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The Bride of Illythis

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It had been nearly a month, one tortuous long month. Still no signs of King Dimitri.

The realization of his disappearance wasn’t immediate, not until a whole day passed without reports of him being sighted; Dimitri was a man who liked his privacy, so it wasn’t strange that he’d escape the public eye even if just briefly.

But it wasn’t until the third day went by when people started to talk about strange happenings occurring the night Dimitri was last seen, mentioning that a chambermaid seemed to be changing his sheets late at night, and that one of the new stable boys had an accident with a horse, drawing the attention of the guards stationed at the castle’s entrance. Nor the chambermaid nor the injured stable boy were found again after the fact.

Gustav was the first one to come into the conclusion that Dimitri was abducted, and thus arranged to keep the matter behind closed doors until they could find him.

Dedue thought that it was strange to kidnap a political figure of such grand importance and to not ask for any ransom or, in the worst of cases, make their death public to throw the government into chaos. None of that happened. It was just a great consuming silence for excruciating weeks of search for nay leads.

Dedue would stay beside Gustav entire days awake, joining the searching parties for any trace of their King. It was a blessing that the Archbishop lent them the Knights of Seiros to help with their search; Byleth knew the importance of keeping Dimitri’s disappearance a secret, so they only sent a small number of their most trustworthy knights to not arise any suspicions from the people.

The few advisors and friends that Dimitri trusted were told the truth and they agreed to help maintain the peace by making up the story that he fell ill to a contagious disease that he needed to stay out of political matters for a period of time. It undoubtedly made the increasing mobilization to search for him difficult to disguise, but they’d think about the collaterals once they found him. Dedue couldn’t say that he particularly cared excessively about the overarching consequences, but every minute that it took them to make decisions was another minute in which they didn’t know if Dimitri was even still alive…

Being the last person who talked to the missing King, Dedue felt at blame even if nobody ostracized him after revealing his own testimony. Perhaps if he braved to knock at the King’s chambers’ doors that night maybe he could’ve prevented this from happening. He recalled it clearly, how he double-guessed himself at the large wooden doors until he decided to turn around and let him to sleep…Yes, he couldn’t have known that Dimitri would be taken, but this wouldn’t be the first time that he’s ever failed to protect him. He didn’t want to simply cling to the hope that Dimitri would somehow survive, because… what if that wasn't enough?

The leads were scarce and they weren’t getting anywhere closer to knowing where Dimitri was, at least not fast enough.

During the first month of search, Dedue was approached by Catherine, current captain of the Knights of Seiros, and after he inquired her about their leads, she made an expression that was… difficult to read. “We have suspicions about what, uh —whom— might’ve kidnapped His Majesty… Remember when we foiled Archbishop Byleth’s kidnapping attempt? From what we’ve gathered so far it’s the exact same modus operandi from those guys.”

Dedue frowned, recalling that he heard news of that at the beginning of the year. “It’s… that cult, right? The cult of Illia… Illythid…?”

“The cult of Illythis. They were a tiny group of fanatics, composed of mostly dark mages and eccentric nobles; Lady Rhea was particularly severe to them as far as heretic persecutions go, I was even dispatched to deal with them a handful of times when they caused trouble… I hear that they’ve gained some traction after the Empire declared war to Fodlán.” Catherine sighed, wearing an uncharacteristically detached look in her face. “… I really hope it’s not them though…”

“Why is that?” But his question only made her take more distance, as if merely talking was making her sick.

“… Never mind, I think I’ve talked too much already. We’d better hurry up and save His Majesty.”

Dedue wasn’t content with her answer, but a firm hand on his arm held him from pressing further. It was Felix, current Duke of Fraldarius, wearing a bleak expression that seemed more tired than usual.

“Don’t. Just… stop asking” he mumbled. Even if Felix was the one who berated Dimitri the most from his former classmates, it was clear that his disappearance weighed heavily on him. “Stupid boar, he better still be alive…”

Felix definitely knew more than he let on. His words haunted Dedue for the days that followed. Eventually he knew that he’d figure out what was so sinister about the cult of Illythis, and he’d understand why Catherine and Felix had such a look on their faces.

