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malganis [userpic]
Licker Love - Resident Evil erotica
by malganis (malganis)
at November 30th, 2010 (12:09 pm)
current song: Nine Inch Nails, "Ghosts 31 & The Great Destroyer"

(Warnings: non-con, oral, anal, urethra play, femdomme... and monsters.)

Okay monster_porn, here's my story. It's Resident Evil but is based upon the movies, in particular "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" and is meant to take place during the timeframe of that movie.

I hope to have more stories like this in the future; in the meantime, criticism and comments are most welcome. :)


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The lone licker prowled the deserted streets of Raccoon City. Late afternoon sunlight slanted down through the dusty, deserted streets and flashed like fire off the shattered windows; though the licker could not see them, he could feel the heat radiating, and could sense the direction of the sun and have a general idea of the time of day. Newspapers blew like tumbleweeds across the road. The licker sniffed the wind, and flicked out the very tip of its tongue, simultaneously smelling and tasting the scents. He curled the lengthy appendage back in, and tasted blood and smoke on his tongue.

Chaos. The licker knew that better as scents and sounds than he ever had as a word, since he had once been a man, with a man's language. Now the mutated creature only had the language of instincts, of odors, tastes, sensations.

And sounds, as well. The licker turned his head sharply, hearing the frightened, fast breathing of prey. He sniffed. Human prey.

If he could have smiled, he would have. With a whisper of calloused, clawed feet and hands against the pavement, he oozed down the street and then quietly began to climb the wall of a particular building. Every so often, he would cock his head and listen, then flick out his tongue and taste the air.

When he was near a particular window on the third floor, the licker flicked out his tongue again, sniffing, tasting. The breathing was louder. And the smell of prey was distinctly female.


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Amy paced the tiny apartment, taking stock of her surroundings and supplies. The situation was grim. After failing to get out of the city during the all-too-brief evacuation period, she had gone back home, barricaded the door, and nailed boards over the windows to keep out the roving undead, looters who were yet still human, and... worse. Something worse was out there. She hadn't yet seen them but somehow she knew they were there, roaming the dying city, hiding in the shadows that somehow seemed closer to her and deeper this night than they ever had been before.

She sank onto her threadbare couch, casting one last look around. The place was getting dirty, but she didn't dare make the noise that cleaning it would generate. As it was, she'd been making too many sounds today already. The lights were mostly off, making the apartment look abandoned... or so she hoped.

Some sleep, she thought, leaning back and closing her eyes. Something. Just a little nap... Something inside her said that she shouldn't let her guard down that easily, that it was dangerous, that whatever lurked in the shadows would come and finally get her, and for a moment that kept her eyes open, but the promise of comfort that sleep offered was too tempting, and at last she closed her eyes and did not open them for a time.


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Hanging suspended by his claws, the licker probed the window's defenses with his tongue - a marvelous organ, really. It swiped across the cheap pieces of plywood that had been tacked to the broken window, pushing against them lightly to gauge their strength and their resistance. The licker found little of both, and, having tested it, began to stealthily push forward, his tongue pushing and pulling, his body twisting and flexing, shoving a board aside with infinite patience, unhooking his joints to slither forward an inch or two like a snake. As the shadows lengthened and the day grew cooler, the licker had managed to wriggle his head and a shoulder through the window.

He flicked its tongue rapidly and began to pant and drool. The irresistible scent of prey was thick enough to seemingly drown in. He had attempted to enter cautiously, since human prey sometimes had weapons that killed at great range (a few of the licker's fellows had been killed in this way), but the scent of prey was overwhelming the creature's caution.

His tongue flicked out more, trembling, droplets spattering. The beast's head lolled from side to side in a state of near-ecstasy. The fact that the prey was specifically female (the licker could taste the difference in the prey's sweat and body scent) was slowly but surely creating ideas quite different from the still extremely pleasurable thoughts of killing and eating in the licker's virus-twisted brain; he still had some vague, warped memories of his life 'before' the virus, though really, they were not so much 'memories' as they were pleasurable or non-pleasurable impressions, and those impressions were making him interested in the prey inside that room in a different way than the simple business of killing and consuming...

