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Undead Legions: A Homage to Deathstalker
By : JayDee
Category: +A through F > Anachronox
Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Full Disclaimer Below
Chapter List
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Undead Legions: A Homage to Deathstalker
By JD joandoe@gmail.com
Description: Video Game characters are drawn into a zombified world of rape and death.
Inspiration Credit: Stories set within and inspired by the world of Deathstalker’s VGBabes vs Legions of the Undead. Setting used with kind permission. Deathstalker’s superior series can be found here: http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=544206804 Go. Read. Pay for commissioned stories!
Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don’t own of the copyrighted characters or related materials and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike the content.
Chapter 4: D'arci Stern of Urban Chaos
Content Codes: M+F, F-zoo, pwp, rape, mutil, snuff, viol, first, necro, ws
IP Disclaimer: I do not own Urban Chaos, nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Kane raised his arms and began to chant. Almost immediately energy flickered from nothing around his hands. Watching close by, the young cop D’arci Stern told herself to be brave. She told herself she wasn’t going to give Kane the satisfaction of seeing her beg. The outlook was as unappealing as a Kansas City speed dating meet. She couldn’t rely on her comrades in Union City Police Departments. Only 45 minutes earlier two uniforms she got on well with had clubbed her down and brought her to Kane. Her head still throbbed from the nightstick blows to the back of her skull. She was sure one of them had put his hand in her pants while she was briefly unconscious and spat contemptuously whenever they looked in her direction. The saliva had little effect through the steady rain falling from the low clouds above. At least the weather would hide her tears if she weakened. Her only hope was Roper; she prayed the big man would come, and bring ugly death with him.
When they’d brought her, cuffed with her own, before him, Kane had told her she was to be an offering. He said she would bring pleasure and amusement of one who’d assisted the crazed wannabe mayor’s more magical endeavors. Kane’d stopped his Wildcats gang members from raping D’arci; though many of them wanted a piece of the officer who’d arrested or killed so many of their friends. They called obscene suggestions to her, showed her their cocks from a distance. One had slyly masturbated inside his baggy pants, and smeared the hefty mess into the back of D’arci’s short dreadlocked hair. No longer the fresh faced rookie of her first weeks on the job, D’arci glared stonily back at them and reserved her true contempt for the bent uniforms. Some of the younger Wildcats couldn’t meet her angry gaze, and watched Kane instead. The pure white energy of Kane’s ritual danced across the rooftop unnaturally slowly, as if the laws of physics weren’t allowed to interfere. It seemed to be reaching some kind of climax as Kane chanted faster. Moving like the water washing across the roof, the energy flowed to within inches of D’arci’s rain spattered boots.
"You’re all going to fucking die face down in the rain, you evil sons of bitches!"
Roper made his arrival known. The ex-special forces man was pissed as hell, and threw an entire claymore mine towards the largest group of Wildcats. It bounced forwards, and then on a press of Roper’s remote sent the deadly metal ball blast into the group. Without slowing, he drew his loosely back-holstered shotgun and pumped rounds at Kane. Blood exploded from the old man, causing the energy of the disrupted ritual to surge towards D’arci. The cuffed cop was engulfed in blinding pain; her skin protested the abuse with pain signals to her brain. Her last sight before energy almost physically stabbed into her eyes was of Roper blasting the bent cops. One had managed to get his piece from its rain slick holster, but it did him no good before the vigilante’s fury.
�@
By the time D’arci awoke the pain had faded. She drew a deep breath of fetid air and nearly gagged. Thin daylight allowed her to see she was no longer up on the flat roof, but on the side of a road up against a tall stone wall. The other side of the road was commercial; shops and small businesses. At first she assumed Roper had rescued her, but been forced to abandon her. Looking around she noted crates, pipes and even a Wildcat punk’s leg and realized the detritus had all been dragged along when Kane’s ritual had been interrupted. The leg stump was cauterized; the edge of the field had sliced it cleanly away. Though her wrists were still cuffed, the pipe they had been cuffed too was no longer attached to anything. D’arci tucked her legs up, and agilely moved her hands to the front of her body. Her gun and nightstick had been left on a tauntingly close crate, and she holstered both approvingly. There was a silver lining to every situation. Never mind the guns, D'arci was happy that she had been out of the rain for long enough that even her clothes were dry.
