Doomed
This is a smut series inspired heavily by DooM, however, it is not strictly a parody thereof; it shares 'pornified' takes on many of the demons as well as similar environments. However, it takes few story elements and the Slayer will not appear. This is simply a 'for fun' smut involving sexy versions of the DooM demons.
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Erik didn't remember 'before'. He didn't remember much beyond his own name and some vagaries about a life he must have had before he woke up... here.
Wherever 'here' was; a bleak, desolate land of tan and brown rock, barren plateaus and steppes between jagged stone crags. He was on a bluff overlooking a vast, endless plain of dust and rock, split by meandering rivers of grey and brown water... or in the distance, the molten glow of lava, issuing from fissures.
Far overhead the dull-orange clouds wheeled and churned in endless maelstrom, but so distant that it all seemed slow and placid, and the world below was not scoured by the sky's violence, an amber light still somehow pervading the world and lighting it up like the beginnings of dusk. But the stormy skies added to that with their own red lightning as it crackled through the roiling fumes that passed for clouds, illuminating the formations from within and without and giving it the sense of a great conflagration, whilst the ragged shards of lightning crackled around the billowing surfaces of the clouds, their low rumbling audible consistently.
Here and there, back down on the ground, he spied the trunks of dead trees, a scant few possessing anything reminiscent of leaves, the wood a faded brown or grey, or blackened from char where fires once burned.
Here and there were clumps of grey or yellowed grass, dried and brittle yet still barely swaying in the lukewarm breeze that swept across the rocky bluff, some of the blades bent harshly from where it had broken them, but still many stood, as if condemned to some sort of undeath, never to simply waste away, remaining until laid low by the incessant wind.
Was that his fate? Was he cursed to whither endlessly in this hellish land?
He looked down at himself; he was naked, not even a cloth to conceal his groin, not that he saw anything living in this forsaken place that would even take offence.
If his fate was to be such, he had plenty of wasting to look forward to; though he did not have the physique of a great warrior, his slightly grimy body had decent muscular tone, perhaps the result of labour from his time... before.
He vaguely recalled working away beneath a harsh sun, and soil beneath him. Maybe a farmer, and one that ate reasonably well, Erik not recalling much in the way of great hunger.
Still, he was slim of frame, and still a youth compared to some, some two dozen years behind him before... whatever happened.
Had he died? Had he been cursed?
That he couldn't remember at all.
It was scary to him, wondering what he could've done to deserve damnation in such a place. He wouldn't last long in his skin alone, with nothing he could see to eat or drink, the river he saw far off wending through the plains below too distant for him to reach... and perhaps unfit for consumption even if he could.
He carefully crept up to the edge of the bluff, looking down a sheer cliff to the ground below, and saw no means to descend, least of all in the nude.
He felt a gust of wind ruffle his short hair, and he felt a surge of heat come with it. It wasn't intolerable, but it wasn't comfortable either, though the ambient temperature was, despite the hellish desert that spanned before him, lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, yet still uncomfortable without any clothes.
He turned away from the bluff and looked the other way, seeing how the rock slowly descended in steps to a plateau that backed up to distant mountains, where the stormy clouds spiralled the dark peaks, the mountains black with shadow and the land before them similarly darkened by clouds that hung closer, the amber light that pervaded the world weaker here. The rising mounts were foreboding to Erik, and he did not wish to go that way. He hoped that he could find a way down to the plains below, maybe make it to the river. Maybe he would expire trying, and be free of this curse.
Why he didn't think to throw himself onto the ground below the bluff, he didn't know. It would be an easy, quick end before his suffering began, but something within him wouldn't let him take his own life.
So onward he went, carefully navigating the rocky terrain around him, a mixture of coarse rock and smooth, cracked plates of wind-blasted stone he took care not to slip on.
It almost seemed like there was a path, the ridge of the bluff rising above to his left and the stepped slopes that led down towards the shadowed plain beneath the glower of the dark mountains to his right, with a wending route nestled between. He followed that as it slowly meandered downwards, the plain to his right gradually dropping downwards, perhaps at some point joining the expanse he laid eyes on prior.
It was darker now, as his path took him into a cleft between the ridge above and a winding but shallow outcropping to his right that separated his route from the sinister plains before the mountains, like a wall, though it did not shelter the apparent path too much.
As he crept along, carefully dropping down small drops between terraced rock formations, he pondered if this place was indeed Hell, but the name seemed so vague to him. That it was something he feared 'before', but he didn't know for what reason now. It was a descriptor, 'hellish', and he saw this place as such. But he could no longer recall
what
Hell was, exactly. If he even truly believed in it 'before'.
The gaps in his memory and knowledge seemed so strange and arbitrary, but he couldn't really work out why. He knew who he was, in a way, but that was a feeling. Most of what he recalled were feelings mixed with small, specific details that lacked the context to fully understand them.
He tried to think harder, delve deeper into his mind, but he continued to draw up blanks amid fuzzy ideas and concepts that only hinted at life 'before', yet other knowledge that was more abstract, like his grasp of language, he seemed to recall perfectly.
He frowned, feeling lost and alone without even concrete memories to explain things to him.
Then he heard a sound, small stones tumbling down dusty rock, along with a quick, harsh scraping.
He whipped around in time to see a small stone bounce to a standstill onto a smooth plate of rock behind him.
There had been no gust of wind, and where he was, the constant breeze barely reached.
Erik no longer felt so alone, but that brought him no end of discomfort. In the nude, he felt extra vulnerable, the idea that perhaps he
wasn't
the only living thing in this land terrifying him.
