Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Tomb Raider: The Fat Man Chronicles	By : MorbidFantasy Category: +S through Z > Tomb Raider (all) > Tomb Raider (all) Views: 221907 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Tomb Raider game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 43
- 44
- 45
Another plot significant chapter. I hope yall enjoy it.
Chapter 44: KEY: The Importance of Memory #2: Ohk Eshivar
******************************************************
5 years before present day… under the Arctic Sea…
“ARRRRRGGH!” screamed the grotesquely disfigured Natla, trying in vain to command the Doppelganger to free her from underneath the destroyed regeneration chamber.
“Looks like the device suffered some damage after all.” The Doppelganger remarked casually, looking down on her former master.
“You? Get this thing off me. Ohk eshivar. I order you to help me. No... I command you to lift this off of me. I command you! You hear me? Ohk eshivar! You must obey me. Ohk eshivar! Help me! Thralls! Come to me! Help! NO! N-“
OHK ESHIVAR! OHK ESHIVAR! OHK ESHIVAR! OHK ESHIVAR!
Even as the eitr filled her lungs with searing unfathomable pain, Natla continued to scream out the phrase that granted dominion over those born of the eitr. The raven haired woman who bore a splitting resemblance to Natla’s archnemesis Lara Croft smiled as she watched her former master disappear below the rising pool of eitr, all the while calling out for one of her thralls to come to her rescue.
Ohk Eshivar……
A rumbling voice, lethargic as if roused from a deeps slumber, echoed Natla’s calls in a tongue even older than the drowning Atlantean’s own.
Natla spasmed, her body slipping into numbness, her mind slipping into oblivion. With the last of her conscious effort, she moved her mouth, drinking in the eitr as she bellowed her last earthly words.
Lara Croft!
Elsewhere, in Tokyo, Japan…
From where he had dozed off while monitoring the cameras around his boss Shogo Takamoto’s hospital room, Takashi “The Otaku” Hagiwara awoke in a cold sweat, snapping back to attention.
While the ethereal voice that had awoken him was unfamiliar to him, the name was not.
A year prior, Takeshi, then 17, had been the first to walk through the carnage left by the British heiress. The young tech savant watched, fascinated, as the sexy gaijin woman defeated his high-tech laser and turret defenses by hiding behind the metal sphere display piece as finished slaughtering her way up to Takamoto-sama’s chambers, where she had left him for dead after an intense duel, breaking his polearm and absconding with its magical blade.
Takeshi, the secret illegitimate son of Takamoto and an unnamed sex worker, had raced to Shogo’s side, upon which he received the last words of his father before the later slipped into a deep coma.
“Staff…” was all Shogo said, one limp finger pointing at the broken bottom half of what used to be the crown jewel of his collection.
In the present time, that broken piece of staff had been refinished into a lacquered baton, which Takeshi carried with him, under the hope that it may yet retain some value.
Just now, Takashi could have sworn that the distorted voice that had cried out “Lara Croft!” had emanated from the baton.
Then, before he had time to ponder if the voice had been part of some dream, the unthinkable happened.
Looking a his screen, Takashi watched as his father awoke from his coma with an abruptness that defied what the medical experts had suggested was possible.
Even before he could leave his post to rush to Takamoto-sama’s bedside a few doors down, Takashi could hear the first words out of his father’s mouth after a year in slumber.
”Croooooft!” the voice of an awoken Shogo Takamoto rang out throughout the private hospital ward.
4 years before present day… Peru…
“I’ve been thinking about some serious expansion westward.” Xavier boasted, a blue serendipitous twinkle in his eye. Indeed, something in his dreams had suggested that he might have a bright future should he move his village westward.
Xavier Salvatorelli was in the middle of trying to impress Lara Croft with his rather tight knit startup of a guerrilla, the later having returned to his village after several days out in the wilderness.
It was around this time that Xavier had started to have some wildly compelling dreams, many of which involved fantasies of his latest guest.
The thought of the beautiful Contessa naked and wrapped around him filled Xavier with wanton lust.