‘First things first’, she thought. She needed a key to fit the handcuffs – a police precinct would certainly have some, as the cuff manufacturers put the same lock on most batches – or tools to get the cuffs off. She winced repeatedly as they rubbed against the rubbed raw patches of her dark brown skin. Some people found the idea of a cuffed cop amusing; if D’arci ran into any of them she’d draw her sidearm and demonstrate her bad mood. She realized she didn’t recognize the street at all. She knew most of Union City, even beyond her regular routes, and that meant she was somewhere else. High above the sky roiled with unnatural clouds, and though the road was deserted there were signs of violence, struggles, and distant moaning that drew an instinctive fear reaction directly up her spine.
A far closer scream sounded from behind the wall to D’arci’s back. Though muffled by the walls and windows of the building the scream sounded high pitched and alien, and also unmistakably female. D’arci didn’t know the building housed a school, barricaded and zombie filled, or that the scream was caused by a triggered trap. She did know she wanted to help; her duty as a cop, her compassion as a woman. She swore crudely at her cuffed wrists. The hard metal cuffs would be a liability to any rescue attempt. A closer examination of the stores across the road showed her they appeared faded and abandoned. The damage reminded her of the previous year’s riots across Union City’s downtown. She twisted her full curvaceous lips into a smile at the sight of a hardware store. She jogged across awkwardly, as muscle memory wanted each arm to swing freely.
At the same time a dog pack rounded the corner at the end of the street. Though drawn by the scream within the school, the dogs turned their attention to the far easier proposition of the cuffed African-American woman. She had no stone walls, no doors to keep them out. Growling and howling, represented almost a dozen full breeds and mongrels. Their only common feature appeared to be wounds and illness,
"No… not wounds. They’re dead. Fuck! They’re all dead!"
Some were missing most of their fur, or the skin beneath. Others had entire chunks of flesh missing, torn away in hungry bites by former owners as, terrified and confused, the loyal animals had sought to protect their masters. One scrappy mongrel trailed his intestines across the dirty tarmac, tripping and righting his erratic progress to rejoin the pack. Several of the animals had blades sticking from them, the result of failed attempts to fight them off. One had a fine pair of antique Sai blades, a memento of an earlier Japanese meal. They smelt the fresh warm meat stood before them in the street. As one pack they wanted to eat and fuck.
"Hell hounds, then? Is this city hell?"
D’arci started in repulsed horror, before her Police training kicked in. There wasn’t enough time to run, and nowhere she could climb upon. Dragging one hand along in the cuffs, she drew her gun, sighted, and hit the lead dog in the head. It dropped instantly, tripping others. The noise hurt D’arci’s ears as it always did, but she couldn’t allow herself respite. Firing again and again, she felled the pack with near perfect shots until the penultimate bullet shattered the lower jaw of a huge once-white furred mongrel, and ricocheted away uselessly. She thought for a moment trying her excellent Karate skills, but the dog hadn’t even reacted to bullet pain. Usually crippling kicks wouldn’t even annoy the beast. Swinging between the dog’s legs was a bloated cock. Grey-pink flesh glistening with slime showed where the undead dog's sheath had pulled back. The animal’s intentions were clear, and sickened D’arci. There was nothing she could do for the screamer in the building; nothing she could do for herself. Close enough that she could smell the rotted stench coming from the beast; she turned away and pushed the hot metal barrel between her teeth. Screwing her eyes tightly, she pulled the trigger.
"Shit!" the round was a dud.
