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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.	By : Nickamano Category: +S to Z > Urotsuki-doji Views: 1508 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither Urotsukidoji or any related materials are owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Chapter 14.
The noise of the dual raping was easily audible from five feet away, even with the door closed.
The men didn’t say anything, they didn’t have to. They drew bayonets from their uniform belt sheaths and Piszczek put his hand on the door handle and with a whisper counted down from three in English, then swung the door open, following the inward swing with his body so he did not obstruct the others.
Zofia was on the nearer bed with a half-naked officer on top of her, Kasia had three men crowded in on her, two naked, one standing over her head with his trousers around his ankles.
Klich went straight for the officer, burying the ten-inch blade of his bayonet into the upper part of his back above one shoulder blade. The sharpened steel was buried right to the hilt with the savagery of the Pole’s attack. The officer didn’t even manage a shout. He moaned a little and one hand came up to try and grasp the bayonet, but Klich put a hand over his mouth and dragged him off Zofia, who immediately jumped from the bed. Klich pulled the officer to the far side of the bed. One hand clamping his mouth and muffling his rising yells, while the other twisted the bayonet. Soon, the Officer stumbled in his ineffectual attempt to struggle, his strength seeping from him as his blood flowed more heavily from the increasingly ragged knife wound. He finally slumped forward, face down on the carpeted bedroom floor and lay still.
At once Klich threw himself, bloody bayonet in one hand, over Zofia’s bed toward the other one. Things were tougher there.
While Piszczek had shut the door again, Furman and Clonek had launched themselves at the four people on the further of the two beds. Somehow Kasia herself had managed to get her hand on a bayonet and had plunged it into the exposed side of the man on top of her, though awkwardly as the man beneath her had her arms trapped away from her body so it was more of a shallow slice than a deep and effective penetration. At the same time Furman had slammed himself bodily into the upright oral rapist, bouncing him off the bedside table and down into the narrow floorspace between the beds, and they struggled and rolled around, fighting over Furman’s bayonet.
The man on top of Kasia punched her viciously in the face in response to her knife attack and then reached for the blade trying to take it from her, cursing and spitting in German. Clonek went for him, grabbing him by the hair and dragged him up, even as his fist crashed into Kasia’s face for a second time.
Clonek’s bayonet stabbed its own vicious assault on the German’s neck and jaw. The first slashed across the side of his neck, opening his jugular vein. And then, even as the blood began to pump from the gaping wound, the bayonet stabbed inward, this time piercing the low part of the side of the man’s face, slashing the flesh of his jaw and shattering the bone beneath. Stunned the man barely responded as Clonek, his free hand fisting in the German’s hair, dragged him bodily off the bed to the ground and stabbed him over and over again.
Carson watching with a grim recognition that Kasia was far from out of danger. The man still pinned beneath her had released her arms from his full-nelson lock and instead whipped them around her throat in a choke hold. He was choking her and at the same time hauling her and himself off the bed and using her as a shield again the others. He opened his mouth to shout out an alarm, when Kasia did the only thing she could, even as her vision started to fade to black. She went for the man’s eyes. Both hands went for his face and needing to use both hands to maintain the choke hold, he could only use his elbows to obstruct her attempts. It was unsuccessful and her thumbs found the sockets of his eyes and drove in hard and deep.
He screamed. He screamed his lungs out, as his eyelids failed to protect him from her driving thumbs and his eyeballs were constricted under intense pressure. He tried to shake her free but she had both hands clamped around the sides of his head, her grip and position secure. She snarled her hatred and used her own recent pain to empower her, to push harder and harder until, like water-filled balloons, the German’s eyes simply popped. His shocked and agonised screaming reaction was enough to enable Kasia to pull herself free of his faltering chokehold. She glanced across to the bed and retrieved the bayonet she had pulled from the wall and then fell on the man, even as Carson joined her. Together they made mincemeat out of him. Splashing them both with his flying blood and meat.
Piszczek aided Furman by weighing in with his own bayonet, leaning over the two floor fighters and calmly plunging the blade through the German’s throat. Even as he was about to plunge Furman’s own bayonet into the Pole’s chest.
They fell back, momentarily exhausted, all of them panting, blood streaked a couple of them cut, scraped and winded. The two of them that were naked and gathered up their discarded clothing. They only bothered with trousers, utility belts and jackets and boots. There wasn’t time for more. The screams would doubtless have been heard and more Germans would be on their way.
