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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
- 15
- 16
- 17
Chapter 15.
Jyaku’s team emerged from the top of the staircase and found themselves halfway along an east-west corridor that ran parallel with a large hall opposite them, that had probably been a ball room or meeting room originally. It appeared to have been adapted into a store room and was filled with crates and boxes of equipment in neat stacks with wide spaces in between each one. And there were numerous men inside, all uniformed with rifles slung to their backs, but they seemed to be too involved with taking inventory to notice the newcomers.
Jyaku slipped past the open double doors in utter silence and completely unnoticed, while the others, while they were all in uniform - though Kasia was missing her undershirt and a number of the others were tainted with blood stains - chose to march past as though they were meant to be there. The ruse worked and the strike team made it to the end of the corridor without being spotted or stopped.
The blueprints had revealed a spiral staircase halfway along the western annex that led to the attic and they were heading for it using the most direct route they could. According to the diagram there was one chamber at the end of the corridor with a chamber to its right and another chamber beyond the first which lead to one of the main anterooms. And to the right of that, opposite the entrance to the large anteroom, was the spiral staircase to the attic.
Of course, what the blueprints didn’t reveal was that the first chamber had been co-opted as a recreation room for soldiers and the room to its immediate right was a large barracks.
Jyaku listened at the door, heard a bustle of noise, looked around for some way of skirting around the room rather than going through it, and then found the door suddenly and unexpectedly swung open right in his face.
There was a moment of mutual shock. A strange Oriental boy up on the third floor of the Schloss with a number of men wearing bloody and ill-fitting uniforms standing behind him, looking equally shocked.
There was a quick suspicious exchange between the surprised German soldier and Clonek who immediately stepped in with German responses to the enquiries. And the Pole had almost managed to talk their way out of trouble when a Captain appeared behind the other man, wanting to know what was going on. His suspicions were harder to alleviate and he started to ask for each man’s individual name and unit, why their uniforms were so filthy, why they had such an unusual prisoner and who was he being taken to.
The answers weren’t forthcoming quickly enough, suspicion turned to anger. And then he spotted Kasia, recognising her as a woman at once, of course. Even as he started shouting, the Captain went for the holstered pistol at his waist so Jyaku leaped forward and headbutted the officer square in the nose. The man hit the floor with a gushing spurt of crimson, with half of his face now concave. It didn’t look like he was going to be getting up anytime soon.
Jyaku, Clonek and Salvatore immediately burst forward through the door and into the room beyond, Jyaku leaping up into the shadows of the high ceiling with its ancient stone and wooden supports, while the Pole and the American each threw themselves toward the opposite sides of the door bringing their assault rifles to bear.
Kahn, Bodie and Kasia followed the men inside, right on their heels, their own weapons levelled while they themselves kept low and moved into what little cover they could see, which was essentially wooden tables and chairs. Though Kasia managed to drag herself into a corner alongside a well-made heavy-duty chest of drawers which gave her slightly more cover and concealability than the others.
Almost at once Kasia’s barely suppressed rage boiled over and she shot three Germans dead with a single continual spray of her MP40, emptying the 32-round magazine in one burst and having to reload immediately. She glanced across at Clonek, her swollen, darkening eyes catching his and showing a look of embarrassment. In return he smiled and held up three fingers to remind her of her kill count. She shrugged as she worked the cocking handle, readying herself for more.
Kasia’s extended burst threw the Germans into a frightened and therefore enraged counter assault, and more and more came from the barracks to back up the few in the recreation room. Playing cards, dice, cash, beer bottles and metal tea cups littered the floor.
Having taken advantage of the few seconds’ lull in the fighting, Salvatore and Bodie, who had taken cover side by side overturned their table and crouched behind it while Salvatore had also dragged a wooden chair over to the side to hopefully soak up a few extra bullets.
Shaw was commando-crawling around the edge of the room, using bodies and an over-turned chair to protect him as he attempted to move closer to the open door to the barracks room.
Clonek was on the ground using a couple of chairs too, one of them over turned the other upright and had dragged the body of the headbutted Corporal over to him as another bullet sponge. Having finished him off with a bayonet between the ribs.
