Night of the Pumpkink
Story by Wolvun
An orange moon hung high in the night sky. Illuminating the night’s many activities. The town of Samhein’s night life isn’t to be sneezed at. The restaurants and bars bringing the tired citizens of the town back to life after a grueling day under the sun.
But this isn’t about them. This is what they didn’t hear during their festivities.
Sabrina, Marcie and Sophia stepped into the still darkness at the bottom of the stairs. Each of them clad and expecting a fight, though if someone were to see them, they would question what they thought was waiting for them. Each of them were clad in simple armor pieces, made from whatever they could find and steal from the Manor. Their shoulders and hips were covered with thick leathers, and stretchier materials over their stomachs; a layer of latex was wrapped around Sophia’s midriff, glinting in the moonlight. Their breasts left exposed, or thinly covered by soft fabrics, their deeply tanned skins dancing shadows under the torchlight that Marcie held aloft.
Ballgags hung loosely around their necks. Should they ever be in danger of being caught, they could wear the ballgags in their mouths, and feign helplessness on the ground. Their armour was protective and useful in combat, but visually they had an appearance similar to that of heavily dressed slaves. This gave them a distinct advantage in setting up ambushes or avoiding being discovered as part of the rebel group. This was especially important, as the ballgags were often used as storage for secret messages or weapons such as poison vials or magical splinters they could use against even witches.
They had been tasked with trying to save one of their own from a particular vampire. Well, “save” may have been too grandiose a term. Unlike most of the evils here, Vandor could be reasoned with. Or at least negotiated with rather than simply expecting tributes or sacrifice.
The three Ill Manored rebels had been tasked with setting up the terms. Sabrina had met the man: flamboyant and bold, she wasn’t sure he could be a vampire. He just seemed too…alive to be one. Sure, he had his dark cellar but it wasn’t as if the Ill Manored’s Safe Rooms were much brighter. Marcie and Sophia had only the stories they had heard about the creature. How he tended to the cellar full of captives, bound and drained for whenever witches wanted to use them, or indeed whenever he wanted a drink.
The others would be fine letting Sabrina be the one to talk.
As the three approached the bottom of the stairs, they all heard a strange heavy thumping. Over and over. Sabrina narrows her eyes as Marcie and Sophia gripped their weapons which were just as strange as their attire. Getting any sort of deadly blade could often be dangerous as the witches could use the weapons against them. Instead, they weaponised the very torture tools so commonly used to torment the slaves of the Mansion. They carried any number of instruments, ranging from canes, paddles, chains, and even long thick dildos. The witches saw no direct threat, so made no effort to impede them using these as weapons. They were, however, useful for dealing with many other threats in the Estate, including a most common menace. A menace that even some of the evils of the Estate could not stand.
“Damn gourds! Begone from these halls and leave my casks alone!” The roar whipped through the stillness of the cellar.
From the darkness burst Vandor. Cape billowing behind him, though it did not distract from the pink underwear and exposed nearly translucent skin.
Before him fled the Pumpkinks, small living pumpkin creatures that infested the estate. Feeding off the misery and torment of the slaves as much as the witches did. The creatures lurked everywhere in the estate, voyeuristically enjoying the sadistic acts that took place, but were unable to be performed by the limbless gourds. Always hungry, always horny, and often more violent than their otherwise cutesy appearance would suggest.
They could be seen lurking wherever the slaves were being tortured, but one of their favorite sources of misery was Vandor’s Cellar. It was the reason why he hated them with such a passion. Bursting them violently the instant he saw them, sick of them trying to steal his precious “red wine”.
It was also how the Ill Manored could earn those slaves that were kept in his casks, and exactly what the three girls hoped to achieve at this time.
The three rebels needed no prompting. Drawing their bludgeoning dildos and going to work on the pests. Sabrina fought with her weapon in one hand. Taking on the style she had learned when fighting in The Pit. She preferred having a shield in her off hand, but would need to make do using her off hand to slap away the Pumpkinks, or make opportunity grabs.
Marcie preferred a two handed style. Swinging her huge weapon with a heaviness beyond its weight. Often bursting pumpkinks with a single blow. The thickness and intensity of the dildo made for a wonderful tool to destroy pumpkinks, and made for a terrifying thought that this, and others like it, were used to violate the holes of helpless slaves in the Manor.
Sophia, being the newest, had no defined style. Using a leather paddle for quicker blows which stunned the Pumpkink before going in for the killing blow, often by crushing them with her high heeled boots.
With the cellar splattered in orange mush, Vandor needed a moment to compose himself, muttering quietly. Standing with head in hand before suddenly blowing out his cape in a large, dramatic fashion.
“I thank you for your support as well, ladies.” He jovial response contrasted by the sickly moans and mumbling from the cellar around him.