Piszczek looked over the two women once they had finished dressing. Zofia was shaking and wild eyed but seemed okay. Plus, ever the big brother, Klich had an arm around her and was whispering reassuring things to her. Kasia was sullen and angry and she was crying, blood was seeping from her nose which looked possibly broken and, in a few hours, both her eyes would be almost certainly be black.
She was shaking slightly like Zofia and crying quietly, but Piszczek knew her well enough to know that the tears represented as much a release of pressure and relief. He was also worldly enough to know that tears were no sign of weakness in either women or men. He took one of their discarded white shirts and gently took her chin in one hand and then dabbed lightly at the blood oozing from her nostrils.
“We’ll make them pay.” He whispered to her.
“And then make them pay more.” She replied with a pained grin, that showed off blood flecked teeth and gums.
He looked into her eyes and saw them clear and serious and her usual determination shining through.
The abrupt knock on the door made them all freeze. Following the moment of indecision, everyone silently leapt for guns, with the weapons of the four dead rapists to hand as well, there were more than enough to go around. The knock came for a second time and with a glance at Piszczek, Furman cleared his throat and in his best authoritarian German, asked what they wanted, trusting that his voice did not sound as shaken and nervous as he himself felt.
The door swung slowly open and in response six rifles and one submachine gun snapped rapidly upward, levelling on the door.
Brooks went over to Segen, keeping his voice low.
“Segen… I need to talk to you…” He started, trying to hold her eyes and not look down at the all too real distraction of her lush figure. “…Did you guys make a decision about what to do about this place?”
“Yeah, the Tommy’s are going to call in the bombers, level the whole place.”
He paused looking around. Segen waited patiently, recognising that he hadn’t got to his point yet. He sighed and then looked at her again, seeing his own reflection in her sky-blue eyes. They had a way of pulling the thoughts out of Brooks’ head, and he wasn’t the only one. Finally, he shook himself free of her glamour, blushing but holding her gaze with his.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are and how you can do the things you can do, but I’ve seen and heard about enough of your talents…”
She wanted him to cut to the chase and interrupted him, flashing a little smile at his compliments at the same time.
“You want to know if there’s anything I can do to help bring the others back here.” She said.
“Using your skills, I mean. Could you find them? Maybe help them to get back here without being spotted?”
“Possibly. It’s much more dangerous in here though.” She said. “There’s someone else here and he’s more dangerous that a whole battalion of German soldiers. If I use my… skills, as you call them, he could be alerted to our presence and come looking for us… My brother and I could take him, I’m sure of that, but I don’t think this building, or any of you, would survive…”
“Isn’t blowing the building the plan anyway? And… We’re soldiers. Getting killed on a mission is always the major risk for any soldier…”
“Me and Teufel are talking about splitting the team up anyway. We still have our artefact to recover, so having as many of us back here as possible will be a big help. Especially if the shit hits the fan.”
“And that’s already long overdue in my book.” Brooks said, grinning at her.
“Yeah, you’re probably right…” She turned and picked out her brother, who was talking to Shaw and Kahn. “Brother. I’m going to collect the others, see if I can get them back here in one piece.”
“Okay, sis. Watch your back. There’re still worms plus the big guy. Don’t let them spot you.”
“I know, bro. I know…” She said comically rolling her eyes.
And then, turned back to Brooks, blew him a mildly mocking kiss and winked at him.
“See you ‘around, doll!” She sang seductively.
And then almost more quickly than his eyes could follow, she skimmed across the floor and once again left the staging area room via one of the side doors. Foster, still cradling his ribs, hurried after her to the door and locked it again.
No one was too trigger-happy to open up on the short and decidedly curvy feminine body shape that was framed by the doorway during that initial moment before the light quality of the bedside lamplight in the room and the dull, wide-spaced corridor illumination behind balanced out. Segen stepped forward from near-silhouette to lamplit loveliness, with a smile and mocking hands-raised-in-surrender.
“Anyone call for an escort?” She smiled.
Ten minutes later, Segen and Teufel sat side by side on the main table of the staging area room. The others, Americans on the right and Poles on the left with the Brits between the two groups, everyone sitting on chairs and couches in a semicircle. Only Brooks and Clay weren’t part of the audience, maintaining the MG42’s, their eyes covering the two main doors while their ears were locked in to the meeting.
