Diablo III - Lord of Bitches

Author's Note: That's right, a Diablo 3 story! I don't hate Adria, this isn't a hate or bash fic at all. I actually enjoy bitchy fictional characters, which is how I view the Diablo 3 version of Adria what with her not caring about her own daughter's well-being and getting angry and accusatory out of nowhere. I'm looking forward to an expansion where I see more of Adria, but until then, here's some more messed up material! With more time spent on it than I intended.

 

 

Adria the Witch hid her true nature well. Through ancient knowledge and arcane prowess, she obscured her sinister roots as a former leader of the Coven and appeared like an angel in their time of greatest need, a salve in Deckard Cain's absence. If only the allies of the Light knew the treachery she hid.



It took many months for the great warrior who brought down Diablo in the High Heavens to track down the woman who aided his return. The woman who, through the powers of her womb, took the seed of Diablo and gave birth to a child she would use as a vessel for the Lord of Terror. Adria's absence during the onslaught in Heaven seemed like the cunning mark of a second wave of demonic invasion, a backup plan should Diablo fail.



The truth of Adria's fate was somewhat... less... than spectacular.



The warrior, a fiery redhead from the former peoples of Mount Arreat, stepped off the ship with Lyndon, the aptly nicknamed Scoundrel, following behind her. The sea air waved of salt and fish, a scent already perfumed into the warrior's hair... a scent known to drown out more obnoxious, more telling scents. If not for her training, the barbarian might not have noticed a telltale whiff of seaman's spunk upwind. She took upon it like a breadcrumb trail until she heard the debased moaning of her quarry. As the barbarian approached, she saw an all too disgusted rabble, their remarks noting the fallen nature of the cunning witch Adria as they surrounded her to gawk.



"What debauchery! Does the woman have no shame?!" A mournful barmaid cried.



A templar, equipped in full, answered, "She sacrificed her own daughter to serve evil. All sense of decency is lost on a wild she-beast like her."



If the comments peppering the air about this scene were not clue enough of the evils festering in public, Adria's answer from her own lips assured no confusion.



"Silence! How dare you question me?" Adria spat under a cursing breath. "None of you know the meaning of sacrifice. I spent months growing Diablo's vessel in my womb before I could give birth and pawn it off to a slutty barmaid from Tristram. When I returned, I had to pretend I gave a damn about the sniveling brat while she held the Black Soulstone together. All that whining... it took everything I had to keep myself from smacking her across the face. I have earned this reward."



"Would you listen to that? She speaks of her own child as if she were an object!"



"She's barbaric!"



"No," the warrior sternly said, as she parted the crowd before her. "My people are not savages or monsters. We are a proud, noble people born to fight the hordes of Hell. Adria is no barbarian."



The warrior emerged at the front, and at last bore witness to the very woman who schemed to help Diablo bring all of creation to its knees. The barbarian's nose wrinkled, and a disgusted scowl took the edge of her lip as she beheld the Witch in her new idea of glory.



Adria lay on her back, nude but for her red hood. A few trace wrinkles on her face, and wisps of grey amid her otherwise messy, raven black hair betrayed her true age, upon a body doubtlessly made to look much younger through a mix of potions and the necklace charms hanging from her neck. Her nipples, cursed into a smoky black shade, rose thimble-thick atop a peak of dark aureole. Her bosom, once smaller and meager before her betrayal, blossomed into a pair of breasts firm and full enough to compare with Mount Arreat itself. These were but idle observations as Adria palmed her own tits, slick with the same white spunk that clung to her hair and smeared over her cheeks like the war paint of a harlot.



Cum oozed off the witch, fresh as the morning dew after a rainfall. And why should it not? With a new rush of ships into Kingsport, many of which held only men for their long journeys, the men needed someone... or something... to unleash their base needs. Their target, it seemed, was the witch Adria, an open air display of perversion spotted the very moment many of them stepped onto Kingsport's wooden docks at the break of dawn. Every inch of her was an altar upon which they could sacrifice their seed, allowing it to splatter anywhere from breasts big enough to spill down her sides to a large, rounded belly festering with new life. Every inch, that is, but the most precious place of all, reserved for her one new, true love.



