Grimora the Sorceress Chapter 5 first draft

True final boss

Grimora paced, naked, across the bathhouse floor, breathing in and out. A pair of minions followed her close with a pair of fans. As she passed by the fountain, she cupped her hands, drank from them, and splashed some water on her face and neck. She put her hands on her back, closed her eyes, and exhaled.

This was it. Labor. A throng of minions watched her move around the room with bated breath, waiting for the coming of their emperor. The contractions rolled in, one after another, each time getting a little bit stronger, a little bit longer, and a little bit faster. With every one, the heavy mass within her great belly ground down into her pelvis, as slowly but unstoppably as a glacier.

Grimora took them without complaint. This was what she had been waiting for. 10 months of waiting. Of aches, and illness, and fatigue. Of eating. Of growing. Of fulfilling her own prophecy of getting just about as fat as a hippopotamus. And now, at last, labor. It was all part of the plan. This was the last phase of the ritual to conjure an unbeatable warrior.

That’s what kept her going, as hours passed and the contractions got stronger and stronger: this too, was part of the ritual. The most powerful work of magic she had ever done. That’s how she thought of it, as she lay on her side and hissed through her teeth on a makeshift bed. Intense…powerful...magic. This is what was necessary. This is what she tried to bear in mind as she rocked in a chair, fist clenched on a table, sweating buckets: these were the steps to take. This is what she remembered, as she put her hands on the tile wall, hung her big belly low, rocked her hips, and moaned: this was the sacrifice that was demanded. It was all just a ritual. Grimora knew rituals, knew how exacting and demanding they were. If you wavered, or fumbled, or broke concentration, the spell was ruined. And this was a spell that she could not ruin. Not now. Not when she was so close. It did not matter how long it took. Or how badly it was starting to hurt. She would bear it. She would take it. She would not even take tea or medicine to help ease the pain. Those might count as potions, and that would break the rules of the spell. This was what was necessary.

Hours became a day. Her moans became yells. Her yells became screams. Her belly became a red hot ball of agony, and her lower back a searing poker, and her whole body flashed burning hot. She tried to quench it in the pool. She submerged her enormity in the water, put her head on her arms on the side of the pool, and screamed. The pains were relentless, coming every minute. She sweated. She cried. She screamed.

The ritual continued to demand more and more. She had given this baby her food. Her blood. Her breath. Her time. Now, she deliriously thought, let it take my sweat. Let it take my tears. Let it take my suffering. Let him absorb it all, and be strong!

And then, after an interminable amount of time, all at once, the contractions seemed to relent. They stopped coming as often, and they ceased to torture Grimora quite so badly. She breathed, and regained her focus. She had passed this part of the test. Her minions continued to fan her face.

“Ah...that’s much better.”

Though she was far from comfortable. She had been ignoring it for the past several contractions because she didn’t want to get out of the pool, but she really had to go to the bathroom and couldn’t ignore it any longer. It felt like a bowel movement the size of a bowling ball.

“Pot!” she barked, and the faithful blue minion came running with the chamber pot. Several other minions came to help pull her out of the pool. Dripping, she slowly waddled to the table for support, then squatted down over the pot. She was silent. Nothing came out. She quietly grunted. Still nothing came out.

“Eh?” exclaimed the confused pot minion, and rattled it on the ground as if in encouragement.

Of all the things. Constipation now too? Grimora thought. Her face went pink as she really tried to empty her bowels. Her knees shook, her bottom quivered. Then she let out her breath. She stood up and looked down into the chamber pot. All she saw was a thin stream of red slime trailing from her vagina into the pot.

“Oh. OH.”

As the tidal wave of realization washed over her, she looked around at the staring crowd of minions and felt disgust. She couldn’t stand looking at them watch her any longer.

“Out. All of you out! I will do this next part alone! OUT!”

All the minions went yipe and stampeded out. Except for Sneegleeves and Slobberjaw. And the chamber pot imp.

“B-but mistress…” Sneegleeves stammered, “without any help? What if something should happen—”

“OUT, I said! I will come out of this room with a child or not at all! Begone! I command you!”

Both shuffled out. The chamber pot minion stood there shaking with terror and uncertainty.

“...yes, even you. Leave it.”

Almost looking heartbroken, the little blue imp set the pot gently down and shuffled out the door as well.

Now it was quiet again. Grimora was alone. She heard nothing but her own heartbeat and the trickling of water.

