Sometimes her suite was just too lonely. No; Ellen wasn't above acknowledging that she was starved for human interaction, even though her fellow homo sapiens were often petty, two-faced, and self-important. Six years ago, before the world almost ended the first time, she would have gone to a cafe or library to immerse herself in the undemanding company of strangers. It was her guess that post-impact Chicago - Chicago 3 - didn't have such things anymore.
So the lounge and gym at Nerv often had to suffice.
Ellen had toughened up since she first met Unit 01, and was no longer afraid to show her face around the place. It wasn't that people stopped treating her like a pariah, it was that she just no longer cared. As truly fucked up as it was, at least she could say that she had a friend; most of the sad bastards walking Nerv's halls, even though they filled their social lives with talk and gossip, could barely say that much.
She'd started working out a month before. It was for a myriad of reasons, none of them particularly good: her spare time was plentiful and boredom reigned; it was addictive; she wanted to better keep up with him. (Even though he had more strength and endurance in a single finger than she could ever hope to have in her whole body.)
It was after 11 at night that evening - Ellen kept odd hours thanks in no small part to him as well - and the gym was empty aside from her. She had a pair of shitty headphones on and was listening to Anna Karenina on CD, otherwise listening to her own huffing and puffing on the treadmill would drive her nuts after a while.
Farther on, it was continually the same again and again: the same shaking and rattling, the same snow on the window, the same rapid transitions from steaming heat to cold, and back again to heat, the same passing glimpses of the same figures in the twilight, and the same voices, and Anna began to read and to understand what she read. Annushka was already dozing, the red bag on her lap, clutched by her broad hands, in gloves, of which one was torn. Anna Arkadyevna read and understood, but it was distasteful to her to read, that is, to follow the reflection of other people's lives. She had too great a desire to live herself…
The audiobook, the thrum of the exercise machine, and the sound of her own footfalls on the plastic as she jogged made it so that she never heard someone enter the room through the door behind her.
The hero of the novel was already almost reaching his English happiness, a baronetcy and an estate, and Anna was feeling a desire to go with him to the estate, when she suddenly felt that he ought to feel ashamed, and that she was ashamed of the same thing. But what had he to be ashamed of? "What have I to be ashamed of?" she asked herself in injured surprise. She laid down the book and sank against the back of the chair, tightly gripping the paper cutter in both hands. There was nothing.
So, imagine her surprise when the treadmill next to her was suddenly occupied. Ellen started, almost letting the machine take her down. She grit her teeth at being caught so off-guard, and decided it would be a good time to slow to a walk for a few minutes anyway.
The young woman long ago learned that avoiding eye contact with everyone at Nerv would make life easier, and this was no exception, even though she could see the newcomer steal glances at her out of the corner of her eye. She swallowed hard and kept her eyes forward, trying her best to ignore the man. She made note of the fact that he'd chosen the spot next to her even though there were three other treadmills he could have used, and a few moments after realizing this, she decided that maybe it was time to head elsewhere.
"Do you wish to get out?" asked Annushka.
"Yes, I want a little air. It's very hot in here." And she opened the door. The driving snow and the wind rushed to meet her and struggled with her over the door. But she enjoyed the struggle.
Ellen stopped the treadmill and slipped off the headphones, putting the CD player into her gym bag and pulling out a small towel. As she wiped down her neck and face, she heard the man dismount his treadmill too.
“Not even a hello?” he asked, breaking the silence of the gym most spectacularly.
She started (again), and made eye contact with the man, breaking her own rule. She recognized him.
Ellen's brows knit together as she looked up at him. “David?”
“So you haven't forgotten your old life after all,” he scoffed, taking a seat next to her on the bench.
David Pasko, she recalled. Hired on full-time just after she got the internship, he was maybe only a year older than her. He was a software engineer from Oakland back in the day, recruited by Nerv for being one of the few Bay Area programmers the world had left. They needed the frontier spirit of Silicon Valley for the Evangelion project… or that's what bullshit the recruiter had told them, at least.
“How… how are you?”
He scooted in a little closer. “Fine, more or less. Better than you, I hear.”
Ah, yes. This was why she avoided the land of the living. “I'm doing fine, thanks,” Ellen muttered.
“Tell me... what's it like?”
She shot him a look, not liking where this was going. “What's what like?”
“Being with that thing.”
“It's my job, okay?” she hissed, shoving the towel into the bag and zipping it up. “I clock in, clock out, get paid. Same as you.”
“I don't think so,” he replied, cocking an eyebrow. “I've seen the security tapes,” he said in a low voice. “We all have.”
Ellen's heart raced and heat rushed to her cheeks. “Fuck you, Pasko. I don't have time for this.” She stood up, gathering her things, and made for the door, but David was quick to block her way. He was a pretty big guy; a true brogrammer. A Giants baseball cap threw his eyes into shadow, but that didn't hide the fact that he was sweating. Why? He spent maybe 2 minutes on the machine… oh.
Oh fuck me.
“It's pretty fuckin' obvious that you're enjoying yourself,” he murmured, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one step back. “Hits all the right buttons for you, doesn't it?”
“What do you want from me?” It was barely a question; more of a demand. Ellen was staring daggers at him but was momentarily surprised when her back hit a wall.
He slowly placed his hands on either side of her, blocking her in. “Just thought I'd come and give you something I thought you might miss.” He leaned in closer, lips hovering above hers. She shut her eyes. “Gonna pound that pussy of yours raw, slut. He can't do that, can he?”
David ground his hips into hers, pressing his hard-on into her belly.
“You know what else he can't do,” she whispered, glancing at the stains under his shirt sleeves. “Reek like BO.”
Ellen reached up and tried to shove him away with all her might, but she didn't push hard enough. “You ungrateful little bitch,” he snarled, grabbing her by the arm and bringing her close to him again. She struggled with every muscle she knew how to use, but it wasn't long before he'd tackled her to the ground with him on top. “Didn't you know? You can't rape a whore.”
She screamed at the top of her lungs, fighting to free her hands from his. A knee roughly slid up between her thighs, and his other free hand was working on yanking down her exercise pants. “I'm going to fucking kill you,” she snapped, fighting to free her hips from his legs as he undid his pants with a shaking hand.
Just then her pager started to go off. Ellen didn't care to wonder why, but that sound inspired her to start yelling for help. Some tiny bit of her was hoping that maybe he would hear; maybe his massive hand would come crashing through the ceiling, and--
David's clammy hand covered her mouth. “Shut up!”
Ellen wasn't having any of that, and for now, she knew she had to save herself. She sunk her teeth into the meat of his hand as hard as she could, and he screamed. Blood ran down her chin and just as she was about to kick him off her he struck first: his uninjured hand sailed across her face so hard that she saw stars.
At some point the pager had stopped going off.
Through the blinding pain in her head Ellen continued to fight him, and it seemed he would too, even with a not insignificant chunk of his hand needing to be stitched back together. Pasko roared to life, and his good hand shot out at her neck, squeezing as hard as he could. She kicked at him, lashed out toward his face. She couldn't reach it. Ellen's head began to tingle, and her limbs fell to the floor as her strength left her. Just as it got too hard to keep her eyes open...
...the gym's door burst open and three marines ran in, guns drawn. “Get off her! Now!”
David's hand flew away from her like he'd touched a hot stove, leaving Ellen to take a deep, labored breath and start coughing. Two of the marines ran over to him and hoisted him up, each one with an arm. The third rushed over to her and caught her by the elbow. “Ma'am, are you alright?”
It was a few seconds before she could grind out an answer.
“I… think so...” was all she could wheeze.
“We're getting you to the infirmary.”
“No, no… I want to… take me to wherever Unit 01 is. Please.”
“Ma'am, you need to go to--”
“No. He's going to be pissed if I don't show up.” Ellen swallowed, steadying herself against the marine, still remembering how to breathe. Sure, he was going to be pissed, but truthfully, the last thing she wanted was to get poked and prodded by a nurse who didn't care whether she showed up with a pulse or not.
