Creatures of Lust Ch. 01

This is something different I have had in mind for a while now. I have genuinely no idea whether anyone will like it. As such, I welcome all feedback as far as the story's tone goes. Or its characters. Or its actual story. Hopefully it should give me an idea of whether there is anyone out there that might care for more content like this. And if there are indeed people keen on more content like this, more episodes will follow.

Given how broad a genre non-human probably is, I intend to maintain disclaimers about the content I will include in these stories if I end up making more episodes. Long story short, expect fantasy creatures getting tangled up in erotic scenes. In this first episode, the story contains references to corpses, zombies, stitched together abominations and graverobbing. There is also sexual content including a female zombie, a human-like woman and a large male abomination.

***

Solitude can either be a luxury or a burden, depending on who you ask. If you were, say, an individual with questionable goals or hobbies, you would probably cherish a sliver of isolation to engage with such ambitions. It stands to reason, in fact, that the amount of isolation you would require would be directly proportional to the shadiness of your own passions.

This would be a reasonable assumption to make about anyone choosing to live in a derelict lighthouse, an hour's ride away from the nearest settlement. Indeed, if you were patient enough to ensure you weren't slandering an innocent lighthouse keeper, you could even notice the building's light never guided any ships to safety. And yet someone lived there.

If you were feeling generous, you could call her a lighthouse keeper. She was a lighthouse keeper in the sense that she was the only entity ensuring there was any life in the abandoned building. If you were feeling extra generous, you could even call her a person. She was a person in the sense that she looked, walked and behaved almost like an actual human woman would.

Beneath the crumbling lighthouse, in a basement deep enough to escape the sounds of the rain outside, this entity toiled fervently. Even disregarding the aforementioned equation linking isolation with shadiness, you would have a hard time believing she was up to any good.

She was surrounded by thick stone walls. The few torches scattered around the spacious basement seemed to struggle against the oppressive darkness of the room, as if the air itself refused to be transparent. Every once in a while, a shimmering vial of a random color would flare up and illuminate its surroundings momentarily. Paying attention to these sudden bursts of light would let a visitor see bizarre contraptions, workstations and devices. If you stopped focusing on the pretty bubbly colors of the vials for a second, you could perhaps even notice how blurry the line between medicine and torture really is to the untrained eye.

The torches flickered whenever this creature paced near them, seemingly burning brighter when she drew near. Only in her proximity did the flames manage to push the darkness back. A single step away, and this brightness would wane yet again. When the vials and the torches aligned, you could even see what she looked like.

She had an ethereal way of moving around. Despite her shapely legs and curvaceous hips, her body seemed to drift across the basement with little regard for the laws of locomotion. Her steps, if such a thing was even necessary for her, went by completely unheard and unnoticed. So pale was her skin, it seemed to adopt whichever color beamed at her, almost akin to a chameleon. The only sources of contrast to her snow-white skin were her black hair and the multiple black markings around her neck. Each time she paced unnaturally through the room, her flowing raven hair would float for a couple of seconds as if it were smoke, before settling back down.

This woman, for the lack of a better word, was content to toy with several projects at once as she circled her own basement. During one flare or another, it would even be possible to notice a smirk on her full lips, a mischievous glint in her silver eyes. The way her hands moved with each vial they would grab, sometimes in-between the flickering torches, suggested this was more of a trance for her than anything requiring actual focus.

This trance was abruptly shattered when the large steel door to her laboratory was violently kicked open. Immediately, as if sensing the coolness factor had been lost, the scattered torches started actually pushing back the darkness. In one moment of lost focus, the basement had lost all of its atmosphere.

The creature responsible for this interruption needed an equally generous soul to be called a person. And an ugly person at that. A hulking, towering masculine body filled the doorway, rainwater dripping miserably from his soaked clothing onto a puddle at his feet. He had sad, mismatched eyes with different shades of blue. Judging by the gruesome stitched scar that split his face almost neatly in half, those eyes had indeed come from different places. This was to say nothing of the many smaller scars fighting for dominance across his remaining facial features. Seeing this monster for the first time, you would be forgiven for not noticing he even had a large bag slung over his shoulder.

