Diablo III: Rape of the Nephalem

It was not supposed to end this way. Not for either of them.

Not for Leah, the willful girl who had been known as a "sewer rat" of Caldeum, who had survived so many hardships, not for the foundling apprentice of Deckard Cain, her keen mind fit to absorb his lessons, her body developing fast behind it. Nor for the Nephalem, the executor of so many in the Burning Hells, could this be the end. For a beautiful exemplar of hatred and destruction, of surpassing fairness and near-impossible physical form. In marksmanship and acrobatics, by the greatest heroes of the Dreadlands, she had been sculpted into a Demon Hunter.

No, it was not supposed to end this way at all.

Leah's bow lay broken, and the crossbows of the Demon Hunter had been pried from her hands. The darkness in the cellar was uneven, that strange and ominous shadows danced and cavorted on the walls, hiding the true numbers of the Fallen. Leah knew from her studies that the creatures were the followers of Azmodan, formerly human, cursed by Diablo into grotesque and capering forms for their role in the former's failed insurrection. The depravity of their rituals was only hinted at in her texts. She and the Nephalem were at their mercy - ambushed, beaten, dragged through the sands of the Caldeum desert to a location she knew not where. Everywhere around them could be heard the patter of feet, the impish gibbering and howling of their captors.

The Fallen were peeling the armor from the Demon Hunter, plate by interlocking plate. They made Leah watch, curved blades to her neck, as the Nephalem was laid bare. First, her shapely shoulders, her smooth and sinewy arms. Then her long and athletic legs, seeming to go on for days. They held her down and tore her hood from her face, revealing luxurious black hair. Then, her breastplate and tunic. The Nephalem cried out in anguish and disgust as dozens of impish hands groped at her firm breasts, as a half-dozen dirty, gap-toothed mouths suckled at them. Her desperate gaze locked with Leah's and a horrible realization passed between the two young women as the demon spawn began to rip the clothes from Cain's student as well. Her ribbon from her head, her trusty long-sleeved tunic from her upper body. Her trousers ripped from her legs in seconds, despite her kicking protestations.

They saw each other, and the truth of the situation. The whites of their eyes were large, their faces painted with sweat that reflected the smokey torchlight of the cellar. I have never known the touch of a man, their gazes confided, let alone the touch of a demon. Heaven, help me.

The were poised and posed before each other, their exhausted bodies held in place by multitudes of questing hands. Each was made to observe the other groped, their pert breasts sucked, dirty fingers fish-hooked into their objecting mouths, demonic tongues slurping over their bare flesh. They were made to see each other as objects. Leah could not look away, her eyes taking in the Nephalem's naked form, statuesque and perfect, striated abdominal muscles hitching with each panicked breath. The swell of the Demon Hunter's rear was impossible to behold without admiration, sculpted by her training, and now defiled by questing Fallen hands. Leah's eyes were pried open and her face stretched, held in place as Fallen Imps slurped and sucked at the Nephalem's chiseled body, tongues wrapping around her hardened nipples, sliding over her buttocks, writhing across her untouched, virginal quim as her legs were pulled apart. The Fallen were all hands and fingers, mouths and tongues, grotesque reddish-black penises flopping beneath too-small loincloths.

"No!" cried the Demon Hunter, struggling with all her might. "We must...escape!" Her legs, in all their marble-carved strength, were pried wide- three sets of fallen arms at a limb. Her pussy exposed for the first time, her gash winking with forbidden pinkness, she could only howl with humiliation as a Fallen Shaman, larger in stature than his demonic fellows, knelt between her legs, poising a lopsided, filth-encrusted, wart-covered cock at the entrance to her pussy.

She screamed, but then a thick and slime-covered tongue was jammed into her horrified mouth as a Fallen tongue-fucked her face, filling her throat with drool and her nose with the scent of sweat and rotted meat. Leah was pushed closer, he face inches from the Demon Hunter's pussy. The Fallen Shaman's oblong, tumor-covered prick was leaking yellow pre-cum all over it in a foul torrent, like wax from a melting candle. Shortly, Leah felt fingers probing at her own puffy gash, which had never felt the touch of any but herself. Her scream was muffled by the reeking hands covering her mouth.