The cellar was packed tightly full of countless barrels, side by side, running into the darkness, and several shelves high. The large wooden barrels were different ages and types of wood, clearly constructed individually. Small scribblings on the metal binder around them could be seen, and a valve at the side, through which the “wine” could be poured. And at the top of each barrel, a slaves pale head was locked in place next to their feet, pointing upwards. The slaves clearly folded in half inside the barrel, and with some sort of magic to contain them tightly in barrels that should otherwise not be quite large enough for them, they were trapped. They were stored away, to safely age for later usage.
“I am honored that you have assisted in such a bold assault upon my quarters.” he said with a charismatic smile that belied his proclivities for evil.
“It was nothing my lord, you did the real work.” Sabrina made sure to flatter the vampire, and give a vision of respect towards him, while the other two cleaning goop and guts from themselves.
“We had come to offer our services in such a manner. For we have someone in mind.” Sabrina said, keen to not waste time.
“Oh? Of course, of course,” Vandor flashed a smile, turning with his cape fluttering behind him, as he floated in mid air closer towards her, his toes only a hair above the ground.
“I had suspected some of you miscreants might come. It is good to have the little devils taught a lesson as often as possible,” he chuckled, “Honestly, they impede upon my domain more and more often it would seem. If this gets much worse, I’ll be forced to…make an example.”
Sophia shivers, the cellar dropping a few degrees at Vandor’s vow.
“Come now, the lady you want is in the upper storage. I hadn’t the heart to keep such luscious hair away from the moonlight.” Vandor spun theatrically and began floating smoothly through the cellar paths, beckoning the girls to follow.
While the main floors of the cellar are near pitch black, what Vandor has dubbed the upper floors are just below ground level, and have moonlight peering in through worn masonry and roots, but with the moonlight, movement could be seen shuffling along the floor.
It would seem the pumpkinks in the main floor were a distraction. Several more were here, dozens attacking the casks to tear them open and drag out the slaves inside. Pulling them up through a dug out section in the wall, dragging the stolen slaves outside into the Estate proper.
Vandor vanished. The darkness around the beams of moonlight filling with the crunch of gourd into stone. Those pumpkinks that could fled toward the escape. The unlucky ones felt a cold vampire’s hand closing mercilessly around them. Crushing their tops. Tossing the gooey remains as he chases. Missing the last of them escaping out between the roots.
Sabrina, Marcie and Sophia didn’t get a chance to move. Only taking in the carnage of broken open barrels and smashed Pumpkinks, while Vandor let out a wail, dragging his hands across the roots blocking the way.
“They’re gone…the little bastards…the fucking little bastards!” Vandors friendly tone turned sharply to that of malice.
Sabrina felt his presence before her eyes registered that Vandor was upon her. All the warmth and amusement he had a mere moment ago was gone. Truly, he was a vampire.
“Go. Get them. If I cannot have them, then they damn well won’t either. GO!”
Sophia didn’t need to be told twice. Her leading the way as Marcie and Sabrina caught up, their mission had only gotten harder now.
The three ran out on the estate grounds. Mostm of the high-paying pervert guests of the Manor assumed that all the kinky and dangerous stuff only happened inside the Manor. How nice it would have been if that was true. The Ill Manored could have had a truly safe place then. But no, the witch Serena’s sadistic will spread through the entire property.
Just as the Pumpkinks did.
The trio ran along the grass. Farther and farther away from the Manor itself. The Estate could stretch itself and warp, much like the inside of the Manor seemed to infinitely change, grow, and move within itself. Sabrina didn’t want to think about how dangerous it could be to run into the tall grass, the dark, towards the clawing hands of the Trick Trees. She knew what they were doing was unlikely to work. Yet if she didn’t…
“There!” Marcie calls out, pointing to the side.
The pumpkinks were wrestling and dragging along the women they had successfully taken from Vandor. Biting, pulling, doing what they could without having appendages, struggling against slave’s unwillingness to move.
Sabrina drew her weapon.
“Dwindle them down. They’ll only get slower the more we smash.” She called out.
This drew some of the Pumpkinks attention, who turned and flung themselves at the three. Unlike in the cellar, there was only the soft ground to smash them against, softening impacts against the gourds, and giving them a chance to reboundand retaliate.
Marcie grits her teeth as a lucky bite sinks into her shoulder, piercing just through her armour. Batting at the pumpkink with the handle of her weapon only draws more pumpkink to her, sinking their teeth into her soft skin as well. Sabrina and Sophia go to her side. Bashing in the pumpkink on her. Some of the slaves had been left behind, yet none of them were the one they had been looking for. The rebels hated knowing they were allowing some slaves to be taken away to unspeakable torments, but they had a mission to carry out, and couldn’t lose focus.