Throwing caution to the winds, the licker braced his back legs against the brick outside of the wall and slammed his shoulder, the one that was still outside the window, forward. The boards shattered against his weight and strength and then clattered to the floor inside; the licker wobbled for a moment, almost losing his balance, then dug his claws in and lurched inside. And the prey, which had been lying down in a state of restful unconsciousness, awoke with a loud (to the licker) gasp... and then started to scream like she would never stop.


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Amy shot upward with a gasp, then screamed when she saw the... the thing that had burst into her apartment. Wetness spattered the ground and flicked into the air from what she had trouble identifying as a monstrous tongue, at first. A rounded head with a wide-open mouth filled with sharp teeth lifted towards her and hissed; her own hazel eyes opened wide as she realized that the thing was hideously blind, but seemed to still have no trouble 'looking' in her direction as though it could see her plain as day. Muscles that seemed to be bare of any hide at all rippled and caught what little light streaming through the now-open window as the creature glided across the floor, moving so fast she could hardly register its movements.

Just as the thing reached her, she pulled the gun she kept in a worn leather holster on her hip and fired, only taking a second to aim. Unfortunately, she was no expert markswoman, and her shot went just a little wide of the creature's head. She never had a chance to fire again; as she squeezed the trigger, the gun jammed and then the monster's tongue delivered a numbing slap to her wrist, causing the gun to drop to the ground and then skitter into the shadows when one of the creature's flailing feet kicked it away.

She began to sob as the monster pushed her to the couch, its weight pressing her down. It smelled of sweat and blood and something else, something harsher and muskier. She punched the thing and then tried to scratch at its brain, but its tongue lashed around her wrists and held them as fast as if they had been handcuffed. The tongue was horribly warm and slick.

The thing grunted, drooling. Amy screamed and flailed as thick drops of spittle spattered onto her neck and breasts, sliding in between them. The beast paused, 'looked' down, then released her wrists unexpectedly.

Gasping, Amy had only a fraction of a second to realize she was free (marginally) before the monster pounded its massive clawed hands against her arms, pinning them out, away from her body, and holding her even more securely than before. If she had been anywhere other than lying on the couch, her arms would have been broken; as it was, they were badly bruised... but bruises were the least of her concerns now. The thing's claws locked into the ragged fabric and stuffing of the couch with a loud tearing sound.

The monster leaned down, pressing the entire length of its body against hers, and growled, a sound so deep and low and rumbling that she literally felt it through her whole body. The musky scent of the creature seeped into her consciousness as if it would never leave; that tongue began to move against her neck and breasts, smearing warm wetness over her skin. The tongue slid up against her flesh, coiled around a breast, squeezing it with a gentleness that would have been disarming had she not realized how strong that tongue was, and what it could do. The tongue's tip flicked over her nipples, pressing against them; she felt it even though the thin cloth of her blouse, and whimpered. "Please... please stop." She struggled, helpless. "Please stop, please..."

But the monster didn't stop. Instead, the tongue's motions became more insistent, harder, more deliberately arousing to both her and the beast who was violating her. The thing grunted; the dripping tongue suddenly ripped at her blouse, tearing it open. Then the long, hot thing wrapped itself around both of her breasts as if this were a game of bondage, squeezing and rubbing them. The tongue's agile tip continued to move over her nipples slowly, teasing her, massaging them harder, the creature's growls and moans vibrating down the muscle's length as her nipples stiffened and ached with pleasure in response. The creature's pelvis began to press and rock against her lower torso, and she twisted about in its clawed grasp.

The licker shuddered as he felt his penis start to stiffen and slide out of its sheath; a delicious sensation of pressing heat. The moist head poked against the rough material of the girl's jeans, making the creature yelp at the sensation. Something was in the way of penetration.

Pushing his erect cock against both his belly and the girl's shuddering, sweat-covered stomach, the licker rubbed back and forth, growling, quivering at the contact between his dick and the girl's warm flesh.

He pinned the struggling prey's feet with his back legs, then moved away from the girl's breasts long enough to investigate the jean's zipper, using his tongue. Sliding the zipper down, he clawed at the pants, ignoring the girl's piercing cries. Soon another area of sweating, hot flesh was naked underneath him.

