The Kiss of Cthulhu

She was a mere mortal, oblivious to the horrors that awaited her as she leaned in for the fateful kiss. The touch of their lips unleashed a malevolent force, one that would soon consume her very being.

Days passed, and the world around her began to warp and twist. The whispers in her ear grew louder and more insidious, promising her power and knowledge beyond her wildest dreams. But as she listened, she began to realize the true nature of the entity that had possessed her - a being so ancient and powerful that even the gods trembled at its name.

Her husband, once a loving partner, was now a mere puppet in the grasp of this ancient horror. His eyes were no longer his own, his words no longer his own, as he became a vessel for the will of the great Cthulhu.

In the dead of night, she dreamed of a monstrous creature with tentacles that writhed and flailed, defying all attempts to comprehend its form. She knew, deep down, that this was the true face of her tormentor, the one who had taken her body and soul for its own twisted purposes.

As she struggled to resist its influence, she realized the futility of her efforts. She was a mere mortal, after all, and the forces arrayed against her were beyond her reckoning. In the end, she could only hope to delay the inevitable, to hold out against the relentless onslaught of the otherworldly horrors that had claimed her as their own.

The Kiss of Cthulhu had brought her to the brink of madness and despair, a mere plaything for the whims of a being that cared nothing for her struggles or her pain. In the end, she could only wait for the final reckoning, the moment when she would be consumed by the darkness that had claimed her soul.