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alien-hybreed · 20 days

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THE INFERNAL CORONATION

The Demon Queen Allarielle was not always as such. Once she was an angel, mighty and pure. Before that, she was a human, tenacious and brave. But what vile forces conspired to turn her from the light?

This tale tells of how the noble Allara was betrayed, manipulated and eventually became a greater evil than those who sought to use her...

(This is one of my oldest stories from when I first started, I considered re-writing it. But I think it's important to keep it as it was for posterity)

Once upon a time, the underworlds and their denizens were anarchic and lawless, bound to no ruler after the siege of heaven and resulting angelic crusades saw the demonic kings and warlords slain in battle. Those who survived were broken and cast out, their once organised legions scattered across the hells. For what seemed an eternity, the angels of heaven raided the underwolds and slaughtered the demons wherever they found them.

On the verge of extinction, demonkind staked it's future on a desperate gamble. It was in this darkest hour, that from the ashes of defeat, a new future was born. This is the tale of the mightiest ruler of the underworlds, the Demon Queen Alarielle and her unlikely origin...

* * *

Before her ascension to Angelhood, Allara had been a mortal woman. Blue eyed and with hair the colour of a fiery sunset, she could have been the fairest of maidens in her time. However she was of lowly birth and born into hardship. Instead of learning the ways of a diplomat or courting handsome princes, she chopped wood for her family and tended the fields with her father. Instead of practicing fine arts, she grappled with cattle and mastered the bow before she could read.

This simple life was shattered when a barbarian warlord put her village and het parent's farm to the sword. With tears in her eyes and fire in her heart, Allara took up arms against the barbarian horde. With weapons and armour scavenged from the slaughtered town guards, Allara led the survivors in a desperate last stand. So keen was her grasp of strategy and so inspiring was her presence, the fight dragged on gor hours and eventually days. Wave after wave of attackers fell victim to the traps she had the survivors set or a well-executed ambush.

What should have been a lightning raid by the barbarians ground to a halt. Ill-equipped and unaccustomed to siege warfare, the barbarians struggled against Allara and her ragtag band of fighters for weeks before finally fleeing when an army of noble Templars arrived to relieve the village. Awed by the young woman's prowess, the Templars offered to induct Allara into her ranks.

With nothing left to lose, Allara pledged herself to their service without a second thought. For years, tales of the fiery paladin inspired hope and faith where there had been none for centuries. Whole armies and cities rallied behind Allara as she journeyed the land with her brethren, protecting the weak and slaying the wicked, never asking for anything in return.

So great had her influence become, the church grew to fear that the young paladin's power might one day threaten their own. So they conspired against Allara, champion of the people. Carefully, they orchestrated her demise. They sought out and covertly empowered the warlord who led the first attack on Allara's village. Equipping his troops with weapons and armour, sponsoring mercenaries to swell their ranks and turning him loose on the world once more.

Finally, the church sent a group of travelling priests and pilgrims into a barbarian ambush, baiting Allara and her followers into engaging the warlord and his horde.

Unlike the previous battle, this was swift and decisive. Allara did not arrive in time to save the travellers and swore an oath to end the warlord once and for all. At the height of battle the two warriors met and fought for an intense three minutes, their blades whirling around one another as they sought to find their mark. Eventually they both succumbed to fatigue and blood loss, scoring dozens of flesh wounds before slaying one another.

Allara's followers mourned her and proclaimed the fallen Templar was now a Saint. Splitting from the church to form their own holy order, they buried her in secret and went on to practice her teachings and live by her example. All the while, these events were observed by eyes from beyond the mortal realm. Though Heaven had claim to Allara's soul and wasted no time reforging her into an Angel of war, the denizens of hell made plans of their own for the fallen saint...

* * *

Upon becoming an Angel, Allara awoke to find herself bathed in holy light that warmed every inch of the form her essence seemed to be taking. She was already taller, stronger than she had been as a human.

Six feathered wings sprouted from her back, each twice as long as she was tall. Despite her new strength, her limbs were slender, supple, graceful. Her stomach was perfectly flat, her breasts luscious and full. Her hair became a glorious mane of golden hair that seemed to stretch all the way down past her hips.