The smelly, nasty penis ripped into the Demon Hunter's pussy before Leah's eyes, tearing it, driving into the Nephalem's unused vaginal canal for the first time, stretching it with sheer girth. The cock was thicker near the head, tapering down slightly near the base, where a pair of grotesque, filth-covered balls swung low between the shaman's legs. The Demon Hunter cried out in pain, but her breath could not escape around the tongue driving down her throat. Her tits were being sucked by eager, many-toothed mouths. Fat penises were ejaculating over her taut midsection already, and pumping their foul, reeking loads into her hair.

A vision of Azmodan swam in the torch-lit air before them, the corpulent and satisfied expression on the face of the Lesser Evil seeming more horrible than ever. "Now you see the fate of a Nephalem!" he exclaimed, and the voice echoed through Leah's head, seeming to come from everywhere at once. "Your fates are sealed, for even now my limitless armies march on Bastion Keep!"

The Fallen Shaman began to fuck the Demon Hunter's vulnerable gash. Leah was forced to watch, knowing that spurts of that foul yellow demon seed were erupting inside her cohort, knowing that cock crud from the filthy penis was smearing inside of her, knowing that warts and boils were scraping out her insides. The tongue was pulled from the mouth of the Nephalem, and she could only gasp before a Fallen mounted her face like it was a cunt, bracing it's feet on her shoulders and fucking a long and filth-encrusted cock past her soft lips.

"I shall leave you with to beg respite from Cydaea," rumbled Azmodan. "You can accept her blessings...or resist them. In the end, you shall still serve the Burning Hells!" The vision dissipated after the final words were spoken.

Leah's eyes were wide, unbelieving. There was not one part of her Demon Hunter companion's body that was not being raped. Heavy-sacked fallen penises were ejaculating over her legs and feet. Her hands were pressed into service, stroking a pair of jutting, crud-covered shafts. One impish fallen was mounted on her shoulders, fucking her face, while a second was seated on her chest, plowing it's cock into the Nephalem's ample cleavage. Her pussy was stretched around the grotesque cock of the shaman. Even her tight, pink asshole was being probed by the filthy tongue of a leering imp. Leah felt a twinge between her legs at the sight... a flare of something unfamiliar. In that moment it was as though she could hear the voice of Cydaea, Maiden of Sin, asking her to give in to the pleasure...asking her to revel in the sexual destruction of her counterpart!

"Oh...no-oh-oh!" Leah bawled, and she was thrown down on all fours, her naked body cast in firelight. She was compact, curvaceous in all the right places. Hers was a softer and more traditional figure than the Demon Hunter, thicker in hip and thigh, but no less alluring, no less sculpted by the excursions and travels of a well-lived life. The Fallen gibbered at the sight of her inviting posterior, her firm, round, hanging breasts. Leah looked back over her shoulder, her thick brown hair falling over one eye, and what she saw made her want to scramble and run - but she could not. The Fallen were on her, pinning her limbs, leaving her pussy and ass upthrust and exposed, within seconds.

Several large Fallen Hounds were being led into the room, their massive red penises bouncing below muscled torsos. Leah wailed and resisted, screamed as loud as she could when she sensed the beasts nearing her, and louder still, loud as she ever had, when she felt heavy paws brace themselves beside her body. "No!" she cried out in vain...and then her eyes turned up. A second of the beasts was poised over her head.

Leah's reeling mind was nearly snuffed out as the demon spawn mounted her face, driving two heavy forelegs down on either side of her back. The Fallen facilitated the coupling by raising her head and keeping it steady, by prying her jaw open with all the strength in their hands. The penis that erupted into her mouth was foul beyond measuring - a demon hound's leaking, smelly dick, buzzing with flies and coated with smegma and dried piss. It began to fuck her throat like it was a cunt, making her choke and gag, dehumanizing her utterly. In that instant, the innocent part of her, the part she'd been saving for a handsome stranger, died away.

