A rather odd fellow turned the page in a book that paradoxically had infinite pages yet looked to only be around 50 or so pages thick, not counting the front and back cover. The strange entity cleared its throat, a feature it technically did not have and took a sip of whiskey, which it did not need. Seated in a large, red cushioned seat and draped in robes fit for someone from one of those old Television Story Tellers that used to introduce and narrate novel-tv movie shows from before the 2010s on Earth, the form of the being known as Lord Wolfenstein looked up from its book and smiled at seemingly no one.
“Ah! So good to see you again.” LW said through its bemused façade of a face. “I trust you liked the previous chapter of this fine work, no? If you did, then let us continue today with our story about a certain servant of that nation whose name reminds me so heavily of fast food.”
LW cleared its throat and began to read.
“We leave Fatima and her savior / abductor for a moment to focus on another, more unfortunate survivor of the massacre in the cave: Omar, a man who, in a rather unfortunate twist, will be the exact opposite of his name’s meaning. Oh, sorry. Spoilers. So, let’s see here. We find this chapter’s poor and unfortunate soul in a similar situation to the named person from the previous chapter, except something is different compared to the previous chapter. Here we see Omar awakening after a long day’s work of trying to blend in. Little does he know that the very moment that he stepped foot in the coastal town that he had been found out as the spy he was.”
…
Omar opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He was still kind of out of it after the party that had been thrown by the natives last night, and the copious quantity of drink he had been pressured into downing made him very hungover. His body was still fighting the heightened levels of alcohol in his blood, and even now he was still partially drunk.
“Strange.” Omar mumbled as he stared straight up towards the underside of the roof. “The ceiling looks different.”
The booze that was still in his body was preventing him from feeling well enough to move much and his vision was blurry at best and practically nonexistent at worst. He waited a while for his vision to mostly clear, and after another few hours of just lying around he felt he was sober enough to attempt to get out of bed. It was when he turned to the side and allowed his still sort of blurry vision to focus on things that he noticed that he was not back at the home of the people who had so graciously taken him in.
“Where the hell am I?”
Omar stumbled to his feet and made his way to a window. He looked outside to see that it was somehow still very dark out, and to make things even more creepy there was a heavy fog that blanketed the town. He was about to shut the window and return to bed in order to clear his head, but the sounds of… something drifted in on the sea breeze. The noise sounded a bit like singing, yet it was almost at the same time something entirely different that he could not put his finger on.
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Omar had not studied the rules of horror movies, mostly because he had never seen one, but he also had never learned the rules of scary stories in general. He, in a moment of sheer hungover stupidity, decided that the best course of action was to leave the safety and security of his room and go find out what was making the noise. He managed to get out of the house easily enough, but every step he took in the dense fog seemed to make him ever more lost. Worse still, he could swear that the ‘singing’ was also blowing him off track.
After walking around with no real direction for a good thirty minutes or so, he eventually stumbled onto the beach. This made his ability to guide himself a fair bit easier, as all he really had to do now was to walk along a path that took him across the edge of the water. Following the boundary between water and land for a while, Omar found himself nearly stepping into an unnatural gap in the fog, in which the townspeople were engaged in some kind of ritual with otherworldly creatures.
He wisely kept to the very edge of the fog, peering through into the gap from as far away as possible, watching as the men and women of the town engaged in rather promiscuous behavior with the seemingly all-female fish-snake women. He was acting in a way that one could describe as being a voyeur, but this was all in the act of intelligence gathering. So caught up in his ‘spying’ was he that he failed to notice that there was a rather large monster woman behind him until just after he was hit upside the head and fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.
…
Omar awoke to find himself naked and in a prison cell unlike any other he had ever seen. His hands were bound not by ropes or by chains, but by some kind of coral-like stone that was both hard yet also paradoxically soft around his wrists. The entire cell seemed to have been made with such a material, too, which only gave Omar a deeper sense of dread.
He had, like any good spy of his time, hidden a lockpick in his mouth, but try as he might he could not locate it. Whoever or whatever had brought him to this cell had done their job well…
The sound of something being dragged across the ground alerted the Sultanate Spy that something was coming, so he began to work himself up. If they were coming to get him out of the cell for any means, he would be able to overpower them. When the sound stopped right in front of his cell, however, he quickly realized that things were not going to be as simple as he had originally thought. A large, fish-like but also snake-like woman eyed him up and down before opening the cell door, coming in and shutting it behind her. The cell was large enough to fit both her and Omar, but not big enough to give them much room to move.
The fish-snake woman grinned a smile filled with shark teeth and grabbed Omar, holding him tight as she coiled around him. The bindings on his wrist fell off, and Omar tried to resist, but a three-minute-long kiss from the monster lady stopped him in his tracks long enough for the creature to finish binding him in herself.
Pulling away from him, the fish-snake-woman creature let out a heavy and lustful sigh before ‘digging in’ to the captive Omar. It would be weeks before Omar found out that his new masters had taken him to one of the many underwater cities that made up the population centers of their nation, and that he would be trapped in an endless hell of being glorified public property to any Naga that wanted some action and had the connections, wealth or power to earn a few days with the newest ‘toy’. Omar was never seen on the surface ever again, and he would spend the rest of his life being broken-in by any number of monstrous maidens.
His fate, some would say, was one of the better ones that would befall the spies sent to infiltrate the Sanguinocracy, but unless being routinely and oftentimes violently used as public sexual property by a race of snake-fish-women creatures is your kink, then odds are you would not have found his end all that appealing.