The dog leapt at D’arci’s back, and slammed her hard across the high curb at the roadside. Her upper body armor absorbed some of the impact, but still her breasts protested as they were flattened against her ribs. D’arci’s nose crunched painfully against the sidewalk. Previously thinner than might be expected for an African-American woman, the impact spread the cartilage against the dirty slabs. She screamed as blood rapidly from within her nose, and more slowly from the bridge. The pain made it tough to think, but with a surge of adrenalin she tugged her nightstick from her hips. With her wrists cuffed, she couldn't get either arm back enough to put real force into the blows. She lashed backwards wildly, but the hard wood bounced ineffectually from the dog's skull. At the same time she felt like as if a knife was being drawn across her shapely hips as the dog's claws shredded her mud spattered pants. Surging forward, he mounted her ass forcefully, and gripped the struggling cop around her waist. She retched as the dog's claws scored into her tight abs below the bottom edge of her seemingly useless body armor.
"Get off! Get off me, motherfucker! No! NO!"
The undead dog retained little memory of his former 'pack' felled moments before, and even less of the days when a firm command would have stopped it dead. All he knew was the insatiable hunger for meat and, the possibly satiable hunger for sex. Perhaps he knew others would come, drawn by screams and gunshots, and that he had to hurry to get his fill. He paid no attention even as D'arci’s nightstick beat the teeth from his shattered jaw, caring only for the heat behind her thick, scratchy bush. The desperate woman twisted desperately, but the beast followed, and then thrust roughly home. The thick cold length spread undead dick slime almost to D'arci's cervix, and drew a cry of revulsion from her throat that would have made her ears ring, if her gunshots hadn’t already done the job. To be penetrated by such a vile ungodly creature!
"Oh god!"
Black blood mixed with the dog’s drool to smear wetly across the nape of her neck. Her dark skin shone as if oiled beneath the stinking mixture. She felt him try to bite, but her misaimed bullet had robbed her of such a quick, merciful end. She wanted to vomit, utterly revolted at being raped by a zombie dog, disgusted by the animal ferocity of his savage thrusts deep inside her core. She’d had rough, passionate sex in the past, but no experience, no lover, had ever claimed her so totally as the slobbering undead creature. The coldness of his dead shaft meant she felt more fully than ever before each movement within her body. She sobbed like a child, the wrenching cries forced from her throat by the furiously humping dog, and stopped only when she instinctively breathed through her mouth rather than her blood-stuffed nose.
The dog didn’t have the intelligence to compare D’arci to previous fucks. To his undead mind this was the best possible bitch. He thoroughly enjoyed the tightness of her cunt, and his own slimy dick had lubrication enough to increase the exquisite pleasure. Her dreadlocks caught in his broken jaw, and tugged his head from side to side with her struggles, but it didn’t put milky eyed dog didn’t off his deep, hard pace. The zombie dog raped D’arci with even greater roughness and cruel lust than even the Wildcats gangbangers would have managed. They would have taken turns on the cop, doubled and tripled up, beaten and abused her… and still not degraded her as much as taking the undead dog’s cock. Reacting naturally, her cunt grew hotter and juicier beneath the assault.
As she cried tears of shame and pain, D’arci thought her violation couldn’t get any worse, but she’d reckoned without the dog’s knot. The oversized chunk of bloated half-rotten flesh pressed against the hot pink inner skin of D’arci’s cunt. The dog had her wedged against the high curb, and impaled on his thickness, and there was no way she could struggle free. Whipping her loose dreads around almost hard enough to draw blood from the skin stretched over her high cheekbones, D’arci started hyperventilating as the dog’s knot was relentlessly forced inside. It felt as cold and hard as a baseball, and was still growing. Perhaps it was a blocked circulation issue, or some other stage of the zombie virus. All D’arci knew for sure as the dog’s knot jerked and popped painfully inside was the increasing sensation of stretching.