“They have twelve dead now.” Teufel began. “That’s too many missing people for them not to realise something’s going on.”
“That occurred to me too.” Kahn commented.
“It’s been confirmed that this place needs to go.” Teufel’s eyes locked with Shaw’s and the Older Brit nodded. “Whatever they have going on is real and it’s dangerous. More than any of you know. So, Segen and I are going to help you get it done.”
There were a few nods and smiles, a few questioning looks. Even a couple of shrugs. But the frowns and protests came next.
“We’re the professional soldiers here, boy. What the hell can a couple of Ni… A couple of kids do?” Salvatore grunted.
Teufel ignored him.
“So, to make sure this mission succeeds according to plan, we’ll be taking over. We’re changing the command structure and we’re splitting you all into two separate strike teams. Segen is taking half of you guys downstairs after our artefact, while I lead the rest of you to the radio room.”
“What the fuck is this!”
“This is fucking bullshit!”
“I ain’t takin’ orders from no Jap, Lieutenant!”
“I don’t know if I can advocate you taking charge, Teufel, as much as I respect your abilities.”
“There’s a devil in this place, a literal devil, at least from your point of view. It could and would kill you all as soon as look at you. None of you can deal with it. None of you are capable.” Teufel went on.
A second wave of interruptions exploded. And this time it was Segen who cut through them. She looked at Shaw and Kahn.
“That thing we saw in the theatre?” She said. “That place that opened up for a second, in that tear in reality… The one that looked like hell…? That’s where it’s from…”
“I don’t know what we saw down there… It could have been some kind of illusion…” Bodie suggested stubbornly.
“And yet you’re saying you two are capable of killing this so-called devil, two small children from halfway around the world?” Kahn said.
“Well, that’s kinda the rub. We’re not children. And were not from halfway around the world.” Segen said.
“We’re, in human terms, over three hundred years old…” Teufel added.
“Romeo and Juliet… Sekigahara and the Edo period… the Thirty Years War… The King James Bible… Good times…” Segen reminisced with a smile.
“Oh, and we’re not really from this world at all.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake…!” Carson huffed.
“So, what are you, angels? Men from mars?” Foster put in.
“We’re from… well… There are three worlds that occupy the same spacetime… erm… In your terminology… Er… Brother?”
“Never mind… I suppose I’ll just have to prove it to you.” Teufel sighed.
“How? If we use active powers that big bastard will be aware of us and come looking…”
“You just said you could take this so-called devil!”
“Sure, but you’d all die in the process…”
“Don’t worry… I can just change form… Long as I change back quickly, he shouldn’t pick up on it…”
Segen shrugged. Teufel climbed up onto the table and nonchalantly started to peel off his clothes.
For the men, other than Shaw, it was embarrassing to see him devoid of clothing. His more or less hairless skin was like sculpted marble, though a faint pale gold and utterly unblemished with a pronounced musculature that might have inspired Michaelanglo himself. The men carefully averted their eyes from what swung obscenely between his legs, though Kasia, Zofia and Shaw couldn’t help but stare at the thick shaft of his meat.
“Lucky bitch…” Kasia whispered to Zofia with a little nudge, that made Zofia smile through her blush.
Though the instant later the recent sour recollection of their own forced-experience bit down and the thought of sexual activity filled the both of them with a gut-churning discomfort, and the women averted their eye from Teufel’s cock.
“C’mon, brother. Stop showing off.” Segen chided him playfully.
“Hang on…” Teufel shut his eyes, though he was still smirking away.
For the next five-or six-seconds, Shaw thought he was witnessing some kind of Universal’s Wolfman transformation sequence, though nowhere near as static. The first change was in height and the extent of the boy’s musculature. He rose onto his tiptoes but as he did so his whole body seemed to grown and stretched vertically, muscles bunched and stretched and rippled, and with a mirage-like other-worldliness bulged, actually inflated until he had the physique of a Dave Asnis or a Charles Atlas.
His hair sprouted thick and wild and long like the mane of a lion. And it was a deep royal blue. From his left shoulder something pushed out from beneath the bulging flesh and muscle that took on the semblance of some kind of huge freakish animal skull. Bony protuberances emerged from the skull like horns and tusks, then curved back on themselves and pierced the flesh of his left pectoral and trapezius.