Kahn had backed up to the entrance door, using the stone wall and the wood of the doorframe as cover. He was also having to keep an eye on the long corridor behind him, and had already had to fire a couple of short bursts back up there as the gunfire had alerted the men from the storage room, and now they were trying to advance on them as well.
No one was certain what had happened to Jyaku. The kid seemed to have vanished and they were all too intent on ensuring their own continual survival to spare him much thought.
There were three Germans on the far corner to the immediate left of the barracks doorway, in cover behind their own over-turned table, who were firing back sporadically. It became immediately apparent just how little cover the tables and chairs afforded them. The 8 and 9mm rounds cut straight through the wood to zing noisily off the stone walls behind them. They also tore large chunks of razor-sharp wooden shrapnel in their wake, which sprayed all over the place. And just about everyone felt cruel stings of wooden splinters dicing their flesh at random places. Even if they weren’t getting shot, they were still getting hurt, cut and bloodied.
Salvatore, shouldering his Sturmgewehr, managed to kill one of the Germans in the room and wound a second, who had tried to crawl in through the doorway from the barracks to the recreation room.
Shaw took a bullet through the meat of his upper arm, but he was able to carry on and he managed to put himself behind the open door to the barracks, giving himself a better angle on the two surviving Germans in the corner of the recreation room. He managed to hammer one of them with bullets but his companion countered and put a bullet through Shaw’s leg.
Clonek gathered himself to rush the corner position, but from nowhere Jyaku appeared, dropping down from somewhere above and slamming into the third German with a pile-driving elbow that cracked the German’s skull apart like an egg shell. Jyaku bounced back, landing on his feet and shaking gore from the elbow on his white shirt.
He cocked his head toward Clonek who slipped in behind the German’s overturned table himself taking up position on the other side of the barracks entrance and he and Shaw, who was having to drag himself, managed to put together a crossfire on the barracks room. And keep those inside from rushing the recreation room.
Kahn gave a yell and Salvatore ran over to help as more men from the storeroom were advancing up the corridor, and Kahn was struggling to slow their ascent with rifle-fire. Salvatore took the other side of the doorway and dropped to a kneeling position. He was closely followed by Bodie, also sporting a Sturmgewehr, who stood behind, aiming over the American’s head. Kasia, not wanting to lose the cover of her chest of drawers, put all her strength into her back and shoulders, pushing against the ancient wooden floorboards and shoved it across the floor until she had a clear view into the barracks room, while still crouching behind it. From there she could back up Shaw and Clonek’s rifles with her submachine gun.
No one in the barracks room dared come into a line of sight of the recreation room for fear of getting caught in the obviously set up crossfire and Kasia’s straight on trajectory too.
However, someone from the barracks decided to throw a stick grenade at them instead.
No one was in a position to do anything in time, Clonek and Shaw’s flanks were entirely open to the explosive device and Kasia watched it spinning end over end through the air, straight towards her, swollen eyes as wide as they would go and her mouth agape in mute horror.
Jyaku again appeared, faster than anyone thought possible. He caught the grenade, literally scooping it out of the air and then tossed it underarm back where it came from. It had just passed the threshold of the barracks when it detonated, and Kasia felt the intensity of the blast wave and streaks of red hot shrapnel blow past her, the blast wave caught and stole her scream, though somehow none of the shrapnel hit her directly, Afterwards, she would discover a deep tear through the sleeve of her jacket, which would leave her quietly marvelling. Ears ringing and eyes aflame with dust and dryness irritation from the explosive, Shaw and Clonek both caught the most fleeting of glimpses of Jyaku erupting into the dust cloud that filled the doorway, vanishing alone into the barracks room.
There were snarls and screams from beyond and gouts of blood bursting back at them from the dust cloud, as well as hints of movement within and beyond it. Then a severed forearm and hand, fingers still gripping an assault rifle, came sailing through the doorway and skidded to a halt on the bullet riddled floor of the recreational room. The rifle had a smashed wooden stock and a barrel that was bent and twisted and flattened to a shocking degree.
