The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 27 (M)

So they pierced both the front and the back at the same time for a while, and when they tried to put two in the front hole after a long time, she said with a pathetic face “It’s been a while, so I’m scared… Can I put it in instead?”

No matter how reckless and arrogant Hugo was, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

But now it was really the limit. Hugo grabbed her thin waist and poked it in. Giselle’s eyes widened and she swallowed hard.

“Huh!”

“Ha.”

It was so full that it felt like a fist had entered, not a penis. It was similar to the feeling of fullness when you eat your fill, but the different feeling was probably because the inside was being pressed to the point of being uncomfortable.

Giselle froze and couldn’t move. The tingling pleasure had already spread throughout her lower body, so she felt like she would melt if she moved even a little. However, her body’s reaction was honest, and so much water was flowing out of her vagina that it was hard to tell if it was urine or love juice.

Hugo, who had buried himself deep inside, shook his waist once. Giselle, who couldn’t even make a sound and bent her waist, pleaded with a hoarse voice, breathing hard.

“Uh, don’t move. Please, I, I… … . Hwaaaaang!”

Of course, Hugo was not a kind person who would tolerate those words again. Thud, thud. As if he was going to let out everything he had endured so far, Giselle could only cry. Ian, who had been staring at her from below while inserting himself, laughed pleasantly at her face distorted in pleasure.

Without even having to raise his waist together, he brought his hand down and roughly rubbed her clitoris, and she responded immediately.

“Ah, ahh… … . No, don’t. Stop, stop… … !”

The torso that had been swaying drew a graceful curve. Hugo licked the protruding wing bone on his flower-like back and ejaculated again. The stimulation of the cum hitting her inner walls swelled and she also reached climax.

“Ahhh!”

The tears that had been held under her trembling eyelashes flowed down. The clitoris that she had been rubbing continued to twitch, and clear water poured out from below. It felt as if her lower body had completely loosened and was releasing everything.

Ian, who was stimulated along with her, clenched his teeth and held back his ejaculation. Soon, after the storm of pleasure, Giselle whimpered.

“Stop… I want it out… Hngh! Ian, I… don’t want this… Not yet, not yet…!”

The protrusions of her inner wall, which had become sensitive to orgasm, tightened as if they were convulsing. In contrast to a moment ago, Hugo licked and bit Giselle’s shoulder and did not move, while Ian shook his body violently. Giselle’s mouth let out an animalistic cry as she still had the afterglow of orgasm.

Her vision flashed white, and even though she was not conscious of it, her entire body seemed to open up. Hugo, who had been leaving bite marks on her nape, groped his hand and pushed his finger into the quivering folds.

When one joint went in, Giselle really tightened her hole as if she was going to cut off a cock. Her toes pressed hard against the sheet, her buttocks buckled once, and an incredible pleasure made her head spin.

“… … Huh, ah.”

Ian’s semen seeped into her stomach, which was as hot as boiling lava. The second climax was longer and more persistent, but this time, Giselle lifted her thighs with the foolish thought that if she didn’t pull out their genitals, she might melt.

However, Ian immediately grabbed her thighs and pushed her down, scrunching his nose with a bittersweet smile.

“Giselle, you said you’d do it yourself. That means we can’t take it out until then.”

“B-but… I already put it in myself…”

“Only halfway. Start over from the beginning.”

“I-I can’t anymore… Ah, Hugo…! Please, ahhh…!”

The third time, the brothers simultaneously raised their waists as if competing. The cramped inner walls squeezed the genitals without any gaps. In that embrace, Giselle had to feel the hellish pleasure over and over again.

The sky outside the window was getting darker.

* * *

“…Water, please.”

The lovemaking that had begun at dawn finally ended around noon. When Giselle whispered with a hoarse, cracked voice, Ian picked up the water bottle from the bedside table and took a sip. Then, pressing his lips to hers, he passed the water to her mouth. Familiar with the gesture, she parted her lips and swallowed.

Even if you put all your fingers in, or even Giselle’s hand, the gaping hole didn’t close easily and was lined with threads like a spider web. However, after a while, it closed as if it had never exposed its flesh.

Hugo, who had sucked and sucked her swollen clitoris, nodded to Ian as he raised his body.

Ian, after sharing a few more kisses with Giselle, handed her some water and smiled warmly.

“Get some rest, Giselle.”

“Are you going out again today…?”

“Yes. I’ll be back before you wake up. But even if you wake up earlier than that…”

“Mm. You mean I shouldn’t go outside alone, right?”

Ian nodded as he gently stroked her hair. After their lovemaking, Giselle would always fall into a deep sleep, unable to resist her exhaustion. And when she opened her eyes, the room was always spotless, with a meal and bathwater prepared for her.

At first, she had been embarrassed by the thought of someone entering and leaving the room while she slept. Understandably so—she was always naked, and traces of their intimacy would still linger in the room. But both Hugo and Ian, who never wanted anyone else to see her, assured her that she had nothing to worry about, and over time, she got used to it.

