Patreon Compilation – Fic#125 – Shane/Shadow Brute – Monster fucc – Deep in the Caves (Patreon)

Shane/Shadow Brute – Originally, Shane wanted to go get some cave carrots. Things very quickly derail because he's a drunk mess as usual.

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Sometimes, when Shane is the right kind of drunk, he gets cravings that just have to be sated. The ‘right kind of drunk’ means that he is still able to walk without running straight into a wall and it’s early enough that he doesn’t know whether Marnie is still awake, so he needs to wait a few hours before sneaking his drunk ass home.

This time it is an undeniable craving for fresh roasted cave carrots. That’s not too bad; he can just dip his toes into the upper parts of the mine and get himself some from one of the harmless critters bopping around in there.

The elevator is working again thanks to the nearby farmer, so he doesn’t even have to try and climb the ladder which would undoubtedly result in him slipping and breaking his goddamn neck. The night is nice and warm and the moon bright enough to easily see his surroundings as he makes his unsteady – but straight – way to the mines.

It is perfect.

There’s a last bottle of beer clutched in his hand from which he takes a swig as he blindly paws at the elevator buttons, waiting for the doors to smoothly slide shut. He blinks slowly, thinking about just maybe… taking a nap inside the elevator. His limbs are pretty heavy now that he thinks about it…

The ding startles him awake, the doors open, and Shane stumbles out into darkness. Hmm that’s… weird… it’s usually pretty bright in the upper parts of the mines. He scratches the back of his head, eyes twitching toward a movement in the darkness. The surroundings are black, but he feels like somewhere in the darkness is something even blacker. He blinks slowly, trying to focus. He’s never been afraid of the dark.

God, shit, but he suddenly needs to piss. Shane gingerly puts his beer down, and because he’s a little too drunk to trust himself not to piss on his own pants, he awkwardly opens them and pulls them down to his ankles. In his head it makes sense.

He startles a little when the fingers close around his arms, but not as hard as he probably should have. He stares down at them, feeling himself gently get pulled back against a body. The fingers don’t really feel like normal fingers and the body doesn’t really feel like a normal body, but he can’t come up with any other fancy words.

There’s neither heat nor cold radiating off of what is pressing up to his back. He can’t feel the chest moving with breath. He can’t feel anything that would say that the thing behind him is actually alive other than it moving and rubbing what feels like a big smooth cock through the crack of his ass.

“Oh…? O-ok?” he mumbles, brain trying to come up with why this is a bad thing to happen but flatlining when he is gently but firmly maneuvered around.

He’s never seen a Shadow Brute, but he remembers vividly Marlon’s descriptions throughout the years. The thing in front of him as he is turned around and pushed against the wall looks more like the… non-existence of light than anything else. Just a shadow that is somehow moving on its own.

Despite its name, the Brute is surprisingly gentle, though no-nonsense about anything. When Shane doesn’t move fast enough, or mildly struggles, he doesn’t punish him but just goes silently about his way moving the human’s limbs just the way he needs to slot the pitchblack bar of his cock underneath Shane’s soft junk and against the furl of his hole.

There are no real facial features, though the longer Shane stares, the more he thinks he can make out the sharp jut of a nose and the outline of lips. He can’t tell if that is just his drunk brain trying to put some humanity to something that isn’t human.

In the darkness beyond the Brute, more shadows are starting to move. They approach them calmly but steadily as if zoning in on the two of them. Zoning in on Shane. His heart begins to beat faster, limbs uncoordinated as he tries to push the first Brute away despite it being in the middle of spearing him… oh… oh…

There’s a cock in Shane’s guts. He doesn’t know how it got there; he can’t remember being stretched or using any lube, but it is there, spreading him open and rubbing against the spongy walls of his insides. Oh…

Other Brutes are on them now, pressing in to either side. Shane had thought it was dark down here, but with the Brutes all around him, he begins to understand what real darkness is.

