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wastrelust	By : HarlequindeRustre Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > General Views: 2099 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Agony. Whatever hilarious inconsistencies with the as-of-yet unknown canon, that could be construed as attempts at original content, are just me writing blind. In addition, I make no profit off this work, for good or ill.

Chapter List
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- 3
With the size of the room, matched with its glistening walls of light-reflecting bone, it dimly occurred to the wastrel that this place would become a virtual beacon in this world of perpetual night. As it had to the creature that now loomed over the previously impassioned human interloper.
It glimmered in the dim light, its dark skin covered in scales like a serpent. The fiend reared up, clawed hands half clenched. Its face seemed to be two horned plates of bone, fused to a hub of gristle and sinew caught in between. It stood firmly on legs that were bent like an animal’s, the front of its “foot” touching the ground, balancing on its thick, clawed toes. Whilst patches of scales smattered its body elsewhere, from the hips down its was completely covered. Conjuring images of lizard beasts from faint memories, their smooth musculature seemed nigh statuesque. Its claws looked deadly sharp. With a hand, it reached for the girl, who began to whimper uncontrollably.
The lizard creature took hold of the girl by her throat, squeezing vigorously. The trapped human flailed her limbs, kicking at her predator.

The beast appeared to relish holding the weak human at its mercy, its head cocking quizzically as its prey became increasingly frantic. Distracted at it was, it occurred to the wastrel that he might chance saving his fellow survivor. So it was that he crept out of cover, taking care where he placed his soft, scabby feet.
It seemed entirely too entertained, the fiend, watching the little gold thing’s face change color, listening to its strangled complaints. The lizard monster chortled hollowly, prodding the little human’s breast with a talon. A line of red winked open, drooling shyly. The fiend slackened its grip slightly, to allow the wretched girl a moment to scream. It gulped in air, then froze, the human’s eyes straying past the hunter.
Scaly hackles rising, the fiend’s head spun, catching another fool human padding closer to it in its shadow. The fiend hissed in agitation.
Realizing the game was up, the wastrel began to backpedal. He had barely moved an inch before the beast flattened him with a contemptuous stomp. It’s gaze trained on the wouldbe hero, its bone plate face quivering with rage. Then it got kicked in the head, its other captive lashing out with her dirty tan feet. The beast turned its attention back to the girl, its clawed hand tightening mercilessly.
The girl’s head wriggled between its fingers, trying to loosen the strain on her wind passage. Her efforts were to no avail, kicking and all, as her face paid testament. Turning quickly red, then purple, the little human’s struggles swiftly ebbed, her limbs slackening. The fiend snorted, dropping its baggage almost immediately. It returned its focus to the other fool human.
Grinding its foot into the wastrel’s face, the creature keened sharply. Its claws gouged his skin, rivulets of fresh scarlet running across the survivor’s flesh. It pressed its foot down with increasing force, seemingly intent on flattening the human’s skull. The pale interloper groaned and gasped, his legs beating uselessly against the floor and the lizard beast’s other leg. Chortling sibilantly, the fiend flexed its powerful talons, each point bearing down into soft flesh. Coughing out a pained howl, the wastrel’s hands sprung to his face, seeking to push away the torturing claw. Pathetically try as he did, the fool could not budge the sadistic beast’s foot, not attached as it was to its pillarlike leg. Not only was it heavy and strong, but the fiend’s scaly hide was slippery to the touch, the wretched man finding no purchase with his aching hands. In desperation, the wastrel took hold of two of the beast’s toes, seeking to mitigate his pain if only a little.
The weight of the foot hitched, then reasserted, the human feeling even flatter than before. His head creaked as his arms bowed, struggling to hold off even one talon of the cruel beast. One of his fingers slipped onto the thick cuticle of one the fiend’s talons, pressing down on it slightly. The claw quaked- the entire leg shook, in truth. His captor keened, its pitch sharpening dramatically. Its talons convulsed, altogether yet disparately.
The wastrel’s eyes widened. He dug his fingernails into the cuticle, eliciting a harsh yelp from the beast. Again, the foot pressed him into the floor, the striations in the ivory marking the nape of the man’s neck. The fiend growled, smearing the abrasive pad of its foot into the human’s face. A cold pit formed in the man’s gut, his innards knotting. Wrenching his pained jaw open, the wastrel fastened his incisors against the largest pad on the offending foot, and bit down.
