Lewd Futanari Succubus Ch. 45

Synopsis: An old man dies, torn by regret. Due to his high karma, he has "near-limitless possibilities for reincarnation". He chooses to reincarnate in a fantasy world as a voluptuous futanari succubus with big tits and an irresistible smile.

Erotic fiction that contains: Futanari/Dickgirls, Genderbending, Futa on Female, BDSM, Nymphos, Masochistic characters, Threesomes, Orgies, Facefuck, Deepthroat, Dom/Sub, Taken by Monsters, Corruption, Game elements, Lots of Depravity, etc.

"Wh-what?" Number Thirteen asked as he looked up to Thelicia with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Wait-GHLREGH--"

Number Thirteen's eyeballs popped out violently with streams of blood while more blood poured out of his mouth along with broken pieces of his teeth from getting his head smashed in by a giant fist of the "walking double refrigerator", Number Seven.

"BWAHAHA!!" the crowd laughed and cheered as the first volunteer fell sideways with his skull partially crushed in as if it had been struck by a sledgehammer, leaving The Cleaver stuck in the rocks with its handle pointing at ten o'clock.

"That one counts as not 'standing' anymore, right?" Number Seven asked rhetorically without displaying any emotion about killing a human being. He simply cracked his bloody knuckles and turned to the remaining four volunteers.

"Y-you've got to be kidding me!" the sole female among the volunteers, Number Sixteen, gasped in utter horror. A beastkin covered in black, brown, and white fur, with a short tail, black button nose, and long, brown, furry floppy ears. Despite the fur that covered her face and body, she was now paler than death as she slowly recoiled from the giant man who just eliminated the first participant like whack-a-mole.

"That's my line if that is all that it takes for you to start pissing in your pants," Number Seven said and walked toward the female, walking straight past The Cleaver as if he did not even consider it worth his time to pick up. The giant strongman wore nothing but briefs and heavy boots, and that made him all the more intimidating as he towered over the poor beastkin girl.

"Stay back!!" Number Sixteen screamed and turned tail to run but stumbled before she even took two steps.

Huh? Beatrice thought she noticed something strange for a split second as it was strange for the girl to stumble on an even surface, even if she was scared shitless.

One of the other volunteers used the distraction to dash at Number Seven low from behind, aiming a dagger in his back, but the giant swiped his attempt away like a fly by using nothing but his forearm.

"Bwfuh!" Number Thirty-five tumbled away from the sheer force of a single effortless swipe. By the time he slowed and slid a couple of feet more on the rocks, it was apparent that the would-be assassin's arm was broken as it was bent at the elbow in the opposite direction.

"W-WHUAAAAA!!" Number Thirty-five screamed in agony and held his broken arm as the pain finally caught up to him. Those of the participants that stood the closest, saw that the man's ankle was also twisted.

"This is bullshit!" Number Fifty-Two screamed and complained to the announcer. "We were supposed to get weapons and fight one on one! Not ambushed like this!"

Thelicia looked down at the participants without an answer or even acknowledgment of their cries and pleas. Even with her mask on, the aura of merciless indifference radiated from her as she held her arms behind her back and awaited the result of her little impromptu battle of the "brave souls".

"What are you complaining about?" Number Seven asked and cracked his neck, treating the whole thing like nothing but a warm-up. "I'm unarmed, just like you. Why did you even enter? Has this city run out of real warriors already?"

"We have to work together and take him down first!" the second biggest among the volunteers, Number Thirty-six--a furry goatkin with thick, curved horns--called out to the others. "Get it together! It's still four against one!"

"Are you insane!?" Number Fifty-two screamed. "He took out two people without even trying! One of us is a crying girl, and the other has a broken arm!! We're dead!!"

"Pathetic," Number Seven said coldly as he steadily approached the desperate, screaming man.

"Wait! No! I give up!" Number Fifty-two screamed and fell to the ground. "You don't have to kill us! The rules said we have to be standing! Thirty-six, get on the ground, you imbecile! It will be over if he's the only one who remains standing!"

Despite his earlier attempts at encouragement, the goatkin was quick to grasp at an opportunity to stay alive and leaped to the ground before the giant man could slay anyone else.