Then there were flashes of light sometimes red, sometimes amber, sometimes pure white, like lightning bolts through rain. The light weirdly refracted within the dust cloud, which seemed to be suspended in the air of the barracks room, as though time itself was standing still.
Silence followed. And then Jyaku emerged from the dust cloud as it was dissipating. His shirt was torn and blood streaked, and there were two bullet holes in the meat of his left shoulder and bicep, with trials of blood travelling down his arm and another trickle from his right temple that painted a veritable waterfall of blood down the side of his face and throat. However, he didn’t even look pained, never mind wounded.
He was carrying four stick grenades, two in each hand. And he walked over to the entrance of the corridor that Kahn, Salvatore and Bodie were having an increasingly hard time defending. The numbers of Germans trying to fight their way along the passageway seemed to be ever-increasing.
“This is taking too long!” Jyaku shouted.
He pulled Salvatore to his feet and then shoved him back, repeated the move on Bodie and then cocked his head at Kahn to retreat as he hefted the grenades.
“Carry on forward. I’ll buy us some time.” He growled. “Get a move on!”
And then he unscrewed the end caps and pulled the cord of each stick grenade before lobbing them under arm, two at a time, down the long passageway.
By the time the grenades went off, the others - Clonek and Bodie helping the wounded Shaw, were already through the door on the far side of the recreational room. Jyaku stood in the doorway long enough to see the resulting devastation painting the walls, floor and ceiling and then turned on his heel and followed the rest of his strike team.
<><><>
Megumi was growing increasingly concerned. She had smelled the flavour of her brother using his active powers somewhere upstairs. And there was a chance if she could detect it then the Makai O-Raijuki could as well.
‘Passive’ abilities - speed, strength, agility, reactions and senses were one thing and usually didn’t give off any kind of sensory telegraph. But the ‘active’ powers like plasma development and manipulation, flight, phasing, and the use of body energies, especially the sexual ones, always left a trail to those sensitive enough to recognise it. The Jyujin were easily the most sensitive, though many higher-ranking Makai also had the ability.
The descent to the lowest subterranean level of the theatre had so far been reasonably straight forward. There had been a few guards here and there, pairs of men in uniform looking bored and always hardly showing any awareness. Megumi took them out with her three hundred years of empty-hand martial skills which, combined with her preternatural reactions, strength and agility allowed her to deal with pairs of men quickly and quietly without raising any alarms. The only tricky part had been hiding the bodies. Still, they made it to the bottom of the structure without having raised any attention.
“What’s that Chinese boxing thing you do?” Brooks asked her as he helped drag two bodies into a fortunately discovered toilet.
“It’s a Japanese fighting style. They just call it ‘Ju’. Means flexibility. I’ve combined it with a little ‘Wushu’, that’s Chinese boxing as you call it.”
“You’re really good. I did a little boxing back home but it wasn’t really my thing.”
Megumi didn’t reply, they pushed the bodies up next to the others they had deposited there, not really able to hide them anymore. On their way to the door she considered having a go at crushing the door handle to stop anyone getting inside and finding the bodies.
Instead, as it was getting too hot down in the depths, she took off her leather jacket and with a little lopsided grin, hung the quality brown leather garment on the toilet’s door handle and moved on.
“Any clues on this artefact of yours?” Brooks asked.
He was trying hard not to stare at the way the beast-girl’s immaculate breasts were almost visible through the sweat dampened silk of her blouse, or how they bounced enticingly to the off-beat of her nimble steps.
“It’s down here. I can smell it, just up ahead. But I can smell Makai too. It’d make sense that they’d be guarding it.”
“Makai?”
She glanced across at him, his lush dark skin taking on a lovely coppery glow in the meagre light.
“Devils.”
They came back to the others who were spread out on either side of the corridor, guns levelled, watching for the enemy. This place seemed to have been blasted out of solid rock and then smoothed out with concrete. More strings of electric bulbs were suspended at intervals from hooks hammered into the uneven ceiling, weak pools of dull dirty orange light fighting against the all-consuming the pitch blackness.