Her flat lower stomach seemed to bulge from within against the dog’s paws as his knot expanded. As it still tried to thrust, each jolt was unbearably painful as the shocks jarred her stomach organs. Her already darkly flushed cheeks darkened further as she pissed herself from the agony. As a cop, she’d always gone extra hard on drunks pissing in the street; she found it personally offensive. Viciously impaled on the knotted cock of an undead canine rapist, she had no choice in releasing her own bladder. The hot wet fluid seemed almost to lull her to sleep as it splashed against her inner thighs. On the edge of unconsciousness, an icy blast told her the dog had come. Yet more blood dripped from the clawed gashes in her stomach as it stiffened and sprayed. The new coldness brought D’arci back to herself slightly, and she started swearing at the dog anew. It ignored her curses.
Unable to bite, the dog had smelled the blood from her belly even more hungrily than the snot mixed gloop from her nose. As the last blasts of icy semen defiled D’arci’s womb, he twisted to try to get at her stomach. The dreadlocks caught in his shattered jaw tore free from D’arci’s scalp. She felt like she’d been stabbed in the head. There was a moment’s delicious freedom for the African-American cop as the dog slid from her back, and then she was dragged across the road by her knotted cunt. It was like the dog was trying to chase his tail. Each time he almost managed to lick at D’arci’s bloody stomach, he would twist his rear end and drag the clawed gashes beyond reach. The icy dog spunk sloshed in her uterus, leaking through her cervix easily. She was thoroughly infected with the strain of undeath, but too early to feel the effects yet. D’arci’s limbs flailed uselessly as her head bounced painfully against the dirty gravelly road. A dozen more bloody grazes marked her head and arms, but her body armor kept most of her upper body unmarked, and her legs were in the air where her cunt was knotted to the dog. With her hands still cuffed together there was little she could do to try and pull the animal free. He bounced her 113lbs around like she was a bag of feathers in his hungry excitement.
After a painful, bumpy minute she realized there were men approaching along the street. Though a perfectly competent detective, D’arci wasn’t thinking entirely clearly. With her eyes tear-blurred, she didn’t recognize the men were already undead. Working with both hands, she tugged loose her badge. Kane had laughingly told her she could keep it to show when she got to hell – she hadn’t considered he meant the cruel jibe literally! As her gloves were removed back on the rooftop, she managed to keep the leather badge pouch up in the air as the dog moved with mindless frustration, pausing only to lick at the odd splash of blood.
"Police! Get this dog off me! Help!"
The normal calm confidence that the former Chicago girl had developed in her time with the Union City Police Department was gone. Every ounce of fear and raw pain laid freely in her voice. She managed to blink away the tears to see the lead man. Once, he’d been a grossly fat, white, security guard with poor personal hygiene. Now he was down to one eye, with severe burning across the right side of his body. Almost naked, his cock stood proudly against his belly, bouncing against a uselessly abandoned knife hilt. There was no compassion in his milky eyes, and D’arci felt the last of her cherished hope spark and die beneath the growing pain and raging humiliation.
The rest of the mob of shambling zombies were in a similarly bad state. The dog moaned as they closed in. is fuck. His food. D’arci tried to pull away, but her knotted cunt held her fast. She looked almost pregnant beneath her body armor. The knot had reached bowling ball size inside her cunt. Her smooth skin was rutted and bloody from the dog’s claws, and elsewhere from the rough road. Though her hope was gone, D’arci still fought. She swung her cuffed hands at the lead zombie as he gripped her dreadlocks and pulled her face to his stinking crotch. Though weighted with cuffs and powered with desperation, they bounced off the burned fat of his stomach with no effect. She managed a final protect before the fat stinking zombie penetrated her thick, sensual, blood soaked lips with his grayish purple crown. Two, then three of the others held the dog. It was in their way. Pulling with undead strength they strained wasted muscles. Fresh pain exploded in D’arci’s body as the undead men tried to forcefully de-knot her cunt. She screamed weakly, hoarsely, around the foul cock in her mouth until it pressed over her tongue and into her throat.
