Copyright (c) 2018,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, May 28, 2018

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: wendri12.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: Tentacles/g(9) pre-teen girl, rape, preg

story_intro: Lita (from Chapter 7 - The Price of Escape) may have eluded her father's killers, but now she finds herself servicing a group of explorers in a mysterious land. But it is the little girl who will uncover what the men seek - to her own horror.


story_language: English





Wendria: Story 12 - Dark Discoveries

Written by madvlad


	For perhaps the hundredth time that day, much like any other, Lita looked around at the frost-covered scrublands and wrinkled her nose. So these were the Mithlands, the regions of Wendria that no one knew much about. That had led to fantastical speculations, stories, and songs. But for the girl, it was a most dreary and largely boring place.

	But at least no one was trying to kill her here.

	That last night in Burgos a little more than a month ago still haunted her. When she was alone during the day, she still wept for her kind-hearted and coldly murdered father. She didn't weep as much anymore but she missed him terribly nonetheless.

	Listening to talk around the campfires at night, Lita had pieced together enough information to have a clue as to why they were here. When the pilgrim ships arrived to Wendria from Old Home centuries ago, some of them supposedly landed on the islands and continents south of the planet's equator.

	In the early years, contact had been lost among many groups but was gradually re-established between places like her home country of Cadiz and others such as Languedoc, Etruscany, Anglia, Muscovy, East and West Vespana, and others. Later, other groups broke off and established independent island city-states like Hoganville and Tirith.

	But no trace of any of the more southern-bound pilgrims had ever been found. There were expeditions that came and went bringing back nothing except for later rumors that told of fantastic creatures and mysterious occurrences. But recently, a joint Anglian-Vespanan expedition had supposedly found...something.

	Ostensibly on friendly terms with those countries, Cadiz also was a competitor. If there were resources or settlements that could be accessed, they didn't want to be cut out and so came the mission that Raul, the man who had saved Lita in a most peculiar way, commanded.

	So far, Lita had seen nothing magical about the place. When the entire company of explorers and their porters were on the move, she walked until her feet were throbbing and then walked some more. When they had established a new camp, Lita was left alone as the others went searching for whatever it was they hoped to find.

	By late afternoon, she would start to cook one of her simple but hearty stews. When the men returned, she would mend any clothing that needed it. Later, in the dark after the dinner was long gone and the fires were low, she performed her other duties as camp girl. Each night, some of  them men would take turns with her as she spread her legs for them, providing them the warm and moist pleasure that her nine year-old body could provide.

	Then she was alone and bored again the following day. The only change was if one of the men managed to kill some native animal and bird to add to the night's dinner. It hadn't taken long for Lita to get over her squeamishness about skinning or plucking something before it went on a spit over the fire.

	A distant gunshot made Lita jerk her head up toward the southwest where the men had gone that morning. Perhaps there would be new meat tonight. Then there was a flurry of gunshots which made her stand up and peer into the distance although nothing was visible. Had there been a fight? But with who? Perhaps there were the Anglians that concerned Raul but Lita didn't think they were at war.

	A few more shots echoed and then there was nothing but the lonely winds that drifted across the largely barren place. Lita sat down and stared at nothing.

	Hours later, a solitary figure approached. As it drew closer, Lita saw that it moved oddly as if injured. So where were the others?

	She started walking to the man and she recognized Raul's parka. It was torn and blood-stained which made her heart race. While he had never been especially kind (or cruel) to her, he had been her savior from that horrible night. Her walk became a trot and, when he didn't answer her calls, became a run.

	It wasn't until she was nearly upon him that she saw that his face was all wrong. It wasn't a face - it was a crawling thing in the shadows under his parka hood. The arms reached out to her but instead of hands there were red, snake-like things that shot out from the sleeves. They grabbed her and tore at her clothes.

	Lita remembered screaming and then nothing else.

	It was dark and she was cold. Stirring, she felt sand beneath her naked body and wondered where she was. As her eyes adjusted, she understood that she was in a cave. Far ahead, she could catch a glimpse of low gray light from the opening.

	She sat up and took inventory of her body. Aside from her missing clothing - she shuddered at her vague memory of the thing wearing Raul's clothes - she was intact and unharmed. Strangely, she wasn't panicking. After everything that had happened to her, she didn't frighten quite as easily anymore although she was certainly feeling the crawling sensations of nervousness.

