Title: “That's one Doomed Space Marine” part 2

Category: Videogames
Author Pen name: Knorg
Email: paxgronk@hotmail.com
Description: This story is a parody of ID Software’s Doom and contains: M/F-Demon Oral Sex, M-Demon/F Sex. Also, violence – Hey, it is based on Doom.

“That’s One Doomed Space Marine” was originally written as a stand-alone story. Then I had some ideas for expanding it, central to which is giving Doombunny a better fate than being decapitated by Demons back on Earth at the end of Doom.

“That’s One Doomed Space Marine” is a quote from Duke Nukem 3D.

Finally: I really appreciated the feedback on TODSM. Thanks ladies and gents.

The Phobos Lab (E1M5)

“Stand.” The thrill of command; she felt it course through her as she ordered the Marine to his feet. (She’d loosed his arm bonds first.) He stood, straight backed, arms at his sides, looking at her but not meeting her eyes. She laughed, joyful. Her demonic nature lusted for control, for power over the weak. This human had made it so close to the Anomaly. If he’d destroyed its guardians, gone through it… he could have disrupted the Deimos operation as well as preventing the Duke’s schemes here. That would have made the conquest of Earth so much harder.

But she’d beaten him; beaten him and taken his soul.

The Spider Mastermind was not the kind of demon to take failure lightly, and would have taken her rage out severely on the Duke of hell (promoted from the barony). Long before that, had she failed to capture the marine, the Duke would have taken out his rage on her, slowly, painfully and with millennia of experience. That is, if either of them had been defeated by the Marine and somehow survived to be punished.

Now she would take her captive as a gift to the Duke and curry his favour for the Impkind.

“Follow” she commanded, turning away and hitting the hidden wall switch that let them both back out into the corridor.

The Joseph Conrad

In high geo-synchronous orbit above Phobos moon, The Joseph Conrad was an ugly fist of black metal, a troop deployment cruiser; it lacked the sleek deadliness of a fighter, or the sheer size of a dreadnought. The utterly silent corridors were dark as the computers continued to send and receive ‘stand by’ messages with the Union Aerospace Corporation Mars HQ. Nobody was worried yet. Communications often suffered over even the relatively short distance to the red planet and through poor atmospheric conditions.

Throughout most of the ship all was still, conserving energy the ship awaited the Marines return. In Cargo IV there was the exception. Here there was movement. A rabbit run. It broke regulations, increased the risks disease spread and worst of all? It threatened the macho image of the space marines. The general excuse was that the rabbits were being kept as a fresh food supply; to beat the vacuum packed meals on long deployments and boost morale.

Amongst the hopping, leaping rabbits – all females to avoid out of control breeding – one sat silent, as if listening. She was large and brown furred, with white flecks, white fur around her nose and ears. A tiny tag in her ear bore the surviving Space Marine’s serial number.

This rabbit had been captured from the wild, eating on a small hill in one of the large districts now designated industry free. Much of the industrial waste that couldn’t be otherwise used tended to get barrelled up and stored on the solar system’s moons. Phobos itself was designated a major UAC waste treatment facility.

After a few moments more, the little brown and white rabbit moved. She darted forward on top of two nearby bunnies and managed to clear the side of the run, landing on the deck-plate of the cargo bay. With more fast, darting movements, the rabbit was through the automatic door and heading down the corridor. Several turns down dark metal passages she stood outside the hatch for one of the deck’s emergency escape pods.

The rabbit stared at it, sniffed the air again. Then darted inside.

Seconds later, the hatch slammed shut. The pod release had been activated within; something that should have required intelligent thought.

Blasting away from the side of The Joseph Conrad, the pod dropped through Phobos upper atmosphere. The hull glowed red as it underwent atmospheric friction and pressures. It was targeting the Drop-ship’s reported site over which The Joseph Conrad had been maintaining it’s Geo-sync position. Miles above the surface, though buffeted by high winds the tiny barely-fuelled engines could hardly compensate for, the pod held its course.

Heavy winds were new to the moon. They, along with the rest of the moon’s far heavier and human-friendly atmosphere, had come from the UAC’s basic moon terraforming program. Nobody wanted or needed Phobos to be a nice place to live, but at least you weren’t going to die if you stepped outside without a vacuum suit on now, and the city sized artificial Gravity units kept things close to 1G – a tremendous technological achievement.