She stole a glance at her assailant as they all were all escorted out of the gym.
“Your 'boss' can't protect you forever, slut,” he hissed. “He's gonna get taken out someday, and then you'll have nothing.”
“That's enough, sir.”
The walk to the LCL chamber seemed to take forever. The marine let her hold onto him, but not a word was spoken until they got there. The locks slid open and the faint smell of blood filled her nose-- it was almost a comforting scent anymore. The marine, she noticed, covered his face.
“Where the hell were you?” His voice echoed like thunder through the space.
“I… he...” she stammered.
“You, get out of here,” 01 commanded the marine.
“Yes, sir.” He disappeared, shutting the lock behind him.
Ellen braced herself against a piece of machinery and clutched the side of her head. The giant lifted his hand out of the liquid and set it gently beside her on the causeway. She switched to the side of his palm for stability, but couldn't bring herself to climb in.
“I asked you a question, kid,” he rumbled. There was some kind of knowing in his voice, but she wasn't sure of what sort.
“I was… I was assaulted, sir.”
Ellen looked up at him and their eyes met, but he said nothing for a few moments.
“What's his name?”
She couldn't help but rub her face at this, biting her lip as she pictured his face again. “Pasko,” she murmured. “David Pasko. I knew him once upon a time.” The titan flattened his palm so that she could climb up onto his fingers instead of up the side of his palm, which was a bit tougher. Ellen stepped on and he lifted her only once she was seated.
He lifted his other arm, bringing his wrist close to his mouth.
“Security,” he said into it, not taking his eyes off her. “Bring Pasko here. I'd like to have a little chat.”
“No!” she blurted out.
Ellen heard a distant crackling voice: “Ack...nowledged, sir.”
01 lowered his arm and shot her a dangerous look. “No?”
She covered her face. “I don't… I don't want him to see me. Not here.”
“That's not your decision to make, now is it?”
Her heart sunk, and she collapsed into a ball in his hand with a groan. He closed his fingers around her in response, softly enclosing her in the folds of his glove, and bringing his loose fist to rest on his opposite arm as they waited.
And they didn't have to wait long.
The two marines from earlier brought him in, leading him over to the causeway. Ellen peered out at him from the gaps between 01's fingers and shuddered. They must have yanked him out of sick bay; he'd managed to get his hand wrapped up.
“You two can leave. Come back in 15 minutes.”
Unit 01 considered him for a few moments once the three of them were alone; she could hear his long, drawn exhales rushing out of his nose. Ellen squinted down at Pasko from her hiding place in the giant's hand; it was obvious that he was petrified.
“I heard that you've assaulted my assistant,” Unit 01 said at length.
She heard a noise escape him; something like a broken squeak, or something like that. His body was wound up so tight that she was surprised he didn't explode into ribbons.
The hulking cyborg sat upright in the pool with a roar of sloshing LCL. Pasko cried out in terror.
“Did you or didn't you, human?”
“S-she w-w-was… I...”
The Eva's eyes narrowed, and he slammed the palm of his free hand down onto the causeway next to him. The metal groaned under the force. “Did you or didn't you?”
Pasko was a mess now. He was crying, thrown to the floor by the force of his own terror, and shielding his face. “Yes, sir! I d-did, sir!” he blubbered.
Unit 01 sat back again, having gotten his confession. “Good.” His voice was so low that she could feel it vibrate the air around her. “Now I think it's time we taught you a lesson: nobody gets off on rape around here but me.”
Lesson? What lesson?
The Eva stood up on his knees in the pool, hips aligned with the causeway. Talk about deja vu. He was even wearing his armor this time too, and it was a strangely familiar sight to see him take off his groin-cover and set it aside. He lifted Ellen up to his shoulder, then, speaking as he deposited her beside the brilliant orange panels of his neck: “I don't normally give a shit about justice, but when I do, it looks like this.”
“What are you… what are you going to do to me??” Pasko demanded from 70 feet below.
Both of 01's hands were now free to undo the clasps at his bulging crotch, letting the length of his gargantuan member spring out next to the hapless programmer.
“Why, I'm gonna put the fear of god in you, kiddo.”
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Ellen's mouth. She distantly realized that the Ellen of 8 months ago - hell, maybe even the Ellen of yesterday - would have been horrified to watch what was about to take place. But not now.
The Eva had clearly been straining against the suit since he first knew what he wanted to do with Ellen's assailant. It wasn't every day that he got fresh meat, and it definitely wasn't every day that they deserved whatever he had in mind for them.
Pasko was cursing to himself, she was sure, and when he tried to get away from the massive cock, 01 growled at him to stay put.
He made quick work of himself, pumping at the head of his member with one hand and grabbing his balls with the other. Ellen could feel the thick cabling of his neck strain under her feet, could see his chest rising and falling under his chin, hips swaying far below her.
Just then, he reached out and knocked Pasko to the floor and pinned his legs down. He hit the walkway with a cry, but the Eva barely gave him half a second to recover before he pushed the head of his swollen cock down onto his chest. Ellen watched, with horror, glee, and arousal, as his shaft pulsed and shook; waves of thick, sticky come exploded all over the young man, covering his chest and face, drowning out his shrieks of terror. She could only see the side of his face, but Unit 01's mouth was twisted into a wicked smile, teeth ground together as Pasko flailed under the weight of the Evangelion's cock head.
He slowly milked himself from base to tip, making sure every last drop - or gallon, in his case - ended up on the young man. “Ain't so fun after all, now is it? You tiny, pathetic animal,” he ground out.
At last Unit 01 lifted himself away, and the young software engineer scrambled to wipe the spunk from his face. He sputtered and gasped for breath.
But the Eva wasn't done yet. “Get up,” he boomed. Pasko slowly, shakily, did as he was told. And before Ellen had any idea of what the giant was planning next, he lifted his hand, and with a flick of his middle finger, sent the man sailing backwards and into the LCL. The young woman stifled a gasp.
He settled back down into the pool, arms folded across his broad, armored chest.
“You just broke, like, all of his ribs.”
“Probably,” the cyborg grunted.
She swallowed. “He's going to drown in there.”
He turned his massive head slightly to the side so that he could look at her out of the corner of his eye. “And why do you care all of a sudden?”
Ellen lowered her gaze down to the three holes on his breastplate below her. “I don't.”
“It's impossible to drown in LCL anyway.”
Right. How could I forget? The stuff was gross and strange because it was so like amniotic fluid.
“They're going to have to fish him out...”
“Nah, I will. I can feel the idiot failing around by my knee.”
She cleared her throat and did a little squirming of her own. Was she really getting off on this? On seeing him fuck with other people so casually? Did it just… reinforce her… Fuck it. Like it even mattered anymore.
“What's it feel like?” Ellen sat down on his shoulder, knees drawn up, very aware of the feeling of his neck rippling under her bottom, feet braced against the swell of his collarbone. He cocked a brow.
“Feels good,” he said, low, quiet, and with that fucked up grin of his.
A shudder flew down her spine and a pleasant tingle spread between her thighs.
The door flew open then, and the marines entered. Ellen saw them look around for Pasko, and then their gazes hesitatingly lifted up to the Evangelion.
“W-where is he, sir?”
01 reached over them - they ducked and covered their heads - and plunged his hand into the LCL beyond the catwalk to fish out a pretty critically injured Pasko. The purple-gloved titan unceremoniously dropped the man onto the decking, where he proceeded to cough and sputter out all the pink-red liquid that he could, gasping for air and crying out in agonizing pain as he did.
“Might want to get him to sick bay again,” Unit 01 lazily recommended while returning his arms to his chest. “I think I'm stronger than I realize,” he lilted dangerously.
The marines said nothing as they dragged a moaning Pasko away. The Eva chuckled.
He lifted his hand up to her when they were gone, and she slid into it, her head suddenly remembering that it, too, wasn't doing so well. Unit 01 seemed to notice her change in posture, and brought her up to eye level. He put a finger under her chin, startling her, and her gaze was lifted towards his. Unnerving. It was always unnerving.
