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The Brute (Dead By Daylight)
🕑 Added 2021-04-13 13:00:00 +0000 UTCHey folks, as a heads up this isn't your average transformation kink story. Instead it's a body horror story about a character from the game Dead By Daylight and features rather gruesome imagery. If that isn't your thing then I suggest you give this story a big old miss. If you're morbidly curious though, let me know what you think. I'm a horror junkie and there's something strangely appealing about monster transformations...
Dwight Fairfield knew very little for certain about the situation he was in, only that it seemed like there was no chance of escape.
He had been spending the weekend hiking in the woods with his colleagues as part of a team-building exercise, only to find himself waking up alone on the Sunday morning. His hiking group had abandoned him in the night! Sadly, it was rather par for the course for Dwight: he had always been the butt of jokes, dating all the way back to high school, and his boss had never been shy about expressing his dislike for the scrawny and bespectacled young man. As Dwight attempted to make his way back to civilization though, he had trapped on a tree root and taken a tumble down a sharp incline with the painful end destination being a bed of rocks. Just another unlucky moment to add to the long list.
When he finally regained consciousness, the hill he had fallen down and the rocks that should have certainly prompted a broken rib or two were nowhere to be found. Instead he found himself waking up beside a bonfire, where three unfamiliar faces greeted him. He stumbled over his words as he tried to get out all of his questions, but the strangers had no answers for him. Their stories were all like his own - they had fallen unconscious or fainted, then woken up beside the fire. The athletic redheaded girl - Meg, Dwight soon came to learn - expressed that whenever she attempted to leave the small clearing they were in by venturing into the trees she always found herself right back in the same place. As impossible as it sounded, there was no escape.
Dwight had barely been awake for five minutes before the world suddenly went dark. It only lasted for a few moments though and when his sight returned, he discovered that both the bonfire and the others had disappeared and he was instead in a wasteland of car husks with the unpleasant smell of burning rubber lingering in the air. Dwight’s exploration of the area revealed that it was surrounded by a thirty foot wall, although there were two large gates that seemed to be powered by generators he had discovered throughout the vehicle graveyard. He had even reunited with the three strangers from before, although they soon learned they were not alone. There was something hunting them, something not quite human.
They had learned as such when the other man, Jake, stepped into an unseen bear trap and instinctively let out a pained scream. Even as Dwight, Meg and Claudette attempted to help him out of the trap, they began to hear thundering footsteps that grew louder and louder. None of them knew what to expect but they knew it couldn’t be good.
Meg was the first to depart, sprinting off at top speed. Claudette soon followed, hiding behind the charred remains of a nearby vehicle. Dwight avoided Jake’s eye and ignored his pleas for help as he skittered away and took refuge within a small locker, the likes of which might have usually housed a variety of talls. It was a tight fit but it was enough to hide Dwight from sight. He could even still see through the slits in the door, and what he saw was nothing short of horrifying.
Jake was ripped forcefully from the bear trap by a colossal beast, vaguely human in shape and wearing an ivory mask in the mock image of a smiling face. The monstrous creature - Dwight and the others would soon come to know him as the ‘Trapper’ - carried Jake over his shoulder like he weighed little more than a baby, and deposited him on a previously unseen meathook that pierced right through Jake’s chest. As if that hadn’t been terrifying enough, spider-like tendrils then burst forth from the endless grey fog of the sky and wrapped around Jake’s twitching form, before pulling him free and up into nothingness.
Not long after, despite his best efforts to survive, Dwight met the same fate. Much to his surprise though, he didn’t die. Instead he woke up next to the bonfire again, where he found a pale and quivering Jake waiting for him.
In time Dwight and the others came to understand a few simple basics about what had happened to them. Their learning came from scraps of paper they discovered around the various locales they found themselves in, and appeared to be written by somebody who was a past participant in the twisted game they were forced to play over and over. They had been plucked out of reality by something known as The Entity, who was using them and a handful of twisted murderous creatures as a sick form of entertainment. The notes confirmed there was seemingly no end to the games - whether they escaped through the gates or were sacrificed upon the hook they would simply find themselves back at the bonfire waiting to be called upon for the next trial. It was a seemingly endless torture.
It was difficult for any of them to determine how long they had actually been trapped in the Entity’s realm - days, weeks, months. With the sun hidden behind the polluted grey sky there was no way to tell the passing of time. They never grew hungry or thirsty or tired; the Entity wanted them alert and healthy for each and every ‘round’ of the sadistic game. It was torture of the most twisted degree.
New faces began to appear around the bonfire over time, but there were also new creatures within the Trials as well, each as cruel and twisted as the last. Dwight soon learned to identify them by sound alone and each one invoked a specific sort of dread. It didn’t matter if it was the Wraith, or the Blight, or the Priestess - they all served the Entity faithfully and were unrelenting forces of evil. There was no reasoning or bargaining to be done.