But he needed to hope Dimitri was alive. It was all they had left.



Ever since he was caught in here, he hasn’t prayed to the Goddess, not a single time.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just couldn’t. Normally he’d be able to even if the voices were too many, he’d still be able to focus on the sound of his own voice; but ever since he was captured and constantly administered drugs, the voices got too loud and he couldn’t even hear his own for long enough. And when they were quiet, he was too worn out, too out of focus to even consider praying. Thinking about it for a rare moment of self-reflection, it only made Dimitri’s pride hurt worse. Just another of the many things that these people already stripped from him.

There was no real rest for him in this place, when it was ‘bed-time’ he’d just lay in a mat with cushions and several naked acolytes who’d constantly run their hands all over his tired body after what was another exhausting day of near relentless assault on his body. Even after it was all over, he had woken up a couple of times to someone having full-on intercourse with his sleeping body, and he was helpless to resist their advances. It seemed like it was a collective and constant effort from them to keep him in this feverish state, he watched some of them leave just to be quickly replaced by others, probably because they needed to rest. Most of the time Dimitri was too out of it to even notice, but when he did and he didn’t have the energy to try and find an opening; he would only close his eye again and sink back into that sea of sweat and warm skin.

He thought of praying again, but what good would it be? Would the Goddess even find it acceptable that he chose this moment and place to pray?

A familiar voice crept right behind his ear. ‘Has the Goddess ever answered to your prayers? To you, when you needed her the most?’ Dimitri could sense the cold embrace of her blood-drenched body against his, in this quiet suffocating sanctuary. ‘Or… were you just praying all those years for her to quickly take you away?’ There was no venom behind her words, only pity and apprehension.

“… Was it like this for you too… El?” he murmured, his voice was barely there, barely his own, but decided to spend it on her nonetheless. ‘You know that I stopped praying to the goddess long ago’ she replied.

His eye peered to the ceiling, but could only see the faces of his Father, Glenn, or Rodrigue, even those who haven’t joined the ranks of dead yet. It was always unnerving, but he couldn’t do anything about them anymore. They couldn’t touch him, but she could. Did that make her real and the others not? What was it about Edelgard’s ghost that made her far more real to him than the Goddess herself?

Yet another god has found you. Do you think that he’ll answer your prayers instead?

The echo of that question shook him to the core, reminding Dimitri of that creeping sensation of an inhuman appendage invading his insides and how it made him lose control. The thought of associating something like that to a ‘god’ was enough to make him shiver in cold sweat as two hands fondled his waist and his thighs. A beast… a ‘God’ wanted to fuck him. That was the reason why these people brought him here: to have him fucked by their depraved incomprehensible God.

“…Goddess… help me…” he moaned weakly, nobody except his ghosts could hear him. He could feel her teeth grazing the shell of his ear. ‘It’s pointless… but you know that already, don’t you?

That was all Dimitri had of her for the rest of the night. She’d come back. She always did.



Ever since he was pulled out of the mask for the second time, they started to put him inside a new routine in which they’d keep him kneeling upright by shackling his wrists to a wall. It wasn’t like he was trying to fight back, so the damage to his wrists was very minimal. What they’d do next was to lube and shove a hose into his sensitive hole (depending on how roughly they ‘trained’ him that day), and the hose would begin to pour warm water into his insides.

At first, it’d just stop with only go for a minute until he could feel his bowels fill uncomfortably, they’d have him expel all the water at the end. He first presumed that they did this merely to ‘clean’ him up there too, but as days went by, he started to notice they’d leave the hose in for longer, they’d let the water flow faster. Before that they’d always balm him with that strange ointment that made his nude skin feel prickly and then massage his stomach.

It wasn’t until one day that Dimitri really began to feel cramps in his lower abdomen when he started to pay more attention, growing restless as the haze of exhaustion faded little by little. The pressure below his navel was increasing, the liquid filling his guts until it found another way to flow further and further inside. The hose’s nozzle was also large enough to prevent liquid from spilling out elsewhere, so further in it had to go.