	Then she heard the movements of something heavy sliding through the cave dirt. No, there was more than one of them. Now the panic was rising but any course of action she might have had was taken away once she was seized.

	They were thick and strong as they wrapped around her midsection and limbs. When Lita tried to shout, one of them plugged her mouth and slid all the way into her throat. As she thrashed with a desperate effort to breathe, one of the other things stung her in the back and need for air suddenly vanished. Then the thing in her throat began to move in a way she knew from when the men were between her legs.

	Lita's legs were pulled widely apart and with the movement in her throat, she became aware of how acutely exposed she was down there. When the tip of another one of those things explored her bald snatch and oozed something from its pores, she knew very well its intent.

	What she was not prepared for was the size. Her vocal chords vibrated against the thing sliding in her throat as a muscular tentacle ripped into her preteen twat. Her small tunnel expanded brutally and she feared she be torn apart inside. Hammering away at the little girl's cunt, the appendage's secretions softened her cervix. Lita's awareness of the changes being made to her body only came about when she experienced a second penetration.

	Her body jerked in the tentacles' grasp as the thing shot through her dilated opening and began raping her all the way into her womb. She could feel the grotesque swelling of her stomach with every stroke as her immature sex organs became a pleasure socket for the thing. When the tentacle swelled inside her straining young snatch, she feared she would burst. Instead, it was the tentacle that suddenly released, slamming her with huge pulses of semen that made her hugely rounded tummy pulse.

	At the same time, the one in her throat ejaculated down her throat, letting her feel the flow as it filled her stomach. Then both of them withdrew from her body. With her mouth clear, Lita moaned pitifully as the hot jism that had been injected through her violated twat now poured from it, coating her hairless mound and much of her thighs.

	But there were other factors at work as well, altering her reproductive biology until her ovaries released an egg years before they were meant to. Another tentacle bored into the nine year-old's pussy. Despite having just been raped there, she was still tight and the creature that controlled the tentacle enjoyed the heat of the little mammal as it squeezed its member into her for another round of obscene copulation.

	Lita mumbled incoherently as the tentacle plunged in and out of the gooey mess of her tiny rape hole. That was what it was - that was what she was - a cluster of little rape holes. That was what the creatures were thinking as they violated her mind as they did her body.

	[Fresh meat]

	[Puppet for fucking]

	[A healthy one. Many offspring]

	[Little cow]

	[Yes, little cow for milking and breeding]

	Another roiling burst of tentacle sperm washed into her womb and Lita felt the surge of triumph from the beings.

	[She is bred]

	Clutching her belly, she tried to reconcile that something - one of these things - was about to grow inside of her. She wanted to retch but a tentacle invaded her throat. Through their thoughts, she sickly realized that the semen that was getting pumped into her stomach was the nutrition that would keep her alive.

	The next tentacle was just for their its own fun. It wasn't for Lita as it twisted between her pert little buttocks. The thrust that penetrated her anus made the little orifice tear slightly but the creature was unconcerned as it tunneled into the nine year-old's virgin ass. Held aloft, Lita thought of the fresh meat that had been cooked over a spit at the campfires. Now it was she who was skewered as the tentacles fucked into her mouth and ass.

	The tentacle in her bottom twisted and flexed as it savagely stroked inside the child's body. Lita's rectum was bruised and stretched as the tentacle meat continued to pound through it and slowly penetrated her bowels even deeper. The tip of the thing was in her colon when the entire length sent pulses of hot jism through it, making her taught innards expand before the huge wad of creature semen flooded the little girl's lower digestive tract.

	Weeks passed and Lita felt her body changing. The creatures were somewhat free with their thoughts and she found she could read them best when her abuse was at its most painful. Her prematurely produced human egg lost its human genetic characteristics as the Wendrian sperm altered it to conform with the dominant species. There were others like her, descendants of the first ones here. But those successive generations that were kept for slavery and breeding were becoming smaller and sicklier.

	Young girls like her had shorter reproductive lifespans and when they were no longer of breeding use, they were kept as sex toys or relegated to physical slavery like the human males that were kept. It had been an error to not allow more females to be left to breed and grow the captive human population but the creatures were fervent in feeding their rapacious desires.

