AN: Happy Holidays!
The next chapter of 'The Fucking Dead' will NOT be finished before the end of the year as I had initially planned, so I wrote up this small DOOM fic to tide you all over until January.
I wrote this in a single night fueled by cheap energy drinks, so it's a little janky and gets messy towards the end, but I don't do this for money, so who cares?
I might do more DOOM shit in the future. This was fun.
Enjoy!
The Marine awoke with a strangled gasp, struggling to breathe as she stared up into the twisted face of the creature that had so nearly killed her. Its eyes were large and red, lidless, like those of a reptile, and it had a mouth filled with needle-like fangs that were slick with saliva and blood, which dripped and oozed onto the visor of her helmet, further obscuring her already restricted vision. Its body rested on her own, limp and lifeless, and with a strained groan, the Marine rolled the corpse off to one side, trying to ignore the pain of something dislodging itself from her right shoulder. With the thing off of her, the Marine rested on the floor for a moment, a gloved hand tentatively probing the wound on her shoulder before moving to wipe the drool and gore from the visor of her helmet, allowing her to get a better view of the beige ceiling and the flickering light that hung from it. Turning her head to the side, she took a moment to examine the thing that had attacked her, though she quickly regretted her decision, feeling her stomach twist as her brain tried to make sense of what she was looking at. It was humanoid, but that was where the similarities between it and a person ended; its body was covered in a thick leathery hide that was almost comically muscular and deep brown in colouration, its arms ending in large clawed hands while a forked tongue protruded from its fanged maw like a dead snake, laying lazily in a pool of slowly expanding blood that bubbled up from its throat in thick frothy waves. Large spikes sprouted from the thing's shoulders, one of them stained a deep red with blood, her blood, though one look at the thing's chest made it clear that the Marine had gotten off lightly.
The hole in the thing's chest was the size of a dinner plate, revealing bizarre organs that the Marine didn't recognise and splintered bones, the flesh around the gaping wound seared black. The combat shotgun blast hadn't gone right through the thing, despite how close it had been when the Marine had pulled the trigger, but it had done enough to kill the thing before its body had slammed against her own and sent the two of them to the ground, where she'd been knocked unconscious by the impact.
The Marine sneered, and using her elbows, the woman propped herself up and turned her attention to the room around her, trying to figure out just how long she'd been laying beneath the inhuman corpse and, more importantly, what had happened to her squad. They had been stationed on the main facility on Mars for months, and for the most part, it had been a dull posting until Phobos went dark, and the suits had sent her squad, along with several others, up to investigate. The first word on everyone's lips had been 'terrorists', the Union Aerospace Corporation having more than a few enemies, but what they'd found upon arriving quickly killed that theory. Despite being unusually empty, the hanger of the Phobos facility's main habitat had looked untouched, and none of the short-range shuttles had been launched, suggesting that nobody had left the facility or arrived since contact had been lost. The habitat proper, however, was another story altogether. The habitat had been turned into an abattoir, the corridors slick with blood and viscera, so much so that the Marine had been able to smell it through her helmet, and corpses that had been so horribly mangled that in some cases, it had been difficult to determine just what they had been. Many of the more complete corpses had been posed in bizarre and disturbing ways; others had been impaled or pinned to the walls, some of them flayed, others gutted, all of them with faces twisted into expressions of complete and utter agony. These expressions made it clear that they were alive throughout the grisly process.
The most memorable of these corpses had been the one hung above the door that led from the habitat and into the main facility. The corpse was that of a woman, a pretty thing with a face that was disturbingly tranquil, her face pale, her lips redder than blood, and her eyes closed as if she were simply sleeping. The woman had been stripped naked and crucified upside down, her toes pointing to the ceiling and her thick blonde hair dangling towards the floor, her feet and hands impaled by jagged chunks of metal that had been torn from the walls. Her crotch and breasts had been mutilated beyond recognition, reduced to sickening mounds of torn flesh, fat, and exposed muscle, sheets of blood trailing down along her body and pooling on the floor below. The Marine had almost lost her lunch at the sight, and others had, and any thoughts of terrorists died there and then.
None of them knew what was waiting for them in the depths of the Phobos facility until the monsters came screaming out of the darkness, and the fighting started.
