Into the Fold (Mancubus Encounter)

The wan, yellow lights in the UAC base underhalls flickered like dancing dervishes in a twisted carnival. Silence heavily blanketed the corridors, punctuated only by rhythmic drips from ethylene glycol coolant pipes and intermittent crackling of sparking UI panels. He strode forward, steps reverberating in time while his left hand supporting the heft of the twin cobalt blue barrels. Meanwhile, his right hand clutched the walnut stock, the tension taut in his tendons.

"I was sure that the red security card would've been in the administration office. The staff sergeant included the location in the debriefing report when our squad arrived. How in the Hell..."


THUNK


He paused. All the anxiety easy to read in his furrowed brow. Jaw clenched, finger on the trigger, he stood still and waited, assessing the situation. He couldn't hear anything over the blood pounding in his head. After a moment, his training took over and he slowed his breathing, not only to calm his racing heart, but also the throbbing in his ears.


SCHHLUNK


Left, right and back again. His head turned as he futilely scanned the periphery for a threat shrouded in the darkness.


CLANK CLANG SCREEEE


There was no mistaking the sound of a heavy impact against the reinforced substructure. Further down in the inky depths, the screech of strained steel shattered the relative silence. Opening his eyes wide, his pupils drank in the scant light ahead. Although he couldn't see much, it quickly became evident that there were no other pathways branching off the main corridor. He sighed deeply, realizing that the he was essentially being funneled toward whatever was creating the disturbance.

As an apprehensive silence poured over his ears, he actioned the unlocking lever of his shotgun. Squinting downward, he confirmed a fresh shell occupied each chamber. Quietly closing the breech, he sighed again, and tightened the frayed straps on his security armor.

"Better than nothing," he mused. "If I ever see Todd in Hell, I'll have to say thanks."

He walked gingerly toward the source of the noise, thinking how funny it was that he had never given much thought to how poorly-suited his combat boots were for stealth. The rusty, bolted metal hexagon tiles seemed to scream out his approach with every step forward. Several minutes had already passed since he last heard anything. Although it was cliche, he started to wonder if he really had heard something. Maybe the fatigue and sleep deprivation had finally taken their toll. He shook his head.

"No. I know I'm not alone here. I've seen them. We've taken flesh from each other. This is real."


KRRRRCHHHHH


That sound again. The sound of metal deforming. There was no mistaking it and he was much closer in proximity now. His face formed a sick grimace as he could feel his discipline getting caught in the undertow of adrenaline. Every remnant of his conscious mind wanted to resist, but at this point his fight or flight response was starting to peak. His body decided it would fight this time.

Without even thinking, he readied his shotgun and began to pick up his pace toward the end of the hallway. The clank of his boots on the metal tiles melted together with the noise ahead.


KLANK KLANK KLANK KLANK
THUNK THUNK THUNK KRRRRRRRRCHHHHH


His mind wasn't his anymore. It belonged to the God of War now.

"I'm going to fucking kill you. I'm going to gut you. I'll rip out your eyes and cut you to pieces. I'm gonna wear your skin. I'm going to take my revenge on you. You're going to take the pain of every friend and soldier I watch die. I'm going to sacrifice you and eat your heart while it beats.

Every violent act imaginable tore through his mind like a tornado in a bottle. He also thought of his friends, the soldiers, the desk jockeys, the research crew, even his wife Maggie. He gritted his teeth. She came here to visit on this Godforsaken rock after winning a civilian visitation pass in the colonial lottery drawing.

But they were dead. All of them. Eviscerated like cattle, pentagrams mockingly carved in their soft skin. Tied up, hung up, drawn and quartered. Every cruelty imaginable and he had been witness to it all.

"All of them are dead. Maggie. My unborn son."

The unfamiliar sting of tears welling up, now very familiar, swept over his grimacing face. He swallowed hard. All the thoughts of violence he would rain down on whatever was ahead crashed over his consciousness like a tidal wave.


KLANK KLANK KLANK KLANK


He continued down the hallway with purpose, shotgun prepared to fire at any time.

"Almost there..."


KLANK KLANK KLANK KLANK


The end, if he had to guess, was about 20 yards away, but it was hard to tell in the inky black. He peered into the shadows for the doorway ahead, but it looked like a dead end. Typically, he wasn't assigned this sector, but most of the floor plans were identical. There should be a doorway ahead, he thought.


KLANK KLANK KLANK KLANK


He had to stop 10 yards from the end. Reeling from the momentum on the smooth tile floor, he came to a stumbling halt. The grimace on his face melted away as his jaw dropped open and his eyes widened. It became clear why he couldn't spot the exit further back.

The doorway ahead was deformed, metal supports whining under the obvious strain of a massive, corpulent figure wedged in it. The recessed blinking lights gave scattered glimpses of its countenance in the thick shadows.

