Intermission

The pain shooting through her legs was outweighed by the searing agony she felt in her face. It filled her mind and left her unable to think clearly. As her helmet fell away, she heard Remedios screaming at Jaldabaoth, but she could barely focus on her words.

The voice left, but the last thing she remembered before she could remember nothing else was, “Still alive? There is potential here.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Calca Bessarez awoke to a world of darkness. She blinked, but no light reached her eyes. She made to touch her face, but found that her hands were bound, and her feet as well.

Then she remembered what had happened before, and a squeak of fright escaped her mouth before she could clamp down on it.

Unfortunately, it was enough.

"Awake so soon, your Holy Majesty? My, you are resilient. Bringing you back was the right decision to make."

Calca froze. That was the voice of the man - the demon - who had ravaged her country. That was the voice of Jaldabaoth.

"Come, time is going to waste. We must introduce you to your fiance and your people without delay."

"Fiance?" The word was so out of place that she could not help but repeat it.

"Oh yes," the oily, voice continued. "You are almost 25, are you not? A long time for a maiden to go unwed, especially one whose beauty was hailed as the treasure of her nation. When the nobles spread spiteful gossip about your... intimacy with the Custodio sisters, I am sure that there was no small amount of jealousy there."

Calca's face flushed, and she averted her face reflexively despite not being able to see. She had experimented a few times with Remedios and Kylardo... but that was just a misadventure of youth, and all the girls did it anyway!

"And so, in my largesse, despite your unprovoked attack on my person, I have labored to secure you a match with an eligible member of royalty. He is renowned for his breeding."

The way he said that last word sent a chill down Calca's spine. She had the feeling that regardless of how he spoke to her, he saw her as nothing more than a head of livestock.

Suddenly, she was blinded by sudden light as her blindfold was removed, and she whimpered as she squeezed her eyes shut. When she managed to squint them open again, she found that she was in a bedroom of some sort. Jaldabaoth stood before her, no longer in his fiery form, but the mask he wore was no less sinister.

Calca found that she could move her hands and feet. Right after that, she realised that she was in a simple, sheer shift. As she felt the fabric against her skin, she discovered that her wounds had been healed. She paused to feel her face, and there was a brief smile of relief as she found that her fair features had been restored. She went through a gamut of expressions as she sought to reassure herself that her looks had returned, the strangeness of the situation long forgotten.

And then, Jaldabaoth voice called her back to reality.

"Are you satisfied? It would be untoward to deliver a bride to her groom in anything less than pristine condition, after all. 「Now follow me」."

Before she could even think of the implications of those words, her legs were already moving as she trailed after Jaldabaoth. She tried to resist him, but her body refused to respond to her commands. It was as though her mind was just along for the ride. This must be some kind of magic, she thought, but as she made to cast [Magic Destruction] she found that she could not summon up her mana.

“Have you not noticed yet? You are a very valuable specimen, and so if you try to harm yourself, it will automatically heal you. Of course, the price for that is a constant drain on your mana pool until it reaches nothing… but the merits outweigh the flaws, do they not?”

Calca sighed despondently, and then as they walked along a corridor, she heard strange noises coming from the other end.

No - she recognized those noises.

They were cries. Human cries. Cries of pain, and - what were those?

They emerged into a brightly-lit chamber -- the main auditorium of the Grand Cathedral, in fact -- and there Calca saw something beyond her ability to comprehend. It was filled with human females, and behind them, or pressing down on them, or holding them in some strange position were--

"--Demihumans," Calca breathed.

Yes. The grand audience hall, which typically hosted sermons on holy days, was instead filled with countless demihumans as far as the eye could see, each of them with a human female in their grasp--

Calca’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she realised the significance of their lack of clothing, the rhythmic, pumping movements each pair made, and why the girls were in the positions that they were.

They were making love. No, that was far too gentle a term for what was taking place here. Perhaps if she were a cruder person, she might have used the term “fucking”, but all Calca knew that this was a far more savage version of what she and the sisters had whispered about when they had found a book of forbidden art.

