Diary of an Ooze Witch (Joseph de Steel) 2.9 - 2.10 (Patreon)

(Sorry this took so long to finish)

2.9

I have been hoodwinked.

We arrived in Placedo by mid day, no thanks to our “friends” from the minstrel troupe. As they had left us earlier in the morning, I decided to take stock of our supplies and coin on our way to the city proper. It would be during that check that I would find that over the course of the night, we had been pilfered of everything not nailed down. Rations, clothing, coin… Nothing was beyond reproach. In their place, I had found rubbish, rags, and a coin purse stuffed with copper washers. In an instant, I knew that it was the Usurans that had robbed from us, keeping close company as they bided their time and waited until we had let down our guards to make off with our goods in the dead of the night.

Jeru tried to offer words of consolation, tried to calm me down from my rage at being made a victim of. However, my rage could not be quenched as I turned my anger on him, ranting over the poor judgment in giving them a chance, only to have them stab us in the back so thoroughly. My teeth clenched and ground against one another as I hissed out accusations at Jeru’s feet. Had it not been for him, we would not have joined with their troupe; we would not have broken bread with them and trusted them enough to be made fools of. Jeru stood there, his head bowed and back hunched, resembling more of a child than the man he was in the moment. He understood how much he had screwed up and showed his contrition on his brow. This only served to stoke my rage even hotter, my tongue cutting into him as I castigated him for a good several minutes.

I most likely would have continued well into the morning when it dawned on me that I too, was culpable in the instance. My mind went back to the woman who had bedded me, keeping me from the caravan and potentially protecting it. In that instance, my anger found no place to go anymore but inward. I realized in that moment that I was lashing out at one of my oldest friends over something I had shared guilt in. Finding my humility, I offered Jeru my apologies, hoping I could make amends for my cutting remarks. While he appears to have forgiven me for my words, I cannot help but feel he still harbors his own guilt in the matter.

With my anger abated, I took stock of our wagon again, hoping against hope that there was something the thieving minstrels had forgotten in their haste. To my surprise, a miracle of miracles had descended upon us as I found the cargo of iron still within our possession. I could barely believe it, that the Usurans overlooked our most valuable commodity. I pinched myself at our good fortune as I reasoned that perhaps we could still make good on this trip. With quickness, I pulled our caravan just outside the city walls and attempted to hock another portion of our iron to another prospective buyer. Luck must have still been on my side as within the hour, a fellow trader made themselves known and were willing to purchase our iron at only a slightly discounted rate. Given my desperation at the moment, I acquiesced immediately, reasoning that it was worth the loss in profits if it meant getting enough coin to cover the cost of entering the city. With the deal made, Jeru and I approached the gates of Placedo.

It was about this time that the city guard stopped our advance and demanded to see our papers and to be able to check our wagon. While the latter would be of little problem, my blood ran cold as I was sure that the thieving Usurans had taken even that. It would be while I searched in vain for the proper documents, Jeru asked the guards if they could make an exception for one of the Steelbane Family’s ilk. While I felt my panic begin to rise, the city guards were surprisingly understanding as they spied the Family Crest branded into the wagon itself. Almost immediately, they stepped aside and apologized for their gruff nature. It was soon explained to me that they had been on edge for a while as there were tales of a murderer rumored to be around. However, with my crest, it was enough to convince them of my own validity. I thanked them profusely as they allowed me to pass, moving our wagon into the infamous city of Placedo.

At long last, after what had been an eternity of anticipation, Jeru and I walked the streets of the Pale City for the first time of our lives. Exhaling deeply, I felt an immense weight upon my shoulders lifted off of me as a sense of accomplishment resonated throughout my body. We had done it and there was nothing that could take this away from me. With my head held high, I walked the streets of Placedo in search of my fortune. Following directions given by the city guard, we found an inn willing to keep watch over our caravan while we could get some much needed rest. This inn’s name? The Pale Lady.

It is as I write this that my mind wanders back to the dangerous woman who had slaked her sexual thirst upon me. I asked if Jeru had seen the striking beauty while participating in festivities with the Usurans, but he professed to having never seen such a woman in their company. This continues to perplex me as I sit in contemplation. If she was not an Usuran as I had earlier presumed, what was she doing on that hillside? I fear that this would be one of those questions that would plague me in my sleep.

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2.10

I had a dream the other night.