“Have you now?” Lara said, her tone dismissive and insulting, yet coming off as sultry and coy to Xavier.
Unable to resist himself, he reached out a hand to grab her by the waist and pull her in to himself.
Ohk Eshivar. You want to have this bitch. You want her naked and spread before you.
“Senor, I must be going…” Lara said, her tone stern but polite, as she shrugged out of Xavier’s reach, her other hand casually brushing her holstered firearm.
Ohk Eshivar! Fuck this bitch! Grab her! Tie her down! Fuck her! Kill Lara Croft!
Without thinking, Xavier reached out again, this time violently, intending to choke Lara Croft unconscious, drag her back to his home, and tie her up in his bed so he could live out the vivid fantasies that had filled his dreams as of late.
The whirlwind of violence that followed would leave a bloodied Xavier both confused and furious that his “good will” had been met with such betrayal.
3 years before present day… Egypt…
Ex-interpol Trellick and American ex-pat Damian ran guns throughout the greater African continent, rubbing shoulders with despots, warlords, rebels, and western intelligence alike. Often, they did business with both sides of a conflict, a highly profitable balancing act.
The pair, accompanied by a dozen or so hired help, had just finished offloading a surplus of Kalashnikovs in the local township, and were in the process of packing up their payment of African antiques raided from a nearby tomb.
<“Who’s the tits?”> Damian crudely asked in Sudanese, casually ogling the bombshell brunette as she casually eyed the leftover armaments that the buyer had run out of space for.
The pretty European woman surprised Damian by responding in fluent Sudanese.
<”These tits are just here to browse.” Lara said, her lovely voice equal parts scathing and polite.
“You’ll have to forgive my friend. He’s not one for subtlety.” Trellick said coolly.
“Now, what can I do for you, Miss...?”
“You must be Trellick.” Lara ventured, taking the man’s raised eyebrow as confirmation.
“Who’s asking”'
The woman held up a photo of a small statue.
“Lara Croft. I’m here for this.”
Trellick looked at the pretty woman for a good few seconds.
“I’m a businessman, milady. If you want that item, you’re going to have to make me an offer.” He said, evenly.
<”I’ve got an offer for Lady tits here.”> Damian cackled.
The woman calling herself Lara Croft ignored him, instead looking straight at Trellick
“You work for Prince Samir of House Saud, correct, judging by your hired help?”
There was a pause.
“That’s a dangerous accusation for a lonesome lady to be levying, hmm, Miss Croft?” Trellick said coolly, his eyes narrowing as he sized her up. Discreetly, he tilted his head. Behind her, the two guards in the room quietly repositioned themselves to cut off her escape.
“Cut the act, Mr. Interpol. I’m not here about whatever clandestine affairs you’re having with Saudi Arabia’s elite.” Lara said, nonplussed. She held up the photo of a particular artifact again.
“I’m here to repossess this for a cause greater than your depraved war games. It should be right outside on your second-to-last truck.”
Damian, who had been silent after Lara’s earlier rebuke, snorted in bemusement.
<”Lady Tits got some balls too, pfft.”> he said, signaling in Lara’s direction.
The two guards behind Lara closed in, their hands reaching for her.
<”Let’s see if you’ll be singing the same tune after we throw you a nice big welcome party”>
Before the guards could grab her wrist, Lara spun, drawing both of her pistols from her thigh holsters in the same motion and whipping each man across the face. Dashing between their blindly grasping hands, she fired her guns in unison, kneecapping the two guards in passing.
Trellick coolly watched as the two guards screamed and flailed, both belatedly going for their sidearms, inadvertently turning into roadblocks in Lara’s favor as she dashed out of the door.
Damian cursed, pulled out his own sidearm, and double tapped both imbeciles in the chest before either one let off an errant round.
“Let her go.” Trellick, his hands over his ears, yelled at Damian as he moved to pursue Lara, loud enough for Damian to hear through his ringing ears.
“Why…?” Damian shouted back, joining Trellick behind the cover of a heavy crate as sounds of more gunfire and yelling filled the streets outside.