Dropping further the pod engines gave out and three huge well-built parachutes blasted from the upper sides, slowing the descent and bringing it fairly smoothly down to land. The escape pod groaned as it cooled and settled onto the dirt of Phobos.

The Phobos Lab (E1M5)

“You give him US. You give him NOW” The former humans wanted the Marine, to make him one of them. A rotting possessed thing.

The Space Marine had been commanded to kneel down next to though slightly behind the female Imp. Around them were a group of possessed former-grunts and a couple of shotgun totin’ Sergeants. He’d known them in life, knocked back beers with them. Now his eyes were dull, as he listened to the voice of the Imp who held his soul. He was naked, stripped, but still didn’t feel the cold recycled air of the facility around him.

“Mine!” she hissed, her voice now beautiful in the ears of the Space Marine, the demonic harmonics sending pleasure through him. He waited for command. He yearned to serve her.

The possessed moved closer, crowding around. There was little love lost amongst the demonic races – they’d happily fight each other – especially with none of the more powerful demons around to keep order. The Space Marine’s threat contained, most of the surviving demons had moved back to the Phobos Anomaly to oversee the last preparations before the demon hordes could move on Earth. Some had already been sent on to Deimos.

Strong possessed hands reached out to pull the Imp down, guns raised… Despite the incredible strength and speed of the demon, she was being overpowered. There were many of the grunts, and the soul-taking ritual had diminished her flame-throwing energy, her agility, and her speed. She’d been filled with pride at capturing the marine and had wandered into too dangerous an area for a lone Imp with something of value. Hands rotted by the evil within began to grope at her muscular brown flesh.

“If you won’t give him… we take him,” the voice was slurred; the entity within the former grunt not used to human speech but forced to communicate through it with the human’s vocal cords. They were not intelligent beings, and were only really dangerous even en masse against a weakened foe. A foe like the Imp was currently. There was honour amongst these damned than love, and they were too stupid to recognise her achievement in stopping the Space Marine. An hour ago, they couldn’t have touched her. Now…

A foot booted her legs from beneath her, taking her balance, forcing her to fall backwards. As she dropped she saw the marine still just kneeling. She had commanded him to stay and he did so. The former humans closed in, jostling around her. They all wanted a piece.

“Kill them all!” she shouted, panicked as the weight of the possessed grunts held her down, groping her breasts, her pussy. Anywhere they could get a grip. The possessors wanted to try out all the parts of their new bodies.

At his soul-mistress’ shout the Marine was instantly on his feet, the surprise of the command and his response giving great advantage. With no soul, they’d stupidly ignored him as harmless. A fatal mistake. Taking a pistol from the belt of a grunt he stuck it into the mouth of one of the sergeants and fired, seriously hurting the grunt behind and blocking the sight of two others with flying skull and brains. As the sergeant dropped, the marine took up his shotgun, and swung it around faster than the other sergeant could manage, for another headshot.

With the Sergeants down all it took was a mixture of pistol fire, punches and momentarily using the shotgun as a club to dispatch the rest. These things he’d done many times since walking into the base all those hours ago, looking for a way through, and out.

He stood naked, his hard body spattered with gore. The Space Marine’s own blood trickling from a minor-flesh wound in his shoulder where a lucky pistol shot had grazed; the aim of the possessed grunts was always terrible even at close range, as the poor control on the speech was replicated in other muscles. He was alert for something, anything… else to kill. He yearned for commands to obey.

He was Knee-Deep In The Dead.

The Imp pulled herself up, paused a moment on her knees, and then stood before her captive, appraising him anew. She had been intending to take him to the Duke of Hell as a gift for future favours. But now she would keep him.

She thought for a moment. It was still dangerous where they were; through the door down the corridor was a wide pool of shallow radioactive slime with distant growls and other noises. Then she recalled: there was a secret stash one of her Imp brethren had told her about, weapons and equipment taken and hidden by Imps, who’d all now been killed by the Space Marine. As was so often true, the males were so much weaker than the females of Impkind.

