Chapter 1 - Offering

  Triggers:

  Body horror, self-mutition, inftion, gore, blood, sexual content

  The first cut is always the most difficult - at least for me. Some combination of nervous anticipation, mispced adrenaline, pride, and if I’m honest, just a hint of arousal make it all the more difficult.

  It should be so easy. Grip the bde, pierce the skin. That’s all there is to it. Grip the bde, pierce the skin. After that it’s child’s py, and yet, thousands of cuts past my first, still my hand shakes, my pulse quickens, my heart hammering in my chest. It’s pathetic really, after all this time and I still fear the bdes kiss.

  Grip the bde.

  Grip. The. Bde.

  I stare at the scalpel resting in the palm of my left hand. Marianne. My beloved. My tormentor. My Goddess.

  *****

  It took me a month. A whole month huddled over my workbench, carving, staining, painting, perfecting.

  I choose a fine piece of Tulip wood as my canvas, the raw material from which I will craft my masterpiece. The form is so clear in my mind - the bare body of a maiden, youthful and unblemished. I see the image clearly, I know what I must do - still, it is almost a week before I build the courage to pick up my tools. After all, there can be no mistakes her, no accidents or imperfections.

  The following week I spent in a sort of trance. I sleep little, I eat almost nothing. I sit at my workbench and carve - each cut, each mark, every indentation and impression calcuted and accounted for. I find myself starved half to death as I finally y down my tools and admire my handiwork.

  She is so beautiful. Her face, coy and youthful, a long pit of hair hangs past her shoulder. her chest bare, arms held coquettishly behind her back. Her buttocks pert and pleasing, the thick thatch of hair between her legs for more enticing that perhaps it should be. She is perfect - the picture of innocence. The irony of which is not lost on me.

  *****

  Grip the bde. Pierce the skin.

  I wrap my fingers around her, my forefinger resting patiently above her razor-sharp cock, my fingertip teasing her golden pubic hair.

  Pierce the skin. Make the cut.

  I grit my teeth, more from habit than anything else. I won’t scream, and even if I did it wouldn’t matter. No amount of screaming could cause a single solitary soul to look up from their mindless droning lives to render assistance. But I won’t scream. I won’t.

  Pierce the skin. Make the cut.

  I hear her words in my head - each word strikes like the crack of a whip.

  Pierce. The. Skin.

  “Yes, My Lady.”

  I stroke that carved thatch of hair once more. Such a simple gesture, but it always seems to calm me - take from that what you will.

  The bde breaks the skin, biting through to the meat below. I hear my Goddess moan as her cock penetrates deep into my flesh, a bead of blood welling up, soaking her crotch.

  Make the cut.

  I draw her back across my skin, a deep furrow lies bleeding in its wake. I breathe deeply as the bde works its magic, slicing through skin and flesh with practised ease. My Goddess’ cock is truly amazing.

  She moans again, as I pull her back, admiring our handiwork. The wound is deep. Really deep. And ordinary person would need immediate medical attention. Fortunately, I’m far from a normal person.

  *****

  She is so perfect, so beautiful. I should leave her as she is, a pretty statue. But I can’t. Life on a shelf is not her fate, the tedium of such an existence would abhor her. So as much as it pains me to do it, I must viote this sacred idol but cutting it in half.

  It takes hours of careful work to make the cut. Starting above the buttock, then gently curving, exiting at the base of her pubes. Mercifully, I achieve my goal, with only a little sanding and filing needed to maintain her unblemished state.

  Next, I hollow out each piece, just enough to fit Her inside. The body with be her handle, the legs her sheath. A perfect blend of form and function.

  With her colouring added, she is elevated, not just beautiful but truly divine. The wood is stained emerald green, the features of her face, her nipples and the thatch of hair between her legs picked out in gold.

  *****

  I watch in amusement as my flesh starts to smoulder. Acrid bck smoke pours out of the wound, the blood at once crusting over before disintegrating into nothing.

  This power is just one gift my Goddess provides. It fascinates me. The way the meat bubbles and bursts, forming sticky fronds that pulse as the pull the wound together. The way the blood burns instead of boils. The intense static the bursts from the wound, making your heart race and your hair stand on end.

  I could watch the process for hours, but tragically it sts only a few minutes. Still, four more to go.

  With the first cut healed, save for the perfect scar it leaves behind, I press on to the second.

  My Goddess moans and whines in my mind as her cock cleaves my flesh, rending my skin to form beautiful scars in the shape of a five-pointed star. The test in a whole gaxy of its brothers that adorn my whole body.

  My Goddess howls as cums, her cws sshing and slicing behind my eyes and I can feel the blood drip down my cheeks. Thick liquid pours down my throat, cutting of my breathing. My heart beats like a hummingbirds wings as the liquid surges through me, my body expanding as it fills me. I feel my skin stretch, my organs restricted and crushed by the viscous fluid.

  I drop my pants and underwear to the floor, taking my cock in hand. It swells, double, triple, quadruple the size. The skin splits, pain shooting down my shaft and into my body. The liquid responds to the pain, oozing and squirming inside me, stretching and contorting my body with its every move.

  *****

  I’m so proud of my offering. I waste no time in retrieving Her from the secret draw in my desk and bringing her to my workbench. I pour strong glue into the torso cavity before carefully inserting her into the carving, working diligently to help her set straight.

  With the glue dried, and my handiwork a success, I take the time to appreciate my magnum opus.

  There she is. Even more beautiful than before.

  Then she appeared.

  In my mind, My Goddess always seemed, well, human. My carving was intended to represent her - giving form to the faceless entity to whom I’ve dedicated my existence.