Adria the Witch lay defeated not by the spells of a wizard or the sword of a barbarian, but by the endless ribbing of a dog's rough member inside her fuming hot pussy. The hound stared back at her, its tongue hanging out as it panted. With the beast's every thrust, she parted her folded legs wider and lower until knees that once towered over the creature now hovered inches from the planks beneath her.



Not that the hound needed her aid. Its speed betrayed her looseness, its hindquarters blurring from wild, rapid fire humps into Adria's glistening wet folds. The squelch of her juices lubing its monstrous prick as it passed inside her nearly eclipsed her moans. All the while, her lightly wrinkled face lost its sneering edge, lost in the moment for obscene pleasures that turned her black eyes glossy and her scowling lips into a wicked grin.



The stench of her misdeeds rose off her sunbaked skin, a mix of canine pheromones wafting from her loins and off her chest like a fine mist mingling with the sweat and spunk caked on her body. She pinched one of her dark nipples and gave a low, gravelly moan, joined by a loud, high-pitched howl from her mate's crooning snout. As fires of want burned inside her, Adria fueled their mating call with another sordid cry and basked in the afterglow.



Adria and the hound, a disheveled mix on the docks of Kingsport, sharing their carnal needs for each other where all could see. A warmth bubbled in her womb, a warmth she knew again only recently after waiting decades for Diablo's revival. This was her place, resting flat on her back, pumped by a mutt between her legs and caked in sailor jizz. Her pleasure. Her reward.



Yet as a few gold coins flew, tinkled and rolled at her feet, Adria stopped to glower at the unseen man in the crowd. "What is this? Charity? How dare you mock my passions! I do not fuck dogs in public for your money."



"Then why do you mate with beasts?" The barbarian asked in her thick mountain accent.



"I can't say I didn't expect such idiocy from a dumb brute," Adria jeered. "Can you not see? Diablo has blessed me with the wants and needs of a bitch... a REAL bitch! All he had to do was look at my face and hear my words to complete the missing pieces nature failed to provide for me. Now, I know the true lust of a bitch in heat, and my own womb will birth beasts powerful enough to destroy even you, barbarian. Soon, the world will tremble at the might of Adria, Lord of Bitches!"



"And I thought I knew all the worst fetishes in the world," the Scoundrel said. "Bestiality and animal birth... it looks like there are acts in this world even I wouldn't try."



The barbarian knelt. She could almost taste the acrid sweat and the salty sea-farer spunk on the back of her tongue. Much as the smell and sight of it drooling down the witch's body would have made a much weaker woman gag, the hardy mountain warrior resisted the white mess' hold on her senses.



"Adria, you are a madwoman. Can you not see what the Lord of Terror has done to you?"



Adria caressed her stomach, smirking as a faint kick popped at the surface... then scowling at the warrior beside her. "Ah, but I see perfectly barbarian, as I always have. Why do you think my lord did not change my appearance like Belial did for Maghda? I was born to be a bitch, and now Diablo has changed my womb to suit my nature."



The barbarian lingered... stained by the carnal acts of a woman beyond reason.



The witch, consumed by wild lust and blind devotion, gave a poisonous sigh while her muscles went lax, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head for the briefest of instants. Spunk snuck from the edges of her pussy, pooling around her ass as her canine mate laid its head on her huge belly. As she recovered, she gave the warrior a rare hint of bliss from her judging, glaring visage.



"Are you going to kill me, barbarian?" Adria accused.



The barbarian rose. "No. I promised vengeance for Leah, but you have given yourself a fate worse than death. You have already sealed your name in history as a traitor to humanity and an abusive mother. Now, you will be remembered as a she-dog, with the body of a woman but the womb of a bitch."



As the barbarian left the witch in her squalid state, she heard the echo of a last, defiant howl on the wind. The howl of Adria, Lord of Bitches.