The licker investigated this area, his vestigial memories informing his search. He reared up slightly, penis slapping against his belly, so that his tongue could trace the lines of her flesh. His tongue ran over the curve of her stomach (briefly exploring the tiny divot of her bellybutton), caressed her hips, tickled the sensitive flesh of her thighs, moving ever closer to the ultimate heat between those thighs, which she had managed to clamp together despite his assault on and destruction of her jeans.

Her pubic mound, stubbled and sweat-soaked, was tantalizingly delicious under his super-sensitive tongue; he licked up the sweat and musk for a bit, then delved downward, between the fleshy cleft, finding her clitoris even though her legs were tightly closed. The agile tongue narrowed, wrapped around her, squeezed, released, squeezed, released, massaged, teased, running her hood back and forth, feeling the little nub of flesh swell and grow hot and flushed with blood.

The licker worked her over with his tongue, feeling her resistance crumbling. He sensed on some primal level that there was a transmission happening between them, a link being built of lust and arousal, that she was being transformed into something much like himself, that her weakness was being made into a horrible strength similar to his own. His saliva and pre-cum soaked into her skin, permeating her with his scent and his disease.

Amy, too, felt this transformation happening. Her blood felt like it was boiling fiery-hot, bubbling with change. She closed her eyes, letting the monster ravish her body; otherworldly images burst in bright colors against her lids, pulsing with her speeding heartbeat, showing her the death of her world, transmitted in blood and pain, semen and domination; showing her herself... transformed. Like a vampiric acolyte, she was about to be reborn; she was infected with the T-virus, her skin now crawling with molecular change, her muscles tightening in an impending orgasm of renewal. So this is the disease Umbrella would kill us all for. Funny. It didn't seem like dying to her, now.

The creature's grip on her arms loosened; she welcomed the freedom, slowly wrapping her arms around the beast's back, running her sweat-sticky hands down its back, feeling the back muscles flex as it thrust against her stomach, caressing the rib muscles as it breathed. Her hand went down to the cock resting against her stomach, stroking it, marveling at the heat, the thickness of it, the shaft's strange, inhuman, snaking patterns of veins and bumps, the ridged, rigid, pointed cockhead with its strange split down its middle and its barbed flare, then back down to the thick, swelling knot at the member's base. It quivered and flexed in her hand, its movements somewhat similar to the tongue's, though far less agile; she stroked it again, harder, and felt small waving protrusions come up from the head's corona and the base of the penis. They tickled her, sucked her, tasted the feverish sweat on her skin, as if the tiny micro-tentacles had tiny suckers or mouths at their ends. They were kissing her, even as the creature's tongue slipped into her mouth and she tasted herself.

That abnormally heated blood engorged her clit and labia even more, making her whole body seem to throb; as the monster's dick dragged slowly across her belly and hand yet again, she felt an overwhelming primal desire to be filled, to have herself penetrated and pumped full. She gritted her teeth, then finally moaned, softly, surrendering. As the creature's tongue slithered up and back over her chest, then to her neck, she spread her trembling legs. The cock slipped off her belly with a soft, wet sound and then it thrust home, filling her completely in one brutal instant, making her howl around the mouthful of tongue. She writhed, not sure whether she was clutching the beast tighter or trying to escape, pain and pleasure merged perfectly and completely in their union.

He pushed into her all the way to the knot, digging his claws into the shredded couch for support as he thrust. The tightness of the former prey, now his mate--he could smell the disease on her, smell her scent becoming like his own--was amazing, astounding; the licker wallowed in pleasure, having to pause several times to stave off his climax and prolong the experience. Her hands roamed over him, squeezing and pulling and rubbing and caressing; his tongue did the same for her, flicking over her nipples, her bellybutton, her ears, even moving around to slither down the crack of her ass when she wantonly pressed herself against him and clung to his body, her legs and arms wrapped around tight.

Knotted tightly, they rolled frantically on the coach, both growling now, the sounds coming from bestial throats that were neither of them fully human. Their limbs and claws and sucker-tentacles violently stroked and pushed at each other's heaving bodies, wounding each other in throes of passion so harsh and violent that their coupling would have killed anyone or anything not strengthened with the T-virus; blood blossomed on their sweat-slick forms as they writhed and pumped desperately against each other, grinding each other into the couch and then the floor as they tumbled, heedless.