Grimora looked down and rubbed her belly. Yes. For this final test, she must be alone. She alone must prove she has the strength and the power to bring forth the ultimate warrior. That she has the will, the perseverance, to bring the ritual to its end. To prove that she has the tireless, relentless desire to conquer the world. By first, conquering herself.

She felt the overwhelming urge to defecate build once more, but this time she was not fooled. She kicked the chamber pot aside.

“Alright,” she breathed to the huge baby in her belly. “OK. Now’s the time—to fulfill our destiny. You and I. Time for you—TO COME OUT—!”

She sank down into a squat, and her work began.

Grimora pushed as hard as she could. There was such an incredible fullness in her bottom, and she just had to get it out. It did feel very much like taking the biggest shit of her life. But she knew that fullness was her baby. That was her warrior. And she, Grimora, would be the one to force him into the world.

She took a breath. Then did it again. Her face went red and beads of sweat broke out all over her body. Her massive belly tensed up round and hard as a boulder. Then sagged. Then went round again as her body shook with effort.

When the contraction faded she sat down on a chair, and caught her breath. She took another drink of water from a jug on the table. Next to it was a green potion in a bottle, the only one she allowed in the room. A healing draught. For after it was finished. Not a moment before.

She took a precious few minutes to rest. She knew already that this would not be easy. She would need all the energy she could get. Before long, the pressure returned, and she slid off her chair into another squat. And again, she heaved. And breathed. And heaved. And breathed. And heaved. Then rested.

She pushed like that for an hour, grunting, straining, sweating. Her long black hair stuck to her back, and drops of perspiration fell from her face, breasts, and giant quivering belly.

“—DAH!” She leaned on the table, breathing heavily. Her legs were starting to hurt. She was far from giving up, but she wanted to push somewhere else. She eyed the bed. Small, and straw. Certainly not as magnificent as the bed in her boudoir. But it would do, she supposed. She waddled over to the bed, and sat on it. The wood creaked under the weight of her and her overlord offspring. She put her hand on her belly.

“We can do this. We just have to change positions...and keep trying.”

She kneeled on the bed and put her hands on the headboard. In front of her enormous belly, she could see that the minions had obeyed her command to bring some of her stuffies down. She took one that looked like a black goat demon, her favorite. She wondered if she would consider giving it to the baby when it was born. The very thought surprised her. Not so long ago, she would have turned a whole town into pigeons with chlamydia if anybody even thought about taking her goat stuffie. But now? The tension in her lower belly returned, and she focused up. For now, it was something to squeeze. She hugged the little goat plushie to her breast in one arm, held on to the headboard, and bore down again. Long and hard. Then sank all the way down, thighs to calves. And pushed again. Long. And hard.

Over and over, she shook, gasped, groaned, and pushed. Trickles of fluid oozed from her vagina onto the sheets. She kept trying, kept straining. She clutched her belly in both hands and yelled as she pushed. And no baby.

She flipped onto her back. Her belly rose above her like a mountain. She sneered at it, determined to conquer it or die.

“We can do this...we can do this...just got to try...a little harder!”

She balled her fists, curled her toes, and pushed with a growl and gritted teeth. With her push, her belly rose up still taller. It loomed above her, red, shining, merciless. Covered in her sweat. Full of her giant baby. She pushed harder, roaring, refusing to be afraid. She would live to see that mountain toppled, her belly empty. She grabbed her thighs and pulled them back around that mountain, as she pushed. And...pushed. And...pushed.

More time passed. She lay on the bed, sheets soaked with her sweat, breasts heaving. Another brief respite. But she knew it would not last. She had will herself to move. To try something else.

“OK...got to get…upright again…”

Grimora got herself back up into a seated position, and put her head in her hands. Her face was red and hot. Her hair hung down in drenched and dripping locks, running over her back, her breasts, her belly. She waited, once again, for the cramping to return. When it did, she squatted down by the side of the bed and leaned back against the mattress. She gritted her teeth again, and glared at her stubborn belly.

“Come on, you brat. You want to rule the world, don’t you? You can’t do it from inside me. You have—to come—OUT! AAAAAAAAAAA--!”

Blood ran from her fists. And from her vagina. She bore down that mass, that incredible mass in her bottom, as she screamed. Her knees shook. Then went still. Then shook again. Squatting. Shaking. Screaming. Squatting. Shaking. Screaming.

She tried so many other positions. She stood up, legs apart, and tried to scream her baby down while standing. She put a leg up on the table and ferociously bore down at an angle. Many times with the right leg. Many times with the left. She crouched down like a frog, her belly so big her hands could barely reach the floor. She grunted long and loud as she bore down. Then she panted, and grunted longer and louder. She gasped, then she squeezed again, her grunt rising up in pitch until it ended in a scream. That was all that came out of her.