Again commanding the marine to follow, she walked fast, and silently, down the corridor. Reaching the end, she looked a moment to her left; there was a small walled ledge jutting into a deep pool of slime. Then she ran her fingers along a wall panel, and it rose in front of her. She led the Marine into the small, secret area and suddenly realised… He’d been in there. Alive. It was in disarray, rockets and armour had been taken, his earlier suit discarded there. The cached equipment had been taken from his buddies by demons, and taken back by him.

So, it wasn’t entirely secret… She noted dried slime marked boot-prints coming in from what appeared to be a blank wall, and realised he must have originally found his way in from the slime side. He had been resourceful and smart and that made her triumph so much sweeter. So the area was not just a secret of the Impkind, but surely secret enough.

Turning around, she admired her captive spattered with the drying blood of those who’d challenged her, the dried blood of his own wounds, her fresh claw marks upon his chest. His hands still held weapons that only hours ago would have been fatal to her.

Now they had sung to her tune. She laughed, delighted, and walked to stand in front of the naked, muscled marine.

Hissing with pleasure, she leaned in and kissed the unresponsive mouth of the Marine, sticking her too long tongue deep inside, tasting him. The soulless part of him that remained thrilled at her attention, but couldn’t respond without her command. She would need to return some of his soul to him to gain any fun she decided. It was rare indeed that she, a minor Imp, had had anything alive to play with. She raised her arm in front of her face, and, with a flick of her perfect wrist, held a small blue sphere in her clawed hand.

She smiled, showing her teeth.

The Hangar (E1M1)

The escape pod had come to ground only half a mile from the Marine’s landing site, which had been directly outside The Hangar. Seemingly nothing happened as the pod quickly cooled in the high cold winds. The peaceful scene was ended as the hatch release caused it to pop off the pod. A beat, and then a small brown rabbit head showed itself through the hatchway. She scanned the surrounding environs for a short time, flicking her head around.

Hopping down to the rough cracked ground, she twitched her nose and turned her gaze towards the Marine’s landing site and behind it the buildings of the UAC facilities. The rabbit began to move with some speed, darting towards it. It was a tough journey as the hard wind howled around, blowing dust and dirt. The brush that grew stubbornly from the ground following the basic terraforming provided little cover, but succeeded in holding together the heavily dusty and powered surface of the irregularly shaped moon. The terraforming process, bringing nutrients, water and more had turned the dust to soil.

She arrived at the Drop-ship that had brought the Space Marines down to the moon. The rabbit hopped around it, sniffing, sensing… An air of un-rabbit-like intelligence surrounded her as she paused and thought. Mere moments passed before she turned and bounded up to the door of the hanger, which opened before her. The scent trail showed her that there had been a large group of marines through this door and then, hours later, just one. Alone. Her Marine.

She followed the scent, deducing the correct path from criss-crossing trails that told of a battle, of searches for ammunition and guns. The Hangar was small, and deserted now. It was the furthest outpost of the facility, to reduce the risks of potential ship explosions destroying valuable research in the labs. She soon passed through it.

Emerging through the door on the other side, she followed the trail towards the Nuclear Plant; ever moving in fast rabbit darts, nose occasionally in the air or to the ground. With no foes, and an easy to follow trail, she was covering the ground faster than the Space Marine had before her.

The Phobos Lab (E1M5)

“Kneel. Before me.”

There was and there could be no question in the Marine’s mind of obeying her orders. He dropped to his knees, his hands resting on his thick hairy thighs.

Reaching a clawed brown hand down, the Imp held the blue sphere just above the Marines forehead, and chanted three words of demon speech. Blue energy arced from the sphere in her hand, striking the Marine’s temples, quickly dropping to form an energy collar around his neck. A split second later, it faded to a thin blue line. With another flick of the Imp’s wrist, the sphere disappeared again. Now the blue line ran up now, around her wrist – connecting it to the collar around his neck.

He was a dangerous man not have entirely under her control, especially in her weakened condition.

But she was Demon. She was tempted. It was hardly surprising she’d give in. She smiled at him, showing her teeth, as his gaze suddenly focussed on her face.

“DEMON BITCH! WHAT’VE YOU DONE?! I’LL KILL YOU!” The Marine was thinking clearly again, his soul partially returned to him, but now so much easier, so much less energy consuming, for the Imp to take back away. She was keeping a firm hold on it, around her wrist like a leash. His eyes blazed defiance as he stared up at her. He started to plan for her strength, her speed. Resisting the urge to leap straight for her throat.

