This is something different I have had in mind for a while now. I have genuinely no idea whether anyone will like it. As such, I welcome all feedback as far as the story's tone goes. Or its characters. Or its actual story. Hopefully it should give me an idea of whether there is anyone out there that might care for more content like this. And if there are indeed people keen on more content like this, more episodes will follow.
Given how broad a genre non-human probably is, I intend to maintain disclaimers about the content I will include in these stories if I end up making more episodes. Long story short, expect fantasy creatures getting tangled up in erotic scenes. In this first episode, the story contains references to corpses, zombies, stitched together abominations and graverobbing. There is also sexual content including a female zombie, a human-like woman and a large male abomination.
***
Solitude can either be a luxury or a burden, depending on who you ask. If you were, say, an individual with questionable goals or hobbies, you would probably cherish a sliver of isolation to engage with such ambitions. It stands to reason, in fact, that the amount of isolation you would require would be directly proportional to the shadiness of your own passions.
This would be a reasonable assumption to make about anyone choosing to live in a derelict lighthouse, an hour's ride away from the nearest settlement. Indeed, if you were patient enough to ensure you weren't slandering an innocent lighthouse keeper, you could even notice the building's light never guided any ships to safety. And yet
someone lived there
.
If you were feeling generous, you could call her a lighthouse keeper. She was a lighthouse keeper in the sense that she was the only entity ensuring there was any life in the abandoned building. If you were feeling extra generous, you could even call her a person. She was a person in the sense that she looked, walked and behaved almost like an actual human woman would.
Beneath the crumbling lighthouse, in a basement deep enough to escape the sounds of the rain outside, this entity toiled fervently. Even disregarding the aforementioned equation linking isolation with shadiness, you would have a hard time believing she was up to any good.
She was surrounded by thick stone walls. The few torches scattered around the spacious basement seemed to struggle against the oppressive darkness of the room, as if the air itself refused to be transparent. Every once in a while, a shimmering vial of a random color would flare up and illuminate its surroundings momentarily. Paying attention to these sudden bursts of light would let a visitor see bizarre contraptions, workstations and devices. If you stopped focusing on the pretty bubbly colors of the vials for a second, you could perhaps even notice how blurry the line between medicine and torture really is to the untrained eye.
The torches flickered whenever this creature paced near them, seemingly burning brighter when she drew near. Only in her proximity did the flames manage to push the darkness back. A single step away, and this brightness would wane yet again. When the vials and the torches aligned, you could even see what she looked like.
She had an ethereal way of moving around. Despite her shapely legs and curvaceous hips, her body seemed to drift across the basement with little regard for the laws of locomotion. Her steps, if such a thing was even necessary for her, went by completely unheard and unnoticed. So pale was her skin, it seemed to adopt whichever color beamed at her, almost akin to a chameleon. The only sources of contrast to her snow-white skin were her black hair and the multiple black markings around her neck. Each time she paced unnaturally through the room, her flowing raven hair would float for a couple of seconds as if it were smoke, before settling back down.
This woman, for the lack of a better word, was content to toy with several projects at once as she circled her own basement. During one flare or another, it would even be possible to notice a smirk on her full lips, a mischievous glint in her silver eyes. The way her hands moved with each vial they would grab, sometimes in-between the flickering torches, suggested this was more of a trance for her than anything requiring actual focus.
This trance was abruptly shattered when the large steel door to her laboratory was violently kicked open. Immediately, as if sensing the coolness factor had been lost, the scattered torches started actually pushing back the darkness. In one moment of lost focus, the basement had lost all of its atmosphere.
The creature responsible for this interruption needed an equally generous soul to be called a person. And an ugly person at that. A hulking, towering masculine body filled the doorway, rainwater dripping miserably from his soaked clothing onto a puddle at his feet. He had sad, mismatched eyes with different shades of blue. Judging by the gruesome stitched scar that split his face almost neatly in half, those eyes had indeed come from different places. This was to say nothing of the many smaller scars fighting for dominance across his remaining facial features. Seeing this monster for the first time, you would be forgiven for not noticing he even had a large bag slung over his shoulder.
The woman's silver eyes focused on the monster. She had a look of mild, playful annoyance. There was nothing playful in the facial expression of her visitor.
"Are you trying to make my pulse rise, Pummel?" she smirked at him. "You should know by now the door to the lab is never locked."