Some more time passed. She lay there on the tile floor, panting. The tiles were cool. They felt nice on her skin. Her body was so hot. And so tired.

Just then she heard the door creak open. “Y-your evilness? A-are you alive?”

Grimora rose to an elbow and glared at the door. The owner of the voice did not show themselves around the open door. But it could only be Sneegleeves.

“I told you...to stay out!”

“Oh, what a relief to hear you are still with us, your vileness! You have been in there all night! You had been quiet for a long time, a-and I thought—”

She thought of summoning a swarm of snakes to eat that stammering nitwit behind that door. But...while he was here...

“You have disobeyed me, Sneegleeves. But...I will forgive you just this once...if you bring me breakfast.”

“Yes! Right away, your evilness!” His feet pitter-pattered off down the hall. Her crushed stomach growled somewhere up under her ribs. Yes...a bite to eat would help regain her strength. Can’t push out a warlord...on an empty stomach. Another contraction gripped her. Although...I think I have time for another round. She lifted up one leg, took a deep breath, and pushed where she lay on her side. And pushed...and pushed. There was still plenty in her. Literally.

Sneegleeves brought in a tray of meats and treats and set it on the table, and on Grimora’s command, helped her up to the chair. She ate as much as she could fit. Which was not a lot.

“Will this meal suffice, your wickedness?”

“Yes, Sneegleeves,” Grimora chewed. “You have avoided punishment. For now. But next time you disobey me—ugh. A moment--!”

She got out of her chair and sank into a squat. She took a few breaths, then strained down with a groan.

“hmmmmmMMMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRR—”

Three more hard, groaning pushes. When she was done, she looked over at Sneegleeves, who looked petrified.

“Mistress...though I would not dream of contradicting you...are you sure you do not want to summon someone to help? You are enduring quite the long and mighty trial!”

“I am...always sure!” she snapped back breathlessly. “Did you not hear me say...I would come out of here...with a child...or not at all? Do not question me! I will endure, and keep enduring, until it is done! Leave me! And come back...around lunchtime!”

“I-immediately, your greatness!” Sneegleeves scooted out again.

Despite her words, she could feel doubts creeping in. She reached down between her legs, and felt nothing but her own slick tunnel. Her fingers came back bloody.

For a moment she heard the words of the wizard, prophesying her death. Felt a ripple of fear, but shoved those thoughts away. No! She was not going to die! She was still fine! Just...weary. She had been at it a long time. Was she doing something wrong? Was there something missing?

No, she decided. This is just what birth is, from what she understood. A lot of pushing and screaming until a baby came out of you. It took a long time. Rituals were long too. And this was part of the ritual. She had pushed all night. So what? She’d push all day too. She’d push all week, if she had to. Might take all week, with a baby this big. But she would do it. She had to.

Though to be honest, she thought, I hope that Sneegleeves interprets my command as more of a brunch.

Another contraction built up in her belly. They weren’t getting any weaker. Her body still seemed determined. So she would be too. She took the deepest breath she could. She waited until the pressure reached absolute maximum...and PUSHED.

And she kept it up. Hour after hour. Quivering over the bed. Shaking against the wall. Grunting next to the table. Screaming by the fountain. She pushed and pushed and pushed. Lying. Standing. Squatting. Screaming. All around the room, she dripped sweat, hardened her huge belly, shook, and screamed.

As she fell back on the bed, exhausted, the door creaked open once more. “As you commanded, m-mistress. I have returned. How goes the birthing?”

“Do not...ever ask me that again!” Grimora cried hoarsely. “Bring lunch! And...and bring Slobberjaw!”

It was done as she commanded. Though she wasn’t hungry, she needed a break. And to recover her strength. And this time, she told them to stay.

She pushed one more time in front of them, wearily. She was disappointed in herself. She said that she could pass this test alone. But she couldn’t do it alone. Not anymore. She needed something that wasn’t pain, that wasn’t struggle. Just for a moment.

Grimora lay on her back with a pitcher in her hand, and poured water all over her crotch.

“Quickly, Slobberjaw...I need you. Now, before another contraction comes.”

His leering orange face lit up. “Hooray! Slobberjaw is on it!”

He did a sliding dive right into her privates, and slurped and sucked away.