She parted her lips to possibly say something, but nothing came out, so she licked them instead, and let out a ragged breath as he seemed to examine her face. It only took a moment for his icy stare to get the better of her, and she closed her eyes. She heard him make a faint sound deep in his chest. He turned her head gently from side to side, then removed his finger.
"He got you good, didn't he?”
“Shut up,” Ellen muttered.
His enormous face drew nearer, though, and she caught his mouth open just before closing her eyes again. The small, young woman prepared for his tongue, expecting it to glide over her like a hot, heavy blanket of muscle. But instead, all he did was lick her face with the pointed tip. The side that Pasko had hit, actually, and cleaning up the dried blood from where she'd bitten his hand. Tender was the first word that came to mind; not that that meant anything, because if anyone else she ever knew had decided to show tenderness by licking someone else's blood off her face, then she might want them sent to the loony bin. Okay, maybe soothing was a better word. Surely something could be both soothing and deranged at the same time?
Ellen's eyes were still closed, and to her surprise, she reached up to touch the side of his tongue… almost as if it was the face of a more conventional lover.
“Don't stop,” she whispered.
She wasn't sure if he could hear such a quiet request, but the god-like behemoth that held her in his cupped hand seemed nigh-omniscient sometimes. He looked like a 13 story human; she saw the plugs in his skin and the slick black plating along his spine, and it was still sometimes difficult to remember that their similarities didn't go much further than appearances. Only a small handful of people knew what faint sounds his superhuman ears could detect.
Wordlessly, the hardness of his tongue softened, and pressed more fully against her. His tastebuds, each perhaps the size of the very tip of her pinky finger, caught on her exercise top, tugging it upward. Her skin was wet where his tongue had passed. Soft gusts periodically exploded down from his nostrils. Ellen counted them: it took about 20 seconds for the giant to fill his lungs, and a little more than that to expel a single breath. When he was fully relaxed, breathing took him minutes.
“I don't intend to,” he murmured in response.
Ah, so he could hear a pin drop.
He drew his tongue back, but for just a second-- in a moment it was on her again, dripping with his hot, thick, saliva. A glob oozed down over her shoulder, soaking through her tank top. And he covered her again. Pushed her down into his hand, slowly, carefully, head resting between the cleft formed where his ring and middle fingers met. The seam, thick, triple-bound, and bonded not with thread but alloy, bothered her ear; but it was only just another reminder of how big he really was. For a moment, Ellen allowed herself to marvel at the feats of engineering that went into making a garment that wouldn't shred at his merest curl of his digit. This glove - this suit - had to contain a body that defied physics, and an appetite for destruction that defied logic.
His tongue was on her like molten iron. She would have likened it to having a mind of its own, but she knew better; this massive being was in complete control over every inch of his body. She wouldn't have been surprised to find that he was conscious of his every blood cell.
She made a little noise. The Evangelion closed his eyes, pressing his nose into his fingers just above her head as he continued. She allowed her eyes to close as well, letting go.
“Take your clothes off,” he rumbled against her, lips dragging across her chest and thighs as he spoke.
Ellen nodded against his lip and reached down to peel off her exercise shorts, taking her underwear with them. The giant deftly reached in between his hand and his face to take the tiny garment away, doing the same after she'd pushed the top up and over her head.
She let out a breathy moan when that slick muscle slid down her body and forced her thighs apart. Ellen reached out for something to hold on to, and her hands found the curve of his upper lip, dotted with coarse stubble.
Far off in the distance she heard movement in the LCL, but there was no way for her to see beyond his face and his hand.
His tongue stroked and undulated against her, pressing, pushing, sliding…
Ellen spread her legs as far as they would go, and she strained her hips against that throbbing muscle—yes, she could feel that deep, powerful pulse through it—and in no time, she was coming. Quiet and breathy, she convulsed in his hand like a quivering mouse, chest heaving with every breath.
Ellen laid there, panting and hugging herself.
“Fuck,” she breathed after a moment. She covered her face. “I don't want to go back out there.”
His arching brow was almost audible.
“I'm done with people,” the little woman continued. “Fuck em. Let them all get blown the fuck away in the next impact.”
“And where would you go, then?” His voice was a low thunder.
“I don't know.”
“I think you do.”
She sucked in a breath and screwed up her face.
“Spit it out, kid.”
“I wish I could just stay here with you, alright?!” Ellen shouted from behind her hands. “Just disappear into the LCL and never be seen again.”
Ellen opened both eyes and peered up at him when she felt the hand she laid in descend. His eyes were cool; lazy, almost. But the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed the fact that he was enjoying this candid moment more than not.
“Not while you've got a job to do,” was his rumbling reply as he continued to lower her down to the surface of the pool.
Splosh. Ellen was gently dumped into the LCL before him. Treading water, she looked at the mountain of a man before her, the sweeping, dangerous lines of his armor rising up out of the lake of amniotic fluid like coiling snakes. The splashes of neon along his thick forearms and neck were not unlike a reptilian warning: Be careful, I'm deadly. No poison there, though; just fists.
He shifted; she could feel the eddies deep under her as his thighs lifted and settled, hear the sound of his hands bracing against the floor of the pool, the sight of his belly obscure her entire field of vision. Something came up to greet her nearby, though; she could feel it push her away as it rose through the LCL. The pillar of flesh rose up above the surface, the bulbous head at eye-level with her.
It glistened under the harsh light, bobbing back and forth a little. She had to work just to stay within arm's reach of it. After a moment of peering sheepishly at the Eva's giant cock head, Ellen lurched forward and grabbed hold of the hot skin and held on.
He let out a long sigh above her. She looked up, met his gaze for a moment, and looked away; he said nothing. Just sat there, breathing, staring at her with his arms folded across that great chest of his. What, no games? No demands? Well… a demand, yes.
The tiny woman gathered the courage to bring herself closer, so that her chest and belly pressed against the underside of his shaft, legs wrapping around it to the best of their ability. Using the lip of his foreskin she hoisted herself up further and, swallowing, began to explore under the fold of skin there.
He was hot. Literally. She began to sweat just from being in contact with the sensitive organ for more than a few seconds. It throbbed under her with every slow, powerful, heartbeat, and it was almost as if she could hear the blood rushing through the member's veins.
Ellen paused when he began to move again-- but he was just moving his arms above and behind his head. LCL rained down on her as he raised them up.
“Keep going,” he grunted before closing his eyes.
So she did.
Ellen continued to explore this most sensitive of body parts; stroking, rubbing her breasts against him, petting. It was almost addictive, touching so massive a being in so tiny a spot and not only have him feel it, but respond. Oh god… the way his dick jerked up towards him whenever she felt around his frenulum. The way his breath faintly hitched when she kneaded it in her palm!
If having a dick in her meant that she couldn't have this, whatever this even was, then she didn't want it. The kind of sex that Pasko represented… it was laughable. Empty. Two evenly matched bodies mindlessly undulating against each other, blindly grasping at some kind of mutual stupification.
Tab A into Slot B.
A deep rumbling sigh dragged her out of her thoughts, and Ellen looked up just in time to watch his lips and teeth slightly part. He made another sound, long and low.
What was he thinking about? Maybe he was topside, buried balls-deep in the 6th floor of an apartment building, fucking it literally to pieces, his ears filled with the horrified screams of whoever was unlucky enough to still be inside. And maybe, with one especially powerful thrust, he sends the building toppling to the ground around his massive cock-- covered with a fine layer of white drywall dust.
Or maybe she's in that building. Maybe it's her building. Maybe he somehow finds her suite, smaller than a shoebox and just as drab, and pushes in through the balcony doors. Maybe he says something about her not being able to hide from him forever and then fills the air with a cacophonous, terrifying laugh. Maybe his limousine of a shaft is just long enough to push her up against the back wall of her studio before he begins to slide out and plunge back in…
Now she was really on fire.