The monster convulsed, talons retracting completely from the intrepid survivor’s face. Neither lessening its force nor reasserting its claws, the fiend almost appeared split between pulverizing its prey and remaining intact. Hoping against hope, the wastrel pushed up, hard, and to his surprise found it easy. As he did so, he noticed a blank spot amidst the scales of the lizard beast’s foot. Not a bald spot, but a patch of finer scales, clustered about the ball of its foot, their color a pearlescent white. Then the beast flexed its oppressive foot, bearing down to pulverize the impudent human once more. Only this time, the fool was ready, gathering his own legs under him to push up. In a rush of inspiration, the wastrel jams his thumb into the patch of little scales on the fiend’s foot. The beast’s leg spasms, stiffening like a corpse. The rest of the lizard creature remains mobile, and it begins to adjust to its condition. Not ready to give up, the wastrel rams his body forward with all his might, putting all his weight against the fiend’s stilled limb.
The beast imbalances, falling over with a heavy thump, the fool human following its path to the ground. The wastrel lands on his bruised chest with a wheeze, shaking his head to free himself from a sudden dizzy spell. He eyes the fallen beast, lying on its side with its frozen leg under it. The fiend appears to eye the human interloper, or so it seams, and rears its free leg, toes flexing dexterously. The wastrel’s gaze instinctually followed the present threat of the fiend’s dagger sharp claws, a thick bead of sweat collecting on his philtrum. He swallowed, trying to blink the burn of sweat out of his eyes. Opening his eyes again, he caught sight of a flash of powdery white between the beast’s second and third toe. A mad plan came upon him, and the wastrel acted upon it in a flash.
Falling to the ground, the fool clung to the ivory surface for dear life, and began to crawl toward the lizard monster on his belly. The scaly fiend followed its prey’s movements, its foot moving in concert, twitching threateningly. It lashed out once, its foot slamming into the ground, the ivory scored in the blink of an eye by its talons. The wastrel paled, but continued to slither forward. The beast pounded the ground again, and then again. When the human entered its range at last, the fiend didn’t hesitate to lash out as quickly as possible. The fool rose suddenly, offering the brunt of his shoulder, and caught the beast’s kick in full. He also caught the thing’s foot, the lizard creature thrashing its leg violently in response. The wastrel kept his shaky grip, hanging off of the fiend’s “ankle” with both arms, but earned a half dozen gouges for his trouble. Faster than he felt, the wastrel wrapped his closest hand around the beast’s foot, his fingertips zeroing in on the patch between its toes. In a split moment, the fingers hit home, locking up the fiend’s leg through its strange weakness.
The beast yowled, its warbling cries deafening. Poking his head forward to look for weaknesses- perchance one where he could snap the thing’s neck- the wastrel nearly had his face clawed off by the monster’s deadly nails. He ducked back, heart hammering in his throat, blinking mutely. His eyes scanned the fiend for similar pale spots. Nothing. The wastrel’s eyes trailed over inches of scales, a motley of darkness, roaming over all-too-human curves…
Hidden behind a writhing pair of claws, the wastrel spied a pair of pert breasts. Each wider than the span of his hand, they were black as midnight and glimmered with the oil that pervaded the reptilian beast’s flesh. Before the bust lay a lean, but arguably slight waist, the muscles rippling as the fiend sought to fend off any advance its stubborn prey made. Where simple skin ended and scales began, the fiend’s body exploded into a pair of wide set hips, more fit for a more appealing creature than this cruel pit-wretch. The hips connected to similarly sizable thighs, muscular throughout and-
The wastrel squinted, looking back to the fiend’s hips. A glimmer of- he saw it again. Standing up in a crouch, the aching man peered carefully at the beast’s flesh, looking for the weak spot he’d glimpsed in the corner of his eye. He retreated a step, noting sourly one of the legs beginning to stir again. In that stirring, however, the wastrel found the flash of white- squarely set in the beast’s hindquarters. The wastrel shuddered, pondering morosely of the various remains that had passed through that unholy gate. Cautiously, he approached. Then more quickly as the beast began to test the range of movement with its awakening limb.