The exact details of the engagement were fuzzy, and as the Marine rose to her feet and stooped to pick up her shotgun, she became aware that she wasn't the only thing moving in the room. The room itself was spacious, some sort of workspace where the Phobos workers had been storing barrels of waste sent up from Mars. Three more of the brown creatures were lying dead here and there, their bodies riddled with holes, but whatever satisfaction the Marine felt from the sight was lost when she realised that there were far more human bodies and that not a single one of them had been left whole. She counted ten or twelve bodies in total, some missing their arms, others missing their legs, and others still missing their heads, and all of them looked as if they'd been savaged by wild animals, their armour torn open to reveal ragged flesh. A short distance away, kneeling amidst the corpses, with their back to the Marine, was a decidedly human figure gently swaying from left to right. They weren't military, clad in tattered yellow worker's overalls and a hard hat that was askew, revealing the shaven head beneath. They were kneeling over the corpse of another marine, and for a moment, the Marine thought that they were praying, but as she moved around to get a better look, she felt her blood run cold.
The thing had been human, but that was no longer the case. Its skin was almost grey, with pale, sunken eyes that stared out into nothingness. There was no nose on the thing's face, just a bloody hole where a nose had been, and below that was its mouth, slack-jawed and glistening with blood that dripped from its chin. Slowly, the thing lowered its cupped hands into the open stomach of the corpse it was kneeling over, collecting blood before then bringing it to its cracked lips, drinking it, before repeating the process. The blood it so happily drank poured from its torn throat, painting the front of the overalls it wore scarlet.
"Jesus Christ," the Marine blurted, the sound of her voice instantly causing the kneeling ghoul to freeze. Slowly, its head turned to face her, the placid expression it had been wearing as it drank replaced in an instant by one of inhuman anger, brows furrowing and lips contorting into a snarl as it slowly rose to its feet and then lurched towards her, arms outstretched and jaws snapping at the air. Stepping back, the Marine levelled her shotgun at the approaching zombie, as that was the only thing she could think of as she watched the thing stumble towards her. She squeezed the trigger twice, the first shot blowing away one of its arms and the second removing the uppermost portion of its head. It took another two uneven steps before finally falling forwards, hitting the floor like a sack of shit, congealed blood slowly oozing from the gnarled remains of its head as its limbs spasmed and twitched. Not satisfied that the thing was dead, the Marine moved towards the corpse and brought a boot-clad foot onto what little remained of its head, repeating the motion until she was satisfied that it wouldn't be getting up again.
Stumbling back, the Marine held her shotgun close to her chest and decided that if anyone else had survived the massacre, they'd have headed back to the habitat hanger. If she was lucky, they hadn't left yet, but even if they had, she could take one of the short-range shuttles and hope for the best. Dragging her tongue over her lips, she turned to leave the workroom, and as the door slid open with a mechanical hiss, another sound caught her attention. A shrill scream came from somewhere far away, echoing through the facility's halls. It was joined by another scream, and then another, growing into a screeching chorus that made the Marine's blood run cold as she picked up the pace, jogging away from the source of the screams as they steadily grew louder and closer. She now remembered hearing a similar scream before the attack had happened, and against her better judgment, the woman glanced back down the corridor.
From the gloom came seven figures, two towering above the rest, brown leathery skin pulled taut over their muscular frames, red eyes glowing like embers as they screeched and snarled. They didn't move right, bodies jerking and twisting as they ran, reminding the woman of a contortionist. The rest of the figures were zombies, moving faster than the one she'd killed, some wearing overalls and others wearing marine armour, faces obscured by helmets and weapons clasped in their grey hands. One of the undead marines raised its weapon, a pistol, and with a muffled scream, it pulled the trigger, firing wildly. Ducking, the Marine turned a corner and picked up the pace, breaking into a sprint as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the gaggle of ghouls chasing her. When she was satisfied that she could turn around without being swamped, she stopped and spun, dropping to one knee and raising her shotgun just as her pursuers turned the corner. The other undead marines had brought their weapons to bear. They were firing now, shots whizzing past and over the Marine as she squeezed the trigger of her gun and returned fire, watching as the unarmoured zombies were shredded, though the marines only stumbled back, dropping their weapons as they were knocked off their feet and sent sprawling to the floor. They weren't dead, but they struggled to get up, and as they screamed and flailed, the Marine took the chance to reload, only to then realise that the tall creatures that had been leading the charge had yet to turn the corner. As she realised her mistake, they did, one leaping from the floor to cling to the ceiling, moving like a spider, while the second slid to a halt, let loose a scream, and flung an arm forward. The Marine threw herself to one side to avoid the fireball that leapt from the creature's hand, her shoulder hitting the wall hard before she pulled her sidearm from its holster and raised it, squeezing off a few shots at the creature crawling along the ceiling. Squealing, the thing fell from the ceiling and writhed where it lay. However, it wasn't dead, and with an angry howl, it retreated back down the corridor, where the zombies had once again risen to their feet and lurched forward, those that had dropped their weapons, forgetting them entirely, leaving only one of the remaining three armed. Watching as the first of the two tall creatures reeled back in preparation to send another fireball her way, the Marine turned and resumed her dash back towards the habitat, if she was even heading in the right direction.