They’re not completely noiseless, he realizes as they start to communicate with each other. Their low grunts have his skin pebbling and his insides quiver both with fear and the kind of excitement that get stupid fucks like him killed.

His drunk brain tries to figure out what they might be saying to each other. Are they figuring out in which order they are going to fuck the human that has stumbled down here? Or are they… are they dirty talking him? Calling him a nasty whore and a dumb cumdumpster?

God, fuck… maybe they are. Maybe they really are. They sure as Hell are not aggressive, at the very least. They keep him pinned, their shapes sucking all the light out that might have still been lingering down here in the caves. It’s so dark that he finds himself wondering if he even still exists, which is… really weird.

Shane’s legs lift. He doesn’t know if it is just the Brute fucking him or the other two helping their buddy out; but soon enough he is suspended seemingly in mid air, his legs splayed like a whore while personified darkness is deep fucking him and seemingly trying to slide right into his fucking belly.

Vertigo hits him. He feels like the world is tilting at an axis but without any real point to verify it, it gets only worse. A groan slowly crawls its way out of him: “Oh God…”

He tries to flail but hands neither cool nor hot grab him and hold him nice and secure while the third Brute unhurriedly fucks him.

He remembers the old guy from the Adventure Guild talking about their ferociousness and the unrelenting way they stalk their prey, but he can’t remember if he ever said anything about their mating habits.

Do they lay eggs? Do they split in half? Do they fuck a bucket load of cum into a willing receptacle and wait for their offspring to slip out of a swollen hole while the host was grunting through it all?

Fuck… oh fuck oh shit, that thought gets him hot. His insides spasm, squeezing down on the column of shadow cock inside him. It’s like getting fucked by a marble pillar; smooth and completely unyielding as it pushes into him and forces his intestines to straighten out for it.

He doesn’t know if it is just his drunk fucking brain or the fact that he loves his chicken so much, but the thought of running around with a Shadow Brute spawn growing inside him and eventually forcing him to give birth to it… kinda does things to him.

Or would they even let him go? Is he… is he trapped down here, forced to be a glorified cumsock for these monsters? Maybe they will want to keep him here to have a warm, slutty hole to fuck into…

Shane groans again. He shakes his head, struggling like a fish on land.

He can’t pull himself away. For shadow beings they are stupidly strong, holding him just the way they want until finally the first one begins to pump him full with the hot slimy mess that they call cum.

Shane’s cock is a fat line along the crease of one of his legs. He can’t believe the stupid thing would still be this goddamn hard when he is having a drunk panic attack as he is getting raped by Shadow Brutes.

Only that it doesn’t feel like rape. It really, really doesn’t. Even when the second takes up the space of the first, sliding into him without a sound, he only feels himself wanting to beg them to let him come. Wanting to promise them to be a good little cumdump that sucks their shadow dicks and pops out their little babies as long as they let him come.

Let’s be real – it’s not like he has any other goddamn purpose in his miserable life full of living at his aunt’s house and stacking shelves at Joja.

Maybe he really is just good for being a brainless bimbo salivating for cock…

The Brutes close in on him, suspending him into endless blackness with only a stone wall at his back and a cock in his ass to keep him somewhat grounded in reality.

His brain feels so overworked and swollen from his need to come that he doesn’t even notice when he passes out sometime during the third round.

It’s just him whining and sobbing and being generally a big baby… before he suddenly wakes up in the cool grass just outside the mine’s entrance, clothes soaking through with dew and pants around his ankles. His cock is lying against his thigh, soft and pink.

There are no Brutes to be seen anywhere. Had they brought him out here? Or maybe he had just dreamed the whole thing while lying in the dirt, drunk as fuck and jerking off as he cried.

He sits up with a groan, arm immediately coming to his belly to hold his gut as his new position involuntarily has something slimy squirting from his ass.

He stares at the puddle between his thighs; something clear with pitch black specs in it. It’s kinda pretty to be honest…

“Oh…”