He groaned from the discomfort, Dimitri could barely notice a difference, but it felt like he was bloating from having so much water taking up all the space it could fit in. The question finally came up in his head as he noticed how intently the Sister had been watching without breaking eye contact. He watched her murmur something to one of the acolytes nearby and then approached back to him, sitting right beside him. Not a moment transcended yet and Dimitri could already feel the rush of water increasing in force so drastically that his breath hitched.

Responding to his distress, her hand caressed his cheek. “Deep breaths, deep breaths… yes, that’s right.” Even though it now came naturally to him to do as she said, he knew it was wrong. And as always, every silent doubt he had, Sister Myriam had an answer that did nothing to smother his anxiety. “The Master’s seed will be plenty, and you'll need to have the stomach to take all of it without getting hurt.”

Yet again, he could barely wrap his head around these ideas “H-how…? How do you know all these things?” he uttered mindlessly. At this point the pain of his bowels shifting because of the water was something he really wanted to ignore, so he just wanted to take his mind off it by talking to her.

However, there was something… different about her smile.

“… I was once his Bride too, you know?” In a moment of lucidity, Dimitri heard a low grumble down his gut, but she didn’t hear it. “Years ago, I was chosen by him for my Crest, just like you. But then… well, unfortunate things happened when the Knights of Seiros found us. Our children were slaughtered, and I was unable to conceive ever since then...” Her hand lingered over his stomach for a moment, a single gesture that chilled Dimitri to the bone. “So please don’t worry yourself: I know better than anyone what needs to be done to be prepared for him. You can trust me.”

Dimitri stared at her for longer, his jumbled mind trying to digest what she just said. The pressure in him only heightened as he could feel the water pool deep inside his stomach, bloating him until his breathing was heavy too. The rising curve of his lower abdomen was becoming too noticeable, the cramping gradually becoming worse. The heat too. He wasn’t slightly surprised upon realizing that the rush of water swirling in his loins revived that needy ache that made his face fill with fever and pumped hot blood towards his hardening member. They must’ve put something in the water too, he thought.

It was like becoming a boiling pot, helplessly feeling how his guts were bloating as the substances made him a slave of want. He groaned and felt his wrists constrain uselessly against the shackles, the pressure in his loins was in constant growth and threatened to make him burst. The more he was forced to take in, the worse it hurt… and the worse it hurt, the louder the voices became.

Look at his belly! He’s starting to look pregnant!

Just looks like a fat boar to me.’

His eye closed under the humiliation, couldn’t bear to see the faces of his friends mocking him while he was being tortured like this. But they were right, his stomach was bulging so much that his skin was stretching outward, making it look unnatural... He couldn’t control his own bodily reactions either, his hips rolled slightly when the pressure over his bladder became too much of a source of unwanted pleasure, his loud gasps as his body’s center grew heavier as more seconds passed by.

Until it stopped. Or it felt like it stopped. He was too drunk in the substances embed to the water that it was hard to perceive small changes in his surroundings. He was so full that he didn’t realize exactly when the flow of water stopped until an acolyte reached for the hose and gently pulled until he could feel the nozzle grind against that sensitive spot inside, making him whine low. They didn’t remove the hose, aware that he’d just spill the water if he had the nozzle completely pulled away.

They seemed intent on keeping the liquids inside him for as long as possible, the Sister’s hand gently rubbed his swollen stomach even though it did little to ease the flush of conflicting sensations making his head spin. The voices wouldn’t stop ridiculing him for how he looked, but his dick was still throbbing ignored under the gained weight on his abdomen.

That’s when one male acolyte returned and lubed a familiar-looking small metallic rod, and before Dimitri could even form a sentence, he watched as his erection was held still while that instrument was once more slipped into his opening slit, making him moan with need. It went in almost too easily, but his body had been starving for stimulation that it gladly accepted to be defiled again. When the end of the rod reached that bundle of nerves deep within him, Dimitri screamed.

