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PlayerUnknown’s Soulsborne Waifu Compendium	By : WickerMan Category: +A through F > Dark Souls (series) > Dark Souls (series) Views: 22045 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Souls or Bloodborne, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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PlayerUnknown’s Soulsborne Waifu Compendium
(A/N): We’re back for the second entry of the Compendium!
Today’s chapter continues the tale of Hollow Knight Galloway sans trousers, reeling from his encounter with the Chaos Witches only to be faced with a new, slightly less nude threat – she’s a maneater!
WARNING: Obvious sexual content, spelling errors, bad language, cringy sex dialogue, crude jokes, sex with things that some people might find gross, OC protagonists with little personality, OOC behaviour, probably a bit of disease, non-lore friendly events, and my first story in around six months and my first LEMON in probably four years!
Chapter Two: Maneater Mildred
He needed humanity.
But then what else was new?
After what felt like hours of wading through Blighttown’s waist high waters whilst under assault from all angles, Hollow Knight Galloway had eventually reach the closest thing to a ‘safe’ spot the swamp had on offer. Withered old stone formed a crude oval mouthed tunnel, which raced up in a slight slant to an open grating. Long ago this had probably been some sort of sewage pipe, now it was a subpar place of respite for those few travellers who could stomach the descent.
The undead’s bare and weary legs, covered in matted hair and overly confident leeches, struggled to carry him through the last few inches of sludge until at last he reached damp – but comparatively dry – land.
Galloway slipped with comical timing, slamming his jaw against the concrete and rattling his teeth like a demented maraca. After a straight minute of deranged screaming and delirious angrish aimed at the ridiculousness of his circumstances and the sheer pain his bones were feeling, he let his limbs go slack in defeat.
He was tired, hungry, humiliated, and alone.
Slowly like an unruly child before bed time he rocked himself over to his back, forcing his eyelids to cooperate for the moment. Muddied legs flailed stupidly as he tried to find purchase, placing his booted soles into the squelchy no-man’s-land between marsh and concete. Like a mummy from its casket he pulled his torso up, draping his arms over his knees and sitting silently in the dimly lit sewer pipe.
Fog and steam continued to billow from the slime before him. He absentmindedly tapped his submerged feet to a tone-deaf rhythm, the peculiar squelching sound echoing through his newfound sanctuary as he peeled off his brigandine, plucked the bloated leeches from his person and flicked them across the way like errant boogers.
Plip plop… Plip plop…
It wasn’t easy being a hollow. It wasn’t just the whole beef-jerky issue that most people worried about, but rather the mental deterioration that truly tested body and spirit. Galloway had urges that clawed and probed and gnawed at his mind whenever he wasn’t focused on staying alive, which thankfully – if you could honestly say that – tended to be at all times.
But now in a state of reprieve he could reflect in peace, and it was these quiet times of reflection that pained him the most. Once he’d thought that being hollow would never get him down and that all the lost souls he’d encountered across Lordran were wimps of the highest calibre. He thought he was exempt from such things, he was him after all.
Yet the hunger was always there. It panged and it growled, irritable and frustrated. It was a profound feeling; a strange mix of primal aggression, unchecked lust, and a craving for something succulent. Even in the darkest of times those urges were still there, watching and waiting for the opportune moment like a juvenile shoplifter.
He needed humanity.
He needed humanity now.
Maybe that red-headed spider bimbo had been onto something? Maybe somehow she’d actually squeezed out the very essence of his soul and being, draining him of the humanity he’d had left? By the gods that would be awkward to explain in the afterlife wouldn’t it?
They’d both had such gorgeous white tits, hadn’t they? Large or small, he couldn’t quite take his pick. And their mouths and tongues all over his dick? So hot, so good. What he would’ve given to have another go with them. He’d use them both at once, have the youngest nibbling at his balls and the oldest choking on his great fat cock. He’d never gotten to fuck Quelaag’s tits had he? He would’ve killed to have his cum squeezed out by her, for her to lay back and let him thrust at full throttle and in complete control. He wanted to fuck them both dry until they were drooling on the floor, fuck them ‘til their minds broke and all they could think of was him, rub their breasts and pinch their nipples and fuck th-
“Gods!” he winced in pain, having punched himself square in the dome and cracked his knuckles against his fortified helmet. He had to stay in control of himself, think about something more industrious. Maybe he should’ve taken up a productive hobby, like gardening or woodwork? He could plant some seeds after working with his wood.
He’d work his wood alright.
Okay, you could forgive him for that one surely? It sort of just fell on his lap.
Fell on his lap…
Plant some seeds…
This was so unbelievably frustrating, his knob at full mast to such lewd suggestions. His entire body was against him for some reason, the ungrateful bastard – what had he ever done to it? Galloway fiddled with his damaged digits, staring into the constantly warping filth of the swamp bog. What would his mother think?
