#capra demon

Escaping the undead asylum and killing the stray demon that guarded its exit had proved to be far simpler than expected. Just the same, besting the Taurus demon on the bridge and felling the two gargoyles that stood guard over the first Bell of Awakening were tasks that were insurmountable only in your imagination. Time was beginning to prove that, in all truth, that knight from Astora who'd freed you from your cell was speaking the truth. You very well might be the Chosen Undead.

But before your fate is to be revealed, you still have one last bell to ring, one found opposite of the first. According to the words spoken to you by the crestfallen knight during your stay at Firelink Shrine, the second bell should be down, far, far below. If his dispassionate guidance is to be trusted, then the path you're set upon will culminate at the base of Blighttown. Steeling yourself for what's to come, you stand from the bonfire of the parish, abandoning the quaint respite it offered you, and make your way towards the lower section of the undead burg. Your thoughts wander to possibilities of what trials might lie in wait for you past the depths, what the path to a lost and sunless civilization might be like.

Your armored footsteps against the stone beneath are the only things that accompany your silent journey. Their staccato rhytm offers just enough white noise for you to lose yourself within your mind, your legs carrying your absentminded body past the steps that lead lower and lower. Hollows, deamons, gargoyles... You've slain all of these monstrosities with more finesse than you thought was within your abilities and while each encounter has proven to be more challenging than the last, you've never once failed to persevere towards victory.

It's almost as if some form of divine intervention is guiding you, as if the threads of fate themselves are in your favor. The thought that everything might be a stroke of luck, a string of events chained together by nothing more than mere causality enters your mind for a moment. They don't linger for long, however. Heroes are often found in the most unlikely of places, no? Who's to say you're not the one who'll manage to restore light to the darkening world of Lordran-

Clumsily, you feel yourself bump into something firm yet cloudy in texture. It snaps you from your thoughts and as you shake your head, returning to reality, you're faced by an imposing door of fog. The familiar sight proves to be confusing at first, prompting a quick turn on your heels to survey the area behind. As your eyes scan the town of the lower burg, you realize just how profoundly nestled you were within your thoughts. So much so, that it's only now that you realize you walked the entire way to the lower burg without even feeling it.

As your surprise fades, it becomes far easier to notice the dilapidated state of things in this part of the settlement. Houses have been reduced to their base structures, the wooden beams that once held the walls now as readily apparent as the bones on a malnourished dog. Speaking of which, the rotten remains of animals and people lie slumped over the rim of a well in the center of town. More corpses adorn the surrounding walls, and the stench that permeates the surrounding air serves as the final touch to complete the macabre sight.

Whatever caused this must lie beyond the fog...

For a split moment, you feel the claws of fear begin to scratch at your heart. However, they retract as soon as they tease to sink in. You recall your previous achievements and with renewed vigor, step through the murky veil that separates you from the next demon you'll slay.

Immediately, you're met by its four glowing red eyes. They examine your shorter frame from above, scanning over your form as the creature's veiny hands fist around the hilt of the two oversized cleavers it wields. He's almost entirely bare, clad in nothing more than a loincloth that's been dirtied with stains which have no doubt come from his previous victims. The rest of his muscled physique is left entirely unclothed, the verdigris skin that's stretched taught around its musculature accented by nothing more than bulging veins and a layer of grime. A huff escapes from the goat-like skull the hellspawn wears for a head and your grip instinctively tightens around your own blade.

The demon is imposing. Everything about it hints at something primal, suggesting that its true nature must be far more animal than anything you've faced thus far. Still, you find yourself surprisingly unafraid. Even as the ten foot tall butcher hunches over in preparation to leap at you, confidence is the only thing you feel. And, as the hint of a smirk begins to tug at the corner of your mouth, you realize that you're not afraid.

You are ready.