Grimora’s breath hitched as the her crotch goblin went to work. She felt the most strange and unfamiliar feeling of melancholy. Was this...the last time she would feel this? She was getting the growing, unshakable feeling that she was going to die. World Domination, or death, that was what she was prepared for. Death was what she wanted, if she could not have the world. But wherever she went if she failed--she would miss things like this. The kinky sex. And terrorizing peasants. And trying on bitchin’ outfits. And feeding her enemies to the wolverines.

She decided to let herself enjoy it while it lasted. She felt the waves of good feeling wash over her. Even when a contraction did come, she blowed hard and endured it while her minion gave her his best, and by the time the contraction faded, she was almost there. And then it built, built, built some more until--

“MMMMMNF!” Her insides spasmed, and trumpets sounded in her head. And then everything relaxed.

And she thought, just maybe, she felt mass in her bottom shift a little bit.

A lightning bolt of post-nut clarity. Of course! She could not do it alone! Idiot! That was the whole point of this whole ritual! She needed the help of someone else! To take over the world! And she needed the help of other people to help her get the help of someone else! To fan her, get her snacks! And...and...help her relax.

She had been fighting all this time, making a huge ordeal out of it, because that’s what she thought had to happen. And sure, she knew she had to work hard. But nothing would progress...if she didn’t also relax. The answer had been so obvious, right there the whole time.

“Eureka,” she breathed out loud. “I’ve got it. Minions. Kindly help your mistress to the pool.”

While taken aback by her change in attitude, Sneegleeves and Slobberjaw obeyed and helped her waddle to, then sink into, the pool. She sighed, and settled in. She looked lazily over at Sneegleeves.

“Now...bring me my scented candles. The ones that say ‘Burning Churches’ on them. And chocolates. And some fans.”

It was done. She was soon surrounded by black candles flickering at the edge of the pool. Sneegleeves worked a fan, which blew a cool breeze across her face. Slobberjaw popped a truffle into her mouth, which she rolled around her mouth and savored. Another contraction rolled through her, but with the water soothing her, they seemed...merely a bit intense. She closed her eyes and blowed through it. She wasn’t quite ready yet. It passed, and she relaxed again. Let the chocolate melt in her mouth. Inhaled the smell of the candles. Felt the breeze on her face, the water lapping against her body.

“Marvelous,” she sighed. She had been a fool. She had been pushing like a peasant. A cavewoman. This was how a Queen of Evil was supposed to give birth.

Speaking of which: another contraction was coming. As her belly tightened, Grimora tried to keep that relaxation in her bottom. She regarded her hill of a belly. It was tall, and round, wet and shining from the water, and shot with red stripes. It rose up out of the water like a fabled island on the back of a turtle. She raised her knees up, making two little islands on the sides of her big one, and held them in her hands to see how it felt.

It felt just right.

“Behold, minions,” she panted, “now you will see a lord of darkness—BE BORN!”

She took a deep breath...and PUSHED!

“hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm—”

Nothing showed. But now—she felt movement! Another deep breath...and PUSHED!

“HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM—”

More movement! It was exhilarating! She took another deep breath...and PUSHED!

“HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

She relaxed again, breathing hard, but with a smile on her face. She was doing it. She could feel it coming down. At last. She saw a little cloud of red float out from between her legs underwater. She turned and smirked at Sneegleeves, who was panting as well from working the fan.

“Do keep...that fan going Sneegleeves. I’m working hard here. So should you.”

“Yes mistress!” he grunted, fanning faster.

She chuckled. Humiliating Sneegleeves. Ah, how could she have forgotten how good that feels. This birth just kept getting better. “Another chocolate, Slobberjaw.”

A vicious feedback look began. Her courage rose as she bore down, and felt that huge mass in her pelvis move down more. The lower it moved, the more irresistible pressure she felt. And so she gave a wicked grin and bore down harder. And the mass moved down more. And the pressure only grew more intense. And she bore down still harder with bared teeth and a battle cry. Yes! She was Grimora! The Black Queen of Sorcery! This was her creation! A mighty king of evil! She grew and strengthened him with her own body! And now...she was shoving him out into the light!

With every mighty heave, a cloud of red spurted from her nethers. The water in the pool grew more red and murky with every passing push. She saw it, and was only more encouraged. It meant progress! And so she pushed. And pushed. And pushed again!

And then, the ring of fire set in.

“AAAAAH! HA! HA! NNNNNNGAH! Oh, Nelly! Oh that burns! Oh that burns!”

Panting, she reached down between her legs to feel what was going on. She felt...she gasped. An enormous bulge under her flesh. Her lady lips parted wide. And in between then: an expanse of skin and hair that was not hers.