Noticing its prey’s approach and the direction of the fool’s gaze, the fiend tensed, hiding its distasteful third weakness from the human. Hovering cautiously outside the range of the beast’s arms, the man quested with an outstretched hand toward the guarded zone. It reached it quickly enough, his hand, and was remarkably unscathed. He prodded at the clenched mass of flesh before him, to no avail. Slender and bony as his fingers were, they were not slim enough to maneuver the slight crack in the beast’s defenses. The wastrel’s heart began to sink with the prospect of his survival when another mad idea burned to life between his scabby ears. Perhaps not his rigid, bony fingers, but-
Throwing caution to the wind in favor of his insane experiment, the wastrel flung himself headfirst at the beast. His hands latched on, fingers pressing into slippery flesh, steadying the intrepid fool as his mouth quested toward the black gulf of the fiend. The beast’s claws came in a flurry, an arm and the newly spry leg flailing in some attempt at purchase on the stubborn man’s hide. He licked his lips, leaning his face closer to the crevice, his neck, shoulder, and more gashing open from the lizard’s blind assault. Not his rigid fingers, but…

In a rude facsimile of a kiss, the wastrel forced his mouth against the split of the beast’s hindquarters, wedging his tongue as hard as he could into it. First thing that occurred to him was that the lizard creature cool to the touch, unlike the unforgiving heat of the labyrinth. Next, its flesh, or perhaps simply its oil, tasted almost...citrusy.
When it happened, it happened all at once- the beast relaxed completely. One moment, the lizard was nigh hard as a rock. The one following...the fool was buried facefirst in its arse pillows.
Coughing, the wastrel withdrew to observe his situation. The weak spot was where he’d suspected- square on the lizard’s...rose bud. Unsettlingly, the fiend seemed less affected by this point, with its effect apparently spread throughout its body. It began to stir again...violently. A blind cuff brushed the fool in his temple, instigating him to stab his finger at the fiend’s pale spot. Waiting for his ears to stop ringing from the blow, the wastrel studied the weak spot. Unlike the feet, it appeared to move. As did the rest of the beast, prompting the scabrous man to prod it into quietude again.
The wastrel considered his options as he prodded the weak spot repeatedly, renewing the paralysis. He could try to hit the feet, freezing them briefly and escape. And be hunted down and torn to pieces. The other possibility was picking apart the demon’s strange body, perhaps stumbling across a spot that caused the fiend’s life to stop, rather than its limbs. The man nodded to himself, then grimaced. To work on the beast it was...on its asshole.
He pressed his thumb against the edge of the pale patch, a finger or two safely away from the beast’s back passage, holding it there. The beast stilled, then began to tremble, more and more. The quavering became more and more violent, the wastrel grinning madly. This could be it!
And then it ceased. The fool looked at his still pressed thumb- the scaled underneath it were dark like the rest of its surrounding flesh. The patch had appeared to shrink. The man followed the periphery of the weak spot with his digit, petulantly digging the nail into the firm hide of the beast. Again, the beast writhed, even more violently than before. The wastrel couldn’t avoid noticing the heavy shimmying of the lizard’s bestial hindquarters, guiltily feeling a stirring in his tortured loins. Again the thrashing stopped, the patch having shrunk to the demon’s puckered rim, its flesh pulsing as if beckoning him. The man made a noise of disgust, pressing the weak spot once more, initiating the quivering once more. This time, he prized the fiend’s foul hole open, peering cautiously inside. Pure white, the color that gave the wastrel hope. He probed inside, expecting the patch to shrink all the way inside, and was no disappointed. The fiend shuddered and shook, a husky murmur escaping its alien throat, at its prey’s mercy.
Then the twitching stopped. A sinking feeling curled up from the wastrel’s spleen. He looked inside, still seeing plenty of white. His finger couldn’t reach, however. He tried to shove his hand in further- too tight, even with all his strength. The lizard bitch’s arse was like a ring of iron past a point...and said bitch began to rouse again.
Knowing that without exploiting the weakness, he was dead, in dignity or not, the fool again found a replacement for his unfitting finger...the man took hold of his astonishingly firm cock, and hamfistedly stuffed the thing in. Again, the fiend shook. Connected as he was by his “root”, he felt the full sensation of the vibrating fiend. Apparently, the effect didn’t stop outside, the trembling in truth originating somewhere in the beast’s core. Whilst he could have been glad to be getting closer to potentially slaying the fiend, other things pressed at his thoughts.
Tight. The bitch was tight. The ring of flesh was perversely thick, the flesh inside accommodating yet clingy. Atop that, the sensation of the lizard quavering like a tree in a storm, traveling down the man’s rod to his core. The wastrel felt an unexpected sensation welling up in him, one that threatened to bear down upon him. And then the sensation stopped. The beast stopped seizing. Dread clawed at his throat, the wastrel plunging his pole in the fullest depth to maintain contact with the weak spot. After a few shaky thrusts, the intrepid survivor found the spot again, unsteady as his cock’s purchase on it was, yet it was enough to have the beast’s trembling build again.
It was more forceful, more intense, the sensation somehow more exquisite than before, the rumbling of the fiend’s body rocking the human to the depths of his core. He rode this feeling baldfacedly, boldly, fatalistically...the wastrel was queasy to admit to himself that he was enjoying sitting with his dick in a flesh eating monster. And then contact was lost again.