Channeling the vigor bestowed upon you by your faith in the Prophecy of the Chosen Undead, you leap forward into battle. The hellspawn matches your temper and unleashes a slash with its two cleavers, attempting to split you in two from shoulder to waist. Instinctively, you dodge the attack by a narrow margin, hoping that it will grant you enough time to deliver a riposte.

It's a maneuver that you immediately realize won't work on this fiend. His swings carry such force that the air he cleaves through sends ripples that buffet and unbalance you. You stumble backwards for a moment before regaining your footing and propping the point of your sword forward from a middle guard, hoping to keep the creature at bay as he readies his next move. Two symmetrical swings from either side, a scissor like motion that aims to sever your head clean off your shoulders. The only thing you can think of doing is to throw yourself onto the dirt beneath.

Your sloppily roll to avoid his killing blow and use the momentum to swiftly rise and turn on your heel to face him. As your vision spins around, you find that he's already closed the distance, both of his cleavers raised skyward. Your eyes widen and your heart skips a beat as the sun itself is eclipsed by his towering presence. Almost paralyzed by fear, you shakily raise the flat of your blade in hopes of producing a block or a parry, anything that might save you from certain death.

Its cleavers, powered by the coiling muscles in the demon's arms drop all the way down and through your defenses. Your sword shatters along with your courage. The jagged tip of its weapons crack your breastplate in two, the force of the impact knocking the stability out of your legs. They buckle under the weight of your defeat and your eyes cast a thousand yard glance onto the fragments of steel that lay on the ground.

Before you're even afforded a moment to contemplate your defeat, to process the promise of death that looms over you, you're lifted onto the air. The shock frees you from your trance as the demon hoists you up by the back of your head. "Unhand me! Let go, demon!" You pair your words with a series of kicks and punches aimed at the butcher's torso, but they amount to nothing. You realize now why the creature is so comfortable with wearing nothing in the way of armor.

Even if you had managed to land a strike, it's almost certain that it would have barely scratched the thick hide of its muscles. You feel the familiar claws of fear sink fully into your heart as your pleading eyes lock onto his. They're nothing more than glowing orbs of primal instinct. You've never seen hellfire before, but you're sure that it must glow with the same intensity as this beast's gaze. Your silent pleas for mercy go unanswered as the creature slams you into the ground.

Your body seizes up in terror, your hands clasping around the thick forearm that pins you down. Its eyes roam over you once more and you begin to wonder why it hasn't yet killed you. It's almost as if it is toying with you, waiting for the perfect moment to-

Your heart sinks as you realize where his eyes are directed. The crack in your armor has left one of your breasts exposed to him, the supple flesh peeking through the metal like treasure through a hidden chest. Both of you freeze for a moment. Time seems to stand still as panic begins to take you over, your mind rationalizing the very real possibility that this thing might actually want your body.

The demon's response comes only in the form of his loincloth parting like a curtain to reveal his arousal. Its meat is the most imposing thing you've ever seen. A cock the same length as your forearm, colored the same sickly greyish-hue as the rest of the creature, and decorated with rippling veins that pulse in tandem with the rest of the shaft they coil around. "No... Stop, I-"

You're not even allowed to finish your pathetic plea as the demon's hands clench around the seams of the crack in your armor. You could swear he is barely exerting any force as he finishes splitting sway the obsolete remains of your cuirass. A series of hungry huffs escape from the demon as his calloused mitts palm your now exposed flesh.

You're frozen by the overwhelming feeling of being toyed with by something so much stronger than you, so invincible. Shivers of fear travel down your spine as its cracked fingernails chip against your hardened nipples, grazing and leaving red trails against the rest of your flesh. Your breath comes as a series of ragged and shallow inhales and exhales, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Your eyes, meanwhile, remain locked onto his cock.

It stands proudly over your entire midsection as the creature continues to explore your tits. It's a childish hope, the thought that you might be able to keep its hungry sex away if you simply stare at it long enough. But that hope is swiftly shattered as his hands clasp around your waist and suddenly, both of your hips are in line.