	Her purpose was to be fucked and to produce the offspring as the creatures would continuously impregnate her after she gave birth. As the creatures had noted, she was healthy and fresh. Her ripeness showed in her bulging belly. Where her body had recently been quite slender, her pregnancy-inflated midsection now made her quite round. Above where her expanded womb pushed her tummy out, the nine year-old had sprouted little breasts.

	Her new mammaries hurt as well as they were often engorged with mother's milk. Tentacles frequently attached themselves to the prepubescent titlets, roughly sucking them empty although they would be painfully full again in an hour. Her constant milking was just one source of her agony and humiliation as her mouth and ass were often used as well while her cunny was left alone only to protect the gruesome baby that shifted and flexed within its little mother's womb.

	With her throbbing asshole agape as it leaked the recently deposited load of semen, Lita crawled forward toward the mouth of the cave. She wanted to see sunlight and the creatures didn't seem to mind. After all, there was nowhere out there that could provide her with sanctuary.

	She stared out at the empty land, hearing the faint roar of the surf from the nearby coastline. Something floated along the breezes above. Squinting, Lita thought it was an unusual bird. When she registered what she was seeing, she made herself stand. After a few halting steps, she managed to break into a wobbling run and exited the cave.

	As she piloted her cloud skipper craft along the coastal winds, Amelia was having a few second thoughts. To start with, her first experience with a landmass in the Mithlands left her unimpressed. It was largely empty with some odd, scrubby bushes and some rocky formations. Ever since she could remember, she had dreamed of the Mithlands as a place of intrigue and magic with unicorns prancing across meadows overlooked by ivory castles.

	Wistfully, she would have liked to have seen even one unicorn but could understand why this place held no attraction. They seemed like fascinating creatures but of course there were none on Wendria. Stories of them had come here with the pilgrims, so she figured that there must have been plenty of them on Old Home.

	Her other question about her earlier thinking had been volunteering for this flight. She and Dor had arrived off the coast of...whatever this place was called...aboard the Portland when it left on this unplanned excursion from Hoganville. Amelia knew it was serious business because all unofficial passengers had to disembark prior to leaving.

	Although they conveyed passengers and cargo, most airships were part of their respective nations' military and could be rigged for battle when needed. A few weeks earlier, another such vessel, the even larger Auckland, had left Hoganville only to abruptly return to unload unnecessary passengers before racing south to the Mithlands.

	For reasons not explained to Dor and Amelia, the Portland was now ordered elsewhere before it could rendezvous with the Auckland. There was classified information that needed to get to the Auckland so it was decided that the best way to get it there would be by courier instead of risking detection through wireless transmission. Additionally, there were maps that the dots and dashes of Morse code could not replicate.

	What this meant was that a cloud skipper pilot would have to fly solo for up to ten hours. That was an arduous flight under normal circumstances but with the winds here and no known settlements around, it was downright dangerous. In the warm cabin of the Portland, Amelia had volunteered. After hearing of this, Dor tried to intervene, insisting that someone with more strength and experience should do it but Amelia was having none of it. Yes, she was only eleven years old, but how else was she going to get experience?

	Now as she was buffeted in her eight hour of flight, Amelia had reluctantly conceded to herself that perhaps Dor had been right. But Amelia had been so adamant to prove herself that she hadn't given enough consideration to the hazards of this flight. What should have been telling was Dor's caution. The Kengrell woman was usually the wild one whether she was in the air, on the ground and spoiling for a flight, or in bed.

	Since they had left Yorkton to come to Hoganville, here hadn't been a night on board the Portland that Dor hadn't had her head between Amelia's legs to make a wet feast out of the preteen's hairless quim. Despite her present circumstances, the memories of Dor's invading tongue coupled with the vibrations of her craft made Amelia twitch in her crotch.

	Cursing, Amelia refocused on catching glides in the wind. This flight was bad enough without her getting distracted in that way. Besides, Dor was on her way to wherever the Portland was bound and Amelia would be alone aboard the Auckland.

	All she had to do was make it there.

	Glancing again at the land off to her left, Amelia caught some movement. It wasn't a unicorn, though; it was a person. They were running awkwardly and waving their hands. Amelia was about to wave back when she squinted through her goggles. Whoever it was - likely female from the length of the dark hair - they were naked and it was entirely too cold for that.