One girl was bouncing up and down on a veiny brown shaft that pistoned in and out of her puffy, overstretched sex. The Minotaur behind her held her arms while his raised knees kept her legs spread wide open, and the girl’s belly bulged every time he buried himself balls-deep inside her. Her eyes had rolled up in her head and she looked like she had passed out, and the look on her face was somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

Another one had a full round belly that kept her swollen breasts from touching the chest of the strange goat-like demihuman she was facing. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her eyes were closed, and she looked like she was actually ramming herself down on the phallus that disappeared into her ass. Calca could not even conceive of how an aperture for exit could be used for entry.

A third one was practically invisible under the massive porcine demihuman squashing her, and she croaked like a frog every time he forced his rod deep into her. However, the look of stupefied bliss on her face and the big wet puddle between them suggested that their congress was not unwelcome.

“What… what is this…?”

“For centuries, the Holy Kingdom has persecuted the demihumans of the Abelion Hills. You can see where that has led you. Instead of enmity, I offer an alternative; coexistence. Diversity. Union. Not long ago, these women would have cut these young men down because they were taught to do so. Now, they are in touch with their inner nature, and they now bid them welcome.”

Jaldabaoth walked on, and Calca’s body dragged the rest of her along without any regard for her protests. She passed all manner of carnal couplings, some of which defied the very laws of nature, let alone common sense, as she was down the central aisle, which was surprisingly clear of fornication. However, as she walked, she saw several common points with all the girls she passed; fingers dug into backs, legs locked around waists, tearful cries of “Yes” or “more” or “I love you”, toes curling as they shuddered in ecstasy, and so on.

How could they… do this?

Calca could not comprehend it. They were… demihumans. They were things. How could these girls enjoy this…

This was when Calca realized it.

Her nipples, naked under her cotton garment, were hard as rubies, tenting out against the fabric. There was a dull ache between her legs and she could feel a sticky moistness as her thighs rubbed against each other. Her breathing was faster, shallower now, and there was a heat rising from somewhere in her lower body, making her breasts and neck and cheeks and forehead tingle.

Does it really feel that good?

She saw a Gnoll slam his thick manhood into a mewling girl’s battered quim with meaty slapping sounds, and she imagined that she was the one lying there instead, her back arched off the floor with her legs spread as wide as they would go, her butt soaking in a puddle of their mingled fluids, feeling that shaft pound her harder and harder and harder…

No! I can’t! This is wrong! she mentally protested, but with each throb of her aroused petals, she could feel her resistance slowly ebbing away.

“Do you like what you see?” Jaldabaoth continued. “Just as well. That attitude will stand you in good stead for what is about to come -- ah, here we are.”

Jaldabaoth and Calca now stood before the main altar, where she and Kylardo and the other priests would have conducted the ritual of Holy Fire to offer their devotion to the gods. However, the priests were gone, and so was Kylardo… or not.

Out of an antechamber came Kylardo, dressed in her priestess’ robes, but bent over at a ninety- degree angle. Her arms were pulled out behind her like reins by a demihuman who must have stood at least seven feet tall. Calca gasped, both because she recognized the person her advisor, and then at the look of sheer debauched lust on Kylardo’s face.

It was an Orc, and he was jackhammering Kylardo like he wanted to break her open with his manhood. On her part, Kylardo’s tongue was lolling out and her eyes were rolled up in her head, her breasts swinging wildly inside her robes as she went “aaaAaaAaaAaa” every time a thunderous thrust shook her body.

“Dear Custodio-san, your Queen has arrived, and I believe she is in need of your services.”

It took a while before the demon’s words filtered into her ears, but it was only when the Orc stopped fucking her that she finally managed to piece her mind back together and pay attention to something other than her crotch.

“...Ahhhhh Calca-samaaaa…” she breathed, still basking in the afterglow of her congress. “This is soooo gooood… you should try it… Orbold-sama says he wants to make children with me…”

Calca recoiled as she saw how thoroughly her former confidante had fallen into the grip of her bestial desire. She then thought that she might well end up the same way and shuddered with fear.

