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The Shame Game	By : Aynine Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > FemSlash/Yuri - Female/Female Views: 3352 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: [I do not own Dead by Daylight, or any of the characters within it. This story purely for fun, and no money is made from its creation.]

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The Shame Game

[Edit: Formatting isn't always working. RIP.]

Chapter 2: Topsy-Turvy

            “Please… I can’t breathe…”

            Meg thrashed and fought, grabbing at the Nurse’s hands. Her pillow case hid what could only be a sadistic grin as the oxygen and life left her body. Weakness in her hands and arms prevented her from prying the strong grip off, and she could only watch helplessly as the Nurse straddled her and crushed her airway with both hands. As she slipped away, the Nurse leaned in close and stroked her face.

            The sprinter shot up, eyes wide and panting harshly. Sweat dripped from her face, and she slumped over as her mind registered the green insides of her tent. A hand was quick to her heart, and she closed her eyes and focused on breathing to calm down. There was a tapping at the entrance to the tent.

            “Hey, Meg are you alright?” asked Nea. The concern was evident in her voice.

            The sprinter wiped her brow and exhaled. “Yeah… yeah. You can come in.” The tent door unzipped, and Nea crawled in. She always had her beanie on, and Meg honestly struggled to remember what her hair looked like. “Sorry, was I being loud?”

            The tagger shook her head and zipped the door shut. “No, I was just walking by. You sounded like you were having a nightmare.

            Sighing, Meg wiped her face again, clearing herself of the sweat. It had been, what she estimated, a week or so since the Nurse had spoken to her and let her go. Ever since, it triggered an onslaught of nightmares, most of which consisted of the times she’d been slain by her. Over time, Meg adapted and got better at staying alive and escaping her, but all of that had been cast into doubt now.

            “Yeah, I was,” she confessed glumly.

            “The Nurse again?” Nea offered a sympathetic look, and Meg nodded.

            “I can’t seem to get her out of my head. The times she’s sacrificed me… or the times she’s killed me herself.” She rubbed her neck, and then her eyes, finishing with a yawn. “Did I miss anything while I was out?”

            “Well, not too much, but Claudette has finally come around. She hardly said anything for months, and now she’s been talking to everyone since the last trial ended. She seems… happier.” Nea exchanged confused glances with her, and Meg welcomed the subject change. The tagger shrugged and smiled. “It’s always nice to have more people to talk to.”

            Meg motioned to the door. “Well, I guess I’ll check this out.”

            Climbing out, they found everyone talking amongst one another by the campfire. The logs were filled out, and the rest of the survivors were on the dirt and grass. Claudette was sharing a story from her college, and everyone was listening intently. Meg and Nea sat down just as she finished, and no sooner had she prepared another were they beckoned to the fog. The sprinter groaned and stood up.

            “The next trial is coming,” she muttered. Please not the Nurse, she pleaded. The imagery of the faceless head, the hands clinching her throat… it was more than she wanted to handle right now.

            Nea waved. “Good luck!”

            Claudette, Bill, and, Jeff stepped into the fog with her, and the world at the campfire was obscured. Everything receded at once, and Meg squinted to find themselves in the Red Forest. It was nice to catch some light for once, since most of the realms were at night, and the nature was comforting. She placed her hand on a nearby rock, ensuring it was real. Please not the Nurse, she thought again.

            An exit gate was at her back, silent and unpowered, and the large cabin stood in the center. A generator always seemed to be on one of the upper floor ledges, but the creepy tall stone arrangement was just before her. She walked over, keeping her eyes out for the killer, but none could be seen. Getting on her knees, she began the repairs, periodically glancing up and around.

            Abruptly, there was a splash in the distance, and a holler from Bill. What the? He roared from an attack, and Meg could see him running, but not what from. “Damn, Bill. I’ve got your back.” She bolted towards him, moving through thick flora, and around large trees. She hit a rock and stumbled forward, but her heart skipped a beat as a muddy explosion occurred right in front of her.

            Meg shrieked as the Hag’s phantasm spawned from one of her ritualistic traps. She immediately covered her mouth with both hands and crouched out of sight. It was always a gamble if she would teleport to it, and it stared at her from its trigger point. She took in a deep breath and held it, her heart thundering as she made herself small between some shrubs. The mud splattered, and she breathed out. Her relief was replaced by guilt, as Bill wailed, going down. A generator came to life in the distance, but it was far across the forest.

            The sprinter sneaked her way towards the hook, and watched as Bill was attached to it. The Hag was tiny, and despite her frightening appearance and power, Meg couldn’t help but wonder how such a tiny figure could raise a fully-grown adult to the sacrificial hooks. Carving another trap near him, she circled the area before moving on, disappearing into some overgrowths. Meg stepped to the hook, crouching and creeping up to Bill.

            “Hey, kiddo. She really got me good.” He coughed a few times, but the lit cigarette remained unfazed in his mouth.