The licker writhed, hissing as he felt something inside her push against the opening of his dick and then slither inside, every bit as agile as his tongue, but far thinner. Growling and shuddering, not certain of this new form of simulation, he pulled back, but her legs locked around him, grinding against him as she shuddered and mutated, tentacles bursting out and fanning from her hips and thighs, caressing him with hungry, kissing suckers, running up his thighs, against his testicles, and into his asshole. More tentacles, these ones longer and thicker, came from her back, winding around him tight as she pumped into him as hard as he thrust into her.

Abandoning himself to the new, painfully pleasurable stimulation, he continued to pound away, howling as he approached climax, feeling her tightening around him to the point that her contractions would have crushed a human man's genitals, even as his thrusts would have ravaged an unchanged woman's vagina. The beautiful, deadly thing that had once been Amy but was now a creature of the virus, something new and terrible, moaned and then screamed, her double-jointed limbs shaking and her jaws stretching wide as her long-awaited orgasm tore through her as his dick had, howling at the pleasure as he continued to brutally thrust even as her spasms racked her body. She pulled her questing tentacle out of his urethra quickly, this final internal stimulation and her contractions triggering his own climax; the licker shrieked loud enough to rattle the boards on the windows and door. Semen dripped in a steady flow from where they were joined; his thrusts quickened, then slowed, then finally stopped.

They breathed harshly in the darkness, wrapped around each other, still inside of each other, alike in their souls by the virus that had made them both what they were.


___________

some time later...

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The night was hot and sticky. So was his right hand. He'd fallen asleep, the window open, after an unsatisfying bout of masturbation that had ended with not a bang but a whimper of a climax; a spurt of tepid, foul-smelling goo that felt little better than a weak piss. It was drying now on his stomach; Andrew had never been the sort to clean up after himself too much.

Maybe I shouldn't leave the window open, he thought as a relatively cool breeze blew across his sweat-slick skin, drying it. He did live fairly close to where the doomed Raccoon City had been; not too close, or he'd have moved to avoid the radiation. But close enough to give him the creeps sometimes. A whole city wiped out due to a fuckin' nuclear power plant going ka-boom. Kinda like Chernobyl, except several magnitudes worse... that was what livin' in the modern age got you, he guessed....

Something rustled... whispered, he could have sworn it... outside. He sat up, stared at the half-open window.

Nothing.

He stared at it a moment longer, then laid down, closing his eyes and uneasily trying to slip into sleep. Hadn't Bud and the other boys said something was out there... something? Nah. Fools. Just spooked by the accident, that's all...

The window creaked up. His eyes flew open.

There, crouched like a cat about to pounce, in the now wide-open window, was a woman... or a thing that looked like a woman. She stepped down to the floor, her joints bending and flexing ever so strangely and beautifully, her delicate hands running over her small breasts, pinching her pale nipples.

He stared at the vision.

Her mouth opened, too wide; her tongue came out, too long, too red in the moonlight; her teeth likewise too long and too sharp. Her eyes, too large, too pale in that bloodless visage--the eyes of a nightstalker.

She smiled, licking something dark and liquid away from the corner of her lips. The strips of a ragged white skirt fanned out around her hips--no, it was moving on its own, with no breeze lifting it.

She leapt, flying onto the bed, straddling him. He tried to scream, but her hand--long and cold and hard with sinews--covered his mouth.

"I'm your angel," the woman-thing rasped. "Your angel." His eyes widened as he saw the pseudo-phallus come up from between her legs, saw a tentacle of hers stroking it gently. Another tentacle came from between her legs and delicately sucked at the crust of semen on his stomach.

His dick swelling helplessly, wrapped in a vise of her appendages, he screamed against her hand as she lowered herself onto him.

"Your angel..."

Something worse came in from the window, a beast with no eyes and a lashing tongue, claws like a wolverine's. He screamed until his throat was raw, despite the hand over his mouth, as he saw the second thing's cock come out from between its back legs, swinging and stiffening as the creature flicked its tongue in the air.

Andrew stared up at the woman-thing riding him, crushing him, smothering and biting him with every caress.

"Shhh, shussh..."

The End