markgraham
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Bound For Hell Ch. 01
🕑 Added 2023-06-03 14:37:37 +0000 UTCLast month I had another random idea for a gift story for Arania, so I wrote it. Consider this (and the second chapter next week) as just bonuses this month, I guess? I was just going to post it publicly but, eh. In time.
The midday sun hid behind the canopy of branches high overhead until an eerie darkness settled over my shoulders like a midnight mantle.
When I had set out earlier, it was a beautiful day - a perfect day, in fact. Almost 70 degrees with a gorgeous blue sky and gigantic fluffy white clouds scattered above the horizon.
Silence greeted me. The pandemic kept nearly everyone home and, while it's terrible of me to admit it, I absolutely love how quiet the world had become. And how empty. Barely a single car on the road.
As an introvert, it was the equivalent of being cuddled up on my bed or couch or chair in front of the computer at 3 a.m. Only with the benefit of being under the sun and being able to pretend that I was truly the last person alive on earth.
My quiet little hobbies thrived in the vacuum. My friends and family stopped trying to set me up on dates and I was prevented from having to explain my asexuality to them. My parents don't even know what the word means. Or, more likely, they wouldn't care. I'm pretty sure they just see me as an inconvenient vessel for grandchildren.
Working from home lets me walk on my lunch break and I'd taken the opportunity to explore the forest nearby. It wasn't a park. I think. Honestly, I never checked to see who owned it. There were rough paths winding through the trees, so I just assumed it was open to anyone.
Now, twenty minutes after setting out, I stood anxiously in the middle of a small clearing. The path had ended at some point without me noticing.
What little sunlight penetrated the thick, lacing boughs were pale shafts that faded to nothing while motes floated within. Little dancing faeries spinning in the faltering, dying light.
The smell of charcoal filled my nostrils. It was tainted by something foul. Something bloated and diseased. Rotten like it was about to burst and spew a million crawling, scrambling, skittering insects.
Just ahead, off to my right, a group of trees were burned. I approached carefully, casting glances around me.
Crimson veins glowed through gaping wounds strewn throughout the trunks of the trees. Viscous, oily gray smoke wafted away. Grudgingly. Lazily, as if weighed down by the sins of mankind.
I covered my nose and gagged at the smell of it all. Hairs lifted on the back of my neck and my forearms while nausea twisted in my stomach. Old primal instincts yelled within, screaming for me to run and I almost obeyed.
Almost but for the thing spinning from the end of a cord on a sickly branch reaching towards me. With my palm nearly crushing my mouth and nose, I took a haltering step.
Closer.
Closer still.
It was a piece of jagged bone in the shape of an enormous fang. It was much too large to be an actual tooth. It couldn't be real. Threaded fur wound around the root of the thing and up up up where it was tied to the tip of the crooked branch.
I felt my body grow relaxed. Limp. The howling voice within faded to a dull muttering. Sweat beaded on my body. Wood cracked. Groaned. The veins of magma scouring the dead trees pulsed with a ponderous heart beat that singed the tips of my long, blonde hair.
The fang continued to spin. It twisted until the fur cord was taut and then unwound itself, back and forth in malicious disregard to the laws of physics. I watched my hand reach for it and I stared at my delicate fingers in surprise, tracking them as they moved through the air.
The voice tried and failed again. The earth thrummed, matching the rhythm of the monstrous liquid flames churning within the blackened trunks.
I know I shouldn't touch it. My skin crawled as my fingers closed in on it. My tongue clicked in my mouth while sweat steamed from my bare skin. God, I shouldn't touch it. I shouldn't even be here. I should never have entered the forest. I'll die here. I can feel it. In my soul. My life winding down to an unnatural end, lost in the forest where nobody will ever-
My palm touched the claw and I screamed and screamed and screamed but my fingers closed despite my spasming muscles, folding over it until the skin blackened and split with pus oozing from the puckered flesh.
It poured itself into me, up my arm, through my shoulder and down to my heart. The hairs holding it in place snapped when my legs gave out.
I was still screaming and my throat ached from it.
Down to my hands and knees, bowing my back with my breasts straining against my bra. Raising my ass and head, eyes bulging as I stared sightlessly up to the lace of branches high overhead.
Mouth closing, lips compressing into an 'O' as the scream warbled into a howl.