At the same time strips of skin up and down both arms and legs, and even parts of his now feral face peeled away to reveal a kind of leathery armour plate that grew forth from beneath his skin, resembling bandage-like wrappings the colour of dried blood. Like the hair on his head his pubic hair grew out long, thick and mane-like with the matching royal blue colouring. And from the rear of that loincloth-like groinal mane, a long and hairless prehensile tail grew out, flicking and serpentine. Again, like a lion, the tip of the tail sported a thick tuft of dark blue hair.
Extended sabretooth catlike talon claws grew from the tips of his fingers and toes, his ears grew outward, the tips pointed like those of a fairy-tail creature. His irises paled until only the pupils remained visible giving him a feral, monstrous look and the incisors grew forth, curved and pointed like those of a carnivorous predator.
Wolfman, was not a bad term to use to describe his monstrous new form - Shaw found himself thinking, he could have gone to Hollywood and made a fortune. Or a carnival and be stared at by horror-stricken patrons.
“You see? Not like you…” Segen said with a smile.
Zofia was shaking and in tears, Kasia physically recoiled, a hand to her mouth. The Americans had almost stumbled backward to a man. The male Poles were stock still, staring and bloodless. Bodie had a hand on his MP44 but hadn’t tried to raise the thing.
“I will be taking questions… I assume you have a few.” Teufel said, with a newly toothy grin.
Shaw stared at the thing that had been that lovely and amazing young man. Though struck by the monster’s appearance the fact that the voice, though feral and deeper and ragged, still maintained the exact same personality behind it, the same qualities of combined grace and cocky intelligence that he had as a human. And Shaw, on some level, recognised that this was still the same enticing young man, and not some psychotic monster of the Gothic Romance of Louis Stevenson, or Wellsian Scientific Romance. He remained Dr Jekyll even if contained within the physical monstrosity of Mister Hyde.
“Is… Is Teufel Von Himmel your real name?” He stammered the inane question, struggling to maintain an element of decorum in the face of the impossible.
“Amanojyaku… Or at least that’s as close as you can get with human speech.” He cocked his animalistic head toward Segen. “Amanomegumi…”
“Forgive me if I don’t change as well… Makes me horny…” The Jyujin girl added with a cheeky smile.

Jyaku’s reversion to his human form took a little longer though it was essentially the same process in reverse, things shrunk and vanished, new skin formed over armour plate and healed almost instantly. And, other than a little blood on his lips, fingers and toes; a slightly pained expression an enticing sheen of sweat, and finally a residual and eye-catching semi-hardon, the teenager was back to his ‘normal’ human appearance within thirty seconds.
Megumi sniffed the air for a few long minutes while the others composed themselves.
“No signs of O-Raijuki.” She said finally with a satisfied nod.
She had been keeping a close eye on Bodie and had been relieved that the hand on the gun hadn’t lifted the muzzle up from the ground. She hadn’t wanted to have to make things worse by dealing with him.
“That’s a relief.”
“Okay,” Kahn said, abruptly, surprising everyone. “How are you splitting the teams up?”
“So, what’s your real name again?” Brooks asked, once he had got her on her own for a moment.
“It’s not something humans can pronounce accurately. Amanomegumi is the closest you seem to be able to get, which is in Japanese… Megumi’s the name I’m most used to… Or you could carry on calling me Segen, I guess.”
“Megumi…” He repeated, trying it on. “Do you change form too?”
“Yeah, but I’m much prettier than my monstrous brother.” She said with a teasing smile. “Though I’m much stronger in that form than this one… If I screwed you in my beast form, you wouldn’t live very long.”
She laughed as he blushed.
“Don’t believe me? Wanna try…? I’d be more than happy to get on that big dick of yours again.”
“In the form you’re in now…? If I survive, maybe?” He offered, embarrassed yet serious.
“That’s a date!” She grinned, and then leaned close and give him an oddly chaste peck on the cheek.
His blush was fierce, smiling uncontrollably and hurried to change the subject.
“Who’s this devil you mentioned? What’s he doing here?”
“O-Raijuki. We don’t know why he’s here. But he’s helping that human professor.”