            Reaching up, the sprinter froze and crouched back down. “Hold on, I think she’s coming back.” She moved away and hid behind a barrel with a fire going, the crackles masking her breath. Sure enough, the Hag returned, her muted, snarling breaths causing a chill down Meg’s spine. Gone as soon as she arrived, Meg moved and took Bill off, hesitating as she could see the dark, arachnid tendrils manifesting in the sky above. As he dropped down, he loosed a barrage of pained coughs and sat down. Meg started patching him up, and Jeff came running over.

            Both of them turned and shot looks of warning, the sprinter holding up her hands. “No, don’t! It’s trapped!” The artist froze and slowly crouched his way over, offering his assistance.

Bill climbed back to his feet and smiled, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Thanks, guys. Where’s Claudette?”

Meg and Jeff shook their heads, and they moved toward the cabin in the center. As they crept inside, it was empty, but there was a trap at the top of the stairs. They snuck along and reached the generator on the outside ledge, working together to fix it. The raspy snarl of the pint-sized killer could be heard, and Meg looked down. “Here she comes.” They were nearly done with the repairs, and Jeff stood up.

“I’ll lead her away,” he declared.

Meg stood up, eyes wide. “No, wa—”

An explosion frightened all of them, and the Hag’s phantasm appeared. No sooner had it fully manifested did the Hag herself appear. The sprinter whirled around and leapt off, hearing the swipe of her claw striking the generator where she had just been. Another swipe and she could hear Bill taking a hit, but she pursued the artist off instead. Meg hit the soft ground and rolled, limping for a few seconds from the fall. She put her back against the door frame and listened, but the Hag was gone. She snuck back in and returned to the generator, finding it sabotaged. Not much time had passed, and she managed to get it back to running. From her vantage, she could not see the others, but another generator powered up in the distance. Claudette is really getting these going today.

Peering into the distance, she could see Jeff jumping through the shack window, but he wasn’t fast enough; the tiny killer grabbed him and ripped him off, tossing him onto her shoulder. Meg started over there, running as fast as she could, and skidded to a stop by a log pile just outside. Dread filled her when Jeff wailed him a hook in the basement. It was about a minute before the Hag left, no doubt having left a myriad of traps.

Sneaking over, she could see them carved into the floor, on the stairs, the entrances, the window, and one by the hooks. Making it to the bottom, she took a deep breath. The nightmarish room of hooks, blood, and stains gave her the creeps. Strange noises could be heard from time to time if you strained yourself, but she tried to avoid that. Another generator erupted with power in the distance, and it was time to go. Unhooking the artist, she paused. “Let’s get you healed up before we go.”

He winced as she bandaged the scratches, but clamped his teeth until she was done. Nodding, they moved up the stairs, and the last generator was repaired. However, the Hag was coming back. Jeff charged out the basement, hitting the traps, and going for the window. The various mud phantasms spawned and dissipated, but he triggered one as he vaulted out of the shack. Meg dashed up behind him, but took the door out, sneaking in case there was another trap.

The Hag was waiting for Jeff, and a fearsome slash from her hand took him out. The husky man fell through onto the grass, unmoving. A horrifying feeling filled Meg, and she dashed away, not even chancing a look over her shoulder. She could hear Jeff being brought to the basement again to die, and there wasn’t going to be a second successful attempt. Meg sprinted all the way to the other side and back to the exit gate. Bill was already there working on it, offering her a knowing look.

“I tried to save, Jeff, but he panicked and… he isn’t going to make it,” she confessed.

The gate buzzed loudly, and Bill breathed out some smoke. “It’s okay, kiddo. We do our best, and sometimes it isn’t enough.”

The door bellowed as the rusted metal scraped apart, and freedom was open to them. It was only a few steps away, and they moved to the edge. “Where’s Claudette?” Meg asked, using a hand to shade her vision.

Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her the whole trial.”

On cue, the botanist arrived, panting. She slumped over and used her knees for support, and they could hear Jeff being taken by the entity in the distance.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” the old soldier said, motioning for them to follow. He sprinted out into the fog, beyond the trial’s limits.

Claudette shook her head. “You go on ahead, I’m going back for something. I’ll be fine.”

“No, let’s just get out. There’s a hex in the air. She’s going to get you.” She was ignored, and Claudette darted out by herself. Damn it. You’re going to get yourself killed!

She waited and waited, but the botanist never returned. Facing the exit, she took a step toward it, but paused. Damn it. I’m going to get killed trying to save your ass. Ten minutes must’ve passed, and there was nothing. The Hag never came to the gate, and a trap never went off in the distance; not even Claudette making a sound. Wherever she was, she may have been cornered.

Meg took a deep breath and turned around, heading back into the forest once more. Sneaking around, she could find no trace of the botanist, and moved to the cabin. Careful to be slow and quiet, she maneuvered around a log pile, finding a trap just outside of the window. Climbing over the sill, and stealthily landing, there was another wall of logs that ended at a support beam. She crept along them and peered around.