“She’s British royalty. We don’t need that sort of heat on us.”
Damian thought about the situation for a moment, then shrugged, peeking around the corner of the crate as the gunfire seemed to die down.
The sound of a motorcycle being revved, then fading into the distance, finally put Damian at ease. The ex-pat grabbed an AK-47 from the nearby rack and started to head outside to assess the damage.
“Damian?” Trellick called out to him.
“Yeah?”
“No witnesses.”
“What do we tell the prince?” Damian asked as he checked his AK magazine. He had fallen back into speaking with his native Texan draw.
“Occupational hazard. We’ll let him know who killed his men as soon as we find out ourselves.”
“Pffft. You don’t say…” Damian chortled.
“What about the trucks? Local replacements?”
“Local replacements.” Trellick answered.
Damian grinned, then exited the room. From the outside, the sounds of groaning and pleas for assistance were rapidly extinguished by several gun reports.
One and a half years ago, shortly after Lara was set free by Gordo …
Takashi Hagiwara, now nearly 21, was thirty-some episodes deep into a particularly titillating anime when the automated spyware that he had installed on his father’s corporate partner’s servers had returned a matched facial recognition for a particular person.
What he saw was astonishing.
Lara Croft, the fearsome combatant that the world knew her to be, captured by an obese goon of a security guard, and forced into unwilling coitus inside Everest’s interrogation room.
The video was wiped from the local servers soon afterwards, most likely by the overweight star of the video, but not before Takashi had made backups, which he was quick to share with his father.
<“Hahahahahaha! That dumb bitch!”> Shogo Takamoto cackled with laughter as father and son watched the entire three hours of Lara’s ordeal inside the interrogation room. As they watched, they discussed what they should do with the material.
<“Who’s the pig? I aught to send him a gift.”> The yakuza boss sniggered, as he ruminated on his options.
<“Just wait until the entire world see’s this.”>
Ohk Eshivar…
<“His name is ‘Vincent Gordo’.”> Takashi said, his eyes glazed over as if in deep remembrance. He absentmindedly twirled the salvaged baton in one hand.
“And I would suggest that there are better uses for this information.” He calmly told his father,
Ohk Eshivar… Obey…
Shogo himself seemed to suddenly calm down from his prior giddiness.
“Vincent… Gordo…” he muttered.
<“I’ve reached out to Gordo via my contact at Everest Co...”> Takashi explained to his father.
Shogo Takamoto was all ears to his son’s plan, his gaze fixated on the image of the naked Lara Croft duct taped to the interrogation table.
Shortly thereafter…
Takashi “The Otaku” Hagiwara finally managed to flex his tech muscles in front of his father, vindicating himself after years of Shogo’s disapproval for his “useless hobbies”.
The online user known as KingMcGee was manipulated by The Otaku into believing that he was the discoverer of the lost tapes. KingMcGee then touched base with Vincent Gordo, and, together, they moved on Lara Croft.
As father and son hoped, the “discovered” information became blackmail material. Takashi was quite amused when Gordo boastfully took credit for the entire blackmail in his recording, which perfectly suited the Takamoto’s intentions.
Thus, Takashi was able to exact vengeance for House Takamoto while keeping the Japanese connection secret.
That was, until Gordo and McGee both veer wildly off script, each driven by individual greed.
The death of McGee, Everest’s chief security expert, threatened to reveal the Japanese snooping and involvement.
Thus, Shogo Takamoto preemptively reached out to Everest, explaining that McGee had shared his blackmail materials with Takashi, and that their branch of the Yakuza were perfectly willing to cooperate with Everest Inc in any future schemes involving the Duchess of Arlington.
An accord was formed, a coalition that would see continued growth in the coming months.
Shortly thereafter, Shogo officially adopted his illegitimate son into the family.
The Otaku was Takashi Hagiwara no longer. He was now Takashi Takamoto, heir apparent to Shogo Takamoto.
Present day, in the midst of Lara’s last week in Peru...