“Is he from your world?”
“No, there are three Realms, that all occupy the same space. Mine, this one, yours. And the demon Realm. Think of that as the Christian Hell if you like.”
Teufel stepped in for a moment, thrusting himself into their conversation.
“Your human professor has our artefact. It seems to be powering that mechanism down there, or at least is a vital component. So, if we get it back, we render the mechanism useless.”
“Right…” Brooks said, trying to absorb all this new information.
Ignoring Teufel, Brooks paused, silent but unable to take his eyes off the patiently waiting Jyujin girl.
“Megumi…?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad you picked me for your team, thank you.”
“Erm… Sure!”
Using Megumi’s nose to ensure they weren’t spotted, the conglomeration headed to the same set of backstairs they had used for their reconnaissance, and separated into the two strike teams there. Megumi’s team to head down and Jyaku’s up - as they had agreed with Shaw’s assertion that the radio room being in the attic was the most logical conclusion.
The choices were made in the staging area room and Shaw, once he’d come around to the new reality, remained in reasonable spirits throughout.
“It’s like being back at Eton, waiting to be picked for the cricket team.” He commented to whoever would listen, with an amused smile.
No one complained about what team they were picked to join, not even when friends and countrymen were separated. Only Zofia begged to swap with Kasia and in response Jyaku just gave an unconcerned shrug. So, they swapped, which lifted Bodie’s spirits too, even though he was on Jyaku’s team and Zofia no longer was.
Clay, Foster and Furman were to remain behind and hold the staging area which hopefully would double as their escape, or at least a defendable place to retreat to near to an exit. Foster, with his broken ribs was unable to go, and was happy to supply ammo and assist with the mounted machine guns. Clay was the most experienced with mounted guns so he was a logical choice to remain. And Furman, with his perfect use of German would be the first resort in trying to talk their way out of potential trouble. And if that didn’t work, he knew his way around an MG42 as well.
Jyaku led the way along with Bodie and Shaw who would be required to send the request for an air strike. They had the codes and the frequencies and the map reference details of the Schloss. Kahn and Salvatore of the Americans joined them along with the ever-dependable Clonek and now Kasia of the Polish fighters completed Jyaku’s strike team.
As well as Brooks, who no doubt would have volunteered if she hadn’t picked him, Megumi took along Carson who she still didn’t quite trust and Piszczek and Klich, who she did. And at the last minute Zofia, who’s request to swap teams had confused her. Still, the girl was a good fighter and she would support her countrymen effectively.
They descended the staircase quietly. Everyone carrying MP40’s or Sturmgewehrs and bayonets. They still wore uniforms, though some were now blood stained while Zofia’s was just the jacket trousers and boots. Along with her natural femininity and longer bob-cut hair, the jacket’s neckline was slightly low with the lapels crossing beneath the line of her clavicles and the top button in line with her breast bone. It left an eye-catching and tell-tale dart of flesh exposed. Any more than the vaguest of glances in their direction and anyone would see through the disguise at once.
Obviously, Megumi was still wearing her leather pants, white blouse and sheep skin collared leather jacket and stood out like a sore thumb, however somehow she always seemed to manage to conceal herself in shadows and stay out of the line of sight of just about everyone, even her comrades half the time, and they were right behind her. It was a strange skill, as though she wore the shadows like a shroud.
For Megumi, the descent mirrored their ascent to the upper section of the cylindrical theatre. And before long she had led them to a semi-circular corridor with evenly spaced doors leading to first floor theatre boxes. The lighting was bright from the stairs to the midway point of the corridor and terminated at one of the box entrances. This particular door had been carefully decorated with crimson banners on each side of the box entrance. And, of course, each banner bore the swastika emblem in its centre. There was also a plain crimson banner above the door, gathered and lifted in the centre and fronted by a polished, though dull, iron-forged eagle. The life size bird effigy featured lightning bolts gripped in its talons and its wings fully spread. This particular theatre box was obviously a carefully chosen placement for someone, probably some kind of visiting dignitary.
As they passed this specially decorated box, the ceiling hung electric bulb lighting along the remainder of the corridor dimmed significantly and sported only two thirds as many lit bulbs, as though the remainder of the corridor and the other boxes were unimportant.
The group moved on toward the stone stairs at the far end of the corridor.
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.