The other beast mounted her virginal pussy, ripping through her hymen and the tender folds surrounding it. Leah's body jittered as she was utterly defiled by demonic dog dick, her most intimate places raped to the core by the heavy members, which were easily 12 inches long and as thick as an arm. She could feel the spurting organ as it spewed spurt after smelly spurt of dog semen into her unprotected womb, could taste the rancid issue of the slick, red invader in her mouth as it drizzled hot dogfuck into her gurgling, nauseous stomach. Next to her, from the corner of her eye, the Demon Hunter was being mounted similarly - her ass was upturned, her limbs restrained, huge amounts of foul semen pouring from her raped pussy, while a powerful Fallen Hound was fucking her previously untouched ass. Her face was nearly white with pain, and when their eyes met, such an expression of hopelessness and broken despair as Leah had never seen was present in them.

They're raping their filth into our bodies, Leah thought. We are just ditches for their waste. We are just outhouses. Our stomachs and wombs will be used as cum-toilets, and then we will die. They are fucking the hope out of us.

Leah's insides were being churned and fucked, her most intimate places torn. She felt herself ready to go insane, and then a voice came that offered the most insidious sort of deliverance from her demonic rape.

Does it not feel exquisite, child? came the sensual voice of Sin, pulsating inside Leah's head. Give in to your urges, abandon your hope, and it will torture you no longer.

A flame of pleasure burst in Leah's loins. In her peripheral vision, she could see her counterpart resisting - quaking, shaking her head. The Demon Hunter's will was strong. But Leah could not take the pain and madness anymore, of two brutal hound dicks sawing into her ill-used body. Giving in to the impulse, she felt her cock-blasted pussy twitch and contract around the length that was fucking it... and an accompanying jolt of pleasure in her crotch. At the same time, she instinctively began to suck eagerly at the canine cock in her mouth, slurping the slick juices from its venous, tumescent surface. In the foul embrace of Cydaea's influence, the mix of phlegm and cock-sweat tasted like ambrosia, and when the beast's fat knot pulsed outward just in front of her lips, and the burning hound semen began to spray down her throat as if propelled from a stomped waterskin, she did not pull away. She swallowed it eagerly, filling her smooth and sensual belly to the brim. She swallowed every drop and let her swollen midsection hang beneath her like a sow.

"R-Rape us..." she stammered, eyes glassy, the spent hound cock falling from her mouth. "Please...rape us." Her mind became an abyss. The Fallen Hound knotted inside her pussy, obliterating it, destroying any tightness it might once have offered a human sexual partner. Her pussy lips were stretched to thin and aching membranes around a pulsating pink intrusion that seemed that was larger than the head of a baby. "Destroy my pussy," she moaned, and the waves of pleasure that built inside her were like an earthquake.

"Leah, no!" cried the Demon Hunter. Leah's tongue fell out of her mouth and her eyes rolled back as she came in humiliating fashion, every muscle tensing, drool leaking from one side of her mouth. Leah knew the Nephalem could see her shameful orgasm, and did not care. She did not care about anything at all, anymore, except the pleasure afforded her by her knotted and torn cunt, by the swell of semen filling her sloshing belly. Their two heroines were still face down, their faces just inches from each other. They locked eyes when the Fallen Hound knotted in the Demon Hunter's asshole, flooding her bowels with rancid, searing houndsperm, ripping her anus to shreds with swelling cockflesh the diameter of a barbarian's gauntleted fist. Unlike Leah, the Demon Hunter did not approach an orgasm. She had rejected Cydaea's "blessings", and could only scream as her most tender of places was irreversibly violated.

The hounds slowly dragged their exhausted bodies around in a circle, still knotted, still in agony. The Demon Hunter, still with fury and hatred in to drive her, seemed unbreakable. "I will...not...die here!" she seethed, through teeth clenched so tightly it seemed they might snap.

Leah did not respond. Her face was an enraptured smile, her ears attuned and keen to the siren song of Cydaea. The Fallen seemed to be waiting for the knots to shrink so the rape could continue, a fate that Leah welcomed in her broken and enthralled mind.

It was minutes later, at the very moment that her abused asshole fell from the hound's receding cock, that the Demon Hunter made her move.

She was like a whirlwind. Rolling and grabbing a sword from a nearby fallen in less time than it took to exhale, she removed five of their heads with exquisite bladework within only a second. She was armorless, limping, vulnerable. But she still knew the secrets of the shadow, had had the discipline to gauge the dimensions of the room even as she was being defiled. Dozens more creatures converged on her, but their swords were clumsy and slow, hers supernaturally quick, finding it's mark on necks and in bellies time and again. Two score Fallen were slain in what seemed like seconds. The Fallen Hound still knotted in Leah's pussy was last to die, it's head taken from it's thick shoulders. At last, Leah fell against the ground, and was pulled to her feet at once.