  How wrong I was. And now, in my hubris, I have bound My Goddess to this bsphemous form - an act I cannot undo. And now she is changed. Gone the divinity who tasked me to spread joy amid the misery and chaos of this hellish world. In her pce, a devil - a ravenous beast whose appetites lie for from charity and altruism.

  The binding has turned her, corrupted her - made her insane. And now her poison infects my spirit too - her madness becomes my own, her emotions are mine. What she hates, I hate. What she fears, I fear. What she wants, I want. And oh the things she wants.

  *****

  My Goddess appears before me. Razor talons gleaming. Her elongated head always distresses me. It’s snapping mandibles concealing row after row of oscilting teeth. I have seen the things that maw can do and they scare the hell out of me.

  Her body is body is more akin to a spider or an ant than human. She has a human torso, skin shredded, dead and peeling, with sturdy armour ptes running up its centre line. Six elongated legs, each coated with a hair as sharp as a hypodermic needle, sprout from her body, keeping her upright, and two shorter upper arms with human-like razor cwed hands.

  She reaches an arm toward me, it’s razor cwed end ripping a jagged gash across my cheek before pulling her arm away again. She giggles - or close to it, as the smoke rises from the wound, leaving yet another scar across my already shredded face.

  She digs her cws into her stomach, her carapace cracking and popping as she cws away at the armour ptes that line her torso, sharp splinters firing in all directions, a few slice through my clothes, cutting my shirt to ribbons. Another hits my ankle. All part of the game.

  As my new wounds heal, my clothes begin to melt, leaving me standing naked in the freezing bathroom.

  My cock has swollen to gigantic size, the skin now purple with the strain, great white stretch marks coat its surface and a few deep splits than sting like a parade of bullet ants run deep down my shaft. By balls fare no better, each roughly the size of of the toilet they are now eclipsing.

  Not long now.

  My Goddess hisses, snarls as she cws away at her own chest. Then, lets out a deafening ulution that pierces my eardrums, rupturing them. I feel the blood drop to my shoulders as the bleed, my hearing destroyed - at least for the moment.

  She snarls at me, snaps and say’s something in a nguage so guttural and aggressive, it sets my teeth on edge, even though I can’t hear it. Her voice penetrates, cws its way into your body and bites down, chokes you, until you find yourself begging for release.

  “My Lady, please! Let us end this! Please, release me.”

  Her cwed fingers punch into the soft flesh beneath the armour ptes. Toxic-looking sludge slops out of the gaping wound in her torso as she rips and shreds it open.

  Before long the human torso is shredded clean up the middle, it’s ancient decaying organs trailing along, slopping out onto my bathroom floor. The smell is unbearable, a pungent mix of fecal matter, decay and vomit.

  She chitters something in her tongue, her words ringing loudly in my head.

  It is time. Grab the bde. Pierce the skin.

  I change to a dagger grip. Precision and delicacy has no presence here, only violence and power. My thumb pokes hard into the back of Her head, her perky breasts pressed against my fingers, the gold-painted nipples brushing against my skin.

  Grab the bde. Pierce the skin.

  I take a deep breath, forgetting entirely for the moment about the foul liquid crushing my throat. I regret it instantly. The liquid retreats momentarily and my lungs fill with the rancid air that infests my bathroom. My insides burn as the noxious mixture seeps into my bloodstream, mixing and mingling with the foul liquid.

  I feel it bubble. My body swells, my belly ruptures, blood and fat oozing out onto the tiles until the wound can heal itself. A few more wounds spring open, oozing and leaking before finally burning themselves shut.

  The floor is slick with gore as I raise my left hand high above my head.

  Pierce the skin.

  Pierce. The. Skin.

  Time slows to a crawl as I plunge my hand down, bde aiming directly at the head of my swollen dick. I watch as a crackling bck bde bursts from the Her razor cock, double edged and vicious, sprouting from her handle and growing bigger as my hand slowly glides toward its target.

  As Her razor cock makes contact, time speeds up again. Her cock plunges into my own, starting at the head, travelling deep into the shaft, slicing everything in its path.

  As I hilt the mystic bde against my skin, it vanishes and I pull my hand away as fast as possible.

  The liquid inside churns like a typhoon, ripping apart my organs as it goes, surging toward its target.

  The first of the wretched goo bursts from the wound in my cock in three short bursts, thick bck ropes of goo pstering the gore-filled cavity that was My Goddess’ chest. Then the pulsing begins - wave after wave of stinking bck sludge pulses through my cock wound, battering My Goddess, who stands there, her many eyes staring through me as she squeals and ulutes and shrieks in ecstasy.

  I know she enjoys it. I feel what she feels. Despite the grotesque scene pying out before me, I feel aroused I grope my swollen pumpkin-sized breast, squeezing my bloated nipples, pinching them between my fingertips until they leak.

  My other hand gropes blindly for something slipper. I find something, but I dare not check what it is. I spread it on my fingers, and across my hole, slipping a swollen sausage-like finger inside. Then another. And another.

  My Goddess and I squeal together as more of filth bursts out of me. My cock pulses as I plunge the depths of my hole, my cum mixing with the ooze as it spatters My Goddess.

  Her cavity is soon full, her skin knitting itself back together. Great scars form along the tear, only to become thick armour ptes once more.

  I’m still bloated, my stomach, balls and cock still swollen painfully. Pulsing and burning as they stretch, rip and heal over and over again.

  My legs are weak, my spirit broken. My Goddess, in her mercy, takes pity on me.

  She reaches out with her cwed hands and punctures my skin, fifty, sixty, maybe a hundred times, the filthy slime flowing out of me, surging like a river taking what’s life of my internals with it.

  She disappears.

  You did well.

  I colpse to the floor, my body shattered and broken. It will be hours before I’m fit to move again. Until then, I’m forced to lie here in the fetid sea of blood and fat and gore.