It felt as if she were running through a haunted house, the gore-filled corridors blurring together to form one endless hallway of horror until, much to her surprise, she found herself at the entrance to the habitat. She slammed a fist against the keypad and tossed herself through the doors as they opened, landing in a pool of cool, sticky blood. Rolling onto her back, she was greeted by the sight of the crucified woman above her, her eyes now open and her mouth opening and closing as her body writhed and undulated. A fireball brought her attention back to the horrors that had been chasing her. With grit teeth, she aimed her pistol at the door's keypad and fired, an explosion of sparks briefly blinding the woman before the door slammed shut, muffling the enraged, inhuman screams of the creatures on the other side. She listened as they slammed against the door, the sounds driving the crucified woman above her into a frenzy.
It was too much.
Rolling onto her stomach, the Marine crawled a short distance away before ripping off her helmet and vomiting.
When her stomach was finally empty, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand and stood, holstering her pistol and taking the time to reload her shotgun as she made her way back to the hanger, eager to put as much distance between herself and the door as possible. Her legs ached, her lungs burned, the wound on her shoulder throbbed with every step she took, and now that her helmet was off, the stench of decay and death was almost overwhelming. She'd seen her fair share of shit, but nothing compared to what she'd seen since setting foot on Phobos. The habitat was quiet, just as it had been when she and the other marines had conducted their sweep, and when the hanger doors finally came into view, the Marine could've laughed as relief washed over her. All she had to do was go through that door, and she'd be home free, and some UAC exec would be eating his teeth for sending her and the others into a meatgrinder.
Reaching the door, she pushed her hand against the keypad and ducked under it as it opened, not wanting to spend a second more on Phobos than she had to.
She regretted her decision immediately.
The transport that had brought her and the other marines to Phobos was gone, scorch marks on the floor where it'd rested suggesting it'd made a hasty departure. Worse than that, however, were the creatures that had gathered in the centre of the hanger, a mob of monstrous bodies shifting and swaying. There were more of the brown creatures, but there were others the woman didn't recognise, squat pink horned things with mouths that were far too large and burning yellow eyes, and above them all swirled a trio of grotesque green-eyed cyclopean creatures with scarlet flesh, each resembling a ball of gnarled flesh and having a crown of horns and wide, grinning maws. Amidst the crowd were zombies, and surrounding them were corpses, stripped of their clothes and posed so that they appeared to be kneeling, all of them missing their heads, which the monsters were using to draw on the floor. The Marine was frozen, and as she watched the gruesome scene, she became aware that the monsters were speaking, or rather, they were chanting. She didn't understand the language, but the fact that the monsters were saying anything terrified the woman; the idea that these things were thinking, intelligent beings and that they had a purpose, some sort of goal, made the situation all the more terrible. The only silver lining was that they were too consumed with their bizarre gathering to notice her. Lowering into a crouch, she started towards one of the short-range shuttles, silently praying to whatever God was watching at that moment that she'd reach it without being seen. To her surprise, she did, and without so much as a second thought, she scrambled aboard the shuttle and sealed the door behind her, letting her shotgun slip from her fingers and clatter to the floor of the cabin as she stumbled into the cockpit and fell into the pilot's chair.
"Thank you," she sobbed, letting the tears flow as she began to prep the shuttle for launch, the slowly growing growl of the engine drowning out the now muffled chanting, and as it reached its crescendo and she reached for the ignition, a blinding flash of red filled the cockpit, briefly blinding the woman as she let loose a startled cry and nearly fell from her seat.