“I’ve made you my creature. You kill for me, now. You worship me now. You…Are…Mine.” Her voice danced in his ears, demonic harmonics grating but seeming… smoother now. He noted another difference between her and the male Imps – she lacked the upper body spikes. Given her greater strength and speed, a part of him wondered if the female of the species needed them.

“Never! You can’t make m-…”

“Silence!”

Shocked, the Marine found himself unable to speak, his mouth hung open. He didn’t know it, but the longer she had his soul running between them, the more her control would fade as it slowly drained back to him despite her grip, but she had him for now.

She reached her spare hand down, and clasped the back of his crew-cut head, gently pulling his mouth up between her legs. She felt his hot breath on her flesh, and the demonic lust rose. Holding the position for a second, she drank in the look of anger in the Space Marine’s eyes. The proud marine, one of earth’s toughest, on his knees before one of the Demon’s who’d butchered his team-mates, who planned to take his world and found a City of Hell on Earth.

From the Space Marine’s point of view, her pussy looked like a Human’s, though like the rest of her totally hairless. Now he saw drops forming, her arousal making her wet. A drop landed in his mouth, then another, the taste on his tongue; spicy, sweet, ever so slightly sickly. The smell of her arousal filled his nostrils and the taste intensified.

“Now”

He licked along the length of her lips, taking her juice into his mouth, swallowing it. Another swipe of his tongue, and then he pushed it inside.

“Yessss….” She hissed, delighted. Lessening her control over him, taking more risk. His hands reached up, fast, deadly and then… merely gripped her thighs, helping drive his tongue further into her, his nose into her crotch. She clutched at his head with both hands, the flash of blue about her wrist, holding him in place as he lapped at her, drinking her passion.

“haaarhh… arrrhhh…ooaaah…” she began a deep-throated growling-moan. Faster, louder as his licks increased, enjoying his hands groping, kneading her buttocks, her thighs. She was very wet now, and the Marine was hungry for all the juice he could swallow. She began rubbing her pussy against his face, as he struggled to keep his mouth on her; her head up now staring at the ceiling, the climax building within.

She was gurgling, moaning, building to a howl, as her captive latched his mouth onto her demonic bud, and sucked, flicking it with his tongue. Far more juice gushed, splashing his face, as her orgasm hit. Still he sucked, and licked, and nibbled as his Imp mistress howled her pleasure, her body going stiff, as her legs gave out.

Falling forward, the Marine twisted her as she fell causing her to hit the metal-plated ground on her back. Then he stuck his head back between her thighs, and continued to lap, to drink her juice. He felt like he had when she first took him; unable to control himself as he had had thrust into her.

She continued to howl, her legs now wrapped around his neck, her back arched, sweat pouring down her mottled-brown skin, clawed hands scoring deep the metal floor, riding her climax…

Minutes later as she lay panting deeply on the floor, her breasts rising and falling. She lifted her sweat-beaded head and looked at the Marine unconscious between her thighs. In her passion she’d choked off his carotid artery and rendered him temporarily unconscious – she could see he still lived, that the pressure had been eased from his neck for a little while.

Little climatic aftershocks still ran through her muscular demonic body, as she held up her shaking wrist and produced the soul sphere, breathing heavily she reeled it back in, and then flicked her wrist again.

Moving so the Marine’s head rested on her hard stomach, she closed her red eyes and rested. Satisfied. Never wondering, if gunshots will bring demons, what will howls of ecstasy do, even hidden away in the secret area? Despite the exertion of the sex, her strength and speed were returning as time passed since her ritual.

Rest awhile, and then take him to the Anomaly.

How ever had she considered giving such a prize away?

The Nuclear Plant (E1M2)

The rabbit stopped before the nuclear plant, the heavy metal door into the facility wedged halfway down, and then sped inside. All around her was the detritus of combat, dead space marines, the sprawled and wreaked bodies of demons her marine had taken down. It seemed there had been an ambush, disorientating and splitting even the experienced combat troop.

Heading through the Nuclear Plant the rabbit paused, before darting under cover of machinery. Her watchful gaze fell upon three wounded former humans as they staggered by, grunting and muttering, unable to find their way to the Phobos Anomaly and the demon recall. The stench of rotten death hung about them. After they turned the corner the brown and white rabbit moved back out, and continued, finding the scent harder to follow with stronger demon musk in the air; the stink of the demons and their corrupting presence pervading the Nuclear Plant.