I collapsed to my side, panting. Trying to swallow. My arms were in front of me. I stared at the fist of my right hand and I moaned. Tears traced dark paths through the soot marking my cheeks. I was terrified of what I would find, but I knew I had to check - to see how bad it was.
When my fingers wouldn't unclench, I was forced to pull them with my left hand, forcing them apart while growling with the effort and pain.
Ebony ash spilled from my hand to the duff beneath my aching palm. The outline of the curved fang covered my palm as if seared into the flesh itself. There was nothing else - no open bloody wound or anything else I had imagined. Even now the pain was fading.
The crack of a gunshot made me scream and push myself up. A second followed. A third. I snarled and covered my ears.
A fourth explosion rocked the area and the charred trees shattered before me.
I ran and I barely remembered my flight back to my house until I slammed my door shut and fell to my knees. My lungs burned. Whether due to the race home or the heat from the trees searing my flesh, it didn't matter. With my left hand holding my right wrist, I licked my dry lips and checked my hand again.
And gasped. Only the creases remained on my palm. There was no brand from the fang and, when I carefully explored the skin with my trimmed nail, I was shocked to feel no pain.
Of course, I could still remember it. Vividly. As if it were seared into my being. Just the memory of touching that fang made me nearly vomit from the ghostly pain that wracked my body.
I pulled myself up on trembling, weak legs before kicking off my shoes and making my way to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. And then a second. A third. A fourth, finishing half of it before my stomach began to hurt.
Sweat formed on my brow until they broke free to race down my temples and along the bridge of my nose. I leaned over the sink and shivered.
And moaned.
A wave of heat spread through my body, out from my core and up to my ears before spreading down to my belly, forcing me to brace myself on my forearms on the cool tile surrounding the metal basin in front of me. I shivered and the heat slowed to pool between my thighs before traveling down my legs.
With a gasp, I thrust my ass out and then grinded my teeth to growl.
The drop of sweat rocking against the rounded tip of my nose detached to fall to the sink with a little metallica plink. I stared at it while panting like a dog.
An itch formed inside of my spine. I reached back to scratch at it, but it was impossibly deep and spreading - down to the tip of my tailbone and up to the base of my skull. Throbbing with little scrabbling claws that made me gasp once more while bowing my back.
Hairs pierced the skin over the soft bumps of my vertebrae. The fine, short black fur flattened against my shirt while creeping over my back.
Stepping away from the sink, I rubbed at my face, pressing my palms into my aching joints and bones before scratching the roots of my hairs and behind my ears.
I felt feverish and overly sensitive because of it. I shrugged within the confines of my clothing with a quiet growl as I made my way to the bathroom. My forehead thermometer was hidden in the back of my medicine cabinet. The first pass showed a temperature of 100 degrees. The second showed 100.4.
"Well, dammit," I groaned quietly.
My at-home test was stored in a hallway closet. I grabbed the little packet before making my way to my laptop where it sat in my spare room. Along the way, I picked at my shirt, trying to find a way to make it feel comfortable on my strangely sore skin before finally growling and pulling it off to toss it aside.
After sitting and placing the test on the desk next to my laptop, I unlocked the little computer. My left hand clawed gently at my thigh as it slid slowly towards my crotch. I pulled it away to type my password, only for it to return, unbidden, to gently rub my clit. I groaned and growled quietly while clicking on my email app, only to take my hand away once more to type out a message explaining that I was running a temperature.
Just as I was about to send the email, I received one from my manager with the title of 'Returning to work'. I closed my eyes while massaging the bridge of my nose. Moving my unsent email aside, I clicked the new one to read it.
They were instituting a week on, week off schedule for everyone at work and I was marked to return on Monday, three days from now.
I sent my email while idly stroking my clit with my hips lazily rocking back and forth. My attention was focused on my inbox as I waited for a reply, leaving me unaware of what my left hand was doing.
My nipples tightened slowly within my bra, twisting as they grew erect before pushing into the padded fabric. I bit my bottom lip, rolling it against my canine teeth while my middle and index fingers gently swirled against the hood covering my clit.
My mouse zipped to the new email barely half a second after it arrived and I growled when I read it: I expect to see you in the office Monday.
It wasn't entirely unexpected. My boss was a massive asshole - a micromanager who created unrealistic timelines for projects and then passive aggressively, or sometimes plain aggressively, complained when we couldn't meet them. Worse, before we were all sent home to work, I heard him constantly complaining how the pandemic was fake - that the government was just using it as an excuse to test their control over the populace. How none of it was worse than the common flu and he was just so tired of hearing about it on the news.