“You’re a smart young man, Galloway. Art school isn’t the right place for you!”
“It’s not a phase mum!” he would retort. “And why are you calling me Galloway when it’s the family name? And why am I naked?”
“Oh Galloway, you’re so sexy when you’re defiant.” she’d purr, stripping off her clothes and walking seductively towards him. “Let’s have taboo coitus on your sister’s bed!”
“Damn it!” another loud conk, another snapped finger. The Hollow Knight squeezed it between his knees, hissing through grit teeth. “How many bones are in this stupid hand anyway?!”
His member twitched as if shrugging its metaphorical shoulders, apologising for not having the answer. Galloway continued to watch the swamp and tap his feet, regaining some semblance of energy before he returned to his journey.
“Cum for us.”
He couldn’t forget that image.
The marsh was strangely peaceful when you weren’t frantically running through it being chased by blood sucking bugs and boulder slinging brutes. While nature wasn’t inherently peaceful, it was inherently ordered he felt; creatures foraging and keeping a wide berth from eachother in unspoken truce. It was this that made the following denizen stand out.
With a comedic plop a large and bloated head sent ripples through the swamp and sunk to its bottom, breakfast for the leeches. It was quickly followed by its owner, who crumpled to his knees to join his cranium and became dinner for the same leeches. They would be feasting tonight.
No doubt the cause of the recently deceased’s current predicament was the bulky person that stood next to him, an oversized meatcleaver that looked more like a guillotine blade dripping brown blood – at least he hoped it was blood – into the gin and tonic that was the poison pool. Mister or Misses Meatcleaver squatted with all the grace of a street cleaner on his rounds, dipping bare hands to their elbows into the opaque gloop and searching for something.
Soon enough MC fished out the brute’s decapitated head, the first of the leeches already having an enthusiastic go on its oversized nose. MC made a curious sound, inspecting the head and spinning it around like a globe. MC sniffed at it experimentally, seemingly unphased by all the filth.
Then he spotted Galloway.
They stared vaguely at eachother for a few moments, as if the Hollow Knight had caught the meatcleaver warrior at a very bad time indeed. The lonely head slipped out of MC’s cupped hands, the leeches eagerly returning to their appetiser. Galloway had a very strong feeling that his sword and shield wouldn’t be enough to deter this one.
And with that the guillotine wielding menace began to close the gap, seemingly undaunted by the thick waters. The Hollow Knight frantically pulled himself to his feet with weapons in accord, assuming his typical fighting stance – crude, but reliable.
As the gap was closed it became apparent that he was actually a she. Probably. Possibly. Potentially. Save for a primitive strap of fabric that struggled to contain her unmentionables, the large lady had a certain femininity to her step. Somehow she was curvaceous yet without curves, ladylike but brutish, overweight yet loaded with muscle – his brain wasn’t in the mood for such blatant contradictions.
“Mildred!” she announced butchly as she got closer and closer, the whole of Blighttown seemingly giving way to the top of the food chain “Maneater! Kill, eat!” her legs were green and black with foul gunk, yet she was unflinching in her advance. Her breasts rippled as she held her chest up proudly, her face shrouded by what seemed to be a burlap sack.
“Galloway!” he said to her chest, beads of what he hoped were sweat accentuating their absurd size. You’d think he’d been more worried about the whole cannibalisation thing, but this was a man who’d had sex with a pair of oversized spiders not too long ago. After a moment he ripped his eyes away with much reluctance, knowing full well what his hollowed mind was up to. “Knight. Talk, drink beer. Yeah.” he confirmed his name and profession, “… Yeah?”
Lacking the general expository banter that the spider women possessed, the practically feral woman raised her weapon in a barbaric charge and surged forward with a breathtaking burst of speed. The Hollow Knight raised his shield and tried to deflect the staggering blow, but the force alone was enough to send him stumbling up the slope of the sewer.
Mildred heaved her weapon up with both hands, its blade covered in imperfections and rust. It would be an insult to blacksmiths to even call it a blade – it was a vicious club that just so happened to have a few pointy bits on it.
But she didn’t need sharpness to lop off heads.
Butcher, and then devour, piece by piece.
Stepping back from the swamp where she held the natural advantage Galloway regained his composure, the strong but stupid woman going in for the exact same slam she’d used before. It was easy to sidestep, but a right hook to his face wasn’t which sent his helmet flying off and left him reeling once again. Mildred pulled back her fist now red with her own claret, unfazed by the pain of her fresh wound.
The undead rolled his eyes, dropping his shield and holding the haft of his weapon with both hands. A fat naked cannibal chick and a knight without pants on having a bloody brawl covered in mud. Was this someone’s fetish fuel?
