The Chase
#4 of Dropples
The Chase
A Dropple (Topics: Death, Torture, Transformation)
By Gratcat
(Author's Note: Yet another dropple! Hooray! This one
was written while I was feeling like crap over the last
few weeks. So, dark. Very dark. Story contains demon
sex, death, fear, torture, and rape. No likie, no
ready. Don't worry, I promise that my next effort will be
a little bit... lighter... in content. Nothing like this, anyway.)
I ran down the cooridoor, hoping that I was closing in
on anywhere I could hide. The flourescent lighting
flickered above me, half the bulbs broken, and I
rounded a corner into a cluster of cubicles, mostly
darkened.
I died six hours ago. Hell was an endless, condemned
office building.
Maybe there was more to it than that. I hoped so.
I huddled beneath a desk, in a cubicle that had its
back partition removed. Shelter of a sort, with an exit
route. Maybe I could sleep here.
I pulled my tail over my face, and tried to breathe
quietly. Maybe they wouldn't hear me down here.
I heard nothing. Silence. A buzzing of the lights
above.
Then a clicking. My eyes widened. Nails on the floor.
Then nothing again.
A spike of black slammed into the ground right by my
head, and I ran, screaming. I could hear them behind
me, screeching and hissing.
Down another hallway. There was a wall in front of me,
smeared with some dark material, where someone had
tried to write something in a language I didn't know.
Chairs. Tables. Partial walls and a broken glass
barrier around what was a conference room. No windows
anywhere. No doors. No escape. I had let myself be
herded into a dead end.
I swiveled and was immediately tackled. Claws pierced
my hands and shoulders, sticking me to the ground. I
screamed in agony and thrashed out, trying to knock my
assailant away. The demoness, however, was not going to
be dissuaded that easily. All twenty of her fingernails
snapped off with loud cracking noises, leaving my upper
half nailed to the floor, as she ran four leathery
hands over my body. Two grasped each of my legs, and
she pulled up. Both my knees shattered like sticks of
chalk.
I remember hearing my screams, but I don't remember
screaming. I don't remember when my legs came off,
either. I stared down at her, my bowels voiding
themselves, as she stood over me, towering over my
broken body. Four powerful arms, and as many large,
hefty breasts, tipped with white nipples. A long,
barbed cock jutted from her loins, and a tail tipped
with a large hook wrapped around, the blade running up
my stomach.
I think I was still screaming as the hook caught my
shoulder. I know that I was as it took my other,
leaving me a pillow-sized remnant of what I was. I
don't even remember it taking my tail, but somewhere
about then, it did.
She raised the hook to my lips, and whispered one word.
"Clean it." It was covered in my gore, and more than a
little of other fluids, but I complied. I had stopped
screaming by then, but I still felt like I should be...
I just couldn't manage to do anything other than obey
her commands. My tongue ran along the blade, cleaning
the blood off until I cut it, and started making the
mess worse. Then the hook suddenly lanced down, cutting
me from groin to breasts, my guts falling out as it
lifted me. Her hands gripped my tits as she slammed me
down onto her cock, skewering me in a single thrust. I
could see the shaft plowing into my womb, over and over
again, the fleshy nodule popping out of my wound and
into the air with every thrust. Then it pierced my
organ, jutting out into the air as it came... again,
and again, and again.
She lifted me up and threw me to the ground, and it was
about then that I noticed that the cum was black, more
like tar than semen.
I didn't notice the puddles of seed seeping up to the
stumps where my limbs were, inflating and swelling,
growing to match what was there before. I didn't even
notice the seed flowing into my wound, replacing all my
old innards, pressing the old out.
I did notice the huntress standing over me, stroking
her eternally-hard cock as she pissed on my body. I
could feel no pain anymore, just a deep humiliation and
exhaustion, and so I didn't recognize the fact that
while I understood the words, they were in a language I
never knew before.
"You are mine, sister. Go, torment and seduce, and when
you are full of the lusts of mortals, return that I may
devour them from you."
Now... now I lay here, black-limbed and cold inside, a
disgusting patchwork of once-living fur and dark,
unnatural cosmic slag. The hunger has overtaken me. I
can barely remember anything besides it; I know I am
dead, I know I am damned, but I cannot remember any of
my life anymore, not even my true name. I only know
that I must feed.
(Afterword: I'm about to get a new e-mail... in the meantime, I can be reached at my FA page via private message... unrelated tangent here: should Yiffstar have a short story/poetry category, filterable, that allows submissions of less than 5000 characters? I leave the question to you!)