Ellen found herself slowly, minutely gyrating against his length, trying to press as much of her cunt against him as she could manage. Even if she couldn't get off on that alone, at least then she could feel the enormity of him.
“You should know better than that,” came the Eva's husky voice from high above her. Ellen froze and lowered herself further into the LCL as if to… hide?? He had just a single green eye open, heavy lidded. He scrutinized her lazily.
“Y-yes sir,” she whimpered, trembling from being denied her climax.
Ellen hoisted herself back up onto him and continued her work. She palmed at that sensitive spot under the head that got her such an exquisite reaction from him before, and wasn't disappointed this time either.
Without taking her hand off his frenulum, she lowered her head down to the swollen purple slit before her and started tracing around it with her tongue.
“Yeah,” he breathed.
She stuck all four of her fingers down into his cock and gave them a wiggle as she continued to lick and kiss around the edges. The tiny human was rewarded with a sudden jerk and she could feel the shaft under her swell just that much more. Hot, thick precum oozed up and out of the hole, covering her arm and dribbling down her neck. She picked up speed.
In no time at all Ellen could hear the giant's breath hasten, and she was expecting him to take over the final moments before he blew his load as he usually did… but that didn't happen.
Squeezing, rubbing, and licking as fast as her little body could move, she wound up bringing him to orgasm all by herself, and the only warning she got was a loud, breathy groan.
But this was his second climax in less than an hour. His cock jerked and throbbed—fuck she could FEEL the waves of semen getting pumped up his member!--and out sputtered a gush of sticky come. There wasn't as much of it as usual, but still several gallons' worth. Most of it landed in the LCL, lingering in gooey swirls of white in the body of watery red.
01 went flaccid almost immediately, his flesh disappearing down into the pool, leaving her to tread again. After a moment of calm relaxation, he ran a gloved hand through his hair then reached down to put himself away. The massive cyborg reached for her then, and brought her to his chest, not breaking eye contact.
“You come when I say you can come,” he said.
He nodded at her just the tiniest bit. “Now you can come.”
Heat rose to Ellen's cheeks as she laid herself down in his palm again, back against the fabric of his glove. God, she was halfway there just from hearing those words.
But he stopped her. “Do it like you were doing before.” The corners of his mouth twisted up and he lowered his voice. “Do it how you do it at home when you think about me.”
Blood continued to rush to her belly and she chewed her lip, looking around at his hand. The Evangelion likely sensed her trepidation and held out the finger of his other hand, which she grasped with her tiny hands as she turned over to her side, legs straddling the single digit. Ellen began to move.
The movements were slow and small as she quietly humped his finger, clutching it tightly to her, burying her face in the folds of his knuckle. But it wasn't long before she started to quicken her pace.
“That's it...” she heard him rumble from above her; there was a dark sort of encouragement in his voice. “I want to see your tiny little orgasm… show me what you look like when you're alone...”
The human, so small in his gigantic hands, felt the heat pool in her belly. She let his words fill her entire existence, hanging onto his every powerful breath… and before long, she came.
Ellen held on even tighter, squeezing with her trembling thighs as her cunt pulsed against the side of his finger. She went rigid against him.
“Hn-- hah-- hh--”
Little cries, little breaths, little creature.
“Atta girl.” It came out like a dangerous sigh.
He withdrew his finger, and as she saw out of the corner of her bleary eyes, he sucked on the spot where she'd been.
Ellen was exhausted and felt herself slipping into twilight, but not before he raised the bulk of his hand up to his shoulder, to deposit her in her usual spot. She was trembling jelly on him – exhausted – as she settled down for a rough night.
“You'll go to sick bay in the morning,” was his cool command.
The tiny human nodded against him, gingerly touching her swollen face.
“And you'll eat something.”
Care? Not really – just a reminder that she had an obligation to her body. And her body had an obligation to him. And yet, so strangely comforting. He was still technically looking out for her after all, even though his motives were not altruistic.
Altruism was overrated anyways.
“Thank you,” she whispered when the lights went out.
He just chuckled. “Watch it, kid. The day you get too comfortable is the day I lose interest.”
Previously, she would have trembled at those words. But not anymore. Her fear and awe were what was keeping her alive – and that, at least, she had in spades.
She'd been prepared for a rough night sleeping on him, but what she wasn't prepared for were the klaxons that went off in the dead of night.
Ellen started awake, the situation taking a moment to register. Red lights flashed along the walls of the vast bath, and the floodlights along the ceiling flared to life automatically. The Evangelion under/around/above her barely stirred, but she could see that his eyes were open, and harder than she'd ever seen them. Something in the massive being changed, and she was suddenly terrified.
“You wanted to stay with me?” he thundered, a huge and wicked grin spreading across his face as he began to stand up in the LCL. Ellen clung to the grain in his under-armor for dear life and struggled to not look down. “Well kid, here's your fucking chance.”
The human was crushed against his shoulder as they shot up on a lift, which took them to the scramble decks above.
Ellen had never been present to watch an Eva get suited up and sent topside, and now she was suddenly in the thick of it, even as she struggled to shed the lingering fog of sleep and attempting to cover her naked body. When the door to the lift opened, a bright white room opened up before her. Calling it a “room” was probably an understatement, though. Football fields long, 40 stories high, and already crawling with personnel, the Eva stepped over to an impossibly huge collection of machinery directly off to his left, where he was clamped in. Ellen had to get out of the way of one of the hulking things as it secured itself to a mooring on his shoulder with a heavy whir and hiss of hydraulics. Massive robot arms came out like spider legs to check the integrity of his armor plating, and sparks rained down from his towering body from a dozen concurring spot welds.
“Get me a plug,” he barked with tremendous volume, sending her to her hands and knees on him. Her ears rang.
A voice replied to the command via PA system, and Ellen felt dozens of eyes on her.
“A… a plug, number one? You haven't--”
“Did I fucking stutter?”
The engineers scurrying around on the machine he was hooked up to paused for a moment before getting back to work.
“...a-acknowledged,” the voice said. “Securing plug A7 from storage bay 9. Inbound...”
01 released himself from the machine with a series of booms, hisses, and deep, resounding clacks, stepping into the middle of the bay and reaching up to the back of his neck. Curious and deeply troubled, Ellen watched as the plating between his shoulders unfolded, and out shot a long, black tube, which he removed and dropped to the floor with a cacophonous crash. Yells and shouts rose up from men in HAZMAT suits running around his feet as the thing, some 5 feet in diameter and 15 feet long, hit the floor .
“Plug primed and ready for entry,” came another voice on the loudspeaker.
Unit 01 ignored everyone and turned to where a new capsule-shaped tube, this time white, emerged from a conveyor system in the wall. This was that exact moment that Ellen had wished she'd never had met him. He plucked her off his shoulder with one hand, and held the plug with the other.
By some unseen signal, a hatch on the side appeared and hissed open, and she looked from it to him, shaking in his grasp.
“You're going to hate this,” he said, grinning, and proceeded to shove her inside.
Ellen screamed bloody murder and struggled futilely against his massive fingers as they pushed her deep inside the dark recesses of the compartment. When the hatch closed behind her, leaving her in pitch blackness, she started banging on the inside of the door.
No, no, no, no… this can't be happening.
“Let me out!” she screamed. “Please let me out! I don't want to be in here!”
If LCL was an acquired smell, then this was downright gross. It reeked of old blood with the faint musk of bodily fluids, and it was all she could do to cover her nose and breathe through her mouth when she suddenly started being tossed around inside as the plug was being handled. She could hear faint and muffled sounds; but no voice, not even his, was discernible anymore.
There was some kind of large device in the middle of the plug, but she couldn't tell what it was by feel, other than that the surface was vaguely greasy.
It was only a few moments in between being forced inside and hearing mechanical sounds surrounding her; whirring, clanging, and after a rough jerk, the thing came to rest. And only another moment after that when a console on the device lit up, faintly illuminating the claustrophobic space.
