# The Chase

Author: Gratcat
Tags: Death, Demon, Hermaphrodite, Other/Herm, Rape, Snuff, Transformation

#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!)

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/q1xzj0ym
Part of the series Dropples
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