I wasn't even supposed to be working today. It was Saturday, but I had agreed to put in some time on our current project.
"F- Fuck him," I whispered harshly while shivering at the curse word, especially as applied to my manager. It was crude but felt so good to say out loud.
When the little hairs creeping over my back slipped beneath my bra strap, I reached back to scratch them and then unhook the bra to set it on the desk.
I couldn't remember the last time I was naked at home aside from changing clothes or showering. But, even now my brain didn't quite realize what I was doing. Just as it didn't fully register my fingers lightly toying with my throbbing, engorged clit. The urgency of its need was hidden by the full-body fever burning beneath my skin.
Double-clicking a privately installed app in the corner of my screen made my mouse move periodically without me sitting there, keeping my screen awake. I don't think they were knowledgeable enough or cared enough - manager aside - to actually track keystrokes and mouse movement, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
With a heavy sigh, I grabbed the test kit to separate it into pieces. The cotton swab looked like a miniature spear as I raised it to my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. I growled as I swept it around the inside of both of my nostrils.
When I opened the little vial to dunk the swab, I stopped and stared at the cotton.
It was black with hints of red that appeared ... angry in a way. And dark enough to nearly blend in with the soot surrounding it. At least, I thought it was soot. I looked into the distance and counted slowly as I swirled the elongated stick in the vial. Despite being soaked in chemicals, the virulent scarlet blood dissolved the cotton until gelatinous strands floated freely in the mixture. I squeezed the stick without noticing that no cotton remained and then capped the vial before dripping pinkish fluid onto the test strip.
With that done, I eagerly stripped out of my sweatpants before sliding my panties down over my legs with a low, hungry growl. The crotch of the panties were soaked, but my eyes and attention were focused on the bathroom.
I reveled in my nudity. Despite the air conditioner running, I felt warm and finally comfortable, free of the clothing scratching against my body. It felt right. My breasts swayed gently against my chest as I walked towards the bathroom and my hardened nipples ached as they nibbled on my nerves with needy little needle teeth to send shocks down my core.
My regular shower was too warm to the touch. I found myself adjusting the knobs until the hot water was shut off completely and I sighed with pleasure as I stepped under the cold spray. It drilled into me and caressed my body. I raised my hands, running my nails through my hair as keratin flowed over my fingers, dragging the trimmed ends outward while bending in the center. They grew into sharp little points while more layers appeared, darker than the last until the clear, translucent nails were a dull gray speckled with black and tented up to little bumps.
I turned to press against the wall opposite from the shower, bending to rest my forehead against my arms while leaning my ass out. The light fur lining my back shifted against the water. I growled and turned, changing the flow to a sharper, piercing setting that I'd never used before. And then I snarled when I resumed my position. Now it crashed into me, striking my spine while I rocked back and forth until, ultimately, pressing my breasts flat against the tile wall to let the water focus on the skin over my floating tailbone.
God. God. It felt so fucking good to feel the harsh spray striking my body. Water curved over my soft, round ass before diving between my cheeks to the swollen, puffy folds between them. My tongue lashed out to lick my lips, stretching, stretching, stretching towards my nostrils before retreating to trace over my aching teeth. Enamel cracked over expanding dentin within my premolars. Sharpened tips appeared as they elongated with my canines and down past my incisors before slowing to a stop.
A long, pronounced bulge swelled low on my back. I shuddered and adjusted myself to allow the water to scratch the itch of a new vertebrae growing beneath the tip of my new tail.
Pressure built within my guts. I grunted. And growled. And pawed at my stomach. And down. Down further. To my clit. Shoving against it with the butt of my palm. Growling louder.
It was an alien sensation - an expansion that was simultaneously tight in an undefinable way, mixed with a pulse that matched my heartbeat.
The very tip of my pink clit, exposed from its hood, bounced lightly in time to the beat of my flowing blood.
My fangs screeched when I scraped them together and my sharp nails scratched over smooth tile and rough grout as I rocked my hips.
As I thrust against my hand.
Grinding into it while my tongue bounced against my bottom lip. Panting as I rubbed myself into my palm. Humping my hand harder and harder until my ears twitched from the scratchy growls issuing continuously from my throat. Light black fur spread over the rounded edges of my ears.
