As Xavior's consciousness began to grow stronger he felt pressure on his shoulders. He could feel anger and rage as it dribbled over his brain like melted wax. He became even more aware of his body as it flailed under the cold, harsh water. His nose burned from the foreign liquid that invaded it. His hands were above the surface and gripped onto smooth, soft, flesh, which was slick with water and thick blood. Talons, dug into the person's arms drawing deep valleys into the flesh. His wings flexed strongly as they splashed the cold water about. Waves crashed against the wooden side of the wash basin and splashed onto the ground below.
“Claws, wings, what the Hai is going on!” Xavior angrily thought to himself, “I got to fight this,” he rationalized and began to fight for breath. He could feel a dribble of water drip down the back of his neck from his nasal passage. The burn in his chest grew heavier and heavier still, his lungs fighting against his tightly clenched lips. But as Xavior struggled, he soon found that his body had not been under his own control. He told his body to jerk right, when it jerked left. He told his fists to let go and punch, but they remained clenched tightly into the arms of whoever held him under the water. “What the hell is happening!” Xavior felt the flesh against his claws yield as the dagger-like nails finally sunk into soft muscle.
A muffled scream could be heard above the water as the hands on his shoulders quickly left. His hand shook as the sharp, ebony claws tore flesh. Quickly his body jerked out of the water and took in several long deep breaths of air. He let out a gnarled screech that echoed off the cavernous walls around him. Rage like no other consumed Xavior's body as he began to crawl out of the tub like some monster as it finds its way through a portal. Still he breathed hard as his stomach hit the ground with a thud. His wings and bodied dripped water from the short fuzz on his body. Bloodied claws dug into the soil mixed with rocks as he began to drag himself away from the tub and toward the screaming woman.
Dressed in nothing more the rags, the fair skinned woman curled and pushed against the stone wall. Her sobs and wails echoed throughout the cave, her hands clutched to her forearms as she attempted to stop the blood as it dribbled from her wounds.
“You ungrateful,” he panted, “bitch tried to kill me,” he paused before he added, “again.” Xavior shifted up to his knees and soon stood strong once more. A devilish and malevolent glint in his eyes as he looked at the woman as if he actually had to think about what he wanted to do to her. The long black hair on her head grew in patches. Visible scabs and scars were along her scalp as if her hair had been ripped from her hide. Scars adorned her body in specific patterns, possibly this young lady was once a proud Drykas, tattooed flesh shaved away. “I even had a gift for you too!”
Xavior soon launched himself at the woman and grappled her. As she laid splayed out on the ground, pinned by vicious hands, “why don't you just kill me?” The woman screamed at the top of her lungs. Xavior let out a bestial growl as he brought her wrists together and held them both above her head. With a free hand, he raked his claws over her flesh and the tatters he gave her as clothes. Soon his hand came to rest on her stomach, which was bulged with signs of pregnancy. Those hands moved lower as the woman's protests and sobs grew louder.
“Why? Because you are my vessel. My very own Jackri,” he spat in her face, and continued to move his clawed hand lower until it rested at her groin. “But let me clue you in sweetheart, you're the walking dead.” His fingers hooked and curled roughly, which made the young woman arch in protest, “the only reason you exist is because I want you too.”
“No, please not again,” she protested and squirmed under his strong grasp. Her body weak from malnutrition and lack of movement.
“No, you don't want my fingers? Have it your way,” Xavior's voice was growly laced with mock seduction and sadism. His hips met her own roughly as she screamed and he grunted in primal pleasure.
His hands soon left her body as he used her for his pleasure. Her hands, free, clawed at the matted and navy blue fuzz on his chest. Her feet pushed herself across the rough floor of the cave and scraped away scabs, which began to bleed. Soon her pushes away were not needed as Xavior's own body ground her across the ground. Her tears rolled down her cheeks and made the dirt on the ground into mud. “Ah, please just kill me. Please!” She continued to chant as the vicious event continued.
“I love it when you beg makes me all riled up,” Xavior chuckled and slammed harder. It only lasted minutes, but it felt like a lifetime for the woman. She felt Xavior's mark splash over her pregnant tummy as he ungracefully dismounted her. “There now everyone in the clan knows whose meat you are.” His breath was labored as he stood over her before he gripped her long hair and began to drag her over to a shallow layer of sacks. Hair still in hand he moved it to a piece of rope anchored to the stone wall. He knotted the end of her long hair to the rope and left her, “there now think about what you've done while I go and get your gift.”
The woman tried to sit up, but her hair pulled taught and sent pain through her body. Her wounds had already began to heal as scabs soon formed. Xavior the Ethaefal couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. The shock of it all made his stomach lurch as he rode along as a silent observer to the grisly scene. Xavior's body moved out into another cavern and retrieved a heavy, fabric, wrapped, bundle. He heard another voice over his shoulder.
“Brother, may I have a turn with her?” Fang approached as Xavior growled lowly and turned and was met with another zith male. His body covered in brown fuzz instead of the navy blue.