“Not much further boys and girl.” She said lightly, amused at the disgruntled look from Carson and the bemusement she received from Piszczek and Zofia.
Her happy and often childishly amused attitude often confused people. Especially in the middle of a war like this one, but she found this kind of existence liberating and eminently exciting. Some people even got annoyed that she didn’t seem to be taking the constant horror and terror of their circumstances seriously enough. Which made her even more amused.
She led them on around a corner to another long corridor just like this one. A dozen rooms spread out on both sides. They were obviously cells sporting heavy metal doors. The demon scent was stronger here. Megumi could almost see the trail visibly, imagining a wispy line like coloured smoke leading to a larger room at the end of the corridor.
They advanced. Though they hadn’t taken three paces along the corridor when, from the gloom two more guards appeared. They were marching in tandem along the corridor chatting to each other and so far, hadn’t seen the strike team.
Megumi launched herself forward at breakneck speed, hooking the first guard around the throat with the crook of the elbow and sweeping herself around in a circle while her other hand drove a ridge-hand strike into the base of the other man’s skull, both necks snapping cleanly in one singular spinning movement.
“Goddamn, one girl slaughterhouse!” Carson whispered.
“Now you see why trying to have her executed was a bad idea?” Zofia remarked to the American Sergeant.
Carson gave a semiconscious nod as he stared at the aftermath of her handiwork, and then at Megumi as she returned to their little group.
“Don’t know why she wanted us along, we haven’t lifted a finger so far…” He added to no one in particular.
She ignored him.
“Okay team, we’re not dragging these two anywhere, I’m sick of doing that. I’m pretty sure the artefact is at the end of this corridor. And it’s under guard by devils. Your guns should deal with the lesser ones, sooner or later.”
“Are we talking cloven hoofs and horns, Segen?” Piszczek asked in all seriousness. “Sorry, Megumi.”
“No, they’ll all appear human.”
“So how do you know they are devils?” Carson asked, a hint of accusation colouring his tone.
“When they don’t go do after shooting them in the face.” She replied, slightly misunderstanding him.
“You just said guns would work on them!”
“Sooner or later…” She said almost petulantly, matching Carson’s usual derision.
“Oh, one more thing. I can’t get too close to the artefact ‘cause it’ll cancel out my powers. And the devils can’t touch it either. But it’s fine for you Humans. So, I’ll try and draw the big guy away while you deal with the others, then one of you make a grab for the artefact and run, straight back to the room with the machine guns, don’t stop for anyone. Got it?”
“You mean the staging area?” Klich asked, trying not to smile.
“Yeah, that one.”
She did a little double take and stared at Klich for a second.
“I thought you were the quiet one?” She said, deadpan.
He grinned at her. She turned to the others.
“Got it?”
As a group they gave their affirmatives and the team started their advance again.
<><><>
Greta sat on the wall-mounted ceramic sink in her stuffy uncomfortable cell, with the tap running. She was trying her best to wash and soothe her swollen, sore vagina and anus as best she could.
It had been a number of hours since she had last been made to satisfy a couple of the officers, and from prior experience, she felt it was too long a duration between visits. Not that she minded. All she had wanted, second to her freedom, was to be left alone. Imprisoned but left in peace was a step up from imprisoned and gang raped every few hours.
However, the lack of visits from the officers added weight to the feeling that she had been having that something was going on. She could sense it in the air somehow, firstly in the moods of the officers who until recently had continued to pay her their ‘comfort visits’. The last time there had been a mood - a darkness, a nervousness in their demeanours which had come across in the aggressive and mean tempered manner of their raping.
And then there were the snippets of conversation caught from the two guards strolling up and down the corridor, patrolling. She felt it almost strange that for all the marching up and down and chatting the two soldiers got through, neither of them spent much time peering in through the door slots and perving on the captive girls. Surely the men were down here, alone for hours on end. So what would stop them from looking in or even poking their cocks through the slot and demanding a blow job or a pair of buttocks pressed up against the slot that they could rape to pass the time. What were the captives going to say? No?