“Focus, Custodio-san. You have a job to do. Grunbul?”

In response to Jaldabaoth’s question, what Calca had taken to be a pillar stepped out of the antechamber. It stood even taller than the orc, and it exuded a powerful odor that made Calca wrinkle her nose. Calca turned to look at it, and then realised that it was a he, in account of the thing that hung between his legs.

He was an Ogre, but he was clearly not an ordinary Ogre. He was taller and bulkier than any Ogre she had heard the paladins speak of before, with a regal bearing and the gleam of wisdom in his eye, but she paid little attention to the rest of him because her eyes were drawn to his groin.

Surely that must be his… shaft. It looked to be at least the size of her arm, and it swayed with every step he took. It was so large she took it to be a third leg at first, and even after realizing what it was, she could not take it for a sexual organ.

“Your Majesty, this is Grunbul, the Ogrelord. As you can see, he is a fine physical specimen, and quite intelligent too. When I asked him to join my forces, he dispensed with the usual and futile resistance and promptly bent the knee. The truth is, he is tired of war, and wishes for peace between the Holy Kingdom and the demihumans.”

Calca blinked. She had no idea what Jaldabaoth was talking about. Peace? After ravaging the Holy Kingdom? That sounded so ridiculous she could not begin to begin to deny it.

“As such, I have decided that perhaps it would be best if the two of you were to wed. [You do consent, don’t you?]”

“Yes, I do,” Calca said before she realised what she jad just said, and then her hands flew to her mouth in horror.

Just like before, her body had responded independently of her will. However, while Jaldabaoth could compel her actions, but her emotions were still her own. Then the implications of “wedding” slowly began to sink in, and she looked at Grunbul’s member again with horror in her eyes.

If, if this Ogre held her down, spread her legs like all those other girls, and forced it into her…

I’ll die, she thought, and then Kylardos interrupted her.

“Ah, so greedy, Calca-sama, you’re not even married yet and you’re already eying the best part of him~”

The priestess giggled in the way she did when she and Remedios traded spicy gossip in their private time. Of course, her mirth was not the pure laughter of an innocent maiden, but that of a lewd woman eager to welcome fresh meat into the fold. Or onto the pole, as it were.

“Marvellous,” Jaldabaoth chuckled from behind his mask. She could not see his face, but Calca had the feeling that he was grinning broadly. “[Walk with Grunbul, then,]” he said, and with a glance to the Orc and the Ogre, Jaldabaoth walked off. The Ogre moved, and Calca was powerless to do anything but follow.

Along the way, the Ogre put his hand on her shoulder. It then slid down her back until it cupped her entire right hip, his thick fingers pressing into the cleft of her ass, her lower belly, and her thigh. Grunbul chuckled like he was holding a piece of meat, and Calca winced with revulsion.

Before long, they reached a large balcony. Calca remembered this place as well; it overlooked a grand plaza where she or some other high priest would address the people on holy days.

Just as it was before Jaldabaoth’s invasion, it was filled with people. However, they were a tired, bedraggled group of beaten prisoners, surrounded by demihumans of all shapes and sizes. They had clearly been herded here for some purpose, but what sort of purpose could that be?

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jaldabaoth began in his even, penetrating voice that seemed to work its way into her ears. “The reports of her death have been greatly exaggerated, but she is alive and well, as you can see. I give you your Holy Queen, Calca Bessarez. ”

He glanced at Grunbul, who nodded and forced her forward. Unsure of how to react, Calca peered over the balcony, and as her dispirited people saw her, light returned to their faces.

“Calca-sama!” “It’s her!” “She’s still alive!” “Save us, Calca-sama!”

Countless such pleas rose up from the masses, and Calca’s heart ached as she realized how badly her people had suffered. But before she could speak, Jaldabaoth’s next words left her dumbfounded.