It was difficult to tell, but the corpulent humanoid frame appeared to be about seven feet tall and loosely shrouded in what looked like sewn leather the color of decaying oranges. High pressure hoses arced over its shoulders, terminating in crudely-formed metal barrels grafted onto its elbows. He couldn't see much below the ripples of flesh and fat, but it seemed to be straining on its two trunk-like feet. And it stank. It reeked of death. He knew that smell. It wasn't like the sanitized scent of death in a hospital. No, this was the stench of death, like a corpse bloated in the hot sun.

And yet, even in the face of this...thing, this embodiment of death, this demonic construct, he couldn't hold back anymore. The sheer inappropriate comedy of this death bringer, this monolithic evil stuck in the doorway was more than his aching mind could restrain. Starting as a nervous chuckle, an uproarious laughter poured out of his mouth, echoing around him. He doubled over at the sheer volume of laughter, still grasping his shotgun while planting his hands on his knees.

The demon, whatever it was, despite its animal level intelligence, did not tolerate the ridicule. It heaved and shifted its mass violently in the doorway, breathing heavily and grunting guttural maledictions all the while. It was to no avail, however, as it appeared to only become more tightly trapped in the doorway.

As the laughter naturally subsided, his mind whirled with the contrasts of sorrow, loss, terror, anger, hate he had experienced this all began. Since he lost track of time when the invasion began. His mind reflexively regurgitated suppressed memories of Maggie. By the time he returned to their quarters from an emergency deployment, the demons had already overrun the facility for several hours. She had only confessed to him about the life inside her the day before. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he could never forget that moment. The joy, the nervousness, the overwhelming sensation of love he felt for her and their unborn son.

When he found her, no...them, she was hung up on the wall of their room in a reverse-crucifix. Her belly was slit open, her torso painted by the torrent of blood pouring from the womb.

His mind was jarred back to the present from merely recalling that unfathomable memory. The peals of laughter were long gone, replaced by the familiar all-consuming hatred pouring back into the pit of his stomach. From there, it coursed back into his brain, stoking those violent thoughts from before. This time, his tears couldn't be suppressed. He could feel the warm rivulets coursing over his dirty, careworn cheeks and dropping off his jawline.

"I'm to going to take it all out on you..." His mind was evacuated of any rational thought and this was the only thing left, playing over and over like a worn out recording.

Hefting the shotgun in his hands, he turned it around, grasping it by the double barrel, stock facing out. He walked forward to the monster struggling in the doorway. He stanced his legs, shoulder width apart and swung the shotgun like a bat.


CRAAAAAACK


The stock violently struck the creature in the head, fracturing its jaw. The sickening sound of the impact reverberated in the dark. One swing and its head hung slack, dead or unconscious, the broken jaw hanging loosely, blood streaming out. Its body was suspended upright by the excessive tension of its weight against the doorway.

His hands shot down to his belt buckle and fumbled with the prong as he stepped closer. Standing in front of the creature, his mind was surprisingly free from any conscious thoughts. Dropping his shotgun, the stock somehow miraculously intact, he stared ahead and reached out.

It felt like soft, sweaty leather and the texture beneath was like clumps of cottage cheese. He lifted up a sheet of blubbery flesh and was greeted by the scent of decay, filth and rotting meat. But it didn't register. He wasn't even thinking anymore. He didn't care. The only thing he felt was hate and violence toward this embodiment of the enemy.

Shoving himself in, he released the fatty fold and began to move, in and out, With a mechanical rhythm. The tears from before had never dried up, they were still flowing.


Harder. Faster.


The mass of the unconscious monster shook and jiggled with every push, the sound of slapping flesh filled the hallway. He could only think of what he saw in his quarters.


Harder. Faster.


He had lost all sense of time and purpose at this point, when the creature began to stir, gurgling from behind its battered jaw. Without hesitating, keeping rhythm all the while, he picked up his shotgun where it lay beside his foot.

"I'm not finished yet," he hissed.


KABLAAAAAAM


Firing both barrels into its skull, a swath of unrecognizable shredded flesh was left on its shoulders, punctuated by mangled vertebrae. He continued thrusting, harder and faster still. Now he could feel the stream of warm blood flowing down into the folds of cooling flesh where he continued. By now, he was beginning to chafe and although the viscera helped, he couldn't finish.

Realizing that he couldn't fully exact vengeance without bringing the act to culmination, he stopped. Pulling up his combat fatigues, he looped his belt and took a slow breath. The adrenaline rush was beginning to wane and the gravity of the scene was beginning to weigh on his mind. He swallowed hard and thought again. About Maggie. Todd. Everyone he lost. The psychological trauma he endured. He reloaded his shotgun and took a mental count of the shells remaining in his backpack.

"The only way ahead is through. I'm going to make them all pay the price. Watch out, assholes, I'm coming for you."

Slowly, he raised both barrels at the bloated corpse, finger taut on the trigger.


