Chapter Text
Your name is DAMARA MEGIDO and you hate existence itself.
But that's fine; it will all end soon enough. You get a certain amount of pleasure in knowing what the others refuse to believe, including the fact that they are as much pawns in the inevitable unwrapping of reality as you are.
You get a certain amount of pleasure in other things as well. These new arrivals, remnants of a session only marginally less unsuccessful than yours, survivors of inter-species shenanigans and intra-team massacres – they interest you. At least they interest you in that one spot between your legs where you are still able to feel interest. That is to say, they turn you on.
You didn't plan on going here, but their meteor is physically passing through your bubble, and it would be a shame not to visit. It's unusual to feel solid matter around you for once rather than the ever-changing dreamscape, and you wanted to see the faces of the final game pieces gathering around the Lord of Time. You certainly didn't plan on finding one of them in such a deliciously vulnerable position, but you're not complaining at all. It would be a shame not to abuse the situation. You haven't fucked a living being in an eternity.
The boy is asleep on top of a pile of honk horns. He's breathing softly, regularly, completely out of it – a definitive proof that he is alive. The dead can curl up and close their eyes and relax, but their consciousnesses won't actually leave the building. No one can touch them without their knowledge, not that that always stops you. But this one is out of the house. You smirk and put your hand on the coarse black hair between his little nubby horns. He's the post-scratch version of Kankri's ancestor. So much for the better – his fluids will be a vicious, shameful red. Your smirk widens as a small glowing circle of simple time magic lights up to make sure he will stay in this state for a while. This is a rare opportunity, and you'll make sure to fuck this one to the last drop.
You don't bother to close the door, much less lock it. The human aliens were several rooms away – they won't hear you from there. And if someone should chance to come closer, well, that risk makes a good fuck all the more worth it. You actually hope that someone will come. They can't destroy you – nothing can destroy you except the Lord of Time himself, and sadly he won't before the moment is right. But in the best case scenario, the intruder will fuck you right back with hatred in their eyes. Ah, but that would be something.
You turn your attention back to the boy. He's already lying face down on a pile, which is a position you like. You pull his head up by the hair to look at his face. A few of the horns honk from the movement, but it doesn't disturb you. You like how the boy looks so very much like Kankri. You've wanted to shove your bulge into Kankri's blabbing mouth since before you all died.
You start by slapping him. It results in an interesting reddish blush on his cheek. You slap his other cheek, and then the first and then the second, again and again, until your own hand stings and his face is gray-red and starting to bruise. Much better. If he's going to be helpless, he should look it, too. Your bulge is writhing already and you're not about to deny it the pleasure it can have so freely here, so you pull up your skirt and remove your underwear and shove your bulge in between his lips. The boy's mouth is warm and wet and alive and it doesn't matter that it's unresponsive – that gives your bulge the freedom to wriggle and explore every damp cranny inside. It's better than you imagined. You're oral fucking a living creature and he doesn't even know it. Your tip reaches down, teasing his throat, but not too far.
His teeth are nice and sharp, and you use your hand to guide his jaw to clamp down just a little bit on your bulge, pricking it just enough for the right tension. You're moaning now, grinding against his face. His body trembles slightly, like it knows something untoward is going on, but it can't wake up. The tremble excites you more, your bulge wrapping itself around his tongue, and you're already close to coming. This is good. You grab his little horns and shove yourself down his throat as far as you can reach. He shudders around you and then you do come, your genetic material released through the seedflap between your legs and running uselessly down to soil the horn pile.
You grin, pulling out slowly. Your bulge is limp, but you slap it against the boy's little Kankri nose a couple of times, producing a wet noise. You don't care about your genetic material. It's as dead as you are, and will be gone when the meteor leaves the bubble where you exist. You wonder if he'll have time to see it. It would be good if he does.
Oral was satisfying, but not half as satisfying as the next part should be. You rearrange your skirt but don't bother putting on the underwear. The sleeping boy has a nice ass. It's tighter than Kankri's, perhaps even tighter than Rufioh's, but there's too much clothing covering it. You reach around his waist and unzip his pants, pulling pants and underwear down to reveal it in all its gray, firm glory. You run your spent bulge down his buttcrack, feeling a slight stirring in it return. Encouraged, you bend forward and bite him, putting your teeth in his buttocks to break skin and get the first good look at the bright mutant red. His body makes a nondescript sound at being punctured. It's pleasant.
