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~°•°~
Holly was blindfolded, their hands bound behind their back. They stood on unsteady legs, shaking as they pressed them together, attempting to hide the dripping mess between.
When a hand touched their waist, they flinched, not expecting it, then when they recognised it as Grimm's flame-warmed one, they melted against the touch. He drew them to him and ensnared them in his four armed grasp as he pried open their mouth. He kissed them, deep and passionate, mandibles clashing against theirs and proboscis licking into their throat. They gagged on him, soundless, and he chuckled.
When he ran a hand up their spine, slow and sensual, they shivered, pressing their crotch into him instinctively. They expected him to throw them on the bed and take them . . . only for him to push them away.
Blind and unbalanced, a scared pit opened in their stomach as they braced for a fall, only to land in the arms of another bug. Just as warm and just as familiar as the first one. They didn’t question it as they gasped, shocked and disoriented. They had no time anyway as this other Grimm immediately stuffed two fingers into their slit. Only then did they realise the heat he gave off far outmatched the other’s. They winced but couldn't move off him as he prodded their insides.
Grimm, the true one, cackled from behind them. “You look so gorgeous when you’re helpless, darling,” he purred into their mask. He licked their cheek and nibbled gently at their blindfold as his taller counterpart held them stuck on his fingers. They shook like a flower petal.
“Gorgeous indeed. But what we are more interested in, our vessel. . .” he hummed as he bent his claws into a fishhook to pull Holly against his chest by their cunt. “. . . is whether this little puppet of yours is indeed useful to our cause.”
Cause?
A hand grabbed them by the horn and yanked them out of his hands and into a different set, their back to Grimm’s front, so they could feel his long cock between their legs. They expected him to fuck them, only to let out a subvocal squeak when he slapped their cunt instead.
“Why of course, my Nightmare King,” Grimm cackled. He slapped them again, their thigh this time. “Let's make a mess of them, shall we?”
So they did.
Both of them passed Holly between them, toying with their body like it were a plaything, riling them up, sensual and gentle one moment, then wickedly cruel the next. They’d pinch and grope them, ram fingers inside them to either fuck or scissor them open, run claws on their inside walls, only to retract and slap them. The Nightmare King would bite into their shoulder until they bled, only to pass them over to Grimm, so he could lick up the hemolymph.
They could tell by the heat he gave off, it was the Nightmare King who spun them in a dance they had no say in nor control over. He pulled and pushed them and spun them around in pirouettes, so fast they had no way to orient themselves. They felt as if they might keel over any moment, constantly in free fall, delicious fear making breathing impossible. They tried to cuddle into him, seeking the stability of another bug’s body, but had no arms to cling to him when he inevitably pushed them away. Grimm caught them, and the dance started all over again.
After minutes or hours have passed, they crumpled in one lax embrace, and Grimm let them. They fell to their knees, leaning onto Grimm’s legs, hidden inside his cloak as they shook and tried and failed to breathe, overwhelmed and sick and so damn aroused they felt like they might die. Grimm’s hand came to caress their horns, making them lean into the touch and attempt to nuzzle him. They purred when he let them.
“Now, now, darling, don't get too comfortable,” he said, one hand moving lower to hold the back of their mask and others gripping their horns, yanking them up to his crotch. “Open up.”
He pressed their snout against his appendage, ridges rubbing against the porcelain surface. They obliged, and he fucked into their throat immediately, unconcerned about their fangs even as they fought the instinct to bite down at being gagged. Another presence knelt behind them, and shoved his fingers into their slit while thumbing the tiny tendril at its front, sensitive enough to serve as a clit. They jumped and choked and almost squeaked. The god laughed while his vessel moaned. The latter proceeded to fuck their throat raw then, yanking them up and down his shaft, all the while the former stretched them so thoroughly they imagined he'd try and shove both his hands up there.
Eventually, Grimm grew tired of their mouth and pulled out, leaving them to cough and sputter and gasp for breath. They weren't allowed a long reprieve though as they were manhandled up and pushed onto a bed gracelessly, falling face first onto the sheets without their hands to break their fall. They breathed and squirmed, attempting to rub their largest tendril between their legs to alleviate their arousal. A gravelly cackle came from behind them, just as a hand smacked their thigh, then forced them flat on their front. They went still but continued to shake.
“Have you loosened them up enough?” one familiar voice inquired.
“Naturally,” the other, deeper and stronger, responded. “They weren't as tight as we expected from a little princette. You must make good use of them.”
“Naturally,” Grimm retorted without missing a beat. “It would have been such a waste if I did not. Isn't that right, sweetheart?” He pinched the tender chitin of the opened lips of their slit, then wrapped a tendril of theirs around his fingers, so that when they tried to twitch away, all they did was yank at it. Their throat, sore and useless, formed a soundless whimper, so when he continued to pinch and yank at their claspers, all they could really do was take it.