A swing and a miss Mildred’s weapon was lodged in the concrete, throwing her off just long enough for Galloway to get behind her and throw himself full force into her exposed flank. The large woman wasn’t even fazed, turning to look at him with an expression of mild bewilderment that showed even through her sack hood. The Hollow Knight dropped his sword with a sigh, fed up with the situation and knowing full well what was about to happen. “Oh, go on then.”
One mangy blood-coated fist was all it took to grab him by the throat and heave him into the hair. His legs kicked and flailed like a puppy being held over water as she throttled him about, feet futilely bouncing off her podgy gut. Mildred looked up at him curiously, as if amused by his continued resistance.
Her grip tightened, as did his vision. That irresistible urge to give up and sleep tongued at his ears like a forward auntie on your sixteenth birthday, patiently waiting for the inevitable snap of his neck and the thud of his body as it rolled into the swamp water to join a gazillion others.
To be honest it was probably the hollow within him that thought his next action would be a good idea, as in one more act of defiance he opened his gob and bit into the woman’s wounded knuckles with all the force of a vise. She howled in sudden pain, her impenetrable hide having its one weak point exploited.
He was released and fell to the ground, throat in abject agony but not quite broken yet. Dazed and oxygen starved he lunged forward again, the preoccupied brute of a woman too caught up in her own problems to notice in time. While his tackle didn’t move her far, a combination of unstable footing and her grounded cleaver being in the way tripped her up and sent the two of them falling back through the open grate of the sewer.
They landed in a heap in a large, circular dip that no doubt acted as a sewer junction in the glory days of the Age of Fire. The defeated Mildred cushioned his fall and whimpered like a poorly cow, seemingly incapacitated by the Hollow Knight she dwarfed. Said Hollow Knight rose to his knees atop her, triumphant.
“T-That’ll teach you.” he stuttered, choking and sputtering. He looked down upon the woman he straddled, her hands raised in supplication; completely at his mercy. Galloway’s shoulders heaved as dank air filled his lungs. “Fat piece of…”
“Fat piece of…?”
You’re hungry, aren’t you?
Those paralysing pangs rose to the forefront, egging him on like kids on a playground. He’d won this battle, and now it was his right to claim his dues. He could do whatever he pleased to this woman – it’d take a flick of his finger to strip her completely. His eyelids fluttered, blood surging everywhere he didn’t want it to be at the moment.
But the hollow wanted it.
The hollow needed it.
Mildred flinched as with a singular movement the one piece of fabric that bound her chest was released, her ample bust spilling out in all its glory. The Hollow Knight wiggled his fingers as he reached outward, desperate to cop a feel. What she lacked in shape and pertness she made up for in sheer size, and it appealed to something deep and primal within him.
He started hesitantly, less out of care for the woman below him but more out of inner conflict. His reason still whined that this was immoral and abnormal, but it was quickly being overpowered by his yearning. Fuck, they were so big. He couldn’t even fit them in his hands.
He heard a horny moan ring out through the sewer, and it took him a moment to realise that it came from Mildred. Her chest heaved expectantly, her sounds changing with his movements like a fascinating musical instrument. He pinched and he fondled and he flicked and he squeezed, his neglected need begging for a go.
“No you don’t.” he snapped as her hands began to move, releasing her breasts and holding down her arms. She reeled her neck back in alarm, but he could tell that beneath her hood there was a perverted grin – she wanted to be conquered like an animal by her mate. She’d found someone worthy of fucking her. Like the animal she saw in him he pressed harder, feeling her nipples brushing against his chest. “I’m in control here.” he declared. “Not you.”
He was so stiff at the moment it was unreal, his dripping cock rubbing futilely against her tubby stomach as he thumbed her tits. This felt even better than Quelaag if that was even possible, it must be from the sheer taboo of it – this was something he shouldn’t have found sexy in any shape or form, yet here he was with a raging boner over this woman he had conquered. The sisters at least had the beauty of their dainty human bodies; Mildred in contrast was bulky and filth-caked with no elegance to be found.
He needed to fuck her.
Right now.
Returning to keeping her arms down he awkwardly shuffled back, leaving a trail of precum from her belly to her pubic mound. As he wrestled his uncooperative cock and pressed its tip against her welcoming lips, he didn’t even think about hygiene – it looked so wet and warm and inviting, beckoning him right in. He could fuck her with reckless abandon, and she would love him for it.
Leaning against her dominantly he pushed himself forward, neither her comfort nor limits crossing his mind as he clutched onto her shoulders and began to thrust. Her squeals and howls were sweet music to his ears, reverberating throughout the sewer and no doubt spilling out into Blighttown for all to hear.
He was fucking Maneater Mildred.
He was in command here.
He was powerful.
He called the shots.
It felt liberating.