The only thing that kept Dwight from giving into complete and utter despair was his desperate hope that he would one day impress the Entity enough into letting him go free - perhaps through consecutive escapes, or impressive outsmarting of the killer. He tried everything he could, losing count of how many times he found himself pierced by the sharp point of a hook in the process, but as time went on his hope was beginning to wane. It was instead replaced by a bubbling anger that became increasingly difficult to contain. What had happened to him was unfair, not just as a subject in the Entity’s games, but all of the events before it too. He had always deserved better than what life had given him! The anger awoke a new fire within Dwight, and it wasn’t long until his new state of mind manifested a change for him.
It was a game like any other - it might have been his hundredth or his thousandth, it was impossible to tell anymore - and upon hearing the unfortunate BANG of a nearby generator malfunctioning, Dwight did as he had grown accustomed to, and hid within one of the trusty lockers that was scattered throughout the area. A shiver ran down his spine as he pulled the doors closed and waited for the inevitable sound of the Entity’s servant approaching. Five seconds passed, then ten, then fifteen. Where were they?
Absolutely nothing could have prepared Dwight for what was to come next.
The lockers were mostly a safe space for him and the other survivors - every now and then they’d be found in them, sure, but even then they could see the oncoming danger through the holes in the door. The thorny tendrils of the Entity’s monstrous limbs suddenly wrapping around Dwight’s skinny torso was as unexpected as could be and he instinctively let out a scream of absolute terror. The sharp points of the tendrils pierced and punctured his skin even as he ripped himself out of the Entity’s grasp and burst out of the locker to drop down onto his knees.
His body throbbed with pain from the sudden attack, blood soaked through the rags of his shirt, and he gasped desperately for breaths that came in all too shallow. His hands found the dirt and the soil gave way beneath his fingers as the pain in his body multiplied and forced every muscle in him to tense up in tandem.
No matter how many times he’d been placed onto a meat hook and sacrificed to the Entity he’d never become desensitized to the pain but this? This felt so much worse. It was as if every fibre of his being was ripped apart and stitched back together over and over again; like he was being burned at the stake and frozen alive at the very same time; like he was both ending and beginning.
Through watery eyes Dwight watched as his hands began to bloat, the digits thickening while the veins darkened and rose to more prominent positioning. His slender forearms endured similar swelling as hard muscle rapidly developed underneath the surface, stretching his skin across the much larger spread and even causing it to split in places, exposing the raw red tendons below.
It was a roar, not a scream, that escaped Dwight’s lips as power exploded through his biceps and triceps, ballooning them up to a massive circumference of thirty inches. More and more of his flesh tore away as a result of the massive pressure and the few veins that were still covered by skin were distended.
The disgusting disfiguration of Dwight’s diminutive frame continued with his back broadening: his lats widening, delts rounding and traps rising. The puncture marks from the Entity’s tendrils split further and further apart to create a horrific tapestry of gruesomeness: a masterpiece in monstrosity.
His chest endured a similar fate, the flat surface suddenly being dominated by the rising peaks of thick pecs and an expansive muscle gut. His upper half was made up of giant proportions, like some troll out of a fantasy book Dwight had read as a child, but it wasn’t long before the rest of his body fell victim to the same vile metamorphosis.
The feeble fabric of his pants were ripped apart by the massive expansion of the muscles in his legs; the pathetic twigs growing into mighty cannons. The once-slender limbs instead boasted thighs that could easily crush a watermelon between them, and bulging diamond calves. His converse sneakers fell just as easily when his feet doubled in size, furiously bursting forth from their constraints until his toes were spreading out in a wide expanse against the earth.
For a brief few moments his body seemed to be pulled from both ends like he was one of those kids toys made of elastic, but rather than snapping back to a regular size he retained the huge proportions he had been stretched to. The experience had been excruciating for Dwight and prompted another roar of agony to burst forth from him, only the tones were much deeper and raspier than anything he had ever let out in the past.
Gritting his teeth and persevering despite the incredible pain, Dwight hardly even noticed that he maintained perfect vision even after his glasses fell from his face to land in the dirt. What was much more obvious were the clumps of dark hair that tumbled from his scalp until he was completely bald. Instead his head was decorated by a number of grizzly scars, some that even travelled down to his thick neck or across the shifting features of his face. Several teeth dropped from between his cracked graying lips and those that remained were yellow and chipped. His brow grew much heavier, his puffy cheeks thinned out and a large crooked nose dominated his disfigured face.
By the time the pain finally subsided and he rose to his feet, Dwight Fairfield was completely unrecognisable. He now stood at a colossal eight-feet and weighed within the vicinity of four-hundred pounds, all of it grotesque inflated muscle. He carried himself with a hunch thanks to the overgrown spread of his back, and his heavy breaths emerged in wheezing sounds that evoked nails on a chalkboard. He carried no weapon but he didn’t need one - he possessed enough strength to rip a person apart with his bare hands, limb by limb.
A voice appeared in the back of his mind, whispering words in silky smooth tones. He knew what the source was immediately: the Entity. “Hunt them down,” the demonic deity’s voice urged, “Sacrifice them to me. Give into your anger, to your darkest desires. Become mine… become the Brute!” Any resistance Dwight might have put up had been torn out of him by the painful conversion into a brand new servant for the Entity, so it only felt natural to give into the instruction. Dwight Fairfield was no more, only The Brute remained.