It was silent, truly silent, the Marine listening to the gentle burbling of her own blood as it flowed throughout her body as her vision slowly returned, the woman groaning and blinking away white spots as she pushed herself up from her seat and leant over the control console, narrowing her eyes as she tried to see what had happened. The monsters and their zombies had fallen to their knees, prostrating themselves before a creature that now stood in the centre of a bloody pentagram-like symbol that glowed a hellish red. It was huge, red, muscular, standing twice as tall as a person, its legs resembling those of a goat, covered in thick brown fur and ending in black cloven hooves. Its head was that of an animal, though the Marine didn't know what sort, and from either side of its head protruded horns that curled forwards, much like those of a bull.
It was a demon.
A fucking demon.
And as she stared at it, the Marine realised it was staring back at her.
Something inside of the Marine broke, the woman who had beaten the piss out of men twice her size letting out a scream of complete and utter terror as she tore her gaze away from the demon and started to smack her hands against the shuttle's control panel. Only when she was deafened by a bull-like bellowing and the side of the shuttle shook with a thunderous 'crash!' did she try to exit the cockpit and retrieve her shotgun. She knew she couldn't kill something that big and didn't plan to try. If she was going to die, it was going to be on her terms. When the door separating the cockpit from the cabin refused to open, she slammed her fists against it, screaming bloody murder before she remembered her pistol. In an instant, her hand was at her side, fumbling with the holster as the cockpit window was shattered by a clawed hand that closed around her head, muffling her screams and yanking her out of the cockpit as if she were a doll. It felt as if her head had been submerged in boiling water, her screams dying in her throat as she kicked and flailed, gloved hands clawing at the demon's fist. She could hear the other monsters, the demons, screeching and squealing. Then she felt hands on her, all over her, grabbing at her clothing and armour, ripping it away and scratching at her flesh, leaving her naked and bloody, all the while blinded and thrashing in the giant demon's grasp.
Another burning hand grasped her by the waist, eliciting another strangled scream from the Marine as she felt clawed digits sink into her abdomen, accompanied by a rush of warmth and wetness, a wave of blood pouring from her new wounds. Suddenly, the demon released its grasp on her head, allowing her to draw in deep lungfuls of air as her own hands rose to grasp her flushed face, surprised to feel that she hadn't been disfigured and, more importantly, that she could still see, though she quickly came to wish that she couldn't. The demon that held her was holding her above the crowd of screeching, decidedly lesser demons, all of whom were looking up at her and masturbating. She hadn't noticed it before, but the brown demons were very well endowed, with human-like penises that were studded with smaller versions of the spikes that protruded from their shoulders. In contrast, the more animalistic pink demons had curled penises like those of swine. The brown imps were pleasuring themselves not only with their hands but with the dismembered parts of the corpses that surrounded them, some even humping the gory neck holes of severed heads. The pink demons outright fucked the corpses themselves, sinking their grotesque cocks into the gaping wounds of their victims. The zombies, meanwhile, simply stood and stared, moaning with their arms outstretched, more interested in consuming her. Ripping her gaze away from the crowd below, the Marine looked at the demon holding her and let out a pitiful whimper.
Unlike the other demons, this one was some sort of bizarre mixture of male and female, heavy breasts resting on its broad chest while, hanging low between its hairy thighs, was a set of sagging balls and a cock that was twice as long as the Marine's arm and five times as thick, shaped like the cock of a horse. The demon reeked of sulfur, sweat, and meat. As what the demon had planned for her set in, the Marine started to smack and claw wildly at the hand that held her, fresh blood seeping out around the demon's fingers. When it became apparent that wouldn't work, she took a breath, opened her mouth, and extended her tongue. Something hard smacked her face, and blood filled her mouth, her mouth hanging open as the Marine gurgled and lifted a hand to clutch her now broken, toothless jaw. Blood mixed with saliva dripped down onto her own modest breasts in thick strings, and as she realised that her last option to opt out had been stolen from her, she started to sob once more. Piss flowed along her inner thighs while the demon holding her let out a long, deep, rumbling laugh, squeezing its captive, who gurgled and spasmed in protest, the demon's fingers no doubt puncturing something inside of the woman.
The human woman was a pretty thing, even with her jaw hanging, her red hair cut short and messy, damp with sweat, much like the rest of her bloodied, naked, trembling body.
Dragging its fat tongue over its lipless mouth, the demon, a Baroness of Hell, grasped the base of its cock with its free hand and started to stroke, snorting as its arousal grew, its shaft stiffening and lengthening until it was as long as the Marine herself, if not bigger, the tip flaring as thick, bubbling, stinking pearlescent pre oozed down along the underside of that herculean shaft. Uttering something the Marine didn't understand, the demon then lifted her and positioned her over its cock, letting the tip first 'kiss' the woman's piss-dripping cunt, before then doing the same to her puckered asshole, smearing both holes in thick reeking demon seed.