Xavier’s westward expansion, which he managed to undertake while still recuperating from losing an eye and two fingers to Lara Croft, had resulted in his territory expanding from a small village of a few dozen huts into a small town of brick, stone, concrete, and hundreds of loyal followers.
Unbeknownst to him, Xavier had relocated his village next to a nexus of unworldly power, responding to a calling from within the nexus, a voice of inspiration that he was not consciously aware of.
It was to this nexus that the village owed its rapid growth in the span of four short years, the same voice gathering for Xavier’s village a steady stream of migrants and recruits
It was to this nexus that the village was now leashed to, invisible blue wisps of energy chaining Xavier Salvatorelli and his villagers to the nexus so recently visited upon by Evan Hansen and Lara Croft.
“Nothing but cum?” Gordo asked.
The idea that he wanted to feed Lara the cum of his entire village had incepted its way into Xavier’s head around the same time she was mating with the giant Russian in one of the dank cells of his compound.
The same unearthly voice that had enthralled Professor Hansen was now whispering its subliminal commands to Xavier. Unlike its sluggish awakening inside the temple, that voice was gaining clarity. While the voice once screamed for Xavier to rape and kill Lara, it was now directing Xavier to keep her alive.
Ohk Eshivar… she… is… my… collector… bring… me… tribute!
“Si, Senor. I want Lara Croft to know that my forgiveness does not mean she is anything other than a common street whore.” Xavier said, his face twisting in gleeful rage.
“That might be a bit much, even for her…” Gordo said, his lips curling ear to ear.
Ohk Eshivar… feed her to your men, let her receive their lust. Drown her in your lust! Give me your lust!
Xavier laughed heartily.
“Senor Gordo, do not take me for a fool. I watched Croft in the prison. She is a hard puta to break. Even her fancy Caixa de Prazer told us so!”
“The what…. OH you mean the Pleasure Mobile.” Gordo said.
“Si. So, let’s not discuss what is already done, this puta has wronged us both.”
“That’s not the way I would put it.” Gordo said. Once again, the cautiousness in his voice was betrayed by the upward curls in the corners of his mouth.
Xavier, ever the predictable one, made things easier for Gordo.
“I want that puta to eat nothing but cum, si? I want her to eat it for breakfast, I want her to eat it for lunch, and dinner, dinner will be the same thing, hmm?”
“No real food?” Gordo asked, rhetorically, once again.
“Senor, do you have a problem with what I am saying?” Xavier said, once again making things easy for Gordo.
“I… will make the arrangements…” Gordo said slowly, winking at Xavier.
“And do not forget, Senor, Senorita Croft is mine until her next master claims her. Once I am finished feeding her the cum of my people, you will continue to feed her nothing but cum on your journey away from here.”
“Jesus, man. Can we at least throw a little spice in there? You know? A little coffee, a little chicken?” Gordo said.
“…. and you will make this puta watch her being whored to my men, yes?”
Thus, throughout the week, Lara was herded from one rape to the next, wisps of unseen energy radiating from deep within her. These tendrils reached out, grabbing the attentions of Xavier’s men, compelling them to pass Lara between themselves, forcing her to receive their lust.
As for Lara, a mantra of words pounded her subconscious with the same three phrases it had wiped from her conscious memory, except now there were two voices. Or perhaps it had always been two voices but one had merely surged into the forefront after years of oblivion.
Receive me now… <Ohk… Eshivar… Lara Croft>
Bring me to myself… <Obey… me… now… slave>
Make me whole… <Yessssss… make… me… anew!>
Lara, chained to the ground with three spouts feeding semen into her holes, shuddered as the voice of Jacqueline Natla reverberated from her core, masking itself in the tides of the orgasm that the ripped through her.
******************************************************
Author’s note: Welp, the cat’s out of the bag. Natla's BACK. Feel free to review, flame or otherwise discuss in the AFF forums. I'll post thoughts there.
http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/topic/41005-tomb-raider-fat-man-chronicles-review-and-discussion-thread/?page=17
- 43
- 44
- 45
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Tomb Raider: The Fat Man Chronicles