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Ashes	By : SelbenCoirlo Category: +G through L > Gargoyles Views: 8216 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
This chapter contains: M/F, nec, FDom, snuff

Chapter 5: Visions

She was cold. She lay upon the pavement, her eye staring glassily into the base of the brick wall nearby. Ragged chunks of rubble scattered around her and dug in deep and bloody trenches into her body. Chris knelt beside her, and gently ran one hand along the side of her cold face. The tips of his fingers traced the contours of her jaw line upwards, silently worshipping the pale blue skin of the corpse as his fingers trailed into the gaping hole collapsed into the back of her skull, where her red hair turned black and one eye hung loosely into the puddle of wet and mangled brain.

He kissed her cold red lips as he leaned over her, and ran one hand slowly up her side, slipping it under the gray rags she wore and caressing her cold left breast, marveling at the lack of a tremor from within her chest. His other hand walked slowly up her tail until it came to rest between her legs, cupping her genitals, cold and clammy and wet with posthumous piss. She smelled of death, of blood and shit and meat, and Chris moaned in anticipation.

It was an amazing find. Gargoyles were incredibly rare in this day and age, and this one was young and beautiful. This morning, as he lay in bed, Chris had seen a vision, a vision of a blue angel lying still on concrete within a halo of blood and bone, and when he heard the sounds of manmade thunder in the sky he was certain that this was a sign. He found his angel in an alley, amongst the stones that had cushioned her fall and fallen upon her.

His cock lightly touched her cloth covered cunt as he leaned in and licked her face, his tongue dipping into her mouth and playing with hers briefly, tasting blood she had coughed up on impact, before moving up and feeling the sticky surface of her solitary and un-twitching eye with his tongue. With his right hand he gripped at one edge of her crushed skull, shaking her head stiffly as he reached down beneath himself, pulling the cloth away and slowly letting down his weight. Her cold dead flesh wrapped around him, and he moaned in ecstasy as he took her, slowly, but gradually faster and faster. He was coated in sweat, and he would have been burning up if her cold flesh hadn’t cooled him. With each of his frantic thrusts she shifted stiffly, the corpse’s loose skin and fat jiggled, and her eye looked up at the night sky as a slow stream of semi-congealed black blood dripped from her slack cunt. He kissed her again, her cold hard tongue dancing charmingly in her mouth, temporarily given life again by him. Chris’s fingers dug through the cold and slick mess left within her skull, and as he pulled her unreactive hips up against his he let out a quiet gurgling moan of satisfaction. He pulled out of her, and his hot white seed mixed with the clotted blood gushing from her dead flesh and fell to the ground with the rest of the filth.

Chris fell back and leaned against the wall of the alley, panting. His prick jutted out in front of him, slick and red and already hard again just looking at the pitiful semen-leaking corpse of the beautiful monster woman. He crawled back over to her on all fours, staring at her face, entranced. Her stillness was hypnotic; this was the first time he’d been near a corpse of something so close to human, and the strangeness of her form was amplified by the presence of death. Like this, devoid of the flaws of human woman, he could worship her like a religious icon.

He suckled at her cold breast as her nose nestled against his balls. From here he could smell her old sweat above the smell of death, and he tasted sour salt on his lips. He thrust his cock lustily against her unmoving face, gobs of semen and her clotted blood decorating her rigid cheeks and lips. He marveled at the perfect stillness of the night, mirroring that of the corpse; how, even in the middle of the Big Apple there was this peculiar zone of silence made especially for him. The only movement he could perceive apart from his own was the gentle flutter of movement under his goddess’s left breast.

What?

It was there. It was unmistakable. There was a gentle heartbeat within the breast of this angel with her brains spattered on the pavement. Chris tumbled off of the body in a confused panic, tears running down his face. He didn’t know whether they were tears of joy or tears of sorrow at his loss, but as he gazed upon her face he saw that her single eye no longer stared up towards the heavens, but right into his face. Her chest slowly began to rise and fall, and the cyclopean eye blinked rapidly, its own tears of pain rising quickly as awareness returned. She moaned, the breath gurgling in her throat, and coughed wetly, spitting up strings of thick mucus and clotted blood. As she raised one arm to feel at her skull and probed the fatal wound gently with her fingers a quiet keening sob worked its way out of her, ululating gently, sirenlike, and getting louder and louder as her life returned. Her intact eye burned bright red, but the other crushed orb hung pale and weak in her skull like a crippled full moon.