She felt the warmth around her become increasingly solid before forming into a silky white body suit that hugged her figure. Golden amour shaped like her wings formed around her forearms and shins that seemed to hold itself in place without any belt or strap to hold it. A pair of similar armour pieces cupped her breasts and sheathed her shoulders. Finally, an eyeless golden half helmet with an ornate cross stamped upon its brow, slid over her head, leaving her hair trailing out from underneath and her mouth and neck the only exposed skin on her new body.

Despite the eyeless helm, Allara could see perfectly, as if everything around her emanated an aura outlining what it was, as well as where it was moving to or from. That was a little disorienting at first, as was the sudden rush of knowledge and awareness as the collected wisdom of heaven filled her with understanding beyond mortal comprehension. In an instant, she understood what she was and why, the full extent of her angelic duties and her capabilities.

With a thought, she conjured an ornate golden bow and a fabulous crystal broadsword in either hand. Her first great task would be to rescue the souls of those slain by the warlord who slew her. Without proper burial, their souls had been dragged to hell and it would be Allara's duty to recover them.

* * *

Alllara had made quite the name for herself in the underworlds as she pursued the lost souls she sought. Slaying greater demons with contemptuous ease, scattering whole communes of demons as she tore their broken realm asunder. So fearsome was she that some demons simply handed over the souls rather than risk her ire. It did not spare them. Alllara was righteous and absolute, every demonic entity that crossed her was slaughtered, every soul she rescued was held safe within her and she grew stronger with every follower she recovered. With barely a half dozen pilgrims and a priest left to recover, her hunt had brought her to the abyssal boneyard.

This nightmarish corner of hell was one of it's darkest corners, said to be the place where the creator's greatest champion slew the old masters of hell. Now their bones littered the landscape, their foul ichor soaked into the very ground, tainting the place with an aura of corruption and despair. It was here that Allara could sense the last priest. Somewhere amidst the rubble and bones, like a dull ache in her forehead, she could sense the tortured soul's pain and anguish. None of the others had been quite so unfortunate as to fall victim to whatever loathsome scavengers dwelt here.

So vile was the aura of this place that Allara could feel rescued souls within her straining to escape and flee. Her heart was heavy with suffering she could feel within them, though that merely assured her of how important it was to rescue the remaining few and spare them any further torment. She could feel the aching sensation grow stronger as she glided down a great canyon that had once been the ribcage of shys'hyth the despoiler, an ancient beast that once threatened to breach the pearly gates themselves.

She was so close now that were she capable of forming tears, she'd have wept for the loneliness and pain she could feel from the priest's soul. On the mountain formed from the semi-buried shoulder of shys'hyth, she found him. The priest's astral body was broken and torn open, light spilling out and dissipating as the spectre writhed in pain.

“rejoice ye of faith” sang her voice, as soothing and majestic as her visage

“do not despair, your suffering is at its end, I pray thou can forgive me for not rescuing you sooner” she whispered as she drew close

“oh... bless. Bless you my sweet saviour” cried the priest, his body slowly reforming as Allara drew close, her very presence healing him almost immediately. He beckoned her closer, incorporeal tears of jpy streaming down his face.

“come, we must go, we cannot linger in this unholy place” she urged, her voice still every bit as harmonious despite the very real possibility of danger. She couldn't sense anything nearby but the rescued souls within her were growing restless.

“weak, still so weak. I'm sorry I do not have the strength to go on” he lamented, his form beginning to fragment and dissipate once more.

“then it is fortunate I have strength enough for us both” whispered Allara, opening a magical link to the priest's soul, trickling a slither of her essence into him so that he could be strengthened and stabilized enough so that she could collect him as she had the others. She felt awful for how badly he must have suffered to need such aid. She'd done similar for some of the others who had been hurt, but they had taken almost nothing compared to how much the priest was draining off her. Allara leaned close hugged the priest tightly so they his soul would dissolve into her like the others. He hugged her back, his grip growing stronger as his strength returned to him. Something was amiss, he was stable enough, he should have joined the others by now.

Allara tried to pull away but his grip was deceptively strong. She tried to look him in the eye but before she could speak, he pressed his mouth to hers. Slowly, passionately, his lips worked against hers. A strange impulse seemed to seize Allara as for the briefest moment, she leaned into the kiss and reciprocated. Something strange seemed to stir in her soul as if the rescued souls were encouraging her. Shame and horror began to set in as she began to realize how improper her behaviour was. As she tried to pull away, she felt priest vomit a torrent of slimy black liquid straight into her mouth.

