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Tales from the Killing Floor	By : MoonLobster Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > General Views: 3209 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own no part of the Killing Floor franchise. This story is non-profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Beneath the Bloat Room
- 1
Warning: This story is very dark. If you are not okay with gratuitous suffering, scatological events and character death, turn back now.
Ana Larive cast her smoky violet eyes across the fine wood furnishings of Volter Manor. The blue haired punk was out of place in the fancy castle-like house and it’s grandiose statues and expensive paintings. She was no more out of place than the monsters hunting inside the grounds though. AA12 clasped close to her jutting bust, she flattened the next group of hideous Zeds unlucky enough to cross her. A short violence of noise and a pile of Gorefasts, Husks and even a Scrake lay at her black combat boots. She smirked at her carnage, at home in the violence. This was more thrilling than any band's mosh pit, even if she still wore the midriff baring shirt and ripped fishnets of the times before the apocalypse. Today she worked alone but when she had male teammates around her she loved to show off her punkslut body when fighting, taking down the horde with an enticing bitchy arrogance.
“Stay dead monstaire~”
Her sultry French accent was the perfect reward to the successful end of a wave of specimens. “Magnifique” The trader congratulated the mercenary on the flawless takedown. Ana was one of her best new recruits and a great hope for turning the tide against Horzine’s aberrant creatures.
“Looks like we are nearly done here mon amie. one last big Zed on the scopes, but no problem for you non?”
“Of course not, rock on!”
The Trader exchanged Ana’s dosh for more shells and then shut the weapon pod, leaving her alone again. Ana had no worry in her mind as she stepped out of the manors broken doors and into the dark rainy courtyard. She regarded the garden's satanic statue with mild interest while she waited for her foe. It was probably another Scrake, or maybe even a Fleshpound. Neither worried her.
“I return to the comfort of my home and find it turned into an abattoir by a single little vermin?”
A twisted voice rose over the background noise of rain on the ancient stone.
“In my absence it seems the untermensch have gotten cocky, I shall bring you pain”
Ana turned in the center of the courtyard, seeking the speakers location. Zeds sometimes spoke, the occasional word burned into their cloned minds from the human DNA they were formed of. But never had one spoken in full sentences except for the Patriarch himself. The maniacal voice had a distinct German accent, ruling out Kevin Clamely as the source.
Ana barely had a chance to see a glow of green, tubes feeding a metal exoskeleton and then into the withered flesh of a decrepit old man. His limbs were skeletal and thin, but supported by some kind of infernal metal machine. He moved with a deadly speed, gripping the blue mowhawked girl from behind, locking her arms back and letting her weapon fall to the ground.
His voice rasped in her ear as he held her.
“Such an adept fighter, and a female too. Oh yes it has been so long since my experiments got a chance to involve a specimen of this quality.”
She twisted her neck to see her attacker, his milky white eyes meeting her eye-shadowed ones. She struggled in his unyielding grip
“Ugh, who are you? Let go you freak, SHIT”
She thrashed and swore, tight jeans leaving the shaking curve of her ass exposed with no need for imagination. The geriatric chuckled.
“You have been trashing this manor and desecrating it's halls without knowing it's owner? I am Hans Volter, and you, pathetic meatsack, should do well to remember it, for as long as you can anyway.”
Ana stopped wrenching away in shock. There was no way. The lord of the manors cruelty was legendary. His exploits during the world wars was sickening. But he died long ago, he would need to be over 100 to be alive now. He would look just as creature gripping her.
“Merde...” she whispered.
He sighed and stared into the sky as if wistful.
“A French girl, so nostalgic. You know in the war I imported so many to this place. All of them died in the most gruesome ways. Perhaps I shall relive such times.”
He ran a spindley hand through her blue dyed hair and thumbed the shaven sides.
“So many strange fashions in the world these days. But the color of the outside changes nothing on the inside. You will be broken. One thing in this new world I love most of all is technology. I finally have the tools I need to perform my experiments their their full potential.”
Before Ana could even begin to fear her fate, his spiked nails injected a fluid from the tubes in his exoskeleton into her and her world went black.
-
Miss Larive woke up to the smell of sewage and excrement. The rumble of machinery echoed above her in a desolate and cold room and only the faintest hint of light penetrated down. Groggy from whatever treatment she had been given it took her a while to gain her bearings and asses her situation. The most obvious feature of her entrapment was the wide black rubber tube extending from the distant ceiling and bolting onto another rubber device across the bottom half of her face. The tube fed directly into an open mouthed gag where Ana had no way to close her mouth or move her tongue. Only when she shivered did she notice her clothes were gone. She had been stripped completely, aside from a few scraps of fishnet top over her breasts. Her arms were bound behind her in tight metal restraints and her ghostly pale body was forced into a kneeling position, head up and staring at the tube rising to wherever the sounds of machinery could be heard.