Your heart races against your chest, beating against the inside of your ribcage as you tremble in fear of what's to come. You shake your head, a feeble attempt to deny the reality of what's about to occur as the head of his cock touches your still clothed sex. "Stop! Don't you dare- MMPH!"

Your wail is muffled by his hand, the demon's calloused palm caressed by your breath as he impales you with a single thrust. The seams of your pants part under the force of his hips, and your walls follow suit. You're stretched impossibly to accommodate the butcher's cock. A primal huff erupts from him, delight flowering in his chest as his brutish cock defiles your once virgin hole. Meanwhile, you writhe in a mixture of pain, shock and... Pleasure?

You're not even afforded a moment to process the conflicting emotions as the beast begins to unsheathe its phallic sword from your core. You attempt to draw a breath of relief as you find yourself being emptied, only to taste the musk from his palm. Panic takes hold of your once courageous heart, your nostrils flaring as you writhe and struggle.

The only reward your thrashing yields is the release of your mouth, followed by a firm smack across your face. It's a dizzying strike, one that leaves your vision blurry and halts your feeble attempts at resistance. Dazed, you lie limp on the ground, barely registering the feeling of the demon's meaty hands wrapping themselves around your ankles. Your bones creak as your legs are craned all the way back until your ankles are resting by your head.

You barely feel the strain of your muscles and tendons being stretched past limits you never even dared to scratch the surface of. Your mind is a fog and the only thing that breaks you free from it is the feeling of his cock slamming back into your vulnerable hole. A bellowing roar erupts from the creature as he bottoms out within you, the thrust so forceful that it knocks the wind out of your lungs.

It's awful.

No, not the degradation or the feeling of being rendered helpless so completely. It's not even the searing pain of being skewered by such a massive length that it makes you sure your stomach is bulging. It's the fact that being ruined from the inside out by this thing feels...

Good.

As the demonic wall of muscle proceeds to jackhammer his cock into your soaking wet cunt, a cry of submission drips from your now parted lips. It's a pitiful thing, a sound so indecisive that it straddles the line of both a sob and a whimper. The creature seems to respond in full, growling possessively as it locks eyes with you.

Though words are beyond its capabilities, speech isn't necessary for it to communicate its thoughts. The mixture of his crimson gaze along with every plunge of his hips tells you everything you need to know. You belong to it now. The thought of being claimed reverberates throughout your entire being, echoing around within your skull as the demon marks you from the inside out.

With every wet slap that emanates from each meeting of your hips, every whorish moan that escapes from your widening mouth, you sink ever downward into a spiral of lust driven lunacy. The feeling of your insides molding around the brute's hot cock, your cunt clenching around every vein and ridge of his breeding pole; it's enough to drive you mad. How could such a thing exist? And how is it even possible that your body is accepting, let alone enjoying the feeling of being so thoroughly defiled?

It doesn't matter in the end, not when you feel his massive cock begin to twitch and throb within you. "A-are you going t-to...?" That's all you manage to squeak out before he answers you with one final thrust. It's searing hot. Not even the warmth of Estus can compare to the primal heat of the creature's cum. It's thick and Gods, there is so, so much-

"Ghhh-AaaAaaaAAAA!"

A scream rips from your throat as you cum from the feeling of being used as nothing more than a breeding tool. The feeling of being filled by cock, by cum, the feeling of being pinned and slapped and fucked and used within an inch of your life...It proves to be too much.

Your orgasm takes you, sending tremors and jolts across your well-used form as you spray your pleasure on the demon's cock. You let go completely. Your toes clench, your body trembles and your eyes roll back into your skull until your vision is swallowed by a darkness that clouds your senses.

You go limp as small jolts course throughout your broken form, timid reminders that you're still alive, though only barely. Everything begins to numb, the veil of unconsciousness suffocating you. What will become of you now? Will the creature dispose of you? Will you become a slave to its needs? As the last whispers of wakefulness leave you, only one thing becomes certain.