Chris gaped at her in horror as she began to slowly writhe on the ground. “It’s going to be alright,” he whimpered at her without conviction. “Just– just shhh.” He walked up to her on his knees, bent over her, reaching tentatively for her with one hand. “I’m here– I’ll take care of you…“

“YOU!” she screamed, her voice transformed into something beyond monstrous by the gobs of cold hard phlegm and blood in her lungs. “You– did this– to me!” She had to pause after every few words to pull in ragged and hard breaths.

“No,” Chris said, wide eyed, shaking his head, “you were dead when I got here, I just– “

“You son of a bitch,” she screamed, and lashed out at his face. He had no chance to react, and her claws tore in, leaving deep bloody gouges, sending teeth clattering down the alley and leaving others horribly exposed to the air. Chris hid his face in his hands, sobbing, and with a roar of rage she lashed out with one foot. The claws caught in flesh and tore his belly open, and as his intestines fell out with a wet plop she pulled him back towards her. She grabbed his hair thrust her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeply, tasting his bloody gums, then pulled away and sobbed in anguish. Once more her eyes flashed red in pain and anger and she shrieked in his face, digging her claws into his scalp and back. Then she was crying and holding him close, his steaming rubbery entrails falling to the pavement between them

“I’m cold, I’m cold, I’m cold, don’t leave me,” she sobbed into his ear. Her body was trembling now.

“I’m here, I’m here my angel, I’m here and I’m cold too.” He murmured in her ear, words gently warped by the damage to his face, every word granted a whistling subtext by the hole in his cheek. He gasped as her claws raked down his back, exposing raw and bloody muscle to the night sky. He let her push him down so that she was on top of him, and once more his cock was inside her but this time her felt the warm massaging heart beat of her life grow stronger with each thrust of her hips. Even as his hands caressed her breasts, prodding at her nipples, the tips of his fingers began to numb. Tears ran down his face freely now. “Angel, I’m tho thcared. I’m appy mut god— god—god I’m thcared…”

Her hips stopped thrusting, and she looked down at him with eyes full of cruelty and mercy. She leaned over him, the tips of her nipples trailed over his bloody viscera, and he could see that her silhouette in the moonlight, with the big crescent moon chunk taken out of the head, was slowly regaining its shape, slowly re-becoming her face. The one perfect and intact eye stared into his face for just a moment before she rested her head on his chest and wrapped her right arm around his head. She laid her face beside his and rocked his head like a child, humming a quiet lullaby as he bled on the pavement, the same lullaby his mother had sung. She cradled him gently with her right arm as he began to fade away.

Meanwhile her left hand sifted through his guts, poking at his organs and setting his nerves on agonizing fire. Her cunt clamped on him rhythmically, in time with his final lullaby, bringing him closer to an orgasm that would never come. Her tail probed at his ass, teasing him as she sang him closer to oblivion. And as her hand ripped at his testes, mauling them into bloody jelly, and as her tail tore a bloody path up inside of him, she still cradled him and sang. And when all the pain became numbness, in the end all he was the night sky, all he heard was his mother’s lullaby, and all he smelled was a subtle scent of withered flowers.

*****

The scream lodged itself somewhere deep in Miriam’s chest. The sorrow was too huge to speak. She curled up in bed, then leapt out of it landing on her hands and knees. Sooty tears dripped from wide open eyes and ran down her face, but without her scream to drown it out she could still faintly hear the sound of a lullaby being sung in her own voice.

The dream had never been this vivid before. She gasped in huge wet breaths, trying to let them rip out into a scream; but they never matured, they died while they were still children. She rent her nails across her chest, and with a whisper the skin parted in slits to show her blackened insides, dry and glistening. Her ribs jutted out conspicuously white and pure in a sea of soot and ash.

She sat still on her knees, naked and alone in her gigantic chambers as, absent her will, her pale skin began to re-knit and conceal her horrible empty secret.