It was too much, the pressure from being this full, the nozzle tormenting his insides, the metallic rod probing his most sensitive place all at once… his whole body was riddled with painful spasms, ejaculating so hard that he nearly pushed that rod all the way out, which was rapidly prevented by the acolyte attending him, just bringing the long utensil smoothly back inside. Dimitri couldn’t stop whimpering, swaying his hips every time a load of cum struggled to ooze through his violated slit.

Ha-ha-ha! Look how much he’s coming!’

…So gross, he really will enjoy anything they put him through.

In the throes of his orgasm, the acolyte leaned down to take the head of Dimitri’s pulsing cock in his warm wet mouth, licking him thoroughly clean even though the rod was still inside him. The sensation was far too much, Dimitri sobbed through the last spasms until he felt the skin of his dick completely raw. And with how much his body was shaking, the heavy slosh of water inside made him feel like a stranger in his own skin.

The Sister, whose hands have been absent for a while, petted his sweaty hair, making him look away in shame.

“No need to be embarrassed, you can come as much as you like, that’s the point of this exercise.”

How many more things could they do to his body and still make him submit to horrid waves of bliss again and again?

“Let’s repeat that, shall we?” He was allowed a brief respite to recover his breath, soon gentle strokes revived his erection, but this time the acolyte’s hand went below Dimitri’s shaft, grabbing the hose still stuck inside and then started to press it back inside.

Dimitri flinched as he felt the nozzle press against his prostate, the acolyte’s cue to know how far to press, shallowly thrusting the hose into that spot to keep stimulating him. No doubt all the water would gush out if the hose was pulled too much.

The feeling of having the nozzle rubbing against his sensitive spot while that rod was still deeply buried in his cock was utterly obscene, his body couldn’t help shaking from the pain and it made him whine so uncharacteristically softly, like his mind was failing to make any sense out of this; he was just letting it happen, letting it build another devastating orgasm to expand the cracks on his breaking spirit.

His balls were gently squeezed as his new climax broke quickly through him, this time the explosion of pleasure tensed his body so that the cramps in his bowels worsened, making Dimitri writhe as each agonizing load pushed against the rod inserted in his urethra. With each painful throb that stretched this second orgasm to what felt like an eternity, he thought that he might eventually fall apart.

You’re going to die, Dimitri.

Even your Father died a better death.

He heard the Sister coo at him until he realized how much he was crying. His head, moist with tears, sweat and drool had fallen to rest against his right arm. Right there, there was a small clicking sound and the suddenness of gravity made his arms fall uselessly to his sides as they were shackled no more.

He was about to fall forward, but a group quickly got a hold of him and gently put him to lie on his back, causing the contents of his bloated stomach to lurch uncomfortably from the change of position. They propped his legs as to make sure they could keep the hose inside him, keep him ‘plugged’, so it seemed like it was their intent to make him hold the liquid inside for as long as possible.

Sister Myriam was still close to him, her big eyes still perched upon him.

“It hurts, Sister… it hurts…” he whimpered.

“There, there…” Her hand caressed his stomach again, this time making him so painfully aware of how full he was. “Bear with it just a little longer… occupy your mind with this.”

Something pressed against Dimitri’s lips and out of habit he parted them to let the fingers enter. Except now they weren’t fingers. It was hard and it was cold, bigger, phallic. A girl was thrusting a dildo into his mouth, and he was unsure how to proceed, so he clumsily sucked it like he’d suck someone else’s fingers.

“There you go. Just do it just like we taught you. You need to learn how to do it properly” the Sister said, but he was so tired, so dizzy that he could barely listen. He just focused his attention on sucking to the toy, take his mind off from the pain, the shame of being so horribly bloated. Other hands pulled and twisted at his sore nipples, the dull ache that he found comforting because of how they distracted him from every other pain. “That’s very good, you’re learning quick…” He briefly eyed Sister Myriam beaming, yet right behind her, the dozens of faces of his own friends, all observing the pitiful state of their King.

He kept on suckling until he could no longer keep conscious, until he could no longer feel their gazes nor their words stabbing at him so cruelly.