"Haaahh… haaahhh…"
His breath came in sharp, scraping gasps, each one tearing at his throat like broken glass. His lungs fought, clawing inside his chest as if some unseen force pressed down on them. His vision—shaking, blurring—dragged his attention across a room that felt far too small to contain everything inside it.
A single torch flickered overhead.
Barely alive, looking like the smallest breeze could snuff it. A child could blow it. Yet somehow it rigorously stayed alive. Its weak light spilled across the walls in jittering waves. Looking at the torch, he somehow felt relaxed, his breathing returning to normal, and then it hit him.
The smell-thick, metallic, suffocating evil.
And he saw the blood.
His somewhat familiar but corpselike arms, legs, and on the walls, too. He didn't have enough time to focus on his malnourished hands before his eyes followed the blood...
Everywhere.
It coated the walls in dark, glossy sheets, dripping in slow trails toward the floor. Pools rippled beneath him, warm and viscous, as if someone had spilled an ocean of veins. And amidst that sea of red were… pieces of flesh. Human flesh. Cleanly cut like they were chopped up by a master swordsman.
Some body parts were stuck to the walls as if pressed there by an invisible force, while others sank halfway into the red pool below, their outlines softening under the heavy liquid.
Faces melted in and out of the walls. Some human of different genders, races, shades and sizes—
One lookin like a beautiful young woman caught his gaze a bit and then he noticed the other faces and facial organs Some of which weren't human or humanlike at all.
too many mouths, too many eyes, too many teeth.
His stomach turned. His throat tightened. He felt the urge to vomit, yet nothing came out of his empty stomach.
Calming down a bit.
'What is this place? Why can't I move?'
The panic in his head rose faster than his breath as the neuron activity in his brain flared with rife activity.
Only then did he notice the straps.
Thick leather bands dug into his wrists and ankles, pinning him to something cold beneath his back. Not metal. Not wood. The texture felt uneven, even moving on its own, tightening around him as he tried to rise up. It ribbed, almost like it was responding to his actions.
His vision darkened... And when he opened his eyes again.
He found his person stranded by a woman of unparalleled beauty.
She was beautiful. Devastatingly so.
Crimson hair cascaded like a wildfire over her shoulders, framing a face that he couldn't quite make sense of, yet he could tell every part of it was beautiful. Her lips, swollen and bitten-red, curled into a grin as she pinned him beneath her, the heat of her body searing into his.
Then—
Crack.
Agony ripped through him as she slammed down, her body swallowing him whole. Her hips—wide, ridiculously so—rolled. His ilium screamed, the delicate curve of his pubic symphysis threatening to splinter under the force of her descent. His mouth fell open around a ragged, aborted shout—
And her hand clamped over his lips, her fingers tasting like salt and domination.
"Shhh," she cooed, her voice syrup-thick with faux sympathy, even as she rolled her hips again, grinding him into the surface with enough force to make his hips shriek in protest.
The swollen curve of her stomach glistened under the dim light, skin stretched taut, trembling with each violent snap of her body as she took him deeper, harder, her thighs clenching around him.
PAH PAH PAH
From the wreckage of his hips, up the valley of her stomach—a landscape of sweat-slick devotion, quivering with every brutal descent. The soft swell of it tightened and rolled like the crest of a wave, her muscles clenching around the rhythm of her body as she rode him into the surface of the room. She rode him through it, her strength painly obvious to him from the fact that he couldn't move an inch.
"Let me off it hurts" He tried to call out to her, yet all he got back was a smirk as she rode him harder. The heat radiating off her was obscene, her skin shimmering, stretched taut over the delicious fullness of her tall, voluptuous form.
"I can't pry it from your soul—" she hissed, nails digging into his chest hard enough to bleed, "so you'll give me the key—" Her hips stuttered, her thighs trembling as she ground down, her stomach tightening in a way that made his vision blur— "with your seed."
"WHAT KEY!!!!", he shouted at her with what little strength he could gather.
All it got him back was his bones, or what's left of his hip bones getting crushed by her.
"STOP! PLEASE!" he cried. "I'll—I'll give it to you! Just—just tell me what it is! PLEASE!"
"We have tried that already. Now shut up and give me your seed." She retorted, redoubling her efforts
"N—NO—NOOOO—PLEASE—PLEASE STOP—" he cried out as his bones were crushed.
Against her strength, all of his protests were meaningless. He could only focus on the ceiling, trying not to look at her person as a last-ditch effort before he resigned himself to death.
Strange markings scratched across the walls—layered over each other in frantic lines. They overlapped and merged in ways that made his eyes sting, as though they refused to stay still long enough to be understood. It was like the writing was 3d in a 2d plane.
Slowly, his eyes closed due to how weak he felt.
....
And when they opened again, the world had changed.
Cold air rushed into his lungs, sharp enough to sting.
He coughed, gagged, and dragged himself upright, fingers digging into dirt and dead leaves.
He found himself in a forest.
"Was that all just a nightmare?" He muttered, trying to recall the really terrible dream he had just had that eluded his memory the more he tried to remember it
Only a forest remained where he lay.
A quiet, mist-soaked forest.
Silver leaves drifted overhead. The ground was soft with moss. The sunlight filtered through in fractured beams, like shards of gold breaking the morning fog.
For a moment, he thought he was safe. Safe from it all.
But then—
The smell hit him. A smell he was all too familiar with.
Metallic. Heavy. Rotten.
He blinked twice, eyes adjusting, and the shapes around him sharpened into something unmistakable.
Corpses.
Dozens.
No-
hundreds.
Men in armor sprawled across the clearing, limbs twisted to an insane degree, eyes empty and staring at nothing. Their blood seeped into the earth in long, dark pools, still fresh enough to glisten.
'Am I.. in Hell?'
he thought. With no memories, surrounded by blood, bodies, alongside the nightmare he just had, how could this be anything else?