KABLAAAAAAM

Nothing like busting a nut in a mancubus! Probably wouldn't have been my first demon of choice but to each their own :D

Needs more im--wait, no, it's just fine.

I hope I wasn't too subtle with some of the double entendres.

I hope, "Watch out assholes, I'm coming for you," is one of them, and foreshadows the events of an impending sequel.

Hellknight encounter next pls

This really contains content! Strong 4-ish place in "Hellspawnsex-themed doom fanfic" category.

GENTLEMEN! I... HAVE READ THIS THREAD! AND IN RETROSPECT... I ASK MYSELF WHY!

Needs more impse.

Also, I never expected to have to write this sentence, but you already wrote a short story about a space marine fucking a mancubus, over ten years ago.

why is manc headbanging while he's being raped

Taylor said:

Needs more impse.

Also, I never expected to have to write this sentence, but you already wrote a short story about a space marine fucking a mancubus, over ten years ago.

I'm honestly, truly surprised.

We'll, we've officially come full circle. My apologies, dear readers. I'll have to make it up to you.

revenant encounter next

figure it out

AD_79 said:

revenant encounter next

figure it out

Yes. The double entendres practically write themselves. This is on my agenda now.

Job said:

Yes. The double entendres practically write themselves. This is on my agenda now.

Marnetmar said:

Spoiler

Spoiler

Spoiler

boners

This is now my go-to image.

Job said:

"The only way ahead is through. I'm going to make them all pay the price. Watch out, assholes, I'm coming for you."

So THIS is how Doomguy became the Rectal Sodomist of DooM?! Quite a feat, if he had to to "go through" every enemy he encountered...truly Eternal Damnation, and very fatiguing. I hope he had access to a good supply of high-value protein...

Job said:

It felt like soft, sweaty leather and the texture beneath was like clumps of cottage cheese. He lifted up a sheet of blubbery flesh and was greeted by the scent of decay, filth and rotting meat. But it didn't register. He wasn't even thinking anymore. He didn't care. The only thing he felt was hate and violence toward this embodiment of the enemy.

Shoving himself in, he released the fatty fold and began to move, in and out, With a mechanical rhythm. The tears from before had never dried up, they were still flowing.


Harder. Faster.

This forum is home to a lot of twisted minds...

Either you are an undercover chubby chaser, or you have a gay mancubus fetish.
may your milk flow freely over the cottage cheese.

The sad part is... my mind assembled the described scene into something with realistic visuals.

If I were to judge this purely from the point of view of a -vaguely- pornographic action short story, I'd say that while it builds promisingly, goes over the trouble past and mind of the protagonist etc., however he decides to do the nasty deed a bit too abruptly, and leaving a lot of details very vague, e.g. in what position was the Mancubus stuck in the door? For some reason I imagined it stuck still standing and facing doomguy, which would make any "close encounter" difficult, unless Doomguy could benefit from a particularly long "range" *hint hint nudge nudge*.

Also, what was the gender of the Mancubus? Due to its anatomy and extreme obesity, the only way the act could be consumed would be from behind, with it bent over, regardless. Even in that case, I think it would be more appropriate for Doomguy's state of mind to simply sod it with the SSG and pull the trigger.... :-/

Happy thoughts... happy thoughts.... O_o

Maes said:

in what position was the Mancubus stuck in the door?

Happy thoughts... happy thoughts.... O_o

job said:

The stock violently struck the creature in the head, fracturing its jaw.

its head hung slack... the broken jaw hanging loosely.

Its body was suspended upright by the excessive tension of its weight against the doorway.

It sounds to me as if DoomRapist was facing a brutaly damaged Mancubus face while randomly chosing a piece of fat, lifting it, dropping it on top... to then ride inbetween that piece and the body beneath.

FireFish said:

It sounds to me as if DoomRapist was facing a brutaly damaged Mancubus face while randomly chosing a piece of fat, lifting it, dropping it on top... to then ride inbetween that piece and the body beneath.

So he didn't even necessarily "hit" an orifice? Shit man, that's sum fucked up and sick shit, mudderfacker.

In comparison, cybie fisting seems like straight vanilla.

I went blind from reading this. Good thing there's no dramatic reading. Good thing.

FireFish said:

It sounds to me as if DoomRapist was facing a brutaly damaged Mancubus face while randomly chosing a piece of fat, lifting it, dropping it on top... to then ride inbetween that piece and the body beneath.

This is a great post/user title combination. It is also essentially 100% correct in context with the story.

I appreciate the feedback, which will be beneficial for the next entry in the series. Once real life settles down come September, you better believe the next tale will have more "backbone" to it, sure to tickle your ribs (or some bone, anyway).

AD_79 said:

revenant encounter next

figure it out

^laughed a little too much at that

I do remember reading the original fanfic Job wrote, many years ago. There used to be a topic that had a list of the sexy-time stories written by various members, including Taylor who is long-lived smurf.

There needs to be a zombieman encounter.