With every lewd slap of flesh on flesh her breasts bounced in a circular motion, smacking against eachother again and again in an almost hypnotic manner. Her thick ass reared from the force of his assault, struggling to withstand his unrelenting charge.
He put his all into it, embracing the hollow beast within. “Moan, come on.” he snarled hoarsely, squeezing her shoulders tightly. “Let them hear you.” he pressed, trading pure speed for depth to try and eke out more mewls. He could feel the juices slipping down his shaft and over his balls, all sticky and wet with her arousal. “Let them know who’s fucking you.”
Maybe those words were a massive turn on, because as she gave him that exquisite moan he longed for her strong legs and muscled arms wrapped around his person and locked him close. Pulled against her he got a sudden face full of tits, which continued to jiggle and push against him as he thrust in and out of paradise.
They were damp and slick with sweat – and hopefully just that.
That’s what he would’ve been worried about if he was still thinking straight, but the fact that he kissed and licked and lapped between her cushioned breasts just went to show how far gone he was. She didn’t taste or smell clean in any shape of the imagination, but it was good all the same. It tasted like sex in a way only a degenerate sex obsessed hollow could find satisfying.
This wasn’t the taste of a human, it was the taste of a monster.
And it drove him crazy for her.
Mildred’s great thighs tightened around his waist, her feet pressing at his butt and encouraging him to go for the kill. Her hands pressed at the back of his head, scratching and tugging at his matted hair as she smothered him between her breasts. She began to meet his thrusts with her own, twisting her hips again and again to wring his cock and get him over the edge. There was no finesse here; pure brute force, desperate to push him over the edge and milk her reward as she bucked and fucked.
“Inside!” she commanded loudly, crushing him between her breasts. His groans were stifled by her flesh, his ears muffled by her cleavage. “Cum in Mildred, yes! Cum!”
A loud, feral, exaggerated, and incredibly drawn out moan graced Mildred’s lips as the Hollow Knight released his load, his thrusts slowing to accommodate the powerful shots of semen that filled the woman’s body. Yet Mildred continued to rock and twist, Galloway’s eyes watering from the sheer pleasure of it all as she made sure to squeeze every last drop from his cock.
His spasms finally subsided and she gradually reduced her movements to a slow, soothing motion as she continued to massage her partner’s spent member within the velvety walls of her womanhood. Her powerful thighs remained taut, entwining herself with the undead knight who had filled her with so much of his thick white seed.
Calloused fingers continued to play with Galloway’s dirty hair, keeping him nestled and comfortable between her dripping breasts. Assuming that he had fallen asleep from the exertion of their lovemaking, the sack-headed woman eventually chose to join him in a snooze punctuated by loud, comical snoring.
Galloway wasn’t asleep.
He was trapped.
Almost as soon as he’d been satisfied his hollow self had decided to pack his bags and go on holiday to Vinheim, leaving him to deal with the aftermath and an overwhelming sense of anxiety and guilt. He tried his best to wriggle free but the positively beaming Mildred refused to let go, keeping his spent cock inside her and overwhelming all five of his senses with her breathtaking bust.
He couldn’t see, he couldn’t smell, he couldn’t move.
And all he could hear was the calm heartbeat of his satisfied lady, and her dorky snores.
So just to reiterate, he was attached to a large, nude, sleeping cannibal woman who was almost double his size and could crush his neck like a twig if she felt like it. He was also trapped in a plague infested sewer at the bottom of the world with just his boots and gauntlets on, and his knob was buried hilt deep in something that was probably riddled from top to bottom with every disease known to man and gods.
He shrugged his shoulders.
Well, as much as he could in his current predicament.
Maybe this was what he needed? Maybe he should’ve stopped fighting those hollow urges and let them take over more for a change? Maybe this big evil maneating lady was just what he needed, letting him vent out the pangs and urges that his undead form gave him rather than just bottling them up all the time?
Perhaps one day he’d become the king of a revolution against the spider people of Quelaag’s Domain, and with Queen Mildred by his side he’d lead an army of mosquitoes and rock hurlers to victory on the battlefield?
Or maybe he’ll just get killed in an hour or two when she woke up?
Why, maybe he’ll suffocate to death between her breasts in the next five minutes?
Who knows, life is a gamble.
But at least like this it could be a happy one.
Snuggling up to Mildred’s cosy chest he focused on the sound of her beating heart, letting the calming rhythm will him to sleep.
It was the first deep sleep he’d had in decades.
X
(A/N): Not even the Hollow Knight can resist the T H I C C swamp lady! And really, who can? I’m afraid the future fate of Galloway has to be left to your own imagination, since we can’t have one man hogging all the action!
Next time we have a change of scenery and a new hero, as an old gentleman who’s out of pocket desperately finds a way to pay for purple moss and pine resin from a certain merchant of the Undead Burg!
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PlayerUnknown’s Soulsborne Waifu Compendium