“Tsk, what will I get in return Fang?” Xavior sounded uninterested as Fang scratched the back of his head in thought.
“I can give you a night with my sister Scythe,” Fang replied with a chuckle as Xavior grunted and began to walk the package back toward his vessel of procreation.
“Mmm, how easy do you promise her away like that?” Xavior chuckled with Fang.
“Well you know her, she likes two carnal instincts, hunting and mating.” Fang grinned as Xavior grunted his approval.
“She is a bit of a slut, I like them like that.” Xavior's eyes turned to the woman still bound by her hair, “aint that right sweetheart?” Fang grumbled a chuckle with Xavior before both men's gazes shot toward a shadowed passage way.
“Tsk, what sweet words Shadow. That is no way to talk to a slut,” the feminine voice pierced through the cavern as Scythe made her entrance. “I'll give myself to Shadow, Fang. With one condition, you have to watch us mate.” Her body was perfect proportioned and strong, perhaps they weren't in jest when they said she loved to hunt. Xavior felt a strange sensation as Shadow made a move forward. The body Xavior's mind had inhabited seemed to slip away from Shadow's own body. The two no longer shared the body of the Zith as Xavior stood naked and clean, a light among the grime and filth of the Zith nest. Scythe moved in a sultry and seductive way as her claws raked over Shadows shoulder and teased a wing base. “Maybe you'll learn a thing or two Fang.” She taunted. 
Xavior felt over his body as he seemed to resume control of himself. Though as the cavern soon became a loud and vicious orgy, all Xavior could do was watch in shock and horror of it all. He stepped backward in the cavern just as Shadow broke the screams and growled yells. “I almost forgot, your gift my sweetheart.” He reached a hand over to the package and gripped an edge of the fabric. He pulled on it as the packaged rolled and unraveled. The bound girl shrieked as what was revealed was that off a male's body. There was a long stitch along where the spin was, dried grass and leaves poked from the crude stitching. The man had similar tattoos to that of a Drykas, flesh green and purple, bruised and slightly decayed. But what Xavior found most shocking of all, was instead of the normal skull of a human it was replaced with the skull of a horse. The skin pulled over it as it's long snout poked from the man's mouth. “Their, family reunited. I made it myself, to help you sleep Sweetheart.”
Xavior's eyes shut in horror, yet the image and sounds of the bloody curdling scream burned into his memories. He began to hyperventilate from all the sights and sounds, growled chuckles, pained screams, wails of pleasure, all to much for Xavior. The sounds soon came to a crescendo and soon plunged into a deafening silence. All he could hear was his own breath as he continued to pant in great terror. It took him much courage to crack his eyes to see what had happened. His eyes shot open as he was greeted with a cavernous room. A large lamp burned bright at the in front of him and casted a circular glow of light onto the ground. Darkness surrounded the bubble of illumination, but that was not what shocked Xavior most.
Opposite of him, behind the ornamental lamp that burned a sweet scented oil, stood that same stuffed man from his nightmare. He was mounted in a standing position, his arms positioned so that he cradled a limbless torso in his dead embrace. Xavior recognized her as the drykas from the very same scene. In fear and shock he began to back away until his back and body was instantly wrapped in another's warm embrace. Xavior stood frozen in fear as he felt the warm fur of Shadow's arms brush over his body. He could feel the warm, humid breath roll along his neck.
“Did you like what you've seen?” The growly voice pierced the silence and startled Xavior. Shadow chuckled as he held Xavior as if he was a woman. The hands groped and explored his body, “Mm, so this is the body I share with you huh? I'm not half bad, I seem to have a package to make the girls swoon.”
“Stop it,” Xavior said weakly. Another long chuckle rumbled from Shadow. The chest vibrated against Xavior's body eerily.
“Like it or not Xavior, this is you. Welcome to the family we're all here,” Shadow began to let out a maniacal chuckle.
“No, you lie!” Xavior fought back against Shadow.
Right as he threw a punch his body jerked out of bed. He sat upright and looked around the familiar room of Christy and Evan's home. He breathed hard as sweat glistened from his body. A calm wind blew through the open window and fluttered the gossamer drapes.
“It was all a dream?” Xavior sighed and slouched forward in relief. “It felt to real to be a dream, he rationalized. Was I really a vicious monster?” He thought about it for a moment before he settled down and laid his body back in bed.
When his spine contacted the mattress, he felt something firm along his back. He looked to the side as his eyes grew wide again as he gazed into Shadow's dark eyes. His body laid down sideways along his own body. Shadow whispered two words, “you were.” Xavior's body fell out of bed and landed with a dull thud. He frantically crawled to his door as his eyes shot toward the bed.
No one was there, but Xavior refused to sleep once more as he curled against the door and sobbed gently. It was all to real to be just a dream. His body felt as if it had just experienced a truly traumatic event, all he could bring himself to say was, “I'm sorry for everything.” Needless to say, it was a sleepless night for the new born. |
by Xavior Silhouette on February 27th, 2012, 11:20 pm 
