Hello all, Lady D here! I had to put a rush on this to make sure it was entered in time for the Literotica Thanksgiving Day contest. It took up the entire holiday, but I finally got it in. Yay, me! I'm totally gonna win that prize!
What?! There's no Thanksgiving Day contest? Oh.
No, it's okay. I'm fine, it's just allergies. Or something. Just...read the next installment while I ... check on that sudden weeping noise in the closet.
* * * * *
"Sounds kinda fishy," Leanne said.
"Super sketch, no doubt," Jason said. "And considering what I found out about Tarterus humans later..."
Leanne shook her head. "Ain't no one ever tellya don't stick your dick in crazy?" she said.
"I'm tellin' you, I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter!" protested Jason.
"I hear that from you a lot," Leanne said. "Real convenient, innit?"
Jason threw his hands up in frustration. "You know what it's like there," he said. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"Rhetorical question," Leanne said, "but I'll grant it ya didn't have a lot of options."
"Gee, thanks," Jason said sullenly.
"Alright," Leanne said. "So you successfully you fucked a human. Congratulations, but not exactly boss level. Get on with it."
"Okay," Jason said, "so after that, we got underway..."
* * *
Jason was mired in an awful dream. There were demons, Spines, a whole lot of them. And a sickening amount of fighting, with all the horrid carnage that went along with it.
He saw his arms, golden and feminine, cleaving the raging, beefy Spines into pieces, wielding a sword of brilliant yellow energy. He usually ended them with a final, swift strike to lop the head off. But not always. If he felt generous, he simply split them in half, right down the middle. If he was feeling playful, he took the time to slice off their horns and their limbs, "Boxing Helena"-style. This ensured that they were out of the fight but, unable to die while their head remained attached, they could only watch in impotent horror while he continued to slaughter their sisters.
His extra-special favorite method, though, the one that gave him the biggest thrill, was crushing their heads in between his powerful, golden thighs. He really did like this way the best, and not just because it left his hands free for more carnage. He could carry the Spine around between his legs while he flew. Trapped and flailing, unable to either escape or penetrate his lustrous skin, the Spine squirmed deliciously down there, filling him with rich, sadistic pleasure. When he finally squeezed his thighs together, crushing the Spine's head into bone-splintered meat, it provided one final profoundly satisfying spasm, before the still-jerking corpse fell away, to land somewhere among his justifiably horrified enemies.
Then his perspective whirly-jerked around to a new target, and he'd do it again. And again. And again. The enemies seemed as endless as his power was limitless.
And after the fighting...mmm,
after
the fighting...
He walked among the corpses of his fallen enemies, surveying physically and searching mentally for those few who remained alive. Their condition whether blind, limbless, or disemboweled, didn't matter. When he found one still living, he picked her up and, with his great strength, tossed her onto a rapidly-growing pile of defeated foes. He knew that, across the battlefield, his battle-sister was doing the same, helping him in this process.
Once satisfied that he'd retrieved them all, he made his way back to the grisly mound they'd created. Scores of writhing bodies, most of them incomplete. Some still shouted epithets, some pleaded for mercy, but most were unable to do more than groan pitifully. As he got closer, a few of the Spines who were still able tried to zap him with lightning from their horns. Although his hide reduced their best efforts to a whimsical tickle, he nonetheless appreciated their spunk.
Reaching the edge of the mound, he spread his wings and rose into the air. Only then did he see his sister, across the pile of bodies, hovering in the same manner. She presented to him an image that must have mirrored his own: a winged woman with horns and a tail, shimmering with power and glistening with gore. Especially between her legs. Oh, yes, he and his battle-sister shared similar appetites.
As one, their eyes sparked into magical fire as they linked into all the minds below at once, invading them. At first sniffing around their surface thoughts, as if lapping at the savory juices of their suffering. Then, diving deeper, to rip at the tenderest parts of their collective psyche. Delicious already, but it was about to get better.
