Alt Ending: Filled in the Fleshworks (BAD END)

Lavorra is taken to the Daemonspawn’s bastion - is this going to be where her story ends?

Yes/No (Likely) - [3,2] Yes

Failure Move - [5] Reveal an Unwelcome Truth

Lavorra discovers first-hand what the Daemonspawn are doing… as well as the fate that’s befallen Melira.

—

She is taken into the Daemons’ lair - a bastion of black stone likely drawn up from the Abyss itself.

All the horrors of her journey to date are nothing, compared to what she’s shown as - still slung over Kurn’s shoulder - Lavorra is lifted by the hair, clasped in Zhalk’s mailed fist.

Women - Human and Elven - are packed into cells of dark iron, all in various states of undress, many with swollen bellies like those of the village. Others are bound and cuffed to tables of stone that line the centre of the room. Their legs spread, held helpless on their backs or fronts, they are all in the process of being taken by Daemonspawn, who thrust and pump away at them with abandon.

Gagged once more, Lavorra lets out a muffled scream, barely able to comprehend what she’s seeing. Then she’s being bundled onto an awaiting platform, her eyes meeting those of a Human woman with hair and eyes not unlike hers, who looks at her with a mournful, pitying gaze. Something in Lavorra tries to be strong, tries to be brave, and to communicate that to the captive women.

But it’s no use.

She feels her legs being **** apart, her leggings torn free. Her breasts, still clothes, are squashed painfully under her as she feels a firm hand press on the small of her back. Her bindings are adjusted as metal manacles fasten her to the table, her wrists untied and then retied so that they connect directly to her ankles. She feels herself bent into a butterfly- like position, her pussy exposed.

And then entered.

Still tender from Kurn’s fingers, still hatefully wet, the Daemon taking her - she can feel the heat radiate from his body amidst the already stifling warmth of the chamber - slides in easily.

The Daemon is big, thick: her walls are stretched around him as he’s buried deep into her folds, but even as she thinks he’s filled her, he keeps coming, pushing deeper and deeper. She feels herself tighten around him, and tries to squeeze her legs together to stop him pushing further, but she’s bound fast, and can barely move a muscle.

She lets out a low, bleating groan as yet more cock enters her. Her voice joins the chorus of **** moans and wails as the women of the Fleshworks are bred side by side. This is what this place is, she realises, as she feels the thick fat of her arse shake and ripple under the thrusts of the Daemon taking her from behind.

A breeding chamber.

The head of his cock smacks against her cervix, pushing hard, and she feels his hips press into her, then withdraw, as she’s shaken with an almighty thrust. Another muffled moan escapes her stuffed mouth, and her eyes roll up, unable to deny the response of her body, even as her mind screams for it to end.

Her so-recently used cunt swallows up the Daemonic member, slick wet sounds welcoming it inside, and the sensations that pour into her start to loosen Lavorra’s grip on her resolve. There’s no way out now, she is bound and truly helpless. No one is coming to save her, and the only future ahead is as an impregnated brood mare for the Daemonic forces.

I - I can’t fight it. Too full. Too much.

Too good.

It does feel good, try as she might, there’s no way to deny the sensation rippling through her in time with the shaking of her curvy little body, or the heady music of the women’s moaning.

We’re all losing ourselves now.

Oh fuck.

There isn’t a part of her that truly wants this. And yet the feeling of fullness, the anticipation of his load and the possibility of her own orgasm is undeniable. She can feel it all thundering to a head.

But one thing remains, stark in her shaky sense of reality.

Melira.

If nothing else, please let me find Mel. I can bear anything if I can only find her.

Her head is pulled back roughly, yanked by a makeshift ponytail. Her eyes bulge wide, helpless and emerald as she looks up to a balcony above which runs around the edge of the chamber.

Grey flesh melds together: a towering Daemon sits on a throne of black stone on high, his form beautiful in its muscular perfection, and yet terrifying. On her knees, eyes cast down toward the chamber with a look of enraptured bliss, is Melira.

Naked and perfect, her tongue slides tenderly across one of two throbbing members that jut proudly from the Daemon’s crotch. The second is clasped in her hands, and she pumps it, stroking with slender grey hands, sliding with a mix of spit and pre-cum.

Lavorra watches, entranced, as her friend services the architect of all this horror, and finally loses herself to the sensation all around her. It is intoxicating, and she finds herself locking eyes with the Daemon-Lord, even from a distance feeling his hypnotic arousal enter her mind.

Her toes curl tight inside her boots as she feels the Daemon behind her shudder, loosing his seed inside her. Pressed as deep as he can go, she can feel his cum jet into her womb, filling her up. She moans, long and slow, her loins tingling needily, so close to her own orgasm.

At least… she’s alive. We’re alive. Maybe I’ll get to see her.

Oh, FUCK.

Her hips buck uncontrollably, as a fresh Daemon grips them, rubbing himself against her entrance.

This is all there is now, the table and the Daemons using her body. There will be more later. A full stomach and a swollen belly. But there might also be comfort amongst the other women, and the chance to see Melira, to reach through whatever enchantment has been cast on her. With the last of her strength, Lavorra hides that away inside of herself.

And then submits, giving herself over the cock that enters her, the slapping of her flesh as it rails her, and her moaning voice, one of many rising in the chamber.

- The End -