Suddenly, his hands disappeared only to grab them on the other side, yanking them up the bed by their shoulders. He laid them atop himself, their chest to his chest, and his erect appendage poking at their slit. He pushed up, ready to enter them, but they twitched away without meaning to, startled momentarily. Grimm hissed and used one pair of hands to hold their hips still while wrapping his legs around theirs like vines. Effectively immobilised, they had nowhere to escape when he thrust up and penetrated them in one violent swoop. They gasped and would have shrieked if they’d been capable of it. Grimm just snickered, grinding against them and pushing as deep as he could go.
“Too much for you already, princette?” He tsked, mock disappointment in his tone. They trembled, trying to bury their snout into his shoulder and hide only for a hand to wrap around their throat and yank them up. They found themselves pressed back against another, much warmer chest as the claws of one hand squeezed their neck, and those of another’s pinched their cheeks. There were so many hands on them all at once that they had no way to parse whose were the claws digging into their spasming slit, trying to stretch it even further than it already was. Not until the Nightmare King leaned over their shoulder, and his ashen voice rasped into their mask like a grate.
“If you think one meagre cock is all you are going to be taking tonight, then you are sorely mistaken, little plaything.”
He pulled his claws out of them and, before they could quite manage to react in any way, pushed his own appendage against them. He didn't waste any time and just pressed in, making space where there ought to be none left through sheer brute force. Both moths moaned in unison, Grimm rocking against the new tightness. After what must have been an age, the Nightmare King stopped, seated as deep inside Holly as his counterpart. But that's where the similarities ended: where Grimm’s cock was smooth and long, his was barbed as if it had been designed to dig into his partner’s inner walls and get stuck inside them until he chose to tear it out. It was much warmer too, far beyond what Holly knew how to handle. There was not an inch of them left that wasn't shaking as they tried and failed to think of somewhere to escape the relentless pressure and heat. Even knowing it to be futile, they jerked away, hoping that'd dislodge the appendages, only to realise halfway through they'd tear something on the barbs.
So, resigned to their fate, they sagged backwards instead and just breathed, blinking into their blindfold as they did their best to get used to the fullness. They'd never taken anything so big before, never thought they'd be capable of it with how thin they were. They welcomed the hands this time, choosing consciously to think of them not as trappings and instead as a web spun to comfort them. A hot tongue laved their mask, wetting the blindfold with saliva. They couldn't quite bring themselves to be disgusted by that, just grateful for another sensation to distract them from the pressure.
“Too full for your liking, sweetheart?” Grimm purred beneath them. They gave a hesitant little nod only for it to earn them a slap on their thigh. “Try again.”
Unsure of themselves, they shook their mask this time, but that earned them a slap too. Their thigh stung with the force of it, so, unwilling to risk another strike, they tried rocking themselves on the cocks instead. Back and forth, just a little, just as much as they were allowed to move in the eight-armed hold. That instead got them a flick to their tendrils then a cruel little yank.
“There, that's better.”
They curled into themselves, jaws agape in a mix of pain and pleasure while Grimm laughed his heart off. The Nightmare King took his chance to stuff one hand’s worth of fingers down their throat for them to choke on. Grimm refused to stop his torment, so every pull resulted in them jerking forward and shoving the fingers farther down.
Eventually, the Nightmare King started to move. Grimm joined him soon enough, both of them thrusting, in and out, sometimes in sync, sometimes out. They battled for control over who set the pace with no regard for the bug stuck between them, taking the abuse, suffocating on their own gasps. Holly felt faint, hung over a precipice, teetering on the edge of pleasure, ready to fall over into pure pain at any moment. It was exhilarating and terrifying and far far too much, but they wouldn't have known how to stop any of it if they tried.
They noticed their blindfold was soaked through, wet cloth sticking to their mask. They guessed one of their partners must've been busy licking them until they realised it wasn't that. They were crying. Sobbing. Breath hitching on every thrust, staggered out of a gasp as another followed shortly after. There was no way to get enough air in, no way to calm down, no way to relieve any of the many pleasure-pain epicentres on their chitin. So they tore themselves out of the Nightmare King’s grip and fell forward, onto Grimm’s chest and into his arms. He welcomed them with a cackle and a slap to their rear.
“Look at the poor thing,” he cooed, mock concern in his voice. “Want to slow down?”
Before they could think better of it, they nodded. They only realised their mistake when Grimm wrapped his hands around them in a hug, less comforting and more possessive and too tight by far.
“Tough luck.”