	This was most likely trouble - maybe a shipwreck or pirates - but Amelia couldn't ignore it. After considering on reporting this once she was on the Auckland, she decided that immediate action was needed. Banking her craft into an arcing dive, she flew lower as passed overhead.

	The person was a little girl! She was waddling awkwardly and Amelia wondered if she was injured. She hadn't had a very good look but now she turned around and landed her craft not far from the girl.

	That was when her next surprise came. From her height, the girl was a few years younger than Amelia but her belly was huge. Not fat, but very pregnant. She even had small breasts to make her look even more peculiar. When she got close to Amelia, she began speaking breathlessly. Although Amelia was pretty sure the other girl was speaking Spanish, she couldn't understand what she was saying.

	What was evident, though, was the girl's terror. She was pointing to the seat on Amelia's craft and Amelia understood that. Cloud skipping craft could take a passenger but it made them more sluggish in the air. This was why most pilots were of slight stature. But this kid needed to get out of here so Amelia scooted forward to give the other girl more room.

	Amelia felt the girl's belly pressing against her back and the girl's hands gripping the sides of her jacket. Ordinarily, the passenger would have wrapped their arms around the pilot but the girl's midsection was just too big.

	"Vamanos! Vamanos!" the girl screamed.

	Amelia didn't know the exact translation of the word but understood it meant, "Let's get the hell out of here - now!" Pressing her left foot on the lift thruster pedal, Amelia fought the urge to stomp it. The sudden acceleration, especially with her new load, would likely shoot them in the air before toppling over. Instead, she let the craft smoothly climb at a slower rate despite the other girl's panicked pleas.

	Despite a few wobbles, Amelia was feeling more confident as they gradually gained altitude. She was getting a good feel for the craft under its added weight.

	Suddenly, something erupted from the snowy ground. It was huge and red, waving as it reached for Amelia's craft. Amelia juked, feeling her stomach lurch as the craft shuddered unsteadily. It wasn't made for sudden maneuvers when nearly overloaded with weight like this. The tentacle slashed down, the tip of it barely missing Amelia's leg.

	Another one rose up and Amelia swerved to avoid it. There were more of them and her turns, while successful in making the things miss, also kept her from climbing out of their reach. If she could get out over the ocean, they would be okay but Amelia soon understood that the tentacles were corralling her away from the coastline.

	When another tentacle suddenly loomed ahead, Amelia eyed one rising on her right between her and the water. She was about to turn left when a shrill scream cut the air.

	"YYYYYAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYIIIIIIIII"

	Another cloud skipper swooped down. The purple hair swirling out from under the leather helmet told Amelia who it was. In one hand, Dor held a short stick she always had strapped to her craft. Amelia had seen her attach different blades to it and demonstrate the variety of weapons she could make.

	This time, there was a razor edged spear head on it and Amelia could see the crackles of blue light that meant Dor had added an azurine shocker pack to it. As the spear head sliced through the tentacle, the blue energy crackled and the appendage dropped away. The last ten feet of it was nearly severed and the wound smoked.

	With the threat gone, Amelia went right and made for the ocean unimpeded. Once she was (relatively) safe over the water, she watched as Dor made her craft dance about as she stabbed and slashed at several more tentacles. Although it was cold, the sun was clear and Amelia saw the glittering of Dor's metal-clad teeth as her mouth was stretched in a fierce grin. Finally, the young woman steered her craft away and formed up next to Amelia's.

	Trying to talk in the open wind was impossible and Amelia simply resumed course. The girl behind her was shivering greatly but there was nothing Amelia could do about that. Aside from darting her eyes in Amelia's direction every now and then, Dor did nothing but faithfully remain at Amelia's side.

	Although the small chronometer on Amelia's craft only showed another forty-five minutes since they had escaped those monsters, it felt like another full day had elapsed. Her passenger was weakening - Amelia could feel her hands relaxing before suddenly squeezing her jacket and making it pull more tightly.

	Dor shouted something - one syllable - and jerked her chin to the front. It was another thirty seconds before Amelia began to make out the massive outline of an approaching Endeavour-class airship. Amelia flicked on her red flashers to signal an emergency and quickly saw a responding signal from the Auckland.