My lips trembled over my teeth. Showing my fangs as I continued to growl, unable to stop the animalistic sound as it bubbled up from my chest.
Sharp little movements now while grunting.
Sliding my hand up.
Spreading my fingers apart until my thrusting little clit could rub between my fingers and against the webbing.
Spreading-
Spreading like-
Like spreading a whore's legs to thrust into her.
My jaw snaps shut when I cum and my fingers curl while my hips spasm and I clench my pulsing pussy muscles together.
Slowly sinking to the bathtub while the water sprays up against my back, my shoulders, my hair. Bowing my head and swallowing.
How long?
How long has it been since I masturbated? A year? Two? Almost two years, I think. I vaguely remember it. Coming home after a work party, frustrated by all the couples there. All the drunken sexuality on display. Wondering, as I often did if I was broken in some way. I missed the comfort of another's caring touch. Sometimes. Mostly, I just wanted to be alone. But, sometimes...
I'd come home after the party and rubbed myself until it hurt. Cursing myself as I tried to bring myself to orgasm. Eventually using fingers inside. Touching those strange bulges and whorls. It was a little disgusting, honestly, but I pushed past it, angry at myself. Pushing myself.
When I'd finally cum after an hour of abusing my body, it had been a disappointment - a small release that left me feeling ashamed.
"So what the hell was this?" I whispered as my pussy touched the cold tub with my knees spread to the side. My nipples were still erect and they screamed for my touch, dark fleshy points in the center of my areola.
Weren't they pink? I wondered before realizing that I rarely even looked at them.
Clear cum mixed with the water still curving down to my pussy. I clenched and moaned and more of the lubricant dribbled from my tight little lips.
My fingers played through my bushy pubic hair as I tried to remember whether it had always been so wild - and so dark. A few curly blonde hairs mixed in with the predominantly black hairs. It looked so much like the tufts of an animal's fur.
I need to pay more attention to my own body.
The pink nub of my clit stood above the hairs, jutting out from its hood. It had a faint purple tinge and it bobbed lightly in place. I stared at it and then inhaled with my eyes closed, taking in the scent of my own sex.
I finished my shower as quickly as I could while ignoring the temptation of my body's heat. It was the fever, of course. Another quick temperature check showed that I was at 100.9 and it made my entire body sensitive. It was just doing something to my- my private areas. I'm not some fucking animal, I can control myself despite what it wants.
When I remember to check the test strip set beside my laptop, I only see one blue bar in the display window. A clear negative.
An hour later, after pacing around my house and tackling random little chores, I sit naked in front of my laptop, hunched over with lines of code before me. Snarling and growling occasionally as my short claws cracked against the keys and threatened to pull them from their switches.
It took three times as long to accomplish anything and, when I looked up with half-closed eyes to see darkness outside my windows, I sighed and pushed back from the desk before signing out and standing and stretching.
My previous dinner plans were a pre-mixed salad with chicken on the side. I picked through it, ate all the chicken, chewed on a few vegetables and then emptied the rest of the cold chicken from their packets into my hand before devouring them.
My body craved protein and I knew to listen to it, especially when I was sick. I pulled a half empty packet of sliced ham from a drawer in the fridge and then a foam package of skirt steak I'd planned to cook tomorrow for fajitas. The ham was gone in thirty seconds. I grabbed the entire thing from the packet and tore chunk after chunk before licking my palms and fingers.
A single claw ripped the plastic covering on the steak package. Drool slid from the corner of my lips and I growled as I grabbed one of the three steaks. I licked the steak with long strokes of my tongue before shoving it in my mouth and tearing the cold, gummy meat with my fangs. Myoglobin ran down my fingers and forearms, but I ignored the red liquid as I grabbed another steak. And then the third.
I cleaned my hands before licking the package the steak came in.
The hunger remained but no other meat was left in my house. I made a mental note to go shopping tomorrow and then readied myself for bed.
Exhaustion settled over me as I curled up naked beneath my blankets. And yet, I tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable before snarling and tossing my blankets aside. They grated against my bare skin, but I eventually pulled them against my stomach and chest to hug them for comfort as I sometimes did before when craving touch.
Just as I was on the edge of sleep, a bright light flashed behind my eyelids, highlighting the black fang in the center of my mind. I gasped and jolted awake and then cursed before sighing.