The inside of the plug looked dingy, and, assuming that the story of 01's last pilot were true, then it hadn't been used in a while. Being only an intern, Ellen was never told anything about the mechanism of piloting, even when she was still led to believe that the Evas weren't autonomous and intelligent. She just assumed that it was a closely guarded Nerv secret that had something to do with the spinal column. So now that he was willfully switching out his own plugs, there was nothing she could come up with to explain how he was able to do it. Or how he was able to keep Nerv from trying to hack into whatever part of him was computer-driven, or at least the dummy plug that he apparently always had in him anyways, to regain their lost control.
Suddenly she was aware of LCL pouring into the space... and breathable air retreating. Saturating first her feet, then her calves, then her thighs…
Ellen's pulse quickened and she scrambled to get away from the rising liquid, running on autopilot and terrified of drowning. When the stuff was up to her chest she couldn't help but start thrashing around, clawing at the inside of the plug like a coffin that she'd been buried alive in, breaths coming out short and ragged, interspersed with frantic moaning…
And then the air was gone.
She was holding that lungful of air, quaking with horror, unable to let out her last breath, even though she knew somewhere inside of her panicked head that the amniotic fluid was completely respirable. The small human was frozen, suspended in the liquid, somehow quite sure that she was going to die, when a deep, rumbling voice filled her ears.
And just like that she opened her mouth, bubbles escaping her, and without a single conscious thought, inhaled.
She thrashed once more as the thick fluid poured down her windpipe and into her lungs, filling her chest with an aching sensation. But that was all. This wasn't the end.
“Now sit down so we can get this show on the road.”
Nodding wordlessly, she floated over to the device and console, now seeing that it was the old pilot's seat. And when she did, the visual displays flickered to life around her.
All around her.
And not just that, but she was inundated with bizarre, disorienting sensations: of standing; of being armored; of being huge.
What the -?
Before her was the wall of the lift as the two of them sped towards the surface, girders passing them at a hundred miles an hour. And a few seconds later, they were topside. The ruins of old Chicago sprang down to meet them as they jettisoned upwards, and she saw his hands, gloved, armored, and one quickly lifted up to toggle a visual display inside of his helmet. Her panoramic view was partly shunted, and in its place were complex HUDs that covered half her – and his – field of vision.
A distant human voice sounded in her ears, distorted by a wireless radio connection. “Arms arriving in 3, 2, 1--”
A white, massive monolith shot out from the ground beside them, from another lift mechanism. 01 turned his attention toward it, and the front face of the structure slid away in a series of metal ribbons to reveal a locker of guns and progressive knives.
He reached for two knives, stashing one away in each towering shoulder pylon, before quickly grabbing what she somehow knew to be his favorite weapon. A shiver passed through her when he took it, and she could feel the thing as if she were holding it with her own two hands.
Distantly she heard more voices from Nerv HQ sound in his helmet, briefing him about the Angel as he quickly and powerfully strode among the empty, ruined streets of the city. To say he acknowledged the intel brusquely would be… an understatement.
“Welcome to my world,” he said, startling her. Where was his voice coming from? Part of it had to be an electronic voice connection, but when she pieced together her likely location in his body – just behind whatever it is he had for a heart – then half of what she was hearing was the vibration of his larynx as he spoke.
Another shiver cascaded through her despite the stifling heat of the LCL, the temperature of which seemed to hover around... 98 degrees.
“Smart kid,” he said, still on the prowl. “That's exactly where you are.”
“That's the thing about being in a bubble of electrostatically-charged amniotic fluid tucked away in a cyborg's spinal column. There's gonna be some neural bleed-over.”
She could feel him smile. She could feel why: his merciless sense of humor, his ego, his love of nothing that this world had to offer aside from inciting fear and violence. Ellen could feel the pleasure he got from lording over her.
And it was beginning to create a feedback loop.
She felt a tingling in each of their loins, and he laughed.
Ellen tried to ignore it, but it soon became apparent that this, this right here, was why he liked to see her after returning from a mission. She swallowed, shivering – a veritable speck of sentience lodged deep within the hot recesses of his chest, under slabs of muscle and girders of bone… or whatever it is that he had for a skeletal structure.
Nestled safe and sound between cords of nerves and electrical conduits.
She was in him. She was him. He'd devoured her whole, and it wasn't her body that was being digested, it was her mind.
Ellen could do nothing but watch in horror as he did the very thing that he was bred and built to do – watch and feel his all-encompassing power and lust.
Up ahead, through the wreckage of what was once Chicago's financial district, Ellen spotted a massive shape through the clutter of his helmet's HUDS (which were too complex for her to even begin to decipher). What she recoiled from, his aggression pushed them toward, and she could feel the rippling of the muscle in his thighs, the crumbling pavement under his incomprehensible weight. Underneath the beastly helm he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes.
“Israfel,” he growled deep in his chest, vibrating the LCL around her.
There were more voices then, human voices crackling into his helmet from the Nerv geofront far below them, and from what she could catch they were attempting to suggest a strategy.
But 01 – as usual, she guessed – was barely listening. Taking advice from his old masters was always a last resort. And even then, she could sense that the Eva was not in any way averse to dying either by saving the world or in trying to destroy it himself. An image from his side of the neural synch flickered in her mind for a split second: a razed Nerv headquarters; facilities drenched in the blood of their tiny occupants; a strange figure of his size, legless and faceless, hooked up to a machine, and torn limb from limb; his AT fields chipped away by a battery of missiles before finally, and like a candle flame, he's snuffed out by the white heat of a thermonuclear explosion.
Even the image of his own death, and the sheer scale of destruction such a thing would require, was enough to send his hot blood surging to all the right places.
“This… this is fucked up,” Ellen mouthed; with her windpipe flooded, she had no voice.
But she didn't need one for him to hear her echoing in his own head. “You think?” came the deep, rumbling, laughing reply.
“Sanity don't get the job done, kid.”
Entire skyscrapers – or their blackened, rusted husks, at least – swam past them like aisles at the supermarket as they drew closer to the being before them.
The angel called Israfel was huge. Twice as big as 01, and it had never occurred to her that a living creature could get much bigger. She wondered for a fraction of a second if the Eva was intimidated by the thing's size, but the thought was put to rest as soon as she'd thunk it: the tiny, captive human was suddenly inundated with feelings of gleeful, violent rage.
And, more than anything in the world, Ellen found herself wanting to tear the angel to pieces with her bear hands.
“Patience,” he cooed dangerously, lifting the gun to his shoulder and firing.
Though it looked like a weapon she could have held in her own (human) hands, the volume of the blast and the power of its recoil were more than anything she could have imagined. Fired underwater, the thing would have triggered a tsunami. She was distantly aware of things flying out the side of it as he continued his barrage, and once she actually turned to look, they shone like brass as they were flung away two blocks over: spent shell casings. Each one as big as a refrigerator.
Up ahead, Israfel stood still, almost lifeless, as 01 attacked, and Ellen noticed a red sheen separating it from the bullets aimed precipitously at its chest. He advanced, still firing, and the feeling of doing so sent another tremor down her spine.
After a few moments, the sheen rippled sharply, turned redder, and then shattered like an electrified windowpane.
“No,” the eva growled around her. He paused, watching with the eyes of a devastatingly skilled hunter, surveying his quarry. Just then, Israfel sprang to life, its body wracked with shudders as it tore itself apart. Ellen would have gasped if she had air.
The part of her that was her shook in the LCL, wanting to be back at Nerv, or dead, or anywhere but here. The her that was her wanted to claw at the inside of the plug until her fingers bled. But the her that was him… was restless. Hungry. Hateful. Even if it meant getting torn limb from limb she wanted to fight.
01 was ignoring her; the smear of blood and bone and gray matter shoved deep inside of him, slowly going mad under the sheer weight of his mind, was inconsequential compared to the violent puzzle before him.
Israfel had become two beings, and this posed a logistical problem.