The Marine squirmed and sobbed, unable to do anything but stare the Baroness in the face as the demon yanked her body downwards, impaling her on its cock. The pain of her pelvis shattering and her rectum rupturing caused the Marine to toss her head back and arch her back, legs spasming and her eyes threatening to leap from their sockets. She tried to scream, but all she could manage was a sickly wet and drawn-out hissing noise. Blinking away stars, the woman looked down at her body, choking at the sight. The outline of the demon's flared tip was visible beneath the taut skin of her lower abdomen, and it felt as if she had been impaled on some sort of pillar, her torn, bleeding asshole stretched around the throbbing equine shaft that had speared it. Satisfied that the woman wouldn't be going anywhere, the Baroness released the grasp it had held on the Marine's body, pulling its fingers out of her with a series of wet popping noises. The sight of the woman 'sitting' on the demon's cock would've been comical if it weren't so gruesome, blood flowing down along the demon's length as the Marine swayed and twitched, arms hanging loosely at her sides, her legs continuing to spasm uselessly, heels kicking against the rigid slab of demon meat. For a moment, the Baroness simply admired the sight, only to lift a hand to grasp the Marine's right ankle firmly, feeling bones splinter and snap beneath her clawed fingers, the Marine closing her eyes and letting out another wet, bubbling hiss. With one pull, the demon had dislocated the leg from the Marines's broken pelvis, and with another, she tore it from her body, skin, muscle, and fat, stretching and tearing with ease, leaving behind a bloody socket. Ignoring the now frantic hissing of the Marine, who thrashed atop the demon's cock, the Baroness then tossed the dismembered leg aside. She did the same to the Marine's left leg, watching with delight as the now legless woman tried to dislodge herself from its cock.
"This is Hell," the Marine thought, bloodshot eyes staring at the demon, "I'm in Hell!"
The Baroness then grasped the woman's left wrist and pulled again; bones broke, the Marine hissed, and her arm came free. The pain was overwhelming, and yet, as the Baroness tossed her arm away and grasped her right wrist, the Marine found herself unable to pass out. She knew that the blood loss, shock, or some combination of the two should've killed her or, at the very least, knocked her out. Still, she was alive and aware of everything that was happening to her, every agonising second. As her right arm was torn away, she couldn't help but wonder if the demon was somehow keeping her alive or if she was already dead, and this was all some sort of punishment for some sin she'd committed in life, and she'd committed more than a few.
Admiring its handiwork, watching the limbless, sobbing, and very much alive woman gurgle and twitch, the Baroness placed both its hands on the woman's body, one holding her by the hip and the other by the throat, the burning sensation of the demon's skin touching causing the woman to instinctively jerk back, not that she could go anywhere.
And then, the demon pulled her down slowly, letting the Marine feel every inch of that demonic dick as it skewered her, rearranging her innards and shattering bones. Blood flowed freely from the ruined remains of her asshole, and soon the flared tip had pushed its way up through the woman's guts and into her stomach, which had burst like a balloon, stomach acids eating away at her innards and adding to the indescribable agony she felt. Above her, the Marine watched the flying demons as they circled and bobbed through the air, cackling in deep, laborious voices while the crowd of demons below continued to pleasure themselves, some emptying their seed onto the floor, others into carcasses, all of them watching her as she was filled with demon cock. Tightening her already firm grip on the woman, the Baroness then began to slide the Marine back and forth along her length, grunting and snorting as it used her mutilated body as if it were a fleshlight, an onahole, nothing but a toy to abuse and break. Her insides were pulverised, and each time she was dragged along the demon's cock, more and more of it was fed into her, the flared tip soon pushing up into her chest, breaking her ribs and pulverising her lungs, blood bubbling and spraying from her mouth as any sanity she had left faded, the only thought left in her head being a simple one.
'Kill me.'
The last thing she felt was her neck and throat being torn open as the tip punched its way up and out of her torso, decapitating her and sending her head spinning into the crowd below, ropes of cum spraying from the demon's length as it came, and finally granted her wish. The last thing she saw as the world faded was the demon brutally fucking the mutilated mess that was her corpse, its thunderous roars of ecstasy drowning out any other noise around her.