Using their horns, he and his battle-sister sent cascades of lightning into the mound, setting it ablaze. He found himself again pleased by the colors of their combustion. The flames tended toward violet, often darkening to rich plum near the center, and magenta licking the edges of the mound. The contrast against the red ochre landscape surrounding them was quite nice.
With the pyre of bodies burning below, he and his sister drank deep of those suffering minds. It was a heady brew of agony and despair, of terror and anguish. More than the thrill of battle, more than satisfaction of victory, this bliss was the true prize. Together, he and his sister had dominated their foes, humiliated them, conquered them utterly, and now they were obliterating their very souls. They drained the Spines' essences, absorbing that power and adding it to their own.
But he wasn't looking at the burning mass of flesh below. His eyes were only for his battle-sister. His cruel, beautiful sister, with her stained-glass butterfly wings. Her ferocity had matched his own in this battle, as it had in those previous, and he loved her for it. He knew, as did she, that they would continue this path, slaughtering and gaining even more power, until at last they reached Palladia herself. And then, oh, what transcendent pleasures her would defeat bring...
* * *
Jason awoke with a start, jumping awkwardly to his feet and yelping "No! No! No! Fuck NO!"
It was only after he had taken a few panicked steps before he realized, with great relief, that he was still in the armory. The room was as it was before, with its chests, battle gear, and Granny's sheathed sword leaning against the wall.
"Okay, Jason," he said aloud to himself, "calm your ass down. It was just a dream. A hella-fucked-up crazy-ass nightmare, but it's over. And you don't wanna look like a spaz in front of..."
A furtive glance around told him he was alone. The blonde woman had apparently decided to peace out while he slept. The only evidence of her having been there was on the sword, in the form of a big wad of ABC gum stuck to the sheath.
"Typical," Jason muttered. "They all say they swallow, but..."
Jason took a minute to shake off most of the post-nightmare jitters. Then he gathered up his clothes and finished doing what he'd started before, namely, dressing himself. While doing so, he realized he had another reminder of his tryst with the woman. He'd acquired several shallow scratches, all over his body. He must have gotten them during all the fucking; in the heat of the moment he hadn't noticed her clawing him up. Now, though, they stung whenever he moved, even moreso when he dragged his clothes over them.
"I hope Granny's got some bactine for this shit," Jason mumbled, after wincing for the dozenth time.
Low mutterings came from the other side of the door. He guessed it was Granny and Thumper, but erring on the side of caution, he carefully peered around the door.
His gaze was immediately met by a bright blue flash that left him momentarily dazzled. He blinked a few times, and chanced another look.
Granny stood alone in the barracks. While her clothes were either gone or in worse shape than they were before, she seemed to be completely healed of her injuries. In fact, she looked damned-near flawless: not a scratch on her, hair all filled in and looking salon-fresh, and she even had a well-rested glow to her. She seemed to be deep in thought, with her eyes closed and her wings folded tightly behind her back. Thumper, however, was nowhere to be seen, and that worried him.
"Calm your thoughts," Granny said suddenly. "Thumper lives on, though not on this world."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Um, that's about what my mom told me when our dog Petey died," he said, "so I'm gonna have to ask you to be a wee more specific."
Granny now opened her eyes, fixing their pure blackness upon Jason. "I returned him to your world, once I was done with him," she said. Then, smiling, she added, "He remains mostly intact."
Jason sighed with relief. "I'll take it," he said. "I don't think he was ready for all this shit anyway. Hell, if I'm being honest, neither am I."
"You had best find some means of acclimating yourself, then," Granny said, "for we must be away."
"'Bout time!" Jason said. "I feel like if I spend another minute here, another one of your humans is gonna try and fuck me again."
Taking little heed of Jason, Granny threw the armory door open wide and brushed past him.
"What are you prattling about?" Granny said. She opened one of the chests and retrieved an assortment of leather garments.