This one is pure horror. No sexytimes, just woman-kaiju vore. Inspired by Nyx and Aphrodite.
Cadmus was brought back to consciousness by the change in the rhythm of waves slapping the ship’s hull. For days he had been relying on the steady cadence to stave off both nausea and nightmares. The latter had provoked the crew to confine him to the bilge, and his screaming only abated when the boatswain had given him the last of his opium stash.
He could hear the crew moving to their stations and re-rigging the sails. Lots of orders were shouted as the pilot began negotiating a delicate course. We’re making port, thought Cadmus. What should have been a relief was instead a wave of dread washing over him. It seemed safer at sea, he thought.
Henri had never seen such a large ship. Three huge masts, plus the pointy thing at the front and the mast at the back for the flag, it dwarfed every other ship in the port of Saint-Pierre.
Of course, the number of times that Henri had been near the port could be counted on the fingers of a single hand. He had spent almost the entirety of his nineteen years on a manioc plantation on the lower slopes of Mont Pelée, the domain of his seigneur, Guillaume Fauchon.
Elizabeth is quite content to remain a pampered palace pet in the court of Brobdingnag, where she and Gulliver are protected and provided with every material need and comfort. Gulliver, however, is frustrated by their lack of autonomy, and as a Man of the Enlightenment he resents humoring the court’s conceits and superstitions.
After surviving many perils, Gulliver is more than ready to get it on with his fiancée, but Elizabeth somehow imports 1950s morality into this 17th-century satire, and she insists they be married before surrendering to Gulliver’s ardor.