_

"BOOO!!" the spectators booed and cursed at the cowardly attitude of the other volunteers. The spectators came here for fights, blood, and death. Such pitiful attempts a weaseling out of combat were unacceptable to the riled-up citizens of Klapsus.

Beatrice looked up to the crowds and wondered if these were the people she was so determined to save. Were everyone's morals so irreversibly corrupted in this city? Or was this just a particularly deplorable minority of people that had spiraled down over the years into deeper and deeper depths of contemptible thrill-seeking.

Number Seven stopped next to Number Fifty-two and stood over him ominously and silently. Every volunteer held their breath, waiting for the announcement that it was finally over.

"She did say 'two minutes'," Number seven said, raised his foot, and slammed it down hard on Number Fifty-two's chest just as the terrified man realized what was coming.

Despite the distance from the fighting, Beatrice clearly heard the cracking of a dozen ribs and could imagine all too vividly how the poor man's inner organs were turned to mush as liquids spurted out of Number Fifty-two in all directions.

The crowd rejoiced once again in near unison. With their fears of a bloodless resolution having been erased, they now gleefully enjoyed the bloodbath in its gory detail that was displayed in high definition in the giant magical sphere above the arena.

The walking refrigerator then turned to Number Sixteen who broke down and bawled.

Before another life was extinguished, one more sneak attack was attempted as Number Thirty-six swung The Cleaver from behind Number Seven, attempting to slay the unstoppable killer. The giant man grabbed the hilt of The Cleaver with such force that it not only stopped the swing dead in its tracks but also stopped the attacker who ended up running into the hilt of his own weapon.

"Guh!" Number Thirty-six gasped as the air got knocked out of him when he flew chest-first into the dead-stopped steel handle.

"You're too weak for such a weapon," Number Seven said and snatched The Cleaver out of his opponent's hands.

"Guh!" the goatkin instantly leaped back to increase the distance between himself and Number Seven but was cleaved clean in half from head to groin with a single, proper swing of the mighty weapon.

The crowds cheered once more as the two lifeless, bleeding halves of a goatkin collapsed to the ground and their contents poured out onto the rocks, forming a gory pile of meat and liquids. Unlike the spectators, Number Seven did not seem to care about the bloody show he put on, and simply walked forward to dispose of his next target, the wounded Number Thirty-five.

"Somebody, help!!" the wounded begged as he crawled backward, away from Number Seven. "Don't you see that he will kill everyone at this rate!? You're happy as long as it's not you!? COWARDS!! Watching others die!! He will pick you off! One by one, you will die while others stand there, cheering on your deaths!!!"

But none of the other participants moved to help. Some seemed indeed horrified at the methodical slaughter. Some even looked away, covering their faces. Many others calmly watched as the weaklings were disposed of.

Beatrice clenched her fists as she realized how bloodthirsty so many of the citizens of Klapsus really were. While it did not surprise her at all that desperate people would seek any diversion to forget their own suffering, the level of joy they seemed to gain out of specifically the brutal deaths of these hopeless people was repulsive.

"No!! Stop! Time's up! The time is up!" Number Thirty-five screamed and cried as he crawled backward. He screamed at the top of his lungs pleading to the giant man, to Thelicia, to the masked staff. "The two minutes have surely passed already! It's over! You win! Please!! HELP!! He'll kill you all if you don't stop him now!! SOMEBODY-GHRUAAAHHH!!"

Number Seven did not hack and slash his victims like a maniac. His movements were brutal, devoid of hesitation or compassion, but efficient. A single swing into the chest and through the heart of Number Thirty-five ended the man's life instantly.

"NOOOOOO!" Number Sixteen cried as she got up and ran toward the nearest bridge off the arena after witnessing such brutal and one-sided slaughter. "I give up! I don't-GHA--"

The beastkin girl's wide-eyed, lifeless body flew forward and slid face-down two dozen yards, all the way to the masked men at the bridge with the cleaver lodged deep in her back. Number Seven ended the girl's life with a single, powerful throw.

_

"Congratulations, Number Seven!" Thelicia congratulated the giant man only barely surpassing the volume of the excited, cheering crowd thanks to her voice enhancements. "Your bravery and unwavering spirit have earned you the right to carry The Cleaver into the first round! Use it well!"