	When she landed, she slumped forward against the craft's handlebars. Exhausted, she barely paid attention to the crew members who bundled the oddly pregnant little girl in blankets and carried her off. It wasn't until Dor tapped her shoulder that she dismounted. It was almost an afterthought, but she remembered the sealed pouch and took it with her to give to a Mr. Edgerton.

	Clive Edgerton added some fresh tobacco to his pipe as he sat in the stateroom at a medium-sized table with his three Intelligence compatriots. One, Michael Lewiston, was a fellow Anglian, Yorkton-born, while Bo Dalton originally hailed from some hole-in-wall mining town in West Vespana. The fourth member of their group was Liam Barrow, an engineer from Boston, before being recruited into their current trade.

	They had been returning from an expedition in the Mithlands when word reached them that a Cadizian expedition was now poking about on the same continent where they had been. What had been a sudden spying mission for the Auckland to keep an eye on their brethren from Cadiz had turned into an intelligence boon.

	Evidently, the little girl that the younger cloud skipper had rescued was the sole survivor of the Cadizian party. She had gone into labor shortly after landing and Clive had been on hand to see what had been only rumor emerge from the poor girl's birth canal. The thing had been immediately tranquilized and was now secure in a tank. Whether it lived or not, it would be heavily studied when they returned to Anglia.

	The girl, Angelita, had been sedated and allowed to sleep for two days. Professional detachment aside, Clive had been relieved to hear from the doctor that the girl's body was recovering well from her forced pregnancy and seemed to be returning to its proper, prepubescent state in all regards. No one, especially a child, deserved the hell she had been through.

	Fluent in Spanish, Clive had learned the girl's entire story over the three days after she fully awoke. At first, she was naturally frightened at her strange surroundings and the strange people around her. But Clive had sent for the blonde cloud skipper, Amelia, who established some rapport with the girl although they could understand little of each other's words. It was Amelia who determined that the other girl preferred to be called Lita and that seemed to ease the Cadizian child's tension.

	But now there was the question of the two cloud skippers - Amelia and the young Kengrell woman, Dor. They might have to be quarantined at a base for security purposes but as the four men discussed this, they knew that a pair of missing cloud skippers who were from one of the guild houses would create more rumors - rumors that Cadizian (and other) spies might use to piece together a larger puzzle.

	Surprisingly, it was the wild-looking Kengrell who settled things when the two pilots were brought into stateroom. Clive had begun by stressing the importance of silence when Dor interrupted him.

	"Nnno," she stated as she showed her peculiar teeth. "I tttell everyone about big monsters and monster babies in little girls. Nnno one think I'm crazy and everybody want me to fly for them."

	Bo chuckled.

	"Sure - there's no quicker ticket to gettin' locked up in the crazy farm than to tell the truth," he observed as Dor nodded cagily.

	Clive observed the Kengrell - there was more to her than her outward appearance said.

	"Perhaps," he said. "There will be an opportunity for both of you to work for us on these sensitive matters as long as you show discretion."

	Amelia looked as if she had enough of adventures for a while but Dor smiled wildly, which was an unsettling sight.

	"I lllove good fights," she enthused as she clapped an arm around Amelia's thin shoulders. "And shhhe will learn. I ttteach her all kinds of things."

	Amelia turned beet red at that and didn't say anything as the pair left. Michael was the first to speak after they were alone.

	"With that settled, where shall we put Lita when we arrive in Yorkton?"

	"We won't," Clive replied. "The chaps from Cadiz will surely know we've been up to something they will have descriptions of their expedition members - perhaps even photo-types. No, I'm thinking that Liam, here, can bring her home to Boston. Not a foolproof plan, mind you, but I don't think the Cadizians would think that we Anglians would send our prize to another country."

	Liam said nothing but raised his eyebrows.

	"Lita is learning some English, now," Clive explained. "She'll have enough to suffice when we settle her in a boarding school. Have you heard of the Gilchrest Academy, Liam?"

	"I know of it," the Bostonian acknowledged.

	"Splendid place for girls - they receive a wonderful education and much refinement. There's some sort of trust that funds the place and they take in orphans."

	"So what's one more girl in a school full of them?" Liam noted.

	"Precisely," Clive said with a triumphant puff of his pipe. "Our Lita will be well cared for and certainly shouldn't have to worry about any encounters with tentacled creatures, will she?"

	


Copyright (c) 2018 madvlad

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm


























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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