Title: “That’s one Doomed Space Marine” Part 1

Category: Videogames
Author Pen name: Knorg
Email: paxgronk@hotmail.com
Description: This story is a parody of the first episode of Doom, with The space marine and a female version of one of the Imps.

"Goddamn it! Is there anyone alive in there?"

The burly space marine was shouting into the radio built into the control panel of the shuttle that had brought him and his buddies to the moon. What the fragging hell was going on in there? Screams, groans, strange snapping, frenzied and panicked gunfire. He didn't have a hope in hell of piloting the shuttle off the moon, he was a combat soldier, losing his composure. Long range comms were down in the shuttle. The only way out, was through. He kitted up with the only equipment left, checking his pistol and brass knuckles. If only they'd left him a Plasma rifle, or even a shotgun.

"Right." Deep breath. He was a space marine. He wasn't afraid of anything.

Five hours later

CHK-CHK BOOM!!!! The Imp was knocked right off the path in front of him, a ragged red hole blown in it's chest by his trusty shotgun. There weren't nothing stopping him now, he was taking down anything challenged him. He was one bad ass mother. Only...

If he'd had such an 'easy' time of it, why did he keep finding the body parts of his buddies about the place, strange expressions etched into their faces? The thought fled his mind as he entered a new room, looking for the keycard he needed. There, alone in the centre of the strangely patterned floor was a Rocket Launcher. A single square of light illuminated the prize, and the most curiousy glance about the room showed that it had four bare walls, and the door. After checking the corridor behind was clear, he slung his shotgun, walked forward, and picked up the rocket launcher.

A seconds sliding was all the warning he had as the whole wall above the door dropped down, making it look as if the door had never been there.

"Frag." The space marine flicked his helmeted head back, and saw that the wall had raised in front of him, revealing a small square area. It was empty.

"What the fr..."

The figure landed on his back. She'd been over the ceiling, and dropped on top, surprisingly heavy for such a petite feeling frame. The rocket launcher, which he now saw was unloaded, fell uselessly as his pistol was pulled from it's holster, tossed across the room. Struggling, her managed to turn beneath her, look through his helmet's face plate at the figure straddling him

She looked like a feminine version one of the brown fire throwing bastard imps. Sharp teeth, mottled brown skin, clawed feet and hands. But smaller, with a tightly muscled but still feminine body, and large firm breasts and totally bald. He looked into her flashing red eyes, saw her expression twisted by… lust? She was naked, like all the Imps.

No way he was going down without a fight. He swung his fist with the experience of years of combat, pepped up by his brass knuckles. Moving faster than any demon he’d yet encountered the demon simply caught it with a hand; a grip stronger than his first drill sergeant’s tightened around his wrist, her other hand preventing his left arm taking a similar swing.

And for the first time in his life, the burly space marine, “state of the bad ass art,” felt truly helpless. All his training, his equipment, his strength, his armour had come to nothing against one five foot tall female demon.

“What the fragging hells do you demon bastards want?”

“Hell on Earth.” her voice musical, like the scraping of a bone violin bow strung with lost hope, across violin strings made from forfeit souls.

Her smile hungry, the Marine thought his end was now as she held down both his arms with one exquisite brown arm and raised a clawed hand above him. Once his future had been promising, before he’d beaten hell out of an officer for ordering him to fire on civilians. ‘This is my reward,’ he thought bitterly ‘Butchered by a demon whore hundreds of thousands of miles from home?’

The clawed hand flashed down, and he realised that she’d sliced the restraints holding his chest armour on, a flick of her wrist and it skittered across the room after his pistol. Two more flashes, his armoured leggings and helmet were gone too, the weight seeming nothing as the female Imp gazed down at her prize.

He struggled all the way through, but without his weapons, his armour, he was… only human. She was something else, stronger, faster, more powerful than any of the male Imps.

Shifting her weight, he saw her flick her free hand down… his military issue boxers, flung after everything else, a thin red line where she’d nicked his sweaty, hard body with her claw.

He just couldn’t think of anything to say throughout… Hell on Earth? What did it mean? He fell back on shouting insults, and an almost gentle slap knocked him unconscious.

10 minutes later.

Groggily, the marine came round, the taste of blood in his mouth and… something else. Looking up, she was still sitting on top of him, watching intently, a slight speck by her mouth telling him she’d drank the blood from what felt like split lips. His hands were now bound with something he couldn’t see, tied behind him. It felt like… chain? But attached to what?

Why hadn’t she killed him yet? Was she…

Then one of her hands, more gently than he could have imagined, began caressing his cock. He immediately responded, after months stuck with just a crew of marines watching vid shows, his thick eight inches growing very hard, very fast in the demon’s grip.

He looked into her eyes as she suddenly moved back, taking his length inside her. She felt better than any girl he’d ever known, any port whore. Pure evil lust in corporeal form. The Imp began to ride him, roughly, slamming herself on his rod, as he tried to move the bonds that held his hands above his head.

Strange gugling, moaning, sounds came from the female Imp’s throat as she road him, kneading and rubbing her breasts with her hands, instruments of torture used now so sensually. Without even realising it, the Space Marine was thrusting back into the damned, the pleasure clouding thoughts and fears from his mind. Without warning, the imp leaned forward and thrust her long black tongue down his throat, making him gag.

His eyes wide, he saw only her slightly glowing eyes above his face as his orgasm built, her tongue pulled back enough to wrestle with his, her teeth drawing blood from his lips. As she licked at the fresh blood, he came hard, thrusting his seed deep inside her, painting her demonic womb with his human loads.

A moment later, she through her headback and howled, the sound like wolves devouring the sun, and came hard, riding into her own orgasm, clawed hands suddenly tearing the marine’s bear chest, spilling fresh blood. The pleasure/pain drawing a greater orgasm from him.

Sudden silence, but for his heavy breathing. Something had changed he was… a loyal space marine no longer. He gazed into the eyes of his new mistress, and knew he would follow her every command without question. His soul lost with his load.

***

The large pink skinned Duke of Hell watched a hell-corrupted video monitor and smiled. The Marine had cut through everything he’d had, only to be stopped by one, single demon

He simply said “Imp-pressive”.