Given almost thirty minutes of peace, she sought to twist and escape her bindings. They were mastercrafted and she felt no give in any part of the contraption. Only after she hung her body in exhaustion did a screen flare into life, almost blinding in the gloom. On the display was the gasmasked face of Doctor Volter.
“Hello my little French plaything, I hope you find your new home to be fitting. I'm sorry I can't be there to observe you awake but I have so many different experiments to run. I recorded this message just to give you an idea of what your life will be from now on. I only found out after I got you to my labs that I had captured Ana Larive herself. You have been killing so many of my test subjects lately, I had to make you suffer most gratuitously. Being the pest you are I'm sure you are familiar with each specimen. The only you will be becoming... intimately... familiar with is the Bloat.”
The screen cut to archive footage of the fat humanoid figure of a Bloat waddling along a corridor. Ana was indeed familiar with the shambling obese monsters that spewed vile poisons from all orifices of their bodies.
“Do you know how a Bloat is made Ana? I suppose not. It is a horrific process. All of our little creations start life as Cysts. Blank canvases to apply our methods too. The Cyst in injected with a super serum. It begins expanding and consuming. It's body goes into overdrive. In adolescence, sweat pours from every inch of its skin as it grows. A fully grow bloat has 10 stomachs constantly boiling over with bile. Under the folds of skin it's genitals are little more than decoration, though they have a habit of gushing pure undiluted urine at incredible rates. Finally we even managed to weaponize their excrement. Bloats do not require much actual food to live, but what is eaten passes through it's digestive system. This is not a pleasant trip. What comes out from the other end is concentrated scatalogical destruction. The adult bloat is in a state of constant diarrhoea for the first week of it's life.”
The screen changed again, now showing a group of ten Cysts herded into a high tech room where robotic arms plunged needles of orange liquid into their arms.
“What you are seeing now is our latest brood from the Matriarch. See the holes in the floor Miss Larive? They are the sluices for all the vileness I have just described. That room is directly above you now, I'm sure you can guess what the tube is for...”
Hans began laughing uncontrollably just as Ana went wild, bucking against her restraints as if possessed. There was was no way. This couldn't be happening to her. The mere suggestion of what lay ahead had her in a panic attack. She faced death every day but she was in control there. Even where she fought impossible odds, it was her calls to make, and death if it happened would be painful but swift. Here there was no get out. Here she would be subject to this sadistic freaks every whim and be unable to do anything against it. She fought her bonds so long that she blacked out again in exhaustion.
When she regained consciousness in this living nightmare she kept attacking her restraints, determined something would give. She didn't know how long she had been there, time meant nothing this far underground. But surely the Cysts were growing now, and the opening of the sluice gates was not far away. Hans had always considered Bloat creation distastefully messy so had the holes in the floor installed. The original plan was to lead to a normal sewer system, but being handed a resistance icon at just such a time proved irresistible. Now he would use this human's body as his sewage pipe.
The blue haired punk hung from her bindings exhausted and wept. Hans Volter had not just defeated her, he had stripped her of everything, even her humanity. She heard the grinding metal as the sluice gates opened above her and howled in rage, desperation and a begging plea for escape. Nobody answered. She felt the uncomfortably wide tube in her mouth vibrate as the first bout of waste disposal began. The bitter taste of bile and salted musk of sweat hit her like a freight train. This was not like anything she had experiences before. The mix of bodily functions had nowhere to go but into her, and she swallowed her first mouthful of Bloat juice. She felt it every inch of the way down and lay in her stomach like a bowling ball of disgust and humiliation. Another gush of excrement flowed down, acrid piss that made the mohawked beauty retch and gag. She had barely choked down the load before a rancid slop of loose stool hit her gullet for the first time. Naked and bound, the former freedom fighter held the inhuman shit in her mouth. Every second it stayed their it infected her tastebuds, coating her mind in it's vileness. But swallowing it would be worse, taking it into herself, accepting her fate. She could try and push it out the sides but the tube was sealed by fused rubber and metal bolts, there was no escape. Her tongue couldn't even move to reposition it.
Her decision was made for her when the next squirt of Bloat soup splashed down the pipe and into her mouth. With nowhere else to go, a hefty gulp of diarrhoea gurgled it's way into Ana. Her stomach flipped in somersaults as she tried to deal with the contents. She had every urge to vomit, to eject the toxins her body was taking on. Her rational mind knew that everything she threw up would be going back down anyway, she had to just fight the urge every second. Another rattle of the tube, another gush of mixed up waste. The mix of sweat, piss, shit and bile. Ana would know them all very soon.
Ana’s whole body suffered the continuing flow of disgusting effluence. It seared her throat and raped her tastebuds. Her stomach felt engorged as more fluid poured in. The mix of vomited nutrients was made lumpy by the more solid turds. Her resistance eventually snapped and she couldn’t fight her body’s reflex. She tried to throw up some of the unending slop. Her heave was pushed back by a fresh waterfall of strong fermented urine.