“Your Queen feels that rather than prolonging the enmity between yourself and the surrounding demihumans, you would be better served by embracing them with open arms and hearts. But of course she will not ask you to do anything she would not do herself. Thus, she has announced her intention to wed a member of demihuman royalty, the Ogre Lord Grunbul.”

The huge Ogre stepped forward beside her, and from a corner of the plaza came the hoots and grunts of his fellow tribesmen as they cheered him on. They drowned out the gasps from the human prisoners as they looked at Calca with bewildered eyes.

“Now, with all of you as witnesses, [Holy Queen Calca shall become the wife of Ogrelord Grunbul]. Custodio-san, if you will do the honors?”

Kylardos approached with a conspiratorial wink in her eye.

“We’ll use the simplified rite. I’m sure you’re ready to go. I know I am.”

Behind her, the Orc chuckled as he eyed the priestess’ posterior.

“Ogrelord Grunbul, do you take Holy Queen Calca Bessarez to be your wife?”

“Naturally,” he rumbled in a surprisingly articulate voice. Calca was so surprised by the disconnect between that voice and his looks that she did not realize that Kylardos was already moving on.

“Well then. Holy Queen Calca Bessarez, do you take the Ogrelord Grunbul to be your husband?”

“I do,” her lips said despite herself, and inside she screamed No, gods, please, no, please make it stop. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and deny reality, and as she did, thin rills of tears spilled out and ran down her cheeks.

“Wonderful,” Jaldabaoth said, clapping slowly. “Now, I believe it is the groom’s tradition to consummate marriages on the spot, no? Then let us proceed with without delay. Grunbul.”

Before Calca could speak, the Ogrelord placed his hands on her shoulder. Cries of alarm came from below as the prisoners thought their queen was about to be torn bodily in two, but instead Grunbul hooked his fingers into her shift and ripped it open, leaving her immaculate, unspoilt body bare before him. The cold wind hardened her nipples into tiny rubies, while goosebumps appeared on her fine, delicate skin that had been maintained by her specialized spells.

The Ogre’s hands were a brief respite from winter’s chill, but Calca’s blood ran cold when he proceeded to lift her up, still facing him. They were quite some distance above the ground… a fall here might not be fatal, but it would hardly be mild. She squeezed her eyes shut in fear, thinking Is he going to throw me down? Please don’t-- and then the sensation of something resting on her belly made her open her eyes again. When she saw what it was, she wailed in mixed horror and surprise.

Grunbul’s length was hardened now, in anticipation of his coming conquest, and it reached all the way up to her breasts from between her legs. It was warty and callused, and its tip was a surprisingly bright pink which leaked a drop of pearly fluid. Calca thrashed and struggled, but to no avail; against the Ogrelord’s strength, she was as helpless as a baby.

“No, please, stop! I’ll die! If you put it in me, I’ll die!” she pleaded. Her partner simply chuckled, then raised Calca up until his massive tip was resting against her virgin petals. It was big, it was so big, and as Grunbul pressed himself into her she felt her most secret place stretch and distend around him as the huge phallus worked its way into her.

She had fingered herself before, of course, and Remedios and Kylardos had played with her in turn. But those had just been fingers. Grunbul’s member was as long as her slender arm and five times as thick. Naturally, when it went in, it hurt. It hurt so much that no other pain she had experienced before mattered, and as inch after inch slid inside she felt something tearing within her. She could not speak for the pain, so she thought, he’ll break me, he’ll tear me in half as her eyes rolled up and her tongue hung out of her mouth. But then Grunbul grabbed her by the hips, and then he twisted her body first left, then right, as though he were using her sex to polish his shaft. Surprisingly enough, it felt... good. The pain was still there, but the more the Ogrelord did it, the more it faded away, to be replaced by pleasure. The sensation, combined with the knowledge that Grunbul was in complete control of her, was starting to wear away at her fear and uncertainty. The mix of fluids was soon joined by her own sex juices, which only made it easier for Grunbul to grind her and impale her ever deeper,

Calca had been groaning in pain at first, but the more her partner’s shaft entered her, the less it hurt, until she felt her distended lips around the base of his shaft. Looking down, she saw that her belly was bulging out to the point where she looked to be six months pregnant. She had the feeling that some of her internal organs had been rearranged by the massive intruder within her, but the thought did not fill her with horror, but anticipation.