"Seven! Seven! Seven!" The crowd cheered the number of their new favorite contestant that walked over to the dead beastkin girl to pulled The Cleaver out of her back.

The weapon was lodged so deep into the girl that Number Seven ended up lifting up her whole body, hanging limply off the blade. So, he had to put her back down on the ground and then step on her to hold her body in place as he pulled out the stuck weapon, tearing out more blood and guts.

Seeing this gore, one participant fell to his knees and hurled, which was displayed in close-up on the giant sphere above them, causing the crowds to break into laughter at the retching, tearful participant.

"What's wrong with them?" Beatrice asked, astonished by the callousness of the crowds.

"Weren't you eager to participate in this violence?" Olivia asked, though her disgust at the unfolding events was also blatantly apparent.

"This is way past simple indifference or celebration of violent entertainment," Beatrice said. "They're getting off on the gory brutality."

"Or they're just glad to be rid of disgraceful cowards who were spitting on the spirit of these Games and had no business being here in the first place," the 'bubblegum' girl--with number forty on her armband--said as she casually walked past Beatrice and Olivia.

"There's nothing about this to be glad about," Beatrice said, though Number Forty had already walked further ahead, toward Number Seven, and did not seem interested in a response.

"And that's just another reason why I'm getting my sister and getting out of this accursed city," Olivia said.

"Where would you go in this demon-infested world?" Beatrice.

"I'll figure that out when it comes to it," Olivia said.

Beatrice's own dilemma was harder. She wanted to save this city. But can the people this far gone be saved? Do they even deserve it? Beatrice looked up to the many different crowds of Klapsus citizens and saw some spectators curse and spit as they tore up and/or threw some kind of papers or tickets to the ground.

"Do not lose heart if your chosen participant has already been eliminated!" Thelicia cheered up the first losers in the guessing game. "For these Games, we have an additional bonus reward planned! Those among you that chose your winner poorly may still find your spirits lifted as you will all be competing for a first-rate oral service from a certain miss Gamma! As long as you keep your tickets, that is!"

"Noo!!"

"Shit!"

The few cries of dismay were drowned by laughter as people pointed fingers at the unwitting fools.

"This wasn't how it was last time!"

"Haha! Is it ever?"

"Now, we do not know much about this mysterious miss Gamma," Thelicia continued. "But what we do know is that she possesses incredible oral skills. Tongue or throat, you cannot go wrong! She certainly would be very popular if she ever was a part of the S.E.C.R.E.T. Guild that absolutely does not sponsor this event!"

Many people in the crowds snickered.

"But we have all waited for the main event for too long!" Thelicia's voice echoed through the fiery mines. "Though we do have so many potential Champions to choose from, I hope you have all made your choice because the first round starts now!"

Here it comes! Beatrice put aside her thoughts about the abhorrent crowd and concentrated all her attention on the first round of the Games.

"Attention all participants!" Thelicia finally addressed the sixty-four remaining contestants. "The first round will require you to form groups of four people! You have five minutes to do it! I'll say again: groups of four, five minutes! Once you decided, stand shoulder to shoulder with your other three teammates with no more than a foot between each of you. Those without a team after five minutes will be eliminated!"

"Five minutes?" Beatrice looked around. "That leaves barely enough time to say hello and form a team with the first people we come across at random."

"Indeed," Olivia agreed and stood up. "But I will not be joining your team."

"Oh?"

"I mean no offense, but I have to make it through on my own! If I can't manage even one round with my own strength, then what's the point!?"

"I understand," Beatrice nodded, approving of such self-reliance. "See you on the other side then!"

"Good luck!"

Olivia and Beatrice ran off in separate directions to find three other random people to form a team with for the mysterious challenge that awaited them.

_

"I hope you're not too proud of that so-called 'victory'," the pale-skinned Number Forty said to Number Seven, standing boldly with crossed arms in front of the man that was four full heads taller than her.

"Go find yourself some other little girls to play with until it's your turn to die," Number Seven said, barely acknowledging the girl's existence. He did not even grace her with a glance, preferring to instead study the other participants in the arena.

"Getting so full of yourself after stomping a bunch of hapless fools?" Number Forty asked.

"Have you come to join a team with me?" Number Seven asked.

"Pfft!" Number Forty nearly burst out laughing. "As if!"

"Then why the hell are you even standing here, wasting both our time?"