*****

“Hey,” the woman’s voice was in her ear, a pounding presence amidst silence. “Hey, wake up!” She sounded familiar. Demona groaned and opened her eyes.

She was in her room from before, although the walls had been painted over in clean dry white shades, and the ragged hole where she had torn the door away wasn’t there any more, replaced by a completely intact door which stood open. The painting had been replaced with another, a picture of her, laid stretched out in a void and staring upwards into nothingness with a look of dazed and glassy death in her eyes. In the picture a human woman with burning red hair who seemed familiar knelt over her, holding her bloody organs above her corpse and feasting upon them, grinning with satisfaction as she chewed away Demona’s glistening womb and intestines. She didn’t like to look at the painting, so she looked away, glancing frantically around the room to find whoever had been talking to her. Her eyes passed over several times before they saw the small dark haired woman wearing jeans and a leather jacket, smiling confidently at her.

“What— What are you doing here human?” Demona asked her in quiet despair. “Did you come to laugh at my degradation?” she looked up, snarling, her voice getting louder. “Or perhaps you want to join in? You and a bunch of your human friends, huh, coming to torture me and kill me and destroy everything I have?”

“Yeah that’s it Demona,” Elisa said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve found me out. I’m secretly hot for you and I want to ravage you in a big sexy way.” She looked away smirking, then sighed. “Listen. I know we don’t get along, but I want to help you. Goliath loved you once, so I know that there’s some good inside of you. And, honestly,” she said, looking at Demona, and blinking rapidly before looking away. “No one deserves this; no matter what you’ve done.”

She wanted to strike the woman down, to crumple her fragile bones. The fact that her most hated enemy pitied her like this was unbearable. But within the rage and humiliation, and feeding on it and amplifying it, was a feeling of elation that someone had come for her. Even if it was the last person she would ever have wanted to see her like this, at least someone had come. Even if it was her worst enemy, at least there was someone she knew.

“Come on Demona. Let’s leave this place.”

Demona inhaled deeply, and her gentle murmur of assent came out as a harsh sob. Beyond her control now, the tears squeezed their way out and ran down her face, which she hid in her hands. She felt the warmth of her tears turn to icy cold in the cool air of the room, and though she knew they must be running out of time she couldn’t bring herself to move.

She sobbed deeply as she felt the smaller woman gently take her head in her arms and rock back and forth slowly, singing a lullaby that sounded so familiar as she went. “Please,” she cried, “please help me human—Elisa. I’m so scared.”

“I want to,” the woman said, her voice distorted and distant. An odd crackling noise filled the air, almost drowning out her speech. “I want to but I can’t.”

“Why not?” screamed Demona, lifting her face and staring up into Elisa’s brown eyes.

“Because…” she said, staring down at Demona with eyes full of pity, and the crackling sound turned into a roaring sound and as she looked up at the human Elisa’s eyes ruptured, spraying blood and fluids and the flesh around her hands dripped off leaving blackened skeleton. Her kindly expression washed away in a melted blood red puddle leaving an unnaturally cheerful rictus grin of victory. Skin and blood bubbled away and flowed down out of her clothes, left her black shirt slick and wet with what had been her. Everywhere that she disintegrated her melted flesh fell upon Demona and burned her, agonizing tendrils of ruined flesh first falling upon the blue skin of her thighs and face and burning, then pooling into a smoky puddle on the floor before rising again as sizzling blood and rendered fat fingers to caress her legs. She shrieked in agony and tried to scramble away from the clutching hands of her dead nemesis but the hands were unyielding, and as Elisa’s ruined flesh crawled up her body it mingled with hers and seared it away from her bones. Demona shrieked in agony and betrayal as it crawled upon her and enveloped her, burning her flesh away until there was nothing left.

She woke up in darkness, alone. She howled in terror and loss, tearless, sobbing. She writhed on the floor in fevered agony, but no matter what the dreams just kept pursuing her. Throughout the sleepless night, haunted by the burning of her mutilated body and the fever consuming her, she dreamed of rescues never consummated, dreamed of Elisa over and over again and remembered...

Remembered dreams of Elisa in melting burning pain

Remembered Elisa saying: “No one deserves this.”

All night long she wondered who had betrayed whom first.
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Ashes