She shook away the mindless distraction of her thoughts. Turning off the tap, she went and sat down on the lower corner of the thin mattress to try and dry off her partially soothed genitals. And while she sat there rocking her hips idly from side to side, she tried to piece together the snippets she had heard from the men.
It had become obvious that some kind of important person was coming and there were lots of preparations underway that was keeping everyone busy. It occurred to Greta that it could be the reason for the delay in the usual loathsome visits to her cell, and those of Milena and Frau Marquand and Frau Huber, of course. It made sense.
Then there had been talk of an experiment, though from the hushed and reticent way the guards talked about it, it felt more like a ceremony, like some sacred meaningful church ceremony or something. That made less sense. Unless it was some kind of weird cult?
And then there were the strange and unfathomable things that doctor made them do. The measurements of her arms and legs, waist and torso and throat. And taking blood samples over and over again. What was all that about? She had thought at first, they were testing her for sexually transmitted diseases, between bouts of gangrape. Which was insufferable in itself. If she was infected with anything like that, she would have got it from the soldiers. She certainly wouldn’t have been to blame. Why wasn’t he checking them rather than her? That didn’t make sense at all.
She had tried to dismiss the sexual disease angle and rack her brains for alternate ideas. Blood transfusions? Or something experimental? She had half overheard muffled attempts by the two older women to beg and enquire information from the doctor or professor or whatever he was, but he refused to address them in any way. They were all just specimens to him. At least that had always been Greta’s impression.
Reminded of the two guards on their patrol, Greta heard their boots on the concrete outside and squatted down with her ear to her cell door, hoping to catch some new piece of information from them. They were murmuring and it was getting louder as they closed in on her cell.
However, she heard a series of strange sounds that she didn’t understand - a whoosh that overlapped an odd dry crack, another followed immediately afterwards and a sort of low sighing noise. Finally, she detected a heavy a crumpling sound as though of something heavy falling to the floor. Frowning she listened more intently still, straining her ears. She could hear whispers, and the sounds of the approach of more people. But something about the whispers didn’t sound right. It took her a while to realise they weren’t speaking German at all. It might have been English, but it was too indistinct to be certain. Still, it felt out of place.
She shuffled back to her bed, staring at the covered food slot, praying for it was swing down to give her something to see and understand what she had heard. Though she daren’t bang on the door. She might have had it all wrong and inviting attention was the last thing she wanted to do. So, she sat and stared and she prayed. For something to happen. Anything that would put an end to this incarcerated rape-torture.
<><><>
Megumi’s nose led her straight to the rear most chamber on the left side of the corridor. The stink of Makai was as ripe as it was sickly sweet. The men and Zofia stacked up on the left and right of the door while Megumi faced it head on. Skipping forward and gathering her power, she used a combined hammer fist and simultaneous low kick where she estimated the hinges would be located. She struck so hard that the hinges shattered instantly and the door flew back into the room beyond, spinning away.
The room beyond was essentially a harem, or at least a German assumption of what a harem would look like, there were piles of pillows and cushions all over the place, translucent drapes suspended from the ceiling partially concealed the rough cave-like walls and made the chamber seem labyrinthine.
In the centre of the chamber was a kind of throne of cushions on which sat O-Raijuki. Of course, he was surrounded by and engaged with multiple naked girls and women. There were other small groups of humans, in twos and threes dotted around, all naked. Many of them were more or less silhouetted by the translucent drapes and most of these individuals were also female, though Megumi could smell four males in amongst the others. She could also determine that apart from the distinct aroma of O-Raijuki, there were ten other Makai in the room within the bodies of the humans. Most of the worms, maybe all of them.
Of course, the place was an active orgy. The stink of sex wafted over Megumi, almost capturing her and overcoming her, but she railed back and spat and then casting a silent look at the others to hold their positions, she entered the orgy chamber.
“A new member of my harem? Did Munhihausen send you?” O-Raijuki said in plain German.
Megumi didn’t respond at first. His voice was deep, guttural and rumbling, with a hint of familiarity to it.