“Ready? Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be speeding up now.”

After going to all that effort to lodge his phallus into Calca, pulling it out felt like it was going to take her guts with her. Fortunately, her juices made the process easier, but she still felt a tremendous sense of loss as the thing which had formerly filled her up slowly departed her body. Just before it left, however, Grunbul pressed back inside her, and the delicious burning fullness she did not know she had missed came back as she felt each and every lump and bump on his cock through the inner layers of her sex. She grunted now, not with pain; quite the opposite, in fact.

In this moment, she could understand why the girls she had passed earlier were so eager to mate with these demihumans. How could human males even compete? How could they dominate her so utterly, treat her like a sack of meat fit only to hold their shafts and seed? Only demihumans could do that.

Grunbul paid no heed to her as he pulled out again, then pressed back in, faster this time. It was accompanied by a wet squelch as their mixed fluids fell from where their groins were joined. Each measured, potent thrust whited her mind out with sensation as he bottomed out inside her, and she only came to when he pulled back, only to have her mind vanish into sweet oblivion as he hilted into her once more. Calca did not notice her incoherent murmurings of “yes” and “ahhh” and “oh god”, the bulging of her belly or the fact that her pale inner thighs were stained a frothy pink by a mix of his churned-up precum, the blood from her most definitely ruptured hymen, and her own liquid arousal. Neither did she notice the disturbed gasps and pleas from below, until Jaldabaoth admonished them to “[Watch your queen’s noble example in silence]”

Soon, the sound of squelching was joined by slapping, as Grunbul’s massive balls smacked meatily into Calca’s plump rear and he slammed her widely-split crotch down on his shaft. Calca was no longer capable of coherent speech; she simply burbled nonsense with a stupefied smile on her face as the Ogrelord’s cock wiped away all rational thought with each hastening thrust into her, until at last he could bear it no longer and held her tight against him as he discharged his seed deep into her depths. Fortunately, she had subconsciously locked her legs around him, otherwise she might have fallen when her sweat-slicked body slipped in his fingers. Then, as if to display a trophy, Grunbul held his freshly-fucked wife before him, showing the incontrovertible proof of their union. As his Ogres cheered in the background, a huge dollop of his seed -- still only a fraction of what he had poured into Calca -- oozed out of her overstretched hole and splattered wetly on the square below.

Calca’s tongue lolled out of her mouth as her eyes swept the plaza. But she did not see them, and there was no room in her head for her people. All she wanted was cock - the cock of the monster holding her up.

***

Three months later:

The Ogrelord knelt before the former throne of the Holy Queen until he was permitted to rise. Jaldabaoth looked coldly down on him as he gave his report, both on their military operations and the state of his wife.

Well, breeding sow would be a better term. Grunbul had the unique talent of being able to sire offspring with humanoids. However, due to his obvious physicality and the size of his offspring, every attempted pregnancy had ended with the demise of both mother and child.

Therefore, he had been quite delighted when Jaldabaoth suggested that he might have a potential candidate who could survive the process. And indeed, she had; Calca Bessarez, or Subject 1, had just delivered her third half-breed child, and by all accounts, she was quite happy to be chosen for that duty. The half-ogre offspring were almost as strong as regular ogres, but more intelligent, and very loyal.

Eventually there would be a sufficiently large breeding pool that they would no longer need to go back to the original pair for cross. But Grunbul seemed to have taken a liking to his new wife, given how he spoke glowingly of her whenever he reported to Jaldabaoth.

Well, it doesn’t matter, Demiurge thought.

Ainz-sama had just told him that he was on his way. And apparently, Subject 3’s sister had been a bit too vocal about her eager desire to make use of him. As such, Ainz had given him permission to capture her when he was ready.

Won’t that be nice, three friends, united in motherhood and with the enemies they had spent their lives learning to hate.