When he wasn't thinking at her, his brain was a blur. Ellen could catch wisps of thought here and there, but it was like trying to fill a water bottle from Niagara Falls, and what tiny bits she did manage to recognize stunned her.
There was a lot of math. Physics, probability – was he computing their mass and speed and energy output? She caught him thinking about the massive gun in his hands, but thinking in terms of entire schematics and technical specifications down to the second decimal.
He was only standing there, surveying the situation for about four seconds before raising the gun up again and firing.
They were fast now – incomprehensibly fast – and his growl vibrated her bones at having missed his target. What she wasn't expecting, though, was the severity of the sensation of being hit by one of them. A blow delivered to where, on her, a kidney would have been sent a shock of pain through him and her.
A wordless moan escaped her as she opened her mouth and winced, hugging herself at the searing ache that had her doubled over on the console, trying to catch her liquid breath. It had been sudden and terrible and whatever part of her that was him was shrinking in the face of her own native terror.
How did that happen?
If he gets killed, does that mean…?
“Sure does,” he ground out through gritted teeth, dodging attacks from both of the angels and carefully avoiding getting trapped between them.
The fighting was fast and it was ugly.
The angels, still huge, still terrifying, wanted the both of them – no; his mind told her that they wanted all life on Earth – deader than dead.
They tried to grab him, tried to rip him apart like hungry wolves, but he was just as fierce.
In a flash a knife appeared in his hand and he slashed at them both. The damage was superficial by their standards, she somehow knew, but blood spurt everywhere. It sprayed all over him, reddening his armor and helmet, and he reached up to wipe the red hot filth from his optical arrays.
A harried human voice came in over the radio: “01 do you need assistance? I repeat, do you need assistance??”
He was hit square in the jaw and sent sailing backwards with a grunt, hitting pavement and stumbling down into an apartment building. Clouds of old dust filled the air and blocks of concrete scattered across his belly like crumbs. But the pair didn't let up.
He rolled out of the way, destroying the rest of the flimsy building. The two of them, in concert, stabbed with fifteen foot claws at the spot where 01 had just been, and the Eva took this opportunity to thrust the knife up and into the thing's chest, aiming for what she knew, through him, to be its core.
It cracked, but nothing came out. He was expecting blood as he yanked the blade free, but as soon as he did, the crack healed itself and the two angels lifted him into the air before tossing him into the highrises a few blocks away.
This hurt too, but not too badly. Steel and rebar groaned in a chorus of a thousand twisted beams under the Evangelion's weight. He didn't even let himself come to a stop before violently finding purchase on the fifth story of one building, yanking himself into a coiled pose as it collapsed under the rending strength of his fingers.
She could hear the rush of his blood around her. Arteries big enough for her to crawl through were pumping god knew what to and from his behemoth lungs, working overtime then. She could hear the rasping whoosh of air all around her, hundreds of cubic feet being sucked in and pressed out every dozen seconds or so – the fastest she'd ever heard him breathe.
She could hear him swallow then, too. A noise that made the hairs on her neck stand on end. It was a long, loud, gushing sound, followed by a sort of deep fluttering of clicks; that's when she realized that the bottom of his throat was right in front of her.
Nerv sounded in their ears again.
“01, do you read? Do you need assistance?? We're getting damage reports, and --”
“If you don't shut the fuck up I will pop you like a fucking blister!” he snarled into the receiver in his helmet. Ellen started, freezing like a startled opossum. Still, he ignored her.
She wanted him to acknowledge her – say something, anything, because she felt like she was getting sucked down again, threatening to disappear. His hands became her hands again; his feet, her feet; his heaving back, her heaving back. She could feel the rebar bent under his harsh grasp like pipe cleaners, and the asphalt like a cracked rug under his massive feet, bunched up behind him and erupting with the dead soil from underneath. Long-since broken glass glittered in the flayed street before them, beaten into dust by his apocalyptic steps.
His HUDs came quickly to life as the two monstrosities approached him, and the giant around her growled deep in his throat.
She sensed his plan: somehow get the both of them within arm's reach at the same time, and crush both of their cores at the same time. It wouldn't be easy, but he didn't want Nerv's help. He could do this by himself, and if he got beaten to a pulp trying? The behemoth didn't give a shit.
He cracked a smile behind the horned helmet, tongue darting out to lick his teeth. She found herself doing the same thing.
His left hand reached up and into it the second knife got released from the left shoulder pylon. He was waiting. Waiting…
Like a shot he moved between them, arms poised to try and take them both, but they were fast.
01 twisted to face them, ready to pounce, but each of them grabbed a bicep, preparing to throw him again.
But they didn't really know who they were dealing with, did they?
Muscles in Ellen's body tightened in time with his and with a bloodthirsty cry, he wrenched his arms free and tackled them into whatever buildings were still standing. They hit the ground with a wretched thundering, and she couldn't help the smile that crept across her face at the sight of them prone among the rubble.
The Eva repositioned the knives in his hand in half an instant as he raised his arms above his head. He grit his teeth as he brought them down, aiming for their twin cores, but they escaped the blades. Almost. 01 sunk the knives into their arms, pinning them to the ground. There was more blood. Gushing, red and hot, and Ellen watched through his terrible green eyes as they jerked in a silent scream at the pain.
Good. His voice rumbled in her head. Let's see you hurt some more.
Heat bloomed deep in her belly again, and she could feel it mirror in the giant's twitching cock. All fifteen feet of him.
Their free arms lashed out at him in a frenzy, slashing open the forearms of his suit. She grabbed her own arms in pain, but all she was met with was his slowly building hard on. She was hurting inside of him, trapped, feeling everything that he felt (except more) as he did one of the only things that he loved to do: kill.
They decked him in the head again with those claws, making a loud bang against the metal of the helmet, and she could feel the hardware inside hit him in the face. Blood trickled from a split lip. His heart rate surged from 15 BPM to 20.
Hers goes from 90 to 105.
Wrestling with each of their huge, angular arms as they started clawing toward his neck, she could feel a spike of adrenaline – or something like it – enter his bloodstream like diesel gasoline enters a cylinder, ready to ignite.
They settled for slashing open his exposed deltoid muscles. He roared, she cried out into the amniotic fluid, muffled and flat, clutching at her searing shoulders. It hurt. It all hurt. But this time, the pain just made her angry, and her anger went straight to her cunt.
If he could detect this infinitesimally small change in the chemical composition of the LCL-filled plug, then his reaction was automatic: she could feel the heavy mass of his cock lazily push up against the tight armor as he violently restrained the angels again.
His thoughts were a silent blur as they tried to outmaneuver the Evangelion as he stood over them, bent, straining, boiling over with rage and sadistic lust.
But he had them. She knew he had them the instant he knew, and with a wicked grin he was given a split-second of opportunity as he stomped down on each of their free arms with booted feet like shipping containers. Like lightning he ripped the knives from them and raised each above his head.
He didn't stab directly at the cores this time: he stabbed just under them and with a horrible sucking, squishing, heaving, he pried them out. The rich, glassy red orbs rolled off each of their seizing bodies, leaving a trail of blood in their wake, and deep, bloody holes where they were once embedded, spurting with geysers of blood and drenching him.
The sight of their death throes below fattened his cock the rest of the way, and still the adrenaline burned.
He sunk the progressive knives deep into their chests, even as life was quickly leaving them, and he tore them straight down to their groins in a mockery of the precision of an autopsy technician.
“No one razes this city but me,” he growled with animalistic hate.
In a terrifying frenzy he started to stab them with all of his might. In mere seconds he'd covered their massive, limp bodies in shredded holes, only dribbling blood now. But it wasn't enough.
01 threw the knives away and started throwing himself at them with his fists. Beating them for what seemed like forever. He punched so hard that he ruptured their armored skin several times, drenching his gloved hands in their hot gore, and this only seemed to spur him on even more.
The sound of his enormous, pounding heart and his rasping, ragged breaths were all that she could hear aside from the sickening thuds of his bare hand tearing into them like slabs of meat.
The angels bodies were quickly becoming unrecognizable.