The woman's silver eyes focused on the monster. She had a look of mild, playful annoyance. There was nothing playful in the facial expression of her visitor.

"Are you trying to make my pulse rise, Pummel?" she smirked at him. "You should know by now the door to the lab is never locked."

Pummel, seemingly, did not respond.

"Come now. Don't tell me your tongue got unstitched again. How are you?"

"Cold, wet and miserable," rumbled the giant.

The pale woman put on a mocking pout. Then, with a sly grin, she let her robes fall to the floor. Pummel stared at her hourglass-shaped body in silence for a moment. Her breeches and bodice were still covering the most important bits, but there were only so many women in the world with breasts that large and a smile that enticing. And as far as women with black runes carved on their body went, Pummel really only knew one.

"Now I am a little better," said Pummel.

The woman giggled and spun once for the hulking man. As she did it, the black runes around her wrists flickered purple for a moment. Both of them knew that to be a good sign by now.

"Good. Now, did you bring what I asked for?"

Grunting, Pummel stepped forward and dropped the bag in front of her. The ethereal woman was greeted by unsmiling corpses the moment she peered into it.

"Well done," she bit her lip. "You've outdone yourself, Pummel!"

"The gravedigger hit me with a shovel," complained the giant.

The woman already seemed mostly focused on the bodies, heaving the first one out of the bag. Despite her size, she seemed to have no trouble with it.

"I'm sure you didn't die."

"I'm sure I didn't like it," insisted Pummel. "Boss."

She rolled her silver eyes at that remark. It wasn't only because she knew Pummel that she found the word annoying. It was because she'd made him. Pummel wasn't supposed to call her by anything other than her name. If he didn't, she'd found, he would just be signaling he was having another one of his tantrums. Without a lot of subtlety, it should be added.

"Pummel," she glared at him sternly.

"Demetria," he stared back at her with a false look of innocence.

"I thought so."

Demetria concealed a smile as she continued inspecting Pummel's loot. He'd been surprisingly cautious with the quality of the bodies. She wasn't certain if he would actually have the patience to rob the right graves. Part of her had worried Pummel would have grown impatient and simply killed some people himself to bring back home. Hilarious as that would have been, it was nice not to have to clean up another mess for a change. And speaking of which...

"But did you kill the gravedigger?" she asked.

"I wanted to," Pummel grumbled as he pulled two bodies out of the bag. "But no."

That was also good news. While Demetria was only slightly less enthusiastic about violence than Pummel himself, she recognized there was a time and a place for it. Said time and place being, usually, whenever and wherever you could get away with it. And Pummel's great talent for violence, alas, was not accompanied by a great talent for getting away with it.

Together, the two of them laid the six bodies down on wooden wheeled tables, their vacant expressions staring at the dirty ceiling. Clean bodies. Fresh bodies too, for the most part. As she started stripping them naked, Demetria was quite happy to notice the most important organs were also intact. Two women and four men - all still fit for reproduction were it not for their untimely deaths.

"You've really outdone yourself, haven't you?"

Demetria felt the marks around her neck heating up, ever-so-slightly. A quick glance at her wrist would be enough to tell her runes were starting to gain a purple glow. Not that she needed to check her own body. Demetria would be damned if she needed to check the glow of her own runes in order to figure out whether she was aroused.

Pummel had a different level of appreciation for her glowing signs of arousal, though. To him, knowing when Demetria was horny (or at least hornier than usual) was quite useful. His maker could perhaps boast truthfully about being the least predictable person in the world when she was horny, but there were still certain things you could expect from her while she was aroused. For starters, you would definitely not be sent out in the rain to go graverobbing when you could instead be pleasuring her. And this was to say nothing of the six runes she had carved down her back. Those were their own category of useful.

"Yeah, I did," he ran a finger across the warm runes on her neck, briefly stifling their purple glow.

Demetria was smart enough to know where he would take things next if she let him. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the tickle of his calloused finger for a couple of seconds, before stepping away.