She gagged and coughed as she tried to scream but no sound escaped her. She could still feel the soul bond between her and the priest, what had been a carefully released trickle was now pouring into him like a raging river. It was as if he was sucking away at her very essence but that should have been impossible? It took all her strength to pull her lips from his, spluttering and hacking as she tried to get rid of the slime, yet it was as if it had already vanished down her throat. Allara felt dizzy as she looked up to see not the priest standing before her, but the warlord who slew her mortal form. He released his grip on her and let her stumble backwards. Her wings twitched as Allara fought to regain her balance.

“y-you... how?” she stammered between coughing, her body still trying to reject whatever it was that it had just ingested.

“not quite... but I'm sure he missed you all the same” cackled the warlord, his mouth twisted into a devilish toothy grin to reveal thousands of thin fangs in place of human teeth. Allara had never once been intoxicated in her mortal or afterlife, she wondered if that was what could be happening to her now. She shook her head as if she could physically shake off what was influencing her. She could feel her soul churning, something wasn't right, the rescued souls seem to be enjoying this. Could a soul be turned to poison, she wondered? As if it had read her mind, the warlord thing answered her question.

“it took a while to prepare them, but eventually they were all too willing to join us. As was this thing and your precious preacher. We waited so long for you my dear but I assure you it was worth it” Allara still couldn't break the soul bond and knew she had to if she was to escape, her strength was waning and she could feel her limbs getting heavier. Maybe if she kept him talking a little longer... besides, she needed to know what had been done to her.

“so you're a demon now” she spat

“hardly. I am echoes that found a voice” replied the warlord. So shocked was Allara earlier on, she hadn't noticed the Warlord was stark naked...and surprisingly attractive. Allara felt something within her tugging at her, a warmth that seemed to drown out her other bodily sensations the more she stared at the warlord’s cock.

“I... I am so sorry for whatever has been done to you... but if you'll let me, I can help you” she pleaded, the tugging sensation grew stronger, she needed more time to break the bond.

“that is the plan my dear” growled the warlord before pouncing on her and knocking them both to the ground. Allara had never felt so weak and helpless, pinned beneath the warlord. Her dizziness had intensified and she felt barely in control of her body. She weakly tried to kick at the warlord and missed, but much to her surprise, she kept her leg up past his waist. When she tried to bring it down, her leg folded around his waist. Were the souls she rescued influencing her actions or was it the black sludge she'd swallowed? She tried to push and shove at him, but she'd grown so weak that it felt as if she was rubbing his chest rather than shoving. Or was that just what she was doing? His skin felt pleasant and oddly soothing to the touch...

The tugging sensation was unbearable now, Allara tried to look him in the eye and when her gaze met those pitch black orbs, it was if a whirlpool opened up in her soul as she felt him mentally pulling her in... without warning, Allara kissed him. Their lips met and clashed, duelling with the same intensity as they had once traded blows with Sword and shield. Allara reasoned she could atone for this at a later time, but in her heart she knew if she didn't stop, she'd face damnation for such a terrible sin. She tried to pull away but the warlord creature was relentless, his lips never leaving hers as she began to relax back into reciprocating.

There was no denying it, she enjoyed the kissing tremendously Allara's heart fluttered when he laid his hand on her stomach and began to caress her side. Spurred on by the stroking, she kissed him harder, welcoming his tongue into her mouth. She squeaked a little when she felt his claws scrape at her suit, tearing it open to expose her flesh to the cold air of the abyss. She felt his hand slide through the tear and stroke the flesh beneath, eliciting a delighted groan as his gand found the rump of her ass and begin to squeeze it. His lips began to move down to her neck and Allara gasped for hair, her mind felt so clouded and chaotic. None of this should be happening, yet she could feel the rescued souls revelling in her pleasure, goading her on to keep allowing it.