My legs sawed back and forth, skin rubbing against skin. Teasing me. I was still too warm - 100.5 according to the thermometer when I checked before going to bed. But the heat seemed to coalesce between my legs. My pussy clenched involuntarily and I growled while my top lip jumped over my canine tooth.
The pressure was back. And building. Made worse by my restless legs. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it between my thighs to separate them and it seemed to help for a moment.
My hips moved, barely rocking forward before pulling back. And again. My arms tightened around the blankets clutched against my chest. Again my hips moved. Forward and back, pushing my clit into the trapped fabric.
Growling.
Rocking and thrusting again as my cheeks and tips of my ears reddened. Feeling my heartbeat in my temple, in my nipples, between my thighs. Tensing the muscles there.
Turning to my stomach. Biting the edge of my pillowcase. Growling again. Exulting in the sensation of it rippling through my body. Staring at the wall beyond my bed as I thrust over and over, humping the blanket where it was bunched up beneath me.
Flesh gathered at the base of my clit. Skin connected from my mound to the flesh, tugging it down, pulling it into the mess of curly, tangled black hairs. Liquid welled from between my pussy lips, soaking into the blanket. The bedframe creaked as I began to pound harder.
I was lost in my own mind and the urges flooding me. Hormones filled me. I clawed at the bed and sheets, tearing with my sharpened nails while my fangs tore holes in the pillowcase. Still growling. The pressure was immense and my pussy ached in such a strange way. I needed release.
Skin stretched around my clit. Trapped against my body, the surrounding fur and the blanket, it slid forward as the web of flesh sealed the hood against me, creating a miniature sheath.
I bucked and arched my back, raising my head while screaming from a powerful orgasm. My ass quaked behind me while a thin spray of liquid spurted from between my spasming pussy lips. The release of pressure was immense but it wasn't complete and that frustrated me
A tiny dark vein stood out on the side of my angrily, purplish clit as I started to move once more, sliding my hips forward while pushing myself up on my hands. My breasts swayed and slapped together while my ebony, hardened nipples rocked in the center of my jet black areola.
An hour later, I slumped to my side, panting and twitching from my third orgasm. My eyelids drooped as drool pooled beneath my tongue where it lay on the bed. Beneath my blonde hair, the rolled edges of my ears unfurled before sliding out to short, sharp points with sable vellus hairs covering their surface.
---
My dreams were intangible things filled with sensations and emotions, as if I were blindfolded and forced to move by instincts and scents alone. My body wouldn't work properly, forcing me down to all fours. And I hurt. There. Down there. Hard and hot and eager for release.
Hunting.
God. I could smell them. My prey. Their scents creating a path directly to where they hid from me, gasping and crying out when my teeth tore at their clothes and my claws ripped their panties and scored their bodies. Forcing them down before plunging into them in an effort to relieve the pressure, the damned pressure. And then the next, leaving after pumping my seed into the one beneath me.
An endless hunt for the damned as punishment for their sins and it was all through a filter with muted, blurred colors and diluted smells that left me snarling and howling for clarity.
---
I woke drenched in cold sweat with bright light shining through the blinds covering my windows.
There was- an ache down there. I moaned and pushed at my hairy mound before crying out and gripping the inch long clit poking through the curls. My lips stretched over my fangs as I writhed. Pulling and gripping the strange hardness. I was still feverish and sore and my nerve endings cried out while the pressure built in some hidden little pocket beneath the swollen lips of my pussy.
My left hand tore at the rips in my mattress while my right pulled at the excess flesh of my hood, sliding it up over the length of my clit and then down. Over and over while the fading images of my dreams swirled down through my subconsciousness.
I orgasmed at the fleeting memory of a woman's mouth on my- my-
My howl filled the room. I clenched my clit while lifting my ass up on my heels with my toes curled.
When my eyes snapped open, I realized I must've dozed off again. I rolled from bed and sat on the edge and then massaged my eyes and temples with a soft sigh as I recalled the hints of my dream.
Blood began to course through my body, waking the nerves. I felt something strange - a stretching sensation - and the hairs moved on my crotch as my little sheath pulled back from my clit.
The fang was there behind my closed eyes. Stark and black. I growled at the imagery of it and my claws scored my bare legs.