"No doubt to inform you that your wanton cruelty shall not go unpunished!" another girl declared loudly as she walked up to the pair from the side.

A slender girl in a white and blue uniform. She had long, gory red hair that reached all the way to her naked thighs and red eyes. Her uniform was a mix of cloth and plate armor that combined with a pleated schoolgirl skirt made its damndest to accentuate her slender figure. The only off-color item was the armband on her right arm, like all the other participants. The fiery-red numbers spelled 'fifty'.

Behind Number Fifty were her three teammates--two guys and one girl, all wearing similarly designed, white and blue uniforms, all with gory red hair color.

"You must be joking," Number Seven said, turning his head to the other skinny girl that arrived to pester him. Only no one was laughing.

"This is no laughing matter!" Number Fifty exclaimed and stepped forward. "You had the choice to spare the unfortunate people by simply letting the time run out. You chose to murder them for no other reason than for the sport of it! Do you feel no remorse?"

"Remorse? You do realize where we all are, right?" Number Seven asked, questioning the sanity of the passionate girl.

"If it comes to killing, I will do what I must!" Number Fifty declared. "But I will do so in a fair fight, not hunt down fleeing opponents like animals."

"And it will end with you dying unfairly, slaughtered like an animal!" Number Seven said and turned his back to the uniform-wearing quartet.

"Do not turn your back on me!" Number Fifty demanded but was ignored.

Number Seven continued walking and as he passed Number Forty, she said, "I know your secret."

"You will die with it," Number Seven answered, neither of the two made eye contact.

"That man's brutality is only matched by his cowardice!" Number Fifty said through grit teeth.

"Don't ya worry, sweetheart!" her teammate, Number Twenty-two said as he put his hand on her shoulder. "That big ol' sack of shit will come tumblin' down yet! Can only hope we'll be lucky enough to match against him and take care of business first!"

"I can only hope," Number Fifty said and clenched her fist while watching Number Seven walk away. "Before he does any more heinous misdeeds!"

Not surprisingly, Number Seven attracted many more participants. Like the giant planet whose gravitational pull kept passively attracting smaller objects. And while the two girls had no interest in teaming up with the giant man that was now also armed with the biggest weapon around--which very few people could wield properly--many other participants were highly interested in teaming up with one of the strongest participants around.

"Can we team up?"

"Pick me!"

"No, pick me! With your strength and my speed, we'll be unbeatable!"

"They're all losers! I'm stronger than them all! I can prove it!"

Surprisingly, Number Seven was not particularly picky. If anything, it did not seem like he listened to anyone make their case at all and instead seemed to pick his three teammates by proximity, dependant on which three dared to approach him the closest.

Number Seven ended up with a bearkin on his team who was completely covered in fur and only a head shorter than he was. The second teammate was a tall, slender, well-built leopardkin who touted his speed. While the third teammate was a short, jittery hyenakin, covered in scars and armed with several old daggers.

_

With not much time to measure up all the contestants, Beatrice decided to team up with the first people that agreed to. Since I aim to win the whole thing anyway, I must rely on my powers and not on others!

While some teams formed quickly, several participants were rejected repeatedly. Particularly those that looked just as weak as the first "volunteers" that were slaughtered minutes ago. Beatrice walked up to one such reject, a skinny waif garbed in a dark green outfit with a hood on, covering most of her face, and long sleeves hanging past the length of her arms.

"Ssssssshhhuuuuure~," the waif hissed ominously. She adjusted her hood and scanned Beatrice with her golden eyes that had long, slit snake-like pupils. The numbers on her armband spelled sixty-six.

"..." Beatrice studied her newfound teammate for a moment and felt compelled to ask the obvious, "By any chance, do you have some sort of snake powers going on?"

"Yessssssss," the waif confirmed. Her face was sunken, she had dark circles under her glowing eyes, and her cheekbones were protruding, making for quite a ghastly appearance.

If she somehow lives through this and reached old age, she'd make a fine witch in the woods, Beatrice thought and scanned the arena for two more potential teammates. Many teams had already formed, but Beatrice found one particular couple that still was on their own.

"Come on, snake lady, we still need two more," Beatrice said and walked toward the couple, followed by Number Sixty-six who slithered behind her with a hunched posture.