But the her that was her surfaced again when he tore into the holes where their cores once were, each one in turn, and ripped out was was clearly bowels with a bestial snarl.
Is that a fucking liver??
The human in her recoiled wildly, and suddenly she found herself wanting to vomit, wanting to claw her way out again.
He could feel her recede from him again and he paused as he stood on his knees only long enough to laugh at her.
The giant, raging soldier reached down to his codpiece and undid it with eerily deft fingers. In seconds his cock was out and was quickly being covered in blood by his hand fisted around it.
No, no, no, she mouthed. No, this is wrong, so wrong
so so so wrong
Her back hit the rear end of the plug, but she couldn't escape the horrific view. His eyes were her eyes, even when she closed them.
“Awful, isn't it?” he muttered, his voice like a wall of sound around her.
She just cowered in the hot slick of the LCL – his LCL – and tried to desperately ignore the heat in her belly. If she did, that meant that she still had some semblance of humanity. Some semblance of something of herself before the Angels came along. Before the oceans literally ran red. Before the world got so hideously fucked up that these creatures, the Evangelions, were the only heroes capable of saving them.
“Don't forget, you wanted this.” He taunted with a thunderous laugh.
He made quick work of himself – the fight had worked him up – and with a deep, full-throated groan, his hips jerked and thighs tightened and he marked them with a sputtering splash of inhuman seed from an angry cockhead.
The sight was incomprehensible to her as he got up and surveyed the massive corpses before them, not bothering to put himself away. All that she could see were shreds of orange, white, and black, covered in masses of red and littered with the torn remnants of their disembowelment. He turned, spying their discarded cores, and stomped on them, creating small rivers of blood in the battered street. Aircraft came screaming by overhead and huge helicopters began to fill the sky. In the distance she could hear their quiet, fearful radio chatter.
01 ignored them all as he headed back in the direction that they came from.
He stopped not too far away, reached down to pick up his favorite gun, and turned only to sink a round into each defaced body. They exploded, covering the buildings around them in chunks of flesh. He threw the gun to the ground with a smile and continued.
Ellen was still pinned up against the back of that horrible thing, breathing short and shallow. She got the distinct feeling that she was never going to leave the plug now; that her last horrible moments would be here, that she would meet the same end at his last pilot from so many years ago.
“That how you want it to end?” his voice shook her from herself. She'd forgotten that in here, he could see everything going on in her tiny little human head.
She wanted to cry, but her body didn't know how to do it while submerged.
They headed down the lift, and she could feel him getting hard again. Images of all the ways that he could murder her filled his consciousness and her abject terror was greeted with a slow, throaty groan.
He's going to kill me this time.
He really is.
As she thought this, it echoed back to her in his mind like two mirrors facing each other, giving a glimpse into infinity. If she was crying, it was impossible to tell. All she knew was that she was making him harder, and while his bloodlust had been partially sated, the rest of him pressed down on her like gathering storm clouds. This was far from over.
The lift hit the bottom of the scramble deck and she could see people gathered on the floor, ready to receive their savior.
“Get out,” he spat, and the throngs of personnel froze. He regarded them with thinly veiled disgust for a moment before lifting his foot and sending a tanker truck sailing across the floor, crumpling like a toy as it collided with a far wall. A puddle of god knows what spread out from underneath it.
Cries erupted from them and they began to scatter.
“Every single one of you pathetic humans!” he roared, pounding his fist into the wall beside the armor repair equipment when yellow-vested technicians there didn't go flying down their ladders fast enough for his liking. Someone fell down to the level below, crying out at a broken leg, and he had to be carried away.
His eyes darted over to a window set high in the wall that still had people behind it: the control room. 01 took three steps over to it and shoved his gory fingers inside, sweeping its workers toward the door without a single whit of regard for any of its contents. Sparks went flying as he ruined machines and computer stations, and glass rained down to his feet like shimmering dust.
Soon, the two were alone.
Ellen didn't want to be alone. She would have taken the company of 100 David Paskos right now over this. But that wasn't in the cards. Instead, she was alone with an Evangelion who was still drunk off tearing two beings his size to shreds with his bare hands.
She watched him reach up to that bulging mound of equipment anchored to his back where the plug entry was, and suddenly she found herself scrambling to get to the other end of the plug and away from his end closest to his hand.
No, no, no, no…
She tried to scream when she was ripped from him, the viewscreens and his mind's eye both disappearing from her and replaced with literal static, but all that came out was a moaning gurgle. She couldn't see or hear a thing now, only feel the jostling of what was surely the plug getting ejected from his body.
For about two seconds, she was weightless, and then the plug hit something and she was thrown against the pilot's seat below her, tangling her up in its odd shapes and bruising her already sore body. The floor. He must've dropped the plug to the floor.
There was a creaking then, a groaning, and the sensation of the space being pressurized before half of the thing caved in on itself with a very loud crash. She saw his titan foot recede upward from where it'd come stomping down on that end of the plug. If she'd been over there, his foot would have smashed her like a bug.
Light poured in as LCL poured out of the gaping hole, and Ellen instinctively scrambled out through the jagged debris.
What stopped her short, though, was the need to breathe. With lungs full of liquid her chest was heavy, bloated, and painful. She didn't get very far before collapsing onto all fours and choking out the amniotic fluid, body wracking as it tried to squeeze every last drop from her and taking big, ragged breaths.
Yes, she was sobbing after all.
“Hey kid,” came a deep, rumbling voice from overhead, distorted a little by electronics, and a moment later Ellen found herself thrown in a massive shadow.
She didn't want to look. She wanted to keep her stinging, leaking eyes fixed on the ground below her so that whatever it was that was coming would at least be a surprise.
But she looked.
The first thing she noticed was the helmet and its yellow, glowing eyes. The front of it was sculpted into a horrific shape, part human, part demon. It was purple and green once, but now it was covered in a drying layer of stinking red that would have to be sandblasted off.
The second thing she noticed was his huge dick, swollen and twitching and jutting in her direction. It too was smeared in blood, the hole at the end weeping with precum. A glob of it dripped onto the floor in front of her.
She ran with every ounce of strength that she had because she knew her life depended on it this time.
Not even that was enough, though. Her most basic animal desire to live couldn't even stand up to this thing.
His foot came down next to her in a flash of purple and black and yellow. Her fingers touched the ground as she scrambled to strafe clumsily away, a shriek tearing from her still aching windpipe. The sound was lost to the echoing, thunderous boom of his boot hitting the floor, though. The entire scramble deck trembled.
His other foot did the same, so close that the pressure differential it created sucked the breath from her and sent her to the floor. Her arm and side, still smarting from psychosomatic wounds, made her see stars, and ugly sounds escaped her with her every pounding step once she got onto her feet again.
It was really no use, though. His walking speed was 30 miles an hour. Ellen was pushing barely, what, 15?
And yet, stopping wasn't even a choice.
The closest thing for her to find respite in was the massive tower of equipment that dealt with his armor. His right foot smashed down directly in front of her hard enough that it put a hole in the floor. The metal tiles warped and jerked upward around the sole of his boot like it was sinking into crumpled paper. Sparks flew from of the exposed infrastructure underneath and a gas hissed out.
But she had already banked hard to the right, toward the machine, and all of that was behind her. She ducked as she ran, ducked as though that would help.
“There's nowhere to go,” he boomed from high above.
Ellen scrambled in among the hard jagged machines, scraping and bruising so easily without clothes on. The possibility of getting crushed if the thing turned on didn't even cross her mind. Getting away from that voice was all that mattered.
“Who do you think is going to come to your rescue?”
She pressed on, forcing her body to fit into places that weren't designed for bodies to go. She fought bundles of hydraulic cables determined to get in her way, and then she was crawling, squeezing. She'd found a deep, dark niche and she was going to lose herself in there because that was the only faint glimmer of hope that separated her from having a tomorrow and being reduced to a smear on the wall.
“It's just you and me, kid.”