Pummel, seemingly, did not respond.
"Come now. Don't tell me your tongue got unstitched again. How are you?"
"Cold, wet and miserable," rumbled the giant.
The pale woman put on a mocking pout. Then, with a sly grin, she let her robes fall to the floor. Pummel stared at her hourglass-shaped body in silence for a moment. Her breeches and bodice were still covering the most important bits, but there were only so many women in the world with breasts that large and a smile that enticing. And as far as women with black runes carved on their body went, Pummel really only knew one.
"Now I am a little better," said Pummel.
The woman giggled and spun once for the hulking man. As she did it, the black runes around her wrists flickered purple for a moment. Both of them knew that to be a good sign by now.
"Good. Now, did you bring what I asked for?"
Grunting, Pummel stepped forward and dropped the bag in front of her. The ethereal woman was greeted by unsmiling corpses the moment she peered into it.
"Well done," she bit her lip. "You've outdone yourself, Pummel!"
"The gravedigger hit me with a shovel," complained the giant.
The woman already seemed mostly focused on the bodies, heaving the first one out of the bag. Despite her size, she seemed to have no trouble with it.
"I'm sure you didn't die."
"I'm sure I didn't like it," insisted Pummel. "
Boss
."
She rolled her silver eyes at that remark. It wasn't only because she knew Pummel that she found the word annoying. It was because she'd
made
him. Pummel wasn't supposed to call her by anything other than her name. If he didn't, she'd found, he would just be signaling he was having another one of his tantrums. Without a lot of subtlety, it should be added.
"Pummel," she glared at him sternly.
"Demetria," he stared back at her with a false look of innocence.
"I thought so."
Demetria concealed a smile as she continued inspecting Pummel's loot. He'd been surprisingly cautious with the quality of the bodies. She wasn't certain if he would actually have the patience to rob the right graves. Part of her had worried Pummel would have grown impatient and simply killed some people himself to bring back home. Hilarious as that would have been, it was nice not to have to clean up another mess for a change. And speaking of which...
"But did you kill the gravedigger?" she asked.
"I
wanted
to," Pummel grumbled as he pulled two bodies out of the bag. "But no."
That was also good news. While Demetria was only slightly less enthusiastic about violence than Pummel himself, she recognized there was a time and a place for it. Said time and place being, usually, whenever and wherever you could get away with it. And Pummel's great talent for violence, alas, was not accompanied by a great talent for getting away with it.
Together, the two of them laid the six bodies down on wooden wheeled tables, their vacant expressions staring at the dirty ceiling. Clean bodies. Fresh bodies too, for the most part. As she started stripping them naked, Demetria was quite happy to notice the most important organs were also intact. Two women and four men - all still fit for reproduction were it not for their untimely deaths.
"You've
really
outdone yourself, haven't you?"
Demetria felt the marks around her neck heating up, ever-so-slightly. A quick glance at her wrist would be enough to tell her runes were starting to gain a purple glow. Not that she needed to check her own body. Demetria would be damned if she needed to check the glow of her own runes in order to figure out whether she was aroused.
Pummel had a different level of appreciation for her glowing signs of arousal, though. To him, knowing when Demetria was horny (or at least hornier than usual) was quite useful. His maker could perhaps boast truthfully about being the least predictable person in the world when she was horny, but there were still certain things you could expect from her while she was aroused. For starters, you would definitely not be sent out in the rain to go graverobbing when you could instead be pleasuring her. And this was to say nothing of the six runes she had carved down her back.
Those
were their own category of useful.
"Yeah, I did," he ran a finger across the warm runes on her neck, briefly stifling their purple glow.
Demetria was smart enough to know where he would take things next if she let him. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the tickle of his calloused finger for a couple of seconds, before stepping away.
"Not so fast, big boy!" she widened her eyes provocatively at him. "Our work isn't done yet."
"I got hit by a shovel and dug up bodies in the rain. I didn't even get to kill anybody.
My
work is done," grumbled Pummel. "If you have work ahead, it's related to my reward."
She felt him press his massive body against hers from behind. The larger rune on the back of her neck grew warmer.
"And your body knows it too."
The woman took a deep breath, as if trying to keep herself under control. Judging by the brightness of the purple glow around her wrists and neck, this was a difficult thing to do.