You have to bend down and rip his shoes off first in order to get his pants off completely, but you have to get rid of them so that you can properly enjoy him. Once done you sink down on the horn pile between his legs with a multitude of honks, spreading his thighs wide. You run your finger down his crack and over his asshole, nook, seedflap, and the base of the bulge. You like it, but it's not enough.
You should spank him. Looking around for something to use, your eyes fix on a few glass bottles on the table in the corner. You smile. Oh, yes, that should excite you.
The largest of the bottles is almost as large as a troll baseball bat, and you bring it down on his ass two handed, as hard as you can muster. The boy's body grunts in pain. It's trembling again, wanting to wake up, but it won't. You hit his ass again. And again. And again. On the fifth strike the bottle shatters, and his body twitches hard. You laugh, throwing the piece left in your hand away in a corner. The boy's ass is flaming in bruised red under the gray now. That's much better. The bottle broke relatively cleanly, but the edge did scratch him, drawing some blood. It's very red, and you notice a couple of glass shards in the little wounds. You decide you'll tell Kankri about this later. He won't understand the details, but he'll get enough to be nicely horrified.
You pull out all the shards that you can see, then start twirling your fingers to make patterns on his ass in his own blood. Your bulge is starting to writhe again. You are actually having a good time.
Your finger finds his nook. It's dry, like he hasn't actually appreciated any of this. Well, he doesn't have to. You run your fingers around edges of the hole, then push two inside, wriggling around. You don't bother to be gentle with your claws, and there are red stains on them when you pull out. He's so tight. He really needs to be fucked, but you're not quite ready yet. You pick a horn out of the pile, press the bulb down with a honk and then push it backwards up his nook. The shape is awkward, but you shove it in all the way until only widest part of the mouth of it is outside. His body whines softly in protest. Not enough. You smirk and punch his nook with your fist. The horn goes further in.
You continue by running your fingers up to his asshole. You should put something in there, too. It's tight and ugly like assholes tend to be, but everyone should be fucked anal at some point. You shove a single clawed finger inside with some effort and wriggle around. His body twitches in protest again. You want it to twitch more, so you push another finger inside and force the hole open. Your other hand is used to produce one of your cigars. It would have been a waste, but they're not actually real which means they're a renewable resource. You stick it up his asshole until only the end is visible. Good. Maybe you will light it right before you leave.
You're almost ready to fuck him again, to pail him properly this time. You knead his bruised buttocks and lick the drying red blood from his ass, then reach around between his legs to touch his bulge. It's slack and inactive and the boy's body whimpers when you pinch it hard between your claws. But that's enough; now it's time to play nice. His bulge responds to your fingers well enough when you run them slowly and carefully up and down its curves. It doesn't take long before it curls hungrily around your hand. He wants you after all. Everyone does.
You're going to fuck him so hard. You can't keep his nook blocked for that, so you reach in with your free hand and rip the horn out. You don't bother to be gentle. The boy's body yelps and his bulge almost goes slack again, but it only needs a little caressing to be back to squirming. Your own bulge is almost too eager by now, threatening to wriggle out of control. It feels amazing.
You turn the boy around on his back. The horns honk violently, and even more when you push him down to lie with his groin on the top of the pile and his head down towards the floor. You bend down and open his mouth, putting the horn from his nook in there. You take care to close his jaw and lips carefully around it. He'll taste himself with a honk when he wakes up.
When you climb up on the pile to a cacophony of honking noise, you can barely contain yourself. You squat over the boy's hips, messily allowing your bulge to find his nook. A groan of pleasure escapes you when you find that although his nook definitely isn't as wet as it could be, his bulge finds your nook willingly enough. It's so easy with a sleeper. You grin and start to fuck him viciously, grinding your hips against his as your bulge wriggles violently in his nook and his moves around somewhat less enthusiastically but still pleasantly in yours. His body moans with you, more accepting than denying your touch now. Your bulges are entwined in the middle and for a mere moment, grinding yourself against him and inside him and around him you can lose yourself in pleasure and almost forget the emptiness that is your unlife.