“this your idea of torture...?” she rasped as the warlord nibbled and sucked at her neck. The warlord did not answer, instead he slid his hand out from under her suit and moved it to her crotch. His fingers deftly stroked at her mons and down towards her entrance. She could feel warmth building in her lower body as if it welcomed the attention. Slowly, his talons began tearing at the fabric and Allara gasped as she felt him brushing against her slit.

“no dear, you're not here to be tortured. Would you like to see what you are here for?” whispered the warlord in her ear. His voice made her giddy and her cheeks blush

“yes... god yes” she crooned. Immediately, his fingers plunged into her, wiggling and stroking. Allara leaned back and gasped as his fingers explored her virgin pussy. The way his fingers worked at her passage, spreading her open and massaging her inner walls. It was awakening a terrible yearning in her for something more. The stimulation didn't just pleasure her, it made her keep wanting it and that arousal was becoming so overpowering that whatever fears or inhibitions she once had, they seemed a distant memory now. She wailed when his forefinger found her clit and deftly slid around and over it, stroking her in such a pleasurable manner that her toes curled and her wings twitched.

“would you like more?” whispered the warlord. Horns had begin to sprout from his forehead while spikes and a tail had burst through the skin on his back. Allara knew this was wrong, but she nodded anyway. She watched with fascination as the warlord moved his head between her legs and pressed his lips to her sopping wet entrance and sucked. Allara cried out with shock and delight as her hips bucked against his mouth. She clenched her fists, trying to get a hold of herself, but the warlord's tongue felt like it was working magic within her slit. She threw her head from side to side, howling and groaning as his tongue tickled her clit. She was dimly aware her golden armour was losing its lustre and turning the colour of beaten iron the more she revelled in this carnal exercise. Wisdom told her to stop before she was too far gone, but the sensations she was experiencing urged her to keep going.

Allara reached down and gripped the horns sprouting from the Warlord’s head and used them to pull him against her hips as she bucked and grinded, taking his tongue impossibly deep into her. She moaned as a new sensation washed over her, as if her every nerve ending was bursting with ecstasy. Allara thrashed as his tongue found her clit, his hands firmly gripping her thighs and holding her in place as he drove her over the brink of orgasm.

Allara was speechless as he stood up and brandished his cock as if it were a weapon he were about to draw.

“yes... you're ready for us” proclaimed the warlord, although precious little if his human form remained, his skin ripped and torn as the demonic entity within shed him like a snake shedding it's skin.

“Ready..? To drain... me? To finish... you?” she stammered, the last rational part of her fighting to understand what was happening to her and what would come next. “oh you'll finish us. We'll all be complete very soon. Just not how you might be thinking dear” chuckled the demon warlord thing. Slowly at first, it stroked it's cock. Allara's lips quivered as she watched it grow in length and girth, standing upright as it swelled in his grip. Allara wondered how that would feel in hsr pussy, how it might stimulate and please her. She imagined it was her folds and not the creature's hand that the cock slid back and forth in and it filled her with overwhelming lust, yet she was too weak to stand.

“open wide” chuckled the creature as it's cock began to twitch before suddenly squirting a torrent of black sludge over Allara. She shrieked at the icy cold liquid splattering across her crotch and chest as the demon continued to cackle triumphantly. More and more of the thick black ooze spurted from the demon's throbbing cock. She writhed and fought to scramble away, yet the slime was so unnaturally heavy she was pinned to the ground. She could feel the slime move as if it were alive and trying to spread itself over her body. As the ooze found the tears in her suit, it slid beneath and spread over every inch of skin. She could feel it slithering into her ass and pussy, permeating ever inch of her body and sending her into convulsions.

“long live the queen” smirked the demon before unloading a final load on Allara's face and her world went cold and dark.

* * *

It was like being reforged as an angel all over again and yet it was the complete opposite. Allara could see nothing and felt only freezing numbness. She was aware her soul was being pulled apart to let something else pour into her. Like becoming an angel, she could feel her mind altering to accept a flood of mew knowledge and thought processes. At first she feared she was being replaced, but the longer this went on it was more like her being was expanded.

She understood now that while demonic overlords of old had been destroyed in body, their essence had lingered in the abyssal boneyard. Over millennia, this residue had collected and merged into a shapeless, disembodied entity containing the power and memories of the vanquished demons and eventually every other lost soul that lingered in the boneyard for too long. Slowly it had gathered its folowers, weak-willed demon's and mortals it could influence with subliminal messages and what little psychic control it could perform.