I'm not superstitious. Whatever happened in the-
"Nnngh," I winced as a sudden, sharp pain shot through my temples. The fang was there once again when I closed my eyes.
I was raised Catholic. My parents and most of my family still attended Mass but I haven't gone in quite a long time. Maybe it was time to go in. Just for a little bit. Just to... clear my mind a bit after the dream from the night before and the- the- the-
Standing from the bed, I check my temperature and sigh when I see the readout - 101.1. I shuffle into the bathroom to shower. And masturbate. Twice. God. I'll be glad when I'm done with this fever. It feels good - really fucking good - but it's so... so... It's...
What. What was I-?
I dress in casual jeans that fit too tight and uncomfortable around the waist. A light blouse matches it and I slide my feet into flats and step out into the warm air - air that slips into my blouse and over my bare breasts, causing me to gasp when my nipples harden almost immediately.
My brow furrows. I've forgotten something. I look down at myself - at my nipples poking into my blouse and the little bump at the front of my jeans. With a slight frown, I put my pockets to feel for my phone and then make sure I have my wallet and keys in my purse.
With a shrug, I head to my car while scratching at hardened skin on the side of my forehead.
---
The church looms above me, an ancient structure with stained glass windows and spires and marble contours on an enormous lot in the middle of a decaying neighborhood covered in gang tags.
A queasiness fills my stomach as I step out of my car and up to the sidewalk. It's been a long time and I wonder if this is a mistake. My unease grows as I approach and I groan when I touch the doors. Still, I open them and step inside and grunt as a headache forms in the center of my brain.
I should leave. Obviously I'm stressing myself out even more than I already am and this is just exacerbating the effects of whatever I'm sick with.
But.
I already drove all this way. I hiss and rub the two hard little bumps on my forehead with my eyes squeezed shut.
Signs detail the protocol to follow for confession. I trudge through the silent church while decades of incense and wood polish assault my sensitive nose. Bile touches the back of my throat and I growl through the pain in my head.
A book is set on a folding table by the confessional. I sign in and then sit, hunched over with my feet up on the kneeler in front of me. The building wavers in front of my eyes. I cough. Growl. Grind my teeth and claw at my jeans, ripping threads with my nails. Swallow. Swallow again against the urge to vomit.
Finally, a quiet voice calls my name and I look up to see a priest gesturing to me. He's wearing a black facemask that matches his cassock. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes compress lightly when he squints at me for a moment, but he shakes his head and walks to a door in the confessional. I follow and enter the other door and kneel while clutching the ancient wooden shelf in my stall. My nails carve wooden slivers when I make fists in front of me.
A panel slides open behind the mesh in front of me. The priest introduces himself as Father Mike.
I- I can't remember the words. My head spins and the stall lurches sideways until I steady myself. Minutes pass.
"-with how long it's been since your last confession," Father Mike says. He sounds strangely out of breath and his words are interrupted by little pauses.
"Um," I swallowed hard. "Years. I dunno. A long time."
"What brings you here today, my child?" he asks. I swear I hear him groan.
I growl quietly while my hackles rise at the word 'child' and its derogatory implications. But, no, it's a standard greeting. I have to remember that.
"I had a dream," I tell him after nearly a minute of silence. "Yesterday, walking in the woods, I found a- a-"
The pain shooting through my head is severe enough that I have to swallow a hint of vomit.
"Something happened," I continue finally. "I- I can't- I can't remember. In the woods. And then I had a dream last night. It was unsettling. I- It scared me."
"What was the dream?" he asks and wood groans as he shifts in his seat.
I swallow and groan and grind my teeth. I'm sweating. Cold sweat again. My ears quiver and flex as a ringing fills them.
"I- I was- I was hunting women," I admit finally, my voice soft. "And- and-"
"Fucking them?" he asks with a rich voice. "Fucking their slutty little whore pussies?"
I freeze. Shocked. There's no way I heard what I heard.
"I- Father?" I ask.
"Mounting them like bitches?" he asks and I can hear a sound through the faint roaring in my ears. A smacking sound. I try to look through the mesh but I can't see what's happening.
"No, I- That wasn't-" I try to say.
"It felt good, didn't it?" he asks and I can hear the sneer in his voice. "Pumping your hot cum into their sinful little slits while they scream and moan and shake their asses. Crying out for more after you break their minds. After you break their bodies. Knotting them. Breeding them to make your pups. Your little demonic children. Filling their-"
"Father, stop. Stop it," I tell him while swaying. He's grunting in between words and the slapping sound is louder. I can smell it. Smell his cock.