“Ha. Ha ha! HA HA HA! There he is! I feel him! You see, you worms? I am doing it! Your overlord is coming!”

She put both hands down. She panted! And then she PUSHED! Through the burning she pushed and pushed and pushed. She felt the massive head part her labia and bulge out further under her hands. The bloody cloud spread around her. The head slid in as she released.

“COME ON, COME OUT! YOUR KINGDOM AWAITS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH--!”

A great hairy dome, bigger than she could have imagined, inched up under her fingers. Her pussy burned beyond all description. The waters were pure crimson. It was so close! So close! Her warrior! She PUSHED through the pain! Hard!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH--!”

With a long, bloody shriek, the enormous head shot out into her hands.

“Haaaaaa! Haaaaaaa! Haaaaaaaaa! Haaaaaa…”

Sneegleeves and Slobberjaw squinted down into the opaque red water. They looked up at Grimora. She continued to breathe heavily, but slowly and proudly nodded at them.

“Haaaaaaa. Haaaaaa yes. That was the head. That’s the head…” She ran her palm around it. It was slippery. And round. And huge. “By all the devils...that feels...as big as my crystal ball…”

She went haaaaaaaaa, haaaaaaaaa, haaaaaaaaaa in the space between contractions. Anyone else might be horrified to see how red the water was. But to her, it was just right. What a detail to add to her own dark king’s chronicle. Born in a pool of blood. Wicked.

One more contraction started to build. She grabbed her thighs, made two islands around a big one, and prepared for a final push.

“Come forth now, my conqueror...my child. Come forth now, into a world not ready for you. Come forth, and let the land tremble at your coming! Come forth! COME FORTH! COME FOOOOORTH! COME FOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAH! YES! HERE HE COMES! HE COMES! AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

With a maniacal screaming laugh, she felt the rest of the gargantuan baby explode out of her vagina. A mind-shattering tsunami of euphoria, ecstasy, and triumph engulfed her brain and body. Better than any food, any sex, any scheme, any anything. Her eyes saw nothing, no thoughts went through her head, and she only giggled insanely for a moment while the hormones erased all bad feeling. When her eyes could focus again, she looked at her belly. Or where it was. The mountain had been toppled. She had completely deflated. She was empty. She had done it. It was over. The ritual was complete.

But where was it? She waded forward into the water, feeling around under its surface. A moment of concerned searching. Then her hand bumped into something soft and pudgy. Yes, that was a leg...there’s a belly…there’s a head…

She looked up at the minions. Paused for a moment of suspense. A wide, wicked smile cracked her cheeks.

“Behold. Your overlord!” She lifted a huge black shape out of the red water. It was a baby. But nearly the size of a minion, and much fatter. It’s skin was black as coal, and slightly glittered. There were nubs on its forehead, where horns might one day be. It sputtered, thrashed, and cried out in tiny fury.

“Hail! Hail the new overlord! Hail!” cried Sneegleeves.

“Hail!” replied Slobberjaw.

“Hail!”

“Hail!”

“Hail!”

A few minions poked their head out through the door. Then flooded in in a torrent, all screeching and cheering.

“Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!” they chanted as the obsidian infant screamed.

“You have done it, your greatness! He is...magnificent!” Sneegleeves took off his glasses and wiped a tear from his eye.

“As he should be!” Grimora brought the baby down into her arms. “You gremlins will never have any idea how hard I worked to make him, to bring him forth. But now he is here. My little conquerer. We are going to do great things, you and I.”

Sneegleeves peered at the baby, and suddenly looked awkward.

“Although, ahem I-I wish to correct myself on one point, your vileness—”

“Don’t ruin the moment with your blathering, Sneegleeves. Out with it.”

“The Overlord...appears to be a girl, my lady.”

Grimora moved one of the baby’s legs aside. The imp was right. There was a teeny little butt shape down there.

“Huh. Ha! Ha ha ha! Well! Why not? A girl overlord! How marvelous! In fact, I like it even better! A mother-daughter quest for world domination! It’s going to be legendary! Oh, my girl! You are going to be a terror just like your mumma!”

“Yes, your wickedness! You will raise her to be the most unstoppable warrior the world has ever known! You will both lay waste! And the world will belong to you!”

The imp army cheered. Grimora bounced the humongous baby warrior. Her eyes blinked, and they were blood red. As they should be, she thought.

“Raise...?” Grimora guided the baby’s mouth to her nipple. She latched on and began to suck. Grimora smiled down at her, with an expression as close to motherly love as an evil sorceress queen can make.

“...no, Sneegleeves. That will be your job.”

THE END