Of course, the inn’s quiet and peaceful atmosphere played a part as well. The staff she occasionally encountered were exceptionally polite and kind, never speaking to her more than necessary or showing any unwarranted interest. The same went for the other guests.

Even when Hugo kissed her in the hall, no one so much as glanced their way, as if it was the most natural thing in the world—something not to be judged. That reassurance allowed Giselle to feel at ease.

So at first, she only ate in her room. But recently, she had started enjoying meals in the first-floor dining area from time to time. It helped that she kept seeing the same familiar faces, which meant there was little room for discomfort.

Ian tossed the soiled sheets aside and pulled out fresh ones, covering her with them. Giselle blinked sleepily and curled up, smiling bashfully.

“Good night, Giselle.”

“Good night.”

“Mm. Be careful on your way out.”

Ian and Hugo shared a glance at Giselle before retreating to their respective rooms, connected by a door, to wash up. While she slept, they spent their time at the castle, conducting experiments and research—it had become their routine.

On the surface, their days seemed peaceful. The pleasure was so overwhelming at times that Giselle even wondered if she might die from it. But she was happier than ever and believed nothing could go wrong.

Yet just as a cracked piece of glass is bound to shatter, a happiness built on lies could not last forever.

A couple of hours after Ian and Hugo left, Giselle stirred awake in a hazy state.

Or rather, only her consciousness had awakened.

‘…?’

Her body remained fast asleep on the bed, yet she found herself in a different form—round and translucent, resembling a spirit.

Around her, other spirits appeared. Her magic, which had been gradually returning since she stopped taking the medication, allowed her to perceive them again. It had been a long time since she last saw spirits, as they were scarce in the city, even in dreams.

She couldn’t speak, but she expressed her joy as best she could.

For a long time, she had thought the spirits had abandoned her—that she had lost her ability to hear them. But that, too, had been because of the medicine. Knowing that she would be able to speak with them again once she returned to the forest brought a smile to her face.

Spirits do not disappear—at least, that was what Giselle believed. The spirits that had always stayed by her side in the Black Forest had never once vanished, no matter how much time passed. To her, they were the friends who had helped her endure her loneliest days.

She floated in her round form, reveling in her happiness—until a strange unease crept over her.

[…]

The spirits, frozen like statues, were speaking. Their voices were hoarse, as if something was strangling them, yet they were undoubtedly trying to communicate with her. Giselle brightened and moved closer.

[Gi…?]

[…ger. Da…]

The voices, which she could hear not with her ears but inside her mind, felt familiar. But the words were broken, fragmented. A strange anxiety stirred within her.

[Giselle.]

One of the spirits called her name. But instead of the usual smooth, melodic tone, their voice was strained, as if something were obstructing it.

[Danger.]

The spirits were warning her.

She couldn’t understand. Was this a dream? Or was it real? Once again, she found herself unable to tell the difference.

More voices joined in, echoing from all around her.

[Run.]

[Danger.]

[That place is dangerous.]

[You must protect.]

[Giselle.]

[At the castle.]

[Eating.]

[They’re eating.]

[Us.]

[Magic.]

[Forever.]

[Giselle.]

[Together.]

—

Countless hands reached for Giselle, pulling her along. Her vision, washed in white, gradually brightened, revealing a place that felt both familiar and foreign.

A dry atmosphere. The scent of fresh herbs. Dim lighting and the soft crackle of fire burning.

It wasn’t the underground herb room in the cottage. Nor was it the one in the mansion’s kitchen. But it was undeniably similar to both.

Still in her spirit form, Giselle blankly scanned her surroundings. Nearby, spirits wandered aimlessly, moving without any apparent pattern, as if they had lost their way. Some felt familiar, while others carried an unfamiliar energy.

…Something felt wrong.

A suffocating sense of unease clawed at her chest, like a misaligned cog grinding against metal. It had been a long time since she’d felt this kind of foreboding. And just then—

Footsteps echoed through the space.

She turned toward the sound—and froze.

Hugo stood there, sweeping his dry gaze over the spirits with an expression of pure disgust.

“Tch. Why are there so many today?”

“They’re actually more useful than I expected,” Ian replied, stepping beside him. “The knights you picked out were surprisingly decent. Even when infused with a fair amount of magic, they don’t break easily. They’ve got good stamina too. Didn’t think they’d be this resilient—how’d you even find them?”

“You can tell with one punch.”

“…Ah. Well, that’s simple and effective, I guess.”

Ian ended his sentence with a sour expression, then reached out—and crushed a spirit in his hand. Without hesitation, he shoved it into his mouth.

Giselle heard its sharp, dying scream.

It happened so fast. Before she could even process what she was seeing, Hugo grabbed another spirit and swallowed it whole.

A wave of unbearable nausea surged through her.

She wanted to escape this nightmare immediately. How could she even dream of something this grotesque? To her, eating spirits was no different from cannibalism.

As Giselle desperately clung to the belief that this wasn’t real, Ian suddenly made a small noise and spoke again.

“Oh, right—about the water bottle. You poured it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You really don’t give up, do you? You know it’s useless against spirits, so why do you keep mixing that drug into her water?”