
"As you wish, O Lady Cthylla," They said in unison and left the dungeon.
 
Selene, not Cthylla, smiled to herself. What a lucky monster girl she was! One day she was at this club eating some babes, then those cultist guys showed up bowing and praying and commemorating like she was Taylor Swift. It seemed they had confused her with one of their dark gods, one Cthylla gal. Selene was about to tell them their mistake, but she thought better about it and decided to go along with it when it occurred to her that she might be able to exploit their devotion. And it had been a great idea!
 
Of course, she had to use her camouflage to turn her hair and tentacles from purple to green, and she also had to buy some H. P. Lovecraft paperbacks by Grafton to do some homework, but it was all worthwhile in the end. Those cultist hotties just kept her down there bringing her sexy girls to eat (when not feeding themselves to her) and making her every wish come true like she was an actual goddess. And there was a freaking game room in their underground hideout, with arcades and stuff! Selene was living the dream.
 
"Still, Bessie must be worried sick about me," The octopus monster girl thought aloud. "She might even eat me when I get back."
 
Selene suddenly grinned, a new idea finding it's way into her mind.
 
"OR I could bring her here as my consort. It might take some effort but I believe I could convince these dumbasses that Bessie is a bovine goddess of sorts. Heck, I might even convince them that Shub-Niggurath was a cow instead of a goat all along!"
 
And with that thought, Selene rubbed her belly, satisfed and well-fed. Inside her stomach, the cultist and writer were making out, creating just enough pressure on the stomach walls to make it enjoyable to the predator. Who knew being an eldritch goddess was so good?