The rabbit was moving too fast, too much, too intelligently to just be an ordinary example of Oryctolagus Cuniculu. Any observer would grow worried about her movements, and as she finally crossed through the Nuclear Plant and then headed across the dirt to the Toxin Refinery, that’s just what… something… was doing.

Phobos Anomaly (E1M8)

“It’s a… what…?”

“A Rabbit.”

“These are Martian vermin?”

“Earth creatures, Lord.”

The Duke of Hell was talking to a former human sergeant, prostrate before him. Of all the possessed, this one had the most memories intact. The fact was, such things as rabbits were usually far beneath the attention of even the least imposing, weakest demons. To a Duke of Hell, it was like a human glancing through a microscope.

Knowledge was power. The Duke felt old memories stirring from a brief period many hundreds of years ago when he was on Earth, before a coven of witches had banished him back to hell. Oh, the fun he’d had then… Rabbits. Something about intelligent rabbits was bothering him.

Looking over, her saw the two Barons of Hell who’d been given the task of personally guarding the Anomaly. They had a number of the former humans chained along the walls and were enjoying target practices, the crack of the green energy mixing with the enraged screams of the possessed. There were even worse fates.

The Duke turned his gaze back to one of the few still-working corrupted cameras, mounted on the outer wall of the Toxin refinery. It showed the rabbit paused outside, sniff the ground, and then dart inside. There were no working cameras inside.

“It’s… following the marine? Grr.. A… pet then? Running to heel? WE HAVE NO TIME FOR THIS! Centuries have gone to this scheme! CENTURIES!”

The former human sergeant cowered on the floor. His possessor knew that running would earn it a blast of green fire in the back, or worse. Being virtually on the lowest level of Hell’s hierarchy had serious disadvantages.

The Duke blinked his cruel eyes, and then waved a mighty clawed hand dismissively “Have it eaten,” he snarled, as he returned to oversee the final preparations. A few more uninterrupted hours were all they needed.

A command was sent direct to the brain of a Spectre, still snarling around in the Toxin Refinery and missed by the Marine. It went in search of fresh meat…

The Toxin Refinery (E1M3)

The trail was much fresher here… her marine had been moving faster, better armed; out-smarting and defeating demons all around. She was so proud of him. She…

“RAAARRRAAGGHH” The growl was close to her. Too close. Spinning around, the rabbit was confronted with the shimmering air of a Spectre – a physical but mostly invisible creature. She couldn’t defeat it as she was. As it moved closer, she changed. Where there had been a rabbit, was now a truly beautiful tall woman. She looked maybe 24, 25 years old. White flecked her brown hair, a white streak from her fringe down the middle It stretched down to her lower back. Her Brown eyes turned golden, unafraid. Her face was high cheek-boned and slightly imperious. She wore rabbit skin clothing, a long fur skirt, a loose fur tunic. It had been a long while since she’d mimicked the clothes of humans in her change.

The Spectre, a deeply stupid creature, could not understand the change, but did not care. It still knew fresh meat, it hungered, and it would… the beasts mighty nose sniffed the air “EEGGGEEGEG” The unmistakable scent of a female in heat. Suddenly, it wasn’t so hungry.

A smile flashed across the rabbit’s, no, the rabbit-spirit’s lips. She pulled her skirt down to her ankles and off, and flipped herself round on her knees, her lightly furred pussy in the Spectre’s face. Now it could see a rabbit tail growing from just above her ass; inflicted with the same changing curse as many of their Asian Fox-spirit cousins, the rabbit spirit differed in many other ways. Her number tag now was hanging like an earring.

“Come on…” she whispered, preparing to draw the energy and power from the beast; both beating it and increasing her own power. She wiggled her hips and increased her scent, making herself more aroused. It was hardly the most erotic environment, perched near a deep pool of radioactive waist, the bodies of fallen demons and one or two space marines nearby. But the rabbit-spirit was experienced at seduction and barely needed her honed skills with the slavering beast.

Dropping her head to look between her legs, she saw the shimmering behind her change, air shimmering around a growing length between the demon-beast’s legs. Then the shimmer flickered, and she felt it’s tongue rub through her fur, and gasped. She hadn’t known what to expect, but the Spectre’s tongue was like soft, damp, leather.