"Not so fast, big boy!" she widened her eyes provocatively at him. "Our work isn't done yet."

"I got hit by a shovel and dug up bodies in the rain. I didn't even get to kill anybody. My work is done," grumbled Pummel. "If you have work ahead, it's related to my reward."

She felt him press his massive body against hers from behind. The larger rune on the back of her neck grew warmer.

"And your body knows it too."

The woman took a deep breath, as if trying to keep herself under control. Judging by the brightness of the purple glow around her wrists and neck, this was a difficult thing to do.

"Ever since you've learned to count to six you've been a real pain, you know that?" she chuckled.

"One," Pummel placed his hands on her shoulders, letting his mismatched thumbs rub the rune on the back of her neck. It was usually little more than a black spiral inside a square. The shape became significantly harder to make out when Demetria got horny, though. "Now let me see the others."

There was no effort from the ethereal woman to step away from the large man as she turned around to face him. With her silver eyes staring directly at his uneven blue ones, she spoke again.

"And where is the gentlemanly hunk of muscles and violence that I created, huh?" she smirked. "Is this how you approach me now? With uncouth demands for sex?"

"If saying please is what it'll take, I won't mind doing it too," shrugged Pummel.

"Help me inject the corpses," Demetria raised her brows expressively. "Then we can have a bit of fun."

***

Truth being told, Pummel seldom understood what it was he was doing when Demetria bossed him around in her laboratory. Oh, he'd push around crates, and bottles, and saws, and suspiciously shaped rubber objects. He would diligently pass her the vials with the right colors. If he was in a good mood, he would even nod along to her byzantine arcane ramblings as if any of that made sense in his head. But understanding anything that was happening before the very last second was something Pummel had, out of habit, learned not to expect.

That day, it was no different. Demetria asked him to wheel forward a huge silo with a goopy liquid inside it. Then she had him plug several small tubes into the bodies by stabbing them into their eyes. What ensued afterwards was a full six minutes of pumping to gradually push that viscous, greyish substance into the heads of the people Pummel had stolen from the local graveyard. His only real amusement during these dull tasks was staring at Demetria as she issued her orders. Unsurprising, really. Pummel always enjoyed looking at Demetria - the angle or the body parts he was focusing on were hardly relevant. And though he was too morose to ever admit it out loud, he did appreciate the woman's playfulness as she bossed him around. That too made things less boring.

"Okay," he let go of the manual pump. "If this was you hoping I'd be too tired to stick my thing inside you, you've got another thing coming."

Demetria's eyes were fixed on the bodies, though. Some of them looked like they were crying tears of that thick greyish liquid. Pummel had been overzealous in his pumping. And even if it hadn't been his fault, he knew damn well his knowledge of what they were doing was not enough to beat those allegations if Demetria felt like salvaging her pride.

"Hey," Pummel tried again.

No response came from the ethereal woman.

"Deme-"

"Shh!" she quickly brought an elegant finger to her lips.

"You have some nerve-"

A gasp from Demetria managed to achieve what the scientist herself often tried and failed to accomplish: it got Pummel to stop complaining.

"Look!" she pointed, her wrist flickering purple once again.

Pummel furrowed his brow, trying to follow Demetria's pointing with his own eyes. As far as he could tell, the corpses were just as mundane and tearful as they had been for a while now. Sure, maybe he would take a nose here or a pair of fingers there, if he could, but as far as body parts went, Pummel had seen better, and often. And while he'd been told to fetch 'pretty' bodies, and obeyed that request to the best of his ability, he would be damned if he would deem a lifeless corpse prettier than him, a lifeful corpse.

It was following that train of thought that his eyes eventually trailed off towards the lower half of the dead bodies. The male ones, at least. A wittier person than Pummel might have said that human male anatomy does not undergo rigor mortis quite like that. The giant instead settled for:

"That's it? All this work just to make their cocks hard?"

Demetria put on a mockingly offended look after hearing that remark.

"As a rule, you should never ask whether 'that's it' while we work in my lab," she adopted a haughty tone. "But to answer your question: no. That's not 'it'. In about an hour or so they should be standing upright too. Their bodies, I mean," she smirked.