“…You don’t appear to be from around these parts…” He said, eyeing her a little more carefully.
Megumi glanced at him, remaining silent, then she took a long look around at the other occupants of the chamber who all appeared to be ignoring her arrival, instead favouring the pleasuring of their partners.
The worm-possessed, four males and six females, were all embodying the flesh of Germans. Of the others, exclusively female, there were the scents of Germans, French, Poles and Belgians. The worm-possessed males, very much like the Priest from Wulfendorf, were having their cocks sucked, licked and caressed by as many as three female mouths each, or being ridden on while testicles were sucked or caressed, breasts or tongues fed to worm-possessed mouths. The men were lounging around pliant, like Roman nobles, their pleasures being attended to by numerous women and girls while they did as little as possible.
The six worm-possessed females were much the same, there were women with leather strap-on phalluses driving into them pleasuring the worm-possessed, or with their mouths engaged with pussy or ass or both, sucking nipples, French kissing, often multiple actions at once.
O-Raijuki was being tended to in the same manner. Which must have been the reason why he hadn’t caught the tell-tale scent of Jyaku’s active powers in use somewhere up above them. Lucky for him.
There were seven young teenagers caressing his vast body. One kneeling beside his head who’s only apparently duty was to feed either her face or either or both of her humungous breasts to his mouth. When Megumi had first locked her eyes on the Makai noble, his unnaturally large and distended jaw was at full stetch and had enveloped the girl’s head completely in a kind of ultimate French kiss. A large hand on her upper back and nape of her neck to keep her locked in place. Drool was literally trickling down her torso from his full, slobbering mouth. He released her as his eyes found Megumi, and the kissed teenager railed backwards desperately, gasping for breath and as soaked to the skin as if she’d had her head in a bucket of water. Or slime.
In that same moment Megumi caught an unsurprising glimpse of what the girl was suffering from the Makai’s kiss. There was a half second glimpse of his tongue, separated into a score of sucker tipped tendrils withdrawing from almost every orifice her head had to offer. The tendrils that emerged from her open mouth were plaited into a fat and over long phallic shape, though other smaller tentacles, still in multiples, removed themselves from her ears and nostrils as well. More, larger ones, were wrapped around her skull and entangled in her matted dark blonde hair. They appeared, of their own accord, to be reticent to release their grip of her.
Of the other teenagers, two were leaning over his chest sucking on nipples that were almost the thickness of the average human erection, and maybe four inches in length. The final four were congregated around his genitals - two anointing his tennis-ball size testicles with their tongues, saliva, lips and suction - while the other two ran their lips and tongues up and down the sides of an erection that was realistically too large for any of them to accommodate with anything less than serious physical injury. The thing was ten or eleven inches long but its circumference was almost that of a mortar shell. And its general shape was not a long way from that same parallel. With a pronounced bulge a third of the way from the mushroom crown, the crown sporting a double ridge and additional bulbous growths that thickened and widened it further still. It tapered a little toward the base but then there was a canine style knot at the very root.
It might be fun for Megumi to be on the end of, and she recognised she was salivating as she caressed its loveliness with her gaze, but she couldn’t anticipate any human female enjoying being on the receiving end of such a beastly weapon.
She tore her eyes away from the hunger-inducing demon cock and searched around further, beyond the humans and demons and the cushions and gossamer drapes, until she spotted what she was after against the rear wall. A small shelf cut in the wall of rock, as though someone had punched a deep indentation around foot’s circumference, into the rock. Inside the little cave-hole-thing was the artefact.
And her smile widened a little further. Now came the fun part.
“Well… Strip those clothes off and come closer, child.”
There was a back-of-the-throat reverberation to O-Raijuki’s grumbling bass, it reminded Megumi of a motorcycle passing through a tunnel.
“You look particularly engaging from over there, but I want to get a better look at you.” He added.
Eyeing him, she couldn’t help but toss him a lopsided smile. And then started to strip off her clothing as ordered. No point in getting it ruined.
- 15
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- 17
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Urotsukidoji - Overfiend ‘44: The Hell Portal.