The spectre had never mated before, and now a dripping wet female was in its face. Savouring the flavour of the rabbit-spirit’s pussy; it lunged forward, it’s claws scrabbling for purchase around her body. The bloody claws should have been rending her flesh, tearing her rabbit skin tunic and yet they seemed to have no effect. Finding purchase on her firm breasts through her tunic the spectre slammed its hips forwards, ramming half its dripping beast-cock into her, and growling.

As she was roughly penetrated, the rabbit-spirit squealed, and threw her head back. The beast was unable to harm her body as it thrust into her, her juice lubricating its passage along with its own demonic pre-cum. She closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the sensation as the spectre hauled its semi-visible log of a cock out, and then thrust it back in, smashing its tufted-hair covered crotch against her buttocks. Instead of pain from the massive penetration, the rabbit-spirit felt only pleasure. Her golden eyes shining bright.

She began to mutter in an old tongue as the beast began to thrust into her in earnest, her over-juiced pussy squelching with each thrust, dripping to the deck plate between them. She began to squeeze her inner muscles rhythmically, in time with the Spectre’s thrusts. Sweat began to drip from her body as hot steaming breath bathed her back.

The creature of hell was in heaven. The female was his! His hot hard cock felt so good and his first ever fuck was quickly building to his first ever climax as he slammed his meat into her, feeling his sack tighten against the base of its shaft.

Her chanting grew louder as her own climax built, the rough fucking not enough to put her off the chant, but driving her voice ragged; the spectres hands suddenly gripped her breasts tightly and it thrust inside, the tip of his cock at right at the entrance to her womb.

Her chanting, and her orgasm, reached their climax at the same time as the beast began to spray thick demon cum into her womb, holding in place as it shot rather than thrusting. Her elbows gave out their support as she screamed her climax, dropping her face sideways on the floor, eyes tightly shut, her pussy clamped tight around the demon cock, her womb filling with hot corrupt seed.

The Spectre dropped forward itself, pulled by her strong pussy on its cock, its clawed hand/paws supporting it on the deck plate. Still spraying inside her, the sheer size of its meat and her tightly clamped pussy preventing any of the liquid squirting out, like a dog knotted.

It had mated! Now it wanted to feed! Focusing on the form before it, the demon now recognised that there definitely wasn’t a demon female beneath him. The smell of his own arousal was masking her to his nose. It’s hunger returned - now she was just meat to it. The beast gripped her breasts tight, and leaned forward while opening its mighty maw. It tried to bite at her, it’s teeth sliding off, when a tug at its crotch told it something was wrong. Fatally wrong.

“GRAAUAGH?” A questioning growl, as unexpectedly it felt the strength fleeing its body, saw the world going dark in front of its eyes. The life force fled it quickly, drawn into her. It collapsed on to the rabbit-spirit’s shuddering sweat-soaked body.

All was silent, save for ragged panting. Then she moved under the dead Spectre, it’s meat sliding easily out of her relaxed pussy followed by a heavy gush of its corrupt spunk. The think liquid continued to run down her thighs as she reached down and picked up her rabbit skin skirt, sliding it back on, her rabbit tail a small bulge at the back.

She stood over the spectre’s body, and her eyes flashed a brighter golden. The mostly-invulnerable physical state wouldn’t last long after her change; her eyes would soon fade to brown. She hadn’t felt so powerful in many years. She’d been so small as a rabbit. Viewed as prey. Of course, she’d felt different about it in her rabbit form – lived a rabbit’s life. It had been so long since she’d been human; she’d been more rabbit, in personality, than woman before her change.

Had something else ‘awoken’ her? Nudged her into action? Some other force?

She reached up and fingered the tag in her ear, as her pussy continued to drip spunk and juice onto the floor between her legs. She reached her other hand down her skirt, fingered the mixture dripping to the floor and brought her hand to her nose, sniffed it, then tasted it.

She made a brief face, unimpressed. The pungent juice-spunk mixture would mask her scent for a time. Meanwhile, she decided she would follow the Marine’s trail in her human form for a time.

This pathetic pit-spawn could not stand in her way. She would take back what was hers.

To be continued in part 3.