His cock went completely still. Then the Nightmare King grabbed both their horns and used them as handles to start thrusting into them again, pace brutally fast. Barbs scraped against their walls, sending pinpricks of white hot pain up their spine alongside the overwhelming pleasure. Every inch of their slit and tendrils was aflame, and every new thrust did nothing but stoke the fires. A gasp tore itself out of their lungs and caught on their atrophied vocal chords to produce a whine, thin and weak but undeniably there.
They felt so beyond mortified they buried their mask into Grimm's throat and continued to vocalise tiny squeaks into it. They felt more than heard him laugh at them.
“Now, now, don't complain. You asked for this, remember?”
Holly didn't dare nod this time, just kept trying to silence themselves. Logically, they knew they were so quiet it could all be easily mistaken for a trick of hearing, but that didn't stop it from making them feel like they'd lost the last shred of control they'd still had.
“So it can produce some sound,” the god above them laughed, ready to twist the claw in their gut too. A particularly hard thrust of his punched a vocal sob out of them, proving his point. “And we thought it couldn't get any more suited to be bred.”
Holly trembled at that. Their hips twitched against the Nightmare King without their consent, voluntarily fucking themselves on his appendage. He whistled, raspy and unpleasant and leaned over them, so they were trapped between the two Grimms without an inch of space to breathe.
“You'd like that,” he said, not a question but a fact. There'd be no use confirming it, so the higher being didn't bother. “Kept trapped in our realm, bound to our bed and bred whenever the Heart needed a new vessel to carry it. Used for generations to carry Grimmchild after Grimmchild without a single other purpose to your name.”
If slick hadn’t been dripping out of Holly’s slit before, it surely was now. Pleasure rose with each new thrust, overtaking the pain in its overwhelming race. Their sounds rose in pitch until they choked on one last squeak and went silent again.
Then the Nightmare King grabbed their throat tight and searing pain exploded there. With an aborted sob, they came, spilling against Grimm’s stomach. If the god said anything more after that then they didn't hear it. They sagged, momentarily numb to stimuli, unable to feel touch or hear sound or even smell the smoky breaths of their two partners. Every nerve of their being had whited out, leaving them in limbo for what could have either been a second or an eternity. They waited for darkness to take them. Unconsciousness pulled like a welcoming friend ready to wrap its arms around their exhausted shell.
Only for that deep and raspy voice to cut through it like a nail.
“You only get to leave our realm when we command it, little puppet.”
Just like that, it was gone. They were wrenched back to the quasi-material world when one of the Grimms forced his fingers inside their other hole this time, slick with what was probably their own fluids but far too fast for their chitin to bear. They involuntarily clenched around him, only for him to twist his fingers and dig his claws into the tender flesh inside. He made sure to find where his and his counterpart’s appendages could be felt stuffed inside and pressed hard against them. Holly could barely comprehend what they were feeling at this stage.
So the torment continued.
They were fucked of course. And groped, choked, bitten, mostly all four at once. At one point or another, both of their partners had their fangs stabbed into their neck as if determined to drink all of their void up. Their neck and shoulders must've looked like a mess by then.
They were thrown around, fucked in various other positions too. Mostly by the both of them at once although sometimes one of them moved to use their mouth as well or to properly fuck their arse. All of it felt like too much.
Eventually, someone spilled inside them. Or he might have done it far earlier, they just hadn't quite noticed it past the constant assault of stimuli lighting their nervous system on fire. They just knew that, at one point, there was fluid inside their slit. Then up their arse too, and then they were trying to swallow as much of it down as they could before they choked on it.
There was always at least one of their partners inside their slit. Either passively plugging it to prevent older spend from dripping out or adding a new load to it. It vaguely registered to them that they were truly being bred, but they failed to quite comprehend the full meaning of it. So they just let the notion mix with every other sensation they were feeling at the moment into an incoherent mess.
Slowly but surely, their consciousness faded. No matter the prodding and the biting, their shell gave into exhaustion, ready to weather the rough treatment it was subjected to without the mind present.
And they were gone. Only to open their eyes not a second later and realise they could see.
There was no blindfold obscuring their vision, and no rope to bind their hands behind their back. They lifted themselves up from the pillows slowly, expecting either someone's hands or at least excruciating pain in their nether region to drag them back down. They were surprised neither was present. So they sat up, a red velvet blanket falling off their shoulders and pooling on their lap. They felt for bite marks but found none. There wasn't even any fluid covering them, not even their own. There was just an odd roughness to the normally smooth surface of their neck, almost patterned into four thin stripes. There was no pain to it though.
A quiet cackle came from their right. They whirled around and found Grimm standing in the entrance to their bedroom, leaning against the ornate doorframe. He was gazing at them, something alive and fiery in the depths of his eyes. Momentarily trapped by his gaze, they almost failed to notice that they and Grimm weren't the only ones present.
No.
Because there was a very young Grimmchild sleeping on his shoulder.
~°•°~