"There's a room above this one, my weapons are there," said the Demon Hunter, urgently. In the dim light she looked barbaric, splattered in Fallen blood and totally naked, gouts of sperm leaking from her pussy and ass. She was limping, exhausted, her most sacred parts damaged by brutal rape, but she was alive.

The Demon Hunter pulled Leah toward the stairs. They ascended, surprising a roomful of squatting Fallen. The Demon Hunter killed her way through, wielding the demon blade like a scalpel, tearing necks, removing eyes from heads, heads from shoulders. At last, she gained her crossbows. Nothing lived long after that. In seconds, it was just her and Leah, shuddering and naked in the dilapidated ruin of what once had been a simple house.

The Nephalem kicked the front door open, and the desert sun was nearly blinding. They were far from the city, a thousand terrors looming between them and safety. To proceed through the shattered walls and sandswept rooms of the long-dead desert ruins would be to brave the prowling Lacuni who kept it as their home. Yet, they had no choice.

"Are you ok?" she asked Leah.

"Yes," Leah lied. She was not, never would be again. Her face had been fucked by a dog, every inch of her body licked and sucked and prodded by Fallen tongues, her mouth and belly used as a cistern for searing, demonic canine semen. She would still feel the cock scum on the hound's dick, breaking off against her teeth, could feel the nodules and warts and blisters on it's shaft scraping against her throat, could feel the flies buzzing against her face. She could not bear to return to Caldeum. Not as a demon-raped piece of shit. Not as a ruined vessel. Not as a sewer for hound cum.

Leah felt another swell of pleasure in her loins. Her shame turned to ecstasy, a gift from Cydaea.

They set out, staying in the shadows of the ruined walls when possible. Still, it was not long before they came to a Lacuni camp that they could not go around with doubling back. They would have to skirt the edges. The Demon Hunter, limping, bleeding, still leaking sperm from her abused asshole and pussy, admonished Leah to be careful.

"Stay with me," she said. "Follow in my footsteps and they will never see us."

But Leah could not hear her former friend. She could only hear the whispers of Cydaea, who had been counseling her, easing her pain, turning it to sinful delight. Cain's treasured student, formerly an innocent, was now a defiled victim of rape...and valued that trait. Her eyes, formerly full of life and curiosity, were now dull and resigned.

Leah wandered unsteadily out from the shadows, into the sun, striding atop a dune. The Demon Hunter hissed at her to stop, but her words went unheeded. Cresting the dune, looking down at the Lacuni camp, Leah laid down on the scorching sand, stark naked, and began to finger her knot-ruined pussy. She cried out in ecstasy, resisting as the Demon Hunter, in one last service to a friendship and duty that was now betrayed, tried to gather her and escape.

The panther-people were on them in seconds. Fifteen or more of them. A few crossbow bolts flew. A few Lacuni died. But it was not a fair fight. Leah orgasmed as the wave of black flesh descending on them like a tide.

Leah would get her wish. The rape, of both her and the Demon Hunter, would continue.

===

Six months later, Leah and the Demon Hunter were poised across from each other, lifted into the air by the powerful hands of a pair of Lacuni warriors who were gripping them under each thigh. Their assholes, loose and fucked-out, were impaled on their grotesquely long Lacuni cocks, and their bellies massively swollen with child. Demonic tattoos were scrawled on their formerly immaculate skin, and heavy iron rings driven through the nipples of their milk-swollen breasts. The two ruined heroines extended their tongues to each other, swapping a mouthful of runny Lacuni semen back and forth, the only nourishment that either had been allowed since their capture. Their eyes were blank and half-lidded.

They moaned into each other's mouths as their birthing began. The long, slender panther cocks in their asses ejaculated huge loads of semen, filling their bowels even as their wombs began to empty. Lacuni began to slide from their gashes, their passage lubricated by semen from that day's rape. Both women orgasmed helplessly as they simultaneously gave birth and were assfucked. They would birth this litter and hundreds more, would birth hybrid panther-men as long as their degraded bodies could handle it.

The two companions would never again leave the shadow of the ruins.