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Jotunn [Devouring Fiction]

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  • Jotunn [Devouring Fiction]

    Alright, so I had an idea, as I've been lurking on the Spacebattles forums for a while now, about a fic where Taylor Hebert (from the web serial Worm) is Devoured as a Beast, an Anakim Tyrant, specifically. So I wrote out a beginning, and then it occurred to me that what I'd written would be a passable Devouring for anyone (or at least I thought so) so I'm posting it here. Enjoy.

    Taylor Hebert lay in the hospital bed. The rhythmic beep...beep...beep… of the heart monitor hooked up to her arm filled her head, jostling for space with the muted grumble of the engines of the cars below her window and the squeaking of an orderly pushing a trolley past the entrance to the ward.

    The clock on the wall above the door declared the time to be three o’clock, but Taylor still could not sleep. The feeling of bugs crawling over, under and into her skin lingered. She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to dream that, to feel it all over again. Eventually, though, her eyes became heavy and the metronomic heart monitor slowed as her breathing evened and sleep dragged her down into its soft, black arms.

    It was a dream she had had before, ever since she was little and she had crawled into her parents’ bed to seek comfort. A barren landscape of grey boulders and blue ice, broken by the crumbling and decrepit remains of a stronghold whose dark towers, though broken, stretched into the air and brushed the clouds. Stormwinds ripped and tore at her and her clothing while the bitter cold and the jagged shards of ice borne on the gale bit and nipped at her skin. She had struggled forwards, as she always had, through the vast gate of the broken castle, seeking shelter from the storm.

    The winds howled just as strongly down the corridors, though, and even the barren and empty rooms she hid in were no respite. She stumbled along, her hands and feet becoming ever colder and more numb until, like always, she fell through a pair of frost-rimed bronze doors four times her height and into a throne room.

    The hall was lined with pillars of black stone and filled with benches, upon which sat frozen corpses at a meal of frozen food. All of them had her hair, the hair she pried herself on, frosted with white crystals. The winds whipped in through the high windows that lined the sides of the hall, whistling between encrusted ice and sharp-edged stone. Icicles like lances hung from the ceiling, making pillars of their own, and at the far end of the hall was a throne whose back reached up in jagged spires thrice as tall as she was. It was the occupant of the throne, though, that drew her eyes.

    A giantess, pale of skin and black of hair, her eyes like twin chips of ice. Across her lap lay a sword, a zweihander as tall as two men, and she wore only a fur loincloth and a wrapping around her breast. For all that, though, there was a power in her, a strength and beauty and elemental might in the lines of her muscles and her face that screamed other. At once, she attracted with a near-physical gravity and repulsed with a nameless terror of sheer, visceral power.

    Recently, the giantess had begun to wear Sophia Hess’ face, with Emma Barnes’ body.

    Taylor drew in a breath, painful with cold in her lungs, and stepped forwards, unconsciously, as she always did.

    And, as she always did, the giantess stood up, and up and up and up, until she loomed over the teenager, seeming miles taller. She stepped forwards in her turn, her massive bare and pale feet thundering against the ground and overturning the tables, flinging frozen corpses this way and that.

    Always before, Taylor had screamed and fled, running though the warren of the fortress, the giantess’ feet thundering behind her until, finally, she collapsed of exhaustion and lay there, frozen and helpless as the giant queen picked her up and set her, like a doll, at her icy table. Then she would return to sit on her throne, laughing like thunder and the winter wind at the poor, poor mortal’s fear.

    This time, though, Taylor had had enough.

    It was mad, insane, pointless, but she threw herself forwards, hearing the rime which had collected on her shoes shatter as she charged towards the giantess. She yelled incoherently, tears of hate and anger freezing on her cheeks as, for once, she struck out at all that she hated and hated her. Her feet beat against the floor, scattering corpses and tables in her mad rush and she beat against the giantess’ legs. Fists punched and broke and kept on beating, legs kicked and broke and kept on kicking, teeth bit, and froze and kept on biting.

    Finally, the teen sank to the floor, spent and broken, and the giantess moved, finally. She stood, in all her beauty and terror, and picked up the shattered girl at her feet. She pieced her together, bone by bone, and sealed the wounds with ice. She set her upon the monolithic throne and took the crown from her head, placing it upon the girl’s brow. She took up her sword and set it across the girl’s lap.

    And then, Taylor Hebert looked out across her hall, where her subjects dined in her castle, and knew that she was mighty, that she was the giantess.

    The wind whispered in her ear.

    “You are Anakim, my child”

    Taylor Hebert awoke, and within her she felt the giantess, sitting on her throne of ice.

    She smiled, and her teeth were white as snow.
    Last edited by ajf115; 03-25-2017, 09:55 AM.