"-wombs," he continues, heedless of my words. "Fat stomach bulging from your progeny. Making them lick your- uh- uh- uh"
I recoil when his cum splatters against the mesh. With a roar, I slam the stall's door and stumble from the confessional. I can still hear him gasping and groaning in his stall, muttering about fucking and pounding and-
The rest is lost as I run, crashing against pews until I slam the door open and race towards my car to leave over the hood. And then I turn and empty my stomach in the grass past the sidewalk.
I groan and sink to my knees while crossing my arms beneath my breasts to claw at my sides.
God.
God my nipples are sore and- and I feel- the pressure. The pressure down there. The need for release. I can almost feel their bodies against me once more. Their soft, sweaty skin and the feel of their pussies clenching against- against-
I sway and plant my hands against the sidewalk. And growl. Stretching my body out while bones groan and tendons pop. Onto to my hands and feet before pushing myself up.
My old car rocks as I masturbate minutes later in the driver's seat while parked in front of the church. My right hand strokes my clit while my left rubs my drenched pussy lips. After three quick orgasms, I clean my fingers with satisfied little growls and drive away. The further I get from the church, the weaker the memory of it becomes until I remark how late it is and wonder idly what I'd been doing all day. My left hand plays with the fur covering my mound while occasionally rubbing the bulbous head of my clit where it is exposed from my still unzipped pants.
Later that evening, I'm drooling as I watch hamburger meat cook on the stove. I'd gone out earlier to go grocery shopping, of course. That's what I'd done all day. Slept late and went grocery shopping.
Tiny dark veins appear in the sclera at the corner of my eyes while the pupils tremble. They compress into vertical slits before leeching the blue from my irises, consuming the coloring to leave pure black eyes with ebony streaks radiating from the limbal ring.
I lounge back against the counter while my stomach grumbles and I idly stroke the curly fur low on my belly before tracing a sharp nail along the happy trail of hair growing up towards my belly button.
Finally, unable to wait any longer, I turn off the stove and scoop piles of pinkish hamburger meat into my mouth. My nails scrape the pan and my fingers burn, but I don't care. Grease shines on my lips while more trails down my fingers into the pan and the floor. When I finish eating, I lick my hands and then lower myself to all fours with my bare breasts hanging beneath me. I bend and my tongue flattens against the mess I've made on the floor until I've cleaned up every drop.
Sated after consuming five pounds of nearly raw hamburger meat, I walk towards my bedroom and curl up at the foot of the bed.
Five minutes later, I'm on my back, pulling my nipple hard while frantically pawing at my clit.
There was a woman in the grocery store - a young single mother based on the lack of a ring and the package of diapers in her cart. She had such a happy smile as she wandered the store, randomly chatting and laughing with the other shoppers.
I growl as I picture her panting while bent over with her tits flattened against the curved glass display, crying out as I rip her yoga pants with a claw slicing through the crotch. Pulling her panties aside in the gap and- and-
My growl increases. Harsher. Angry. I thrust up into the air. Tearing at her shirt and sports bra in my fantasy. Her milky tits dripping over the glass. Claws in her hair. Pounding into her. Pounding. I'm- I'm-
I howl as I cum and my pussy gushes while I clench my hand against my clit. My legs shudder and jump and twist together while my fangs grind. The release is never enough. Never complete.
Skin slides against my palm while pinching pains radiate out from my hood and over my clit. I groan as I slowly stroke the expanding flesh, but my eyes droop and I slowly lose myself to sleep.
Comments
Falcon316
Pardon the pun, but I liked the slow "burn" approach you are doing with the characters. How she slowly but surely succumbs to her new condition with every step she makes, so it ramps up the tension.
Heather Graham
I actually thought people would get annoyed at that. I don't know that I'll make longer stories very often at all but it's nice to know that some people like them!
William Peters
I think what's standing out is that since you started breaking up stories into parts. It's allowing you more practice on filler details for characters, even minor ones. Allowing for more tension and suspense for us readers as the story progresses.
Heather Graham
Is there any particular thing that stood out that makes you say it's one of my best?
Falcon316
one of your best works. My only complaint is that it was over before it got really good. Looking forward to part 2