The woman I had met on that hillside still haunts me in my weaker moments. Her features are burned into my memory as I find myself daydreaming about them whenever I have a moment’s rest. From the curves of her body, the pout of her lips, the lushness of her curled hair, it all melds together to form an image so strong that it becomes unforgettable. It is in that memory of her, that intoxicating feeling of her attention, I attempt to find peace, only to have it stripped from me as my mania stirs against my mind. Had she been a simple thief along with those Minstrels, conning me and taking me for all I was worth? It troubled me into the early morning hours, playing havoc with my sleep.

It was only last night that I was finally able to get some rest. It was then that I had my dream. I was on a marshy plain, mist obscuring my view of my surroundings. It would be the sound of her laughter, a lilting voice full of mischief, that would beckon me through the mists. The moon hung high in the sky, sending its beams down into a path for me to follow to her, letting my feet carry me the rest of the way. Hopelessly drawn to her, I pursue her voice through the land as shapes around me appear and disappear in the mists, blinking in and out of reality at a moment’s notice. The sense of fleeting gave it an ethereal touch, just on the cusp of existence and ephemera. By all means, I should have been frightened, scared out of my mind at all of this chaos happening around me, but instead, I allowed the allure of this calamity to entice me, to be swallowed in this oblivion would be a delight. It never occurred to me at the time that such thoughts were madness warping my perceptions. Was this what Brother felt when he succumbed to his desires, discarding reason for the inevitability of death?

I trudged forward, my feet moving faster with every step, the shapes in the mist disappearing and reappearing as I could only follow the sound of her laughter in the distance. Redoubling my efforts, my hand reaches out past the mist, outside of my sight, toward the woman’s voice. I could feel my hand clasp around her wrist, a warmth spreading through my body as I brought her close to me, looking into her face to see that her eyes have vanished, and in their place, two black voids.

The scene shifts. I am now on my back, naked as the day I was born, with the woman straddling atop in. She bucks her hips  against my member with great pleasure, cementing our coitus as her bosoms bounce freely before me. She moans in ecstasy as my rod grows rigid, desperate for the need to empty itself into her womb and breeding her. The woman smirks at me, our orgasms close at hand. Her eyes seem to glow like starlight, giving her an ethereal, almost divine look. They speak with a hunger for my seed and wanting nothing more than to be filled with it. At our climax, when we are both threatening to explode in wondrous orgasm, the moonlight catches the glistening of her sweat over her body, an immaculate moment that burns itself into my mind. Her head shoots back as a primal scream emanates from within her as our climaxes do not go unnoticed.

It is then that the atmosphere changes. The moon turns a shade of blood red and a dreadful feeling forms a pit in my stomach. The woman is still on top of me, but looking up at her, everything is wrong. Her bust swells to grotesque proportions, her waist cinches inward to a waspish degree, and her bottom plumps up to cement her position over me. A cruel smile crosses her bloated lips as she looks down at me with a steely darkness in her eyes. I try to escape, but but her weight is too great to push her off easily. My panicked eyes stare up at her in bewilderment, her being obscuring everything in the dream. There is no sky or earth, no life or death, just this frightful woman and her corpulent tits hovering over me. They dangle before me, their stench filling my nostrils with a putrid odor, like sweat mixed with excrement. She bends down further, letting them descend upon me, burying me in their demonic vastness. Pressed against my face, there is at once a slimy and sticky feeling to their touch, furthering my disgust. I gasp out, fighting to breathe fresh air, but only being met with the poisonous miasma that surrounds her. My instinct forces me to gag as my nausea rises the longer this woman’s tits rub themselves into my face, infecting me with her musk. The smell worsens, carrying with it the same odor, but warmed over with a touch of urine. I fight to speak, to move, to breathe, but I am paralyzed. This woman’s gargantuan bust pressed into my face, it washes over me, merging with my own body. She melts around me, invading every pore of my body with her essence. I choke on her fetid stench as it pours down my throat, thick, viscous. In my last moments of consciousness, I despair beneath her flesh as a cruel and haughty laugh resounds in my ears.

I come to in a cold sweat. The light of the moon reflects off of each sweat bead upon my body. I run a hand through my hair, the memory of the dream burned into my brain. Had this been some portent, a vision of the future? Had it been a revelation of this woman’s character, of what wickedness she possessed? Maybe it was an indictment of myself, of my own fallible nature? I want to scrub the memory from my mind, free myself of the misery it brings me. But as the stink of my own body wafts up to my nostrils, the image of those loathsome tits comes back to me, haunting me.

I fear this city may bring out the worst in me.

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