"We are not waiting an hour," Pummel declared with some finality.

"Hmm. I suppose we're not."

The alchemist bit her lip as her henchman lifted her up. She was taken away from the corpse tables and pressed against a wall in the opposing corner of the laboratory. At that point, Demetria was too aroused to pretend she gave a damn about any of the hygiene rules she had made up on the spot upon creating Pummel. The runes on her skin were heating up again, and she was in no mood to go against them.

Pummel's massive hands unbuttoned her bodice with a surprising amount of daintiness. She glanced backwards with a surprised, but pleased smile. It would not have been the first time Demetria lost a piece of her clothing to his burning lust.

"You like to keep me on my toes, don't you?"

"Not any more than you like to keep me waiting," he retorted plainly.

Demetria gasped as her tight breeches were forcefully pulled down. The wall, right in front of her, reflected the intensifying purple glow of the markings on her neck.

"I do not like to keep you waiting," she purred as her giant lowered her underwear too. His hands quickly turned towards ridding himself of his own clothes. "You think I like restraint?"

Pummel merely grunted at that. His patchy clothes fell off his towering body one piece at a time. Before him, with her hands and breasts pressed against the wall, Demetria was already gently swaying her hips left and right.

With his maker undressed, Pummel could finally look at the six runes running down her back. The first was carved right at the back of her neck, while the last one was barely above her waist. He ran a thumb down Demetria's symbols. All inert and lightless, apart from the first. That would change soon, he knew.

Finally, Pummel positioned his cock right behind Demetria's pussy. It was a remarkable thing. While the hulking man stood naked, it was possible to notice the many, many imperfections across his body. Stitches, unanswered wounds, scars. If it weren't for his muscular frame, there would be little to praise there. In fact, Pummel had a slight suspicion his maker had intentionally made him that unsightly. It made coping with his own looks a lot easier.

His member was a different story, though. No wounds there, no stitches. Just a perfectly functional penis. Knowing Demetria's creations, that was already a lot to be thankful for. Moreover, it was adequately sized. Of course, Pummel subscribed to the masculine belief that it could have always been bigger, but his superior had shot down that notion time and time again. In its current state, either way, his cock was a true testament to Demetria's own depraved priorities. It was without a doubt the most flawless part of the giant's body.

Demetria sensed Pummel's introspective mood.

"Now who's keeping who waiting?" she wiggled her butt impatiently.

The undead giant obediently pushed his member into the much smaller woman. The spiral tattoo behind her neck immediately had its purple lights grow in intensity in response to this sudden intrusion. Demetria let out a gasp as her creation took her from behind, despite his as of yet leisurely pace.

"One," repeated Pummel while keeping his eyes on the first rune, now burning with the color of desire.

His hands could almost wrap themselves around Demetria's waist fully. Her perfectly pale skin was a stark contrast to the blueish green hue that covered the giant's body. Demetria's elegant hands tried to claw into the cracks of the stony wall, all while her oversized lover maintained his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Mmmm..." Demetria couldn't help but keep wiggling. Further down her back, the second rune was starting to gain its glow too.

"Two?" the stitched undead muttered.

"It's bad manners..." she had to wince and squeak as her massive lover pulled out of her. "... to count, Pummel."

Pummel chose to reply to that by bringing a hand to his creator's wet pussy. With two fingers, he rubbed her clit at a gentle pace, all while his free hand kept running up and down Demetria's back.

She clawed deeper into the cracks on the wall as the pleasure mounted up. The heat of the runes was almost too much to bear now. Around her wrists, ankles and neck, Demetria felt just as much a craving for release as she did in her nether regions. And each time those rough hands stroked her back or pinched her clit, the heat and the craving for pleasure both increased.

"Please, Pummel. Put it back in," she begged.

Her henchman disobeyed. Instead, his hands started moving faster. Demetria could only groan as Pummel's fat fingers pushed gently into her warm folds. They were deliberately incomplete movements. Pummel would push two fingers inside her, twist them gently, then pull them back out. It was driving her crazy with anticipation.