Claudette was sitting by herself in front of the fire, gazing in. There wasn’t any danger, and the Hag was still absent. What the hell, Claudette! Do you have a death wish? Meg started to lean and reach out, opening her mouth to call out, but the Hag came through one of the doorways. The botanist stood up, almost startled, but breathed out in relief.

“I couldn’t find her. She’s probably already gone.”

Meg blinked. The Hag… talked? Her voice was low and scratchy, but she spoke clearly enough. She wasn’t making an effort to strike Claudette down, either. The sprinter watched, eyes wide as the Hag stepped up to the botanist. Even at full height, she was shorter than Claudette, whom was already on the short side.

“She should be. I told her to leave. Bill already got out, and Jeff… well, he’s gone.”

The Hag frowned. “Sorry. It’s the way it has to be.” Claudette nodded, and the Hag took her hands into her own. The grey and shriveled husk of her body looked coarse, but the botanist seemed to take comfort in it. She nodded and smiled. “It’s just us now.” The Hag reached up and pulled Claudette’s face down and kissed her.

Meg’s jaw could’ve hit the floor if she was anything less than human. Her entire body froze as she watched Claudette reciprocate. What. The. Fuck! When they finished, Claudette moved a little closer to the fire and started unbuttoning her shirt, but halfway through the Hag moved closer and finished, peeling it off of her. Left with a bra, the botanist undid it herself and shimmied it off, discarding it beside her.

Meg gazed at her bare chest, small as it was, and continued to spy on her undressing. Unzipping her pants and sliding them down, she stood in just her panties as the Hag dragged her right hand down her abdomen. A sharp talon on her right hand gingerly slipped beneath the string. Claudette looked away, uncomfortably at first, but she turned back to her and nodded, smiling. Delicately, they were slid down and removed, and the Hag discarded the dark cloth that scarcely hid her body. Meg couldn’t quite see her from where she was hiding, but she could see the small tuft of pubic hair on the botanist.

Claudette sat down and lied back, the Hag crouching down with her. The table obscured her vision, and Meg inwardly groaned. Seriously? The botanist removed her glasses and set them aside, closing her eyes and moaning. There was no right way to approach this situation, and Meg couldn’t figure out whether to be revolted, intrigued, or curious, but they all fought for control. Still, she couldn’t leap from cover and out them. What was she going to say? Would it even matter? The Hag would certainly kill her. The intrigue and curiosity won over any feelings of revulsion she might’ve had. But something else hit her in tandem as she watched and listened to Claudette moaning louder, occasionally seeing the grey hands of the Hag fondle her: arousal.

Meg’s body betrayed her mind in the situation, and her face burned. Words couldn’t form to her thoughts, but there was shame and embarrassment there, mocking her. She could sneak away and pretend she’d never witnessed any of this, but there was no doubt in her mind she would never be the same about any of it. This was a secret too much to keep alone, and she quietly rolling down her tight athletic pants. What am I doing? she thought. This is so wrong. Yet, try as she might, the sex just in front of her was turning her on. How long had it been since she’d played with herself? The fear of dying and constant running for her life left no time for something like this, and the privacy of her tent seemed too fickle.

She slid her pants down and exposed herself, sliding a hand into her panties. They were already damp, and she massaged herself. Equal parts shame and want took her, and she propped herself up on her knees, keeping herself aloft with her left hand on the support beam. Claudette cried out, presumably as she finished, and Meg redoubled her efforts, finding herself further aroused by the other girl’s pleasure. She peeked around the corner to see them switching places, and for a minute she paused and considered what it would be like to go down on the Hag.

Somehow, the thoughts didn’t deter her perversion, and she continued. The sounds the Hag made were unusual, but definitely recognizable as positive, as sharp breaths and her squirming could be seen from Meg’s vantage. She was getting close, slipping fingers inside of herself. It was becoming more difficult to control her breath, and she suppressed her moan as much as she could as she came onto herself. Her heart thundered, and she peeked around the corner, flustered and sweating, keeping her panting quiet, to see if they noticed her. To her surprise and relief, they hadn’t. She turned and prepared to stand up and pull her pants up, switching hands on the support beam.

However, her juices were still fresh on her right hand and it slipped off. Crashing down sideways, she grunted as her body hit the floorboards. If she hadn’t been noticed before, the immediate pause to the sex in front of her as she fell into view certainly marked her reveal. Claudette popped up to glimpse her as the Hag stared at her. At this point, Meg would’ve chosen death, but her instincts kicked in. Scrambling up, pants still rolled down to her thighs, she scurried the few feet to the window and leaped forward. A mud phantasm from the earlier trap exploded into view and she screamed, but her restricted legs caught the sill and she flipped forward and hit one of the logs outside. Everything went to black.
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The Shame Game