The following hours could only be described as hell on earth. The French vixens body was defiled a million times over and still more came. An ordinary human would have died but not only was Ana strong, the arm restraints were pumping her full of Horzine's blue medical serum. Eventually the scat and waste pipe fell silent and the ceiling holes slid shut. The screen next to her blinked on but she barely had the strength or willpower to look over now.
It was of course Hans with a gleeful expression.
“I hope you enjoyed these last five hours. The growing bloats will have built up another five hour session for you in... oh about sixty minutes.”
He laughed while Ana could only weep. So much torment only granted her an hours respite. It was unreal. If every sensation of her sucking up the monsters waste wasn’t horridly vivid, she would have thought this was a nightmare. But it was not. This was her new reality.
Her innards growled, protesting the mess they had to deal with. Her bowls and bladder collapsed as the twice digested sewage material fell out of her. She noticed then the floor she knelt on had sluice gates of its own, leading to a real sewer. She wad not in place for any practical purpose. Just an amusement to abuse with the most disgusting materials Hans could find. She bowed her head to try and capture at least a few minutes of rest. She was soon woken by the taste of newly rotted shit from the bowels of her tormentors.
-
Two days later Ana was a shaking, shivering ruin of a woman. Her world was broken into six hour blocks where five of them involved her gagging down the increasing volumes of barf and puerile shit, the entire time begging for escape, release, or death. She was feverish and delirious. She had no food except what was pumped into her and no visits or messages from Hans. Had he grown bored of her already, content to watch her waste away slowly. The sludge was toxic enough to give her this raging fever despite the constant medic syringes in her. That meant that slowly her body was failing, and being a human sewer pipe would eventually kill her. That was the only hope she had left.
-
By the end of the sixth day. It appeared the mind of Ana Larive was no more. Her skin had taken on a sallowed yellow appearance, like it was absorbing the gallons of piss she drank. Her belly was constantly distended like a perverse parody of pregnancy simply because her digestive system could not keep up with the Bloats excretions.
The girl in question still looked the part of trashy goth whore, her hair and makeup intact somehow. She barely moved any more and stared wide eyed up at the tube, waiting for what she knew was coming. She didn’t sleep and kept the same position, blank stare fixed.
Despite looking comatose, her mind was actually fully lucid, even if her situation had broken it in other ways. When her body had started responding to her scat meals by blacking her out, the medical system added a specialized adrenaline to the mix. Now Ana didn’t move, but she experienced every feeling and taste even more intensely than before. She stared up at the pipe like it was her god. All she knew any more was wanting to escape this hell. The pipe would eventually deliver enough poison to free her. The pipe was her saviour.
-
The midpoint of day thirteen was when the Bloats reached full adulthood. They roared through swollen lips and shat a geyser of faeces in celebration. Ana waited below, knowing this was something different than before. When the sluices opened there was no time to even brace before litres of liquid shit poured down and into her throat. She had never come to terms with the taste. It never reduced in vileness. This load was a new level though. It was like thick shit milkshake had been festering in their bowels for the whole time. Maybe it had. Litres became gallons and her body took it all. Fake pregnant belly swelled more with the evil shitbaby inside. Her internals were ruined and organs failed as the scatwave passed them.
Her own body ejected its own waste to the sewer as her eyes grew foggy and the dark room even dimmer. Broken beyond any human comprehension, her medicine fuelled body’s resistance finally broke down and she slipped away into darkness, her ordeal finally ended.
-
Hans Volter scribbled down a note, peering at the monitor showing the blue hair girl struggling her last, life fading from her pale body. A small tick of annoyance as he measured up the time it had taken her to succumb. He pressed a button on the wide control panel he was stood at. Room 16 needed a replacement. His pure white eyes fixed on a different screen where a different Ana was chained in the same way. They never questioned why each batch of Bloats was only ten when they fought that many in a matter of minutes. A production batch was much larger. Hans was surrounded by screens, over a hundred where in every room was a bound Ana Larive, each in slightly different stages of suffering. When he had captured the girl he took her genetic material. Horzine was masters at cloning and soon they had her template to create identical Anas whenever they wanted. Each woke up thinking they had just been captured, each thought they were the original. They lasted between one and two weeks as sewage pipes and then were incinerated, a newly created clone taking it's place. Ana Larive's suffering would not end with death. Her fate was ongoing a hundred times at once and as each one suffered, his research grew. The medicine he pumped into them had grown stronger from the results he gathered, soon he would be able to sustain their torment for months, or even years before replacing them. Han's smiled. The annoying punk who wiped out legions of his minions was now working to make them even stronger.
-
Miss Larive woke up to the smell of sewage and excrement. The rumble of machinery echoed above her in a desolate and cold room and only the faintest hint of light penetrated down...
- 1
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Tales from the Killing Floor