The bites were shallow. Marcie wouldn’t lose anything this time. Sabrina and Sophia quickly mend what they can with what they have, but both of them knew what they had to do. They hugged their companion and helped her to her feet, sending Marcie on her way. Sophia and Sabrina would need to finish the mission alone.
The two ventured forward to catch up with their target, never losing sight of the horde of pumpkinks carrying the captives away. Only the roof of the Samhein mansion could be seen now. They were far away from help or support, and the vines around them in the ground grew thicker and thicker.
All around them, pumpkinks could be seen. Silent and dormant upon their vines. Cracks oozing goo as young pumpkinks grew their facial carvings. Sophia trailed behind Sabrina, who couldn’t blame her ally for falling behind. This was Sophia’s first time seeing the Pumpkink Patch. The extensive home where the pumpkinks came from.
“Be ready. They’ll be coming,” Sabrina called, attempting to hype herself up as the two caught up with the struggling pumpkinks.
The vines shifted and moved, as though something was moving under them, until clumps of vines rose up. Atop the vines was a pumpkin. No carved expression like the pumpkinks, instead looking uncannily like a human head perched to a twisted tangle of vines that made up its body.
Sabrina lurched to push back Sophia. The heavy clumps of vine slamming down on her. Crying out and retaliating with her phallic weapon to little effect. These things were not hollow like the pumpkink. Marcie might have been able to burst one with her massive crushing dildo, but she was not here.
Sophia screamed out, trying to help. To draw the creature’s attention, but in doing so she paid no attention to the other patchlings emerging around her. There was no subduing these creatures borne from the ground. Only escaping them, to where their vined feet couldn’t reach.
Sabrina hurt. Her body ache from the cords of vines battered onto her body, seeming to aim deliberately for exposed skin, or where protection was minimal. Her breasts and thighs were lashed and whipped, the vines snapping against her sensitive flesh. Nothing was broken, yet everything screamed in pain anyways.
The mission…she…she had to save the target…to save Sophia…
She shook what little she could, lifting her heavy head up. Testing and finding that vines were binding her. Forcing her to be kept sitting. Forcing her to watch what happened.
Deep in the Pumpkink Patch, it sat. As large as a bus, something that might have been at one point a pumpkink. Not anymore. Now, its body looked bloated. The sides sagging, a sickly mix of green and orange. Unlike the pumpkinks, there was no darkness in its sockets. The giant carved facial sockets blazed with an eternal orange rage and desire. A fire ever burning behind twisted, gnarled teeth.
Sabrina had heard rumours of the Pumpkolossus. They didn’t do justice to what she was now witnessing.
Sabrina watch helplessly. The target, Sophia, and all the other slaves she had failed to save, hung twisted in its vines, wrapped in tight bondage in the air, twisted positions and tortured contortions as they are dragged along the ground and lifted above it. Every vine in the Pumpkink Patch ultimately belonged to the Pumpkolossus, its lustful sadism of an infinite magnitude. The vines didn’t simply hold its victims, but tormented them. The vines bound exposed breasts so tightly they became red and purple, and wrapped around necks until the victims mouth opened up, only to then insert a vine end down their throat. The vines would wrap around their legs and spread them as open as possible, or up and around their crotches, lashing them as their hung struggling in the air. Any open orifices were likely to be violated with thick, gooey, and sometimes sharp ends of vines, looking for any way to sexually torture and inflict pain.
One by one, the slaves were lifted above the monstrosity, and dropped into one of the two open maws of the grotesque creature. Each of them added to the blaze as it consumes them. Sabrina’s face was wet with tears as the target went in as well. Soon followed by the knocked out Sophia. At least she wouldn’t feel it. At least, it should be over quickly.
There was none left now. Only Sabrina and the Pumpkollosus. But the creature was not done. Orange glowing ooze was seeping from the many holes and cracks on the creature. These drew the pumpkinks in a frenzy. Coming from every corner of the Pumpkink Patch. Every one of them that could move would come around the massive monster. The Pumpkolossus reveled in the adoring attention of its subjects and children. Roaring out, more of the glowing orange gushing out of it, as a rallying cry for its kingdom, oozing slowly from its mouth and sockets and cracks. Splashing over the crazed pumpkinks. Causing the crowd of creatures to swell and bloat. Their black sockets set aglow as they howl out. Their small bodies contorting, changing, twisting into new shapes under the orange moon.
Sabrina sat there. She was held painfully still as the evolving pumpkinks settled upon her. Rushing forward to feed after their change. Sabrina did nothing as the teeth sank into her unblemished skin, trying to tear at her thighs and nipples and neck. Only moving to bite down hard into the vine in front of her face, clenching in silence as the frenzied Pumpkinks converged on her, the creed of the Ill Manored repeating in her head.
Never let them hear you scream.