The perfect mortal candidates were identified to form a trap and Allara had walked right into it – just as intended. The souls she rescued had all been corrupted a certain way so as to function like a trojan horse, only revealing their true nature once Allara came into contact with the warlord and deliberately weakening her resistance to his advances.

The warlord and the priest had both been assimilated by the residual entity, it had promised them power, everlasting life and revenge on the woman responsible for their demise. It just hadn't told them how With the strength Allara unintentionally gave the entity with her soul bond, she'd strengthened it enough to let it physically manifest while at the same time, giving it an entrance to her very soul.

Now it physically cocooned her and filled her, bonding to every ounce of her being on a microscopic level. This was better than becoming an angel, despite the cold, Allara had never felt so alive. With an orgasmic cry that shattered the darkness, the last vestige of Allara died blissfully and she awoke as something else entirely.

* * *

Allarielle moaned with delight as the black slime cocooning her, tightened around her body. Forming a shiny, black skin-tight coating. While she'd slept, the angel's armour had disintegrated in the slime. All except her helmet, which now bulged and burst at the temples and forehead as several immense horns had begun to sprout from it. Her hair was still blonde and full, but her wings had turned grey and still dripped with traces of black slime. She was almost complete but not quite. Looking up, she saw the demon that had transformed, her still stroking it's fat cock. That wasn't right. He should be gone, every ounce of essence was supposed to be in her now. Unless...

“little warlord” she purred, her voice now smooth and sultry “is that you hiding in there?” she teased, shifting onto her side to showcase her voluptuous new figure.

“glorious... aren't we?” he purred back “did I not tell you I would conquer all? Now I have conquered death and you. I will rule the afterlife with you as my bride, my greatest achievement” Unbelievable, she thought. The vile little worm honestly believed he had outwitted the demonic entity that permitted his very existence. Granted it was remarkable he'd been able to retain his identity and a portion of the power meant for Allarielle. But pride comes before the fall, she mused. It would not take much for her to claim the last of her newfound power, rid the underworld of him an humiliate him one last time. A fitting way to complete her coronation.

“then you should claim your reward and consummate our union, your highness” she moaned, spreading her legs to invite him in. Foolishly, he obliged. Grabbing her ankle, he pulled her under him. Allarielle’s crimson lips twisted into a wicked grin, as much as she loathed being handled like that it amused her greatly to let the warlord believe he was in control.

Cupping her head in his hands, he pressed her face against his cock. Allarielle giggled and gave it a long, sensual stroke with her tongue. She offered no resistance when he pushed her down on his cock, the monstrous shaft pressing against the back of her throat while she sucked at it, her tongue continuing to work at it with inhuman vigor eliciting orgasmic moans from the warlord. For hours, she suckled at him, her slick black bodysuit flowing off her like melting wax, exposing her chest and crotch – blatantly inviting him into her. After fondling her breasts and pussy, the warlord couldn't resist any longer and plunged his cock into her vagina and howled with delight. No longer the weakened victim she had been as Allara, Allarielle chuckled and rolled the beast onto his back, straddling him.

The warlord groaned frequently as she rode him, her hips expertly gyrating as she milked his cock. As she did, she reached across the soul bond and seized him, ripping his essence free and dragging into her own. The warlord screamed as he realised what was happening, his cock jerked and spat black slime into Allarielle's womb. As it did, his flesh began to wither and pull taught over his skeleton. He begged and grovelled as her hips rocked, draining every ounce of demonic essence and his own like a vacuum.

Allarielle’s skin slowly turned snow white, her hair lightening to a platinum blonde and writhing in the air with a life of it's own. Her horns grew longer, arching back over her head. As tge ritual drew close to it's completion, her body suit reformed, spreading over her and the warlord. His last memory was the demon queen laughing maniacally as he faded away, his whole existence merged into her, leaving behind only the slender demoness and no trace of anyone else. She was whole now. Infused with the collected spirits of hell's greatest rulers, housed in the corrupted flesh of an Angel, Allarielle was complete. The first of her name, mistress of the underworld and undisputed ruler of demonkind. Allarielle cackled to herself, she had an empire to build. Now the real fun could begin

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