He thrust again, aiming to get deeper. Nothing. Again, this time seizing the monster’s hips. Nothing. The wastrel’s stomach began to sink like the blood pressure in his groin...the fool wishfully thought as his cock remaining rebelliously stiff. Noticing the creature begin to stir, the wastrel hastily retreated out of it...into the beast’s claw. Holding the wastrel painfully by the nape of his neck, the fiend leaned up, appearing to glare dolefully at him from the depths of its masquelike visage. The wastrel froze, blinking the sweat from his eyes, unable to process the situation. Sweat poured anew down his back in a sheet. Then the lizard reared back a leg, removing the claw as it slung its knee over the man’s shoulder. The wastrel’s sinking feeling continued, peaking as the fiend yanking him closer with its heel.
Pulsing...winking at him from between twin mounds of darkness was a tarry black anus. It appeared wetter, sleeker than the already oily flesh around it, opening and closing almost like a mouth. The wastrel took hold of his knob, the corners of his mouth tightening. The fiend crooned mellifluously, the sound too enticing to come from something this nasty. The damned man felt sick, partly because he was ensnared by the beast, moreso because he was so hard for it. Reluctantly, he took the plunge, watching mournfully as his pale dong begin to disappear inside the beast’s midnight pucker.
Hissing, the fiend’s leg squeezed the wastrel, as did another part of the beast. The man began to move his hips, fishing his tool in and out. The demon purred, shimmying her hips, eager to reciprocate. The wastrel felt his disgust rise each time his groin got closer to the snake thing’s body, repulsed by what he was doing. His cock worked in and out of the evil thing, pulsing crazily of its own accord. His prick felt filthy, plumbing inside the beast, inside that glimmering hole. The snake constricted the man’s snake, chortling as it wrung a pained gasp out of him. It then yanked the wastrel with its hanging leg, flush against it. The fool felt his resolve waver as his balls touched flush with the beast’s sleek arse,
He felt it waver more as the demoness ground her round bum on his root, purring. Even as he stood still, the fiend continued to erode his indifference with her hips, humping him like the dirty animal she was. The wastrel didn’t have use for dirty animals, even when he started back on her. He didn’t see any attraction in their dirty animal bodies, even as he groped her ass. He certainly didn’t derive any attachment to dirty animals, though he kissed the lush dirty animal thigh hanging down his chest. The man saw no point in continuing this potentially lethal assignation with this dirty demon animal, though he had no intention of not fucking this filthy dirty fucking demon animal pick.
This filthy. This dirty. This cold...Scary. This killer. This big, evil thing. This big, horny evil thing. This hot, horny evil animal.
The wastrel felt the blood rush out of his head, leaving him seeing stars, feeling fuzzy. His groin tightened, his cock feeling like it was going to burst at the seams. Each stroke hurt, yet he continued. The wastrel’s bone white tool reddened, his shaft feeling harder than steel. Over and over and over again, his rod pummeled the demon’s sweet asshole, each bottomed-out stroke eliciting a yip or yowl from the scaly beast.
He groaned, slamming deep in the slutty fiend’s firm pucker. The demoness purred, fucking back with singleminded drive, her mottled tits shaking enticingly. The wastrel growled, licking a frothy line up the beast’s leg. The man was half surprised when the demon slut’s arse tightened in what seemed like approval. The intrepid survivor chuckled, pawing the fiend’s rippling fanny again.
He felt the surge of the end ambush him, coming at him like a raging bull. Gritting his teeth, he looked the fiend square in the face. Unable to stop his rampaging perversion, his lust-fevered mind screamed at him to paint his demon lover’s guts white, to get her juicy arse pregnant with his seed. And, as his climax came roaring out of his cock, it seemed like he did more than simply try.
The wastrel came screaming, his sperm jetting the beast’s asshole with a vengeance. The beast herself cackled, her asshole clenching as her lonely quim proceeded to drench her prey. Weakening with each wave of his massive finish, the dizzy fool collapsed atop the demoness, panting deliriously. The demoness idly scraped a drop of her glaze from the wastrel’s cheek with a finger, placing it on her human’s lips. The intrepid fool sucked her finger, his tongue twining around it.
As they lay there in the dark, the wastrel dimly considered- had he forgotten something?

~xxx

I hear the second time around, even the most ridiculous plot twists make sense...kinda
"HdR what is this, Zelda?mfw these obv weak points" No need. I'll spork the scene myself with another piece, you can be sure. Happy fapnapping.
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wastrelust