Something had to give. Almost silently, D’arci’s vagina and uterus jointly prolapsed. The dog popped forward, dragging a stretched and bloody pink tube around his knot. Firstly the thin covering of her vagina, then her thicker uterus emerged from between darkly swollen labia. The zombies fell hungrily upon the bare flesh. Dog spunk squirted like cream from an éclair between their teeth as they tore wetly into D’arci’s pink exposed innards. This pain was sharper, new. D’arci could tell what it was from the sounds, though her pain twisted face was pressed into the rotted belly of the zombie raping her throat. She was glad the blood blocked her sense of smell, though she could no longer breathe either. The painful pressure from the dog’s oversized knot was gone, but she could feel the biting teeth of the zombie tearing into her uterus. Another went straight for her cunt, tearing at her labia with undead hunger. The sharpest, purest, clearest pain of the day came when he adjusted his bite and with broken yellow teeth severed her clitoris. A final burst of piss did nothing to dent his hunger as he bit consumed her womanhood hungrily.
The dog lay in the road, licking at the vaginal tissue wrapped around his knot. Another zombie stepped over both him, and the two eating at D’arci’s cunt, and pressed his cock at her dry asshole. D’arci had been an anal virgin, never considering any appeal in subjecting herself to degrading un-pleasurable sex. The zombie didn’t care; probably wouldn’t have in life. He forced his way between the cheeks of her succulent butt too toned and athletic to be a true bubble butt and hissed with exquisite pleasure. D’arci couldn’t protest with a cold length stretching her throat. Fingers tore at the string straps of her body armor, like starving men at bread bags. Crawling between the fat zombie’s legs, two more undead fell upon her breasts with all-consuming hunger. New blood flowed down towards her stomach as yellow fat was revealed beneath swiftly flayed brown skin.
Raped at both ends, a bleeding meal and cum dumpster for zombies, D’arci Stern’s pounding lungs told her merciful death was finally close. She knew she hadn’t breathed for some seconds, but each one felt stretched and unreal against her pain. She was still hyper aware of each thrust into her mouth and ass, each bite tearing wetly into her flesh. She wanted to pray, for though her hope was gone, her pain near absolute, she was still a believer. Her small breasts hadn’t been much of a meal, as tasty as they’d been in undead mouths. Fading out, her brain fought to tell her of the pain signals generated by cold fingers cracking her ribs apart. D’arci’s last pains lessened as the virus entered the final stage of conversion to undeath. Her eyes clouded over, turned into the milky zombie stare and she started to hump and suck her undead assailants. The zombie in her ass came first, painting her bowels before she died, and then a cold blast seemed to sooth her burning lungs as the grey balls pressed against her chin gave up their load. D’arci’s final conscious thought might have been ‘cock good’, and then she knew only the hunger. Her shuddering heart fluttered to a last beat just as a zombie’s hand closed around the fit muscle, and pulled it from her chest.
�@
Riding the thermals high above, a demonic figure scowled down at D’arci’s fate. If Kane’s ritual had gone as intended, she would have been delivered into his lap. She was to be his offering, for the share of mortal power granted to the old man. It was such a waste. He too would have raped and broken her, and used her for his pleasure as the mob had. But he would have enjoyed it more, and stolen even the faith he heard in her mind before she died. A thin smile finally broke his scowl. The bitch’s soul would have a hard time reaching heaven from the city. Turning away from the zombie orgy below, he banked away to await another offering, and missed the city’s newest arrival…
To be continued… no mercy from the undead pros described in this undead prose!
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Undead Legions: A Homage to Deathstalker	By : JayDee Category: +A through F > Anachronox Views: 12196 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Full Disclaimer Below

Undead Legions: A Homage to Deathstalker