She was bleeding, crying, and it was as far as she could go. The end of the line.
The view out of her hole was narrow, and for a moment all she could see was the white of the room. But that was quickly replaced by his foot, stepping almost lazily now, and then a hand. He was crouching down.
His other hand quickly blocked out the light as he plunged a middle finger in after her.
She screamed, trying to disappear even further inside, preparing to kick away the digit. But his finger was thicker than she was, and he wasn't able to get close enough to touch.
He chuckled with a gravelly huskiness through the helmet as his finger retreated. She didn't know what to expect next, but she knew better than to think that she'd won. What she did see, though, was the head of his prick, hanging low under its own weight and nearly brushing the floor. 01 didn't need to touch himself to stay hard at a time like this.
Her stomach turned inside out at the groaning of metal again.
Then, there was a sound like a car accident. Equipment shrieked and crashed and hissed. An explosion of sparks rained down, bitter-smelling hydraulic fluid dripped across her leg, stinging in her latticework of scrapes. She covered her face as bolts went flying and cables snapped.
01 had torn part of the goddamn machine out, and its mangled, billion-dollar pieces he tossed aside like nothing.
It was nothing to him. All of it was.
And there he was, crouched high above her, balancing on heels with his fingers sloppily steepled together between his knees. He was so big.
“This is what happens when you engineer a god with nothing to lose, Ellen.”
The tiny human froze at the sound of her name on his harsh lips. She'd never heard him say it before. Didn't even know if he knew her name.
“Please!” she found herself screaming, eyes closed and hands on her head. Her voice was going hoarse. “Please don't kill me!”
“And why the fuck not?” he barked, his hand shooting out to finally snatch her up and out of her hidey hole. She was suddenly contained within the confines of his bloodied glove, pressed up against rolling curves of skin and unable to move. He stood up, she could feel, and then she was quickly rearranged in his hand so that only her head peeked out from inside of it, and just barely.
He punched the wall with her still bundled up in his fist. He moved so fast and so hard that the impact made her see spots and tore the air from her lungs.
“No one here would save you from me,” he growled, punching again and again, leaving a gaping hole. “You're not worth it.”
He reached into the broken control room again with his other hand, curled his fingers around the workstations and raked them out through the wall. Terminals and monitors and concrete and clouds of papers fell to the floor.
“No one and nothing,” he continued with a smirk she could only hear. “Is worth getting in my way for.”
He spied the broken truck from earlier, raising his leg up and stomping down on it, hard. It flattened and the liquid spilled from it ignited under a ball of black smoke.
Ellen hurt all over. Her tiny dots of blood were mingling with the vast stains along his palms and fingers, and her bruises would soon be turning the color of his armor. Ripe, red fear was slowly fading into trembling despair.
“Just fucking do it then!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.
He regarded her silently. She could see his other arm moving a little as it hung down, muscles flexing the faintest bit. He was stroking himself.
“Is that what you want?” he rumbled.
She struggled against his grip impotently, but nothing else came out.
The Evangelion chuckled. “That's what I thought.”
He walked over to the wall, stepping on the remnants of the plug along the way, and lowered her down to the level of his massive balls.
“Squirm,” he ordered, then deposited her into the soft patch of flesh between the top of his balls and the base of his rock-hard cock before crushing her between him and the wall with a thrust of his hips.
She didn't really have a choice. If she didn't squirm, she'd suffocate.
What she didn't expect, though, was to hear the sound of his heartbeat, all the way down here, to feel the jerking of his tightened sack below her, and to feel a rushing of blood down to her own nethers.
Up above he stroked himself against the wall, skyscraper body swaying with a second round of pent-up lust.
“Squirm,” he repeated with a vicious snarl.
He's going to kill us all someday.
She squirmed, alright. Cheeks still wet from tears, hair matted from the dried LCL, body beaten red, black, and blue, mind exhausted… she squirmed, and was rewarded with a deep, thrumming groan.
She wrapped her arms around the base of his massive shaft, skin barely pliable to her at his size, and braced her feet in the rough, tight folds of his balls, focusing most of her energy on getting full breaths of air even as that fat, hard ridge down his length threatened to crush her head.
His breath hitched, tightening his abs, which jerked his entire ensemble. More precum oozed down the wall behind her and he made sure to press her into the hot, viscous fluid. It got in her hair and her mouth, and the taste was… good.
She was quickly interrupted by the rough reach of his hand again, though, and she watched in vague horror as he lifted up his jaggedly armored knee and smashed another hole in the wall. At pelvic level. He reached into the hole and ripped out a few bothersome pipes and electrical cables with a grunt before giving it an exploratory thrust with his cock.
01 lifted her up with one hand and reached under the chin of his helm with the other, prying it off as it hissed and clicked, tossing it to the floor with another heart-stopping crash.
She saw his face, though.
His wild, flushed, murderous face, eyes so dilated that they were no longer that hideous green. Lips like ocean swells curled upward in a smile that chilled her to the bone. He was showing jagged teeth and pink-red gums just as an apex predator does when it bares its teeth at dinner. His own blood ran a in a rough line down the curve of his hard, stubbled jaw, not quite glistening but not quite dry. One of his flaring nostrils wept blood too.
He looked like a man; deceptively so. But the 130 foot Eva was far from human. He loved nothing, valued nothing, and ultimately desired only one thing: to personally raze Nerv and its every disgusting employee before this was all over.
The images he forced her to see in his mind – the bombs, the blood, the keening rage – it was all still there, behind that face.
He was simply biding his time until the End.
His lips came together in a tight circle and the tiny human found herself suddenly covered in a puddle of spit. It rehydrated the blood stuck to his gloved hand, turning the liquid orange-pink and surrounding her with the sticky-sweet scent of bitter iron that made her gag.
She was roughly pressed up to the base of his prick again, its radiant, pulsing heat stifling her, overwhelming her. The pressure and the smell and the spit and the glove was disorienting. As she struggled against him, she didn't even notice that he'd slipped his cock back into the wall, but she did notice when he started thrusting.
The sensation of such a mass of flesh moving against her quickly became uncomfortable – it was like being dragged along the length of a locomotive. Covered in blood.
Her mind began to swim and ears rang as her body ached and tingled and burned at the friction of his incomprehensible bulk against her. He was moving… moving so quickly, so roughly. It was hard to tell what was doing on. Hard to tell up from down.
Somewhere off in the distance she could hear his panting, his throaty grunts as he worked up a second load. His balls slapped at the wall below her, threatening to put another hole in it.
He thrust faster and faster, into both his fist and the wall. Ellen was lost to her senses, stretched as painfully as a tight pussy wrapped around a coke-can cock. It was hard to see, and impossible to think. Her entire existence was the smell of that blood and the feeling of her soft skin rasping at the underside of his hard length as he pistoned into that hole.
With a roar he ripped himself out and collapsed quickly into a kneel, throwing her to the ground between his knees from six feet up just as he gave one last hissing grunt and emptied his balls all over her. If she could see straight and wasn't sputtering for breath amid the thick blanket of gooey white spunk, she'd have seen his hand shake a few last drops from his flagging length before reaching out to cover her. But she didn't realize what was going on until he'd done it.
His hand pressed her into the floor harshly, and his eyes bored down into her as he watched with unabashed pleasure as she fought against his unfathomable weight, his unspeakable strength. He smeared her in his fluids, pressing harder until her lungs couldn't fill, until it was all she could do to keep herself from choking on his semen. She clawed at his gloved hand, a sob threatening to erupt. Ellen managed to cough: “Please…!”
He watched her flounder a second more before ripping her away and splaying her out on his palm, with the flat of his tongue quickly pressed against her.
She was too weak and too witless to fight it.
Her body betrayed her, too. In spite of everything, it still felt like heaven. Or maybe, because of everything? She found her hips responding by thrusting into his blanket of taste buds, each one tickling her from tail to pubic bone. The titan was unrelenting in his assault as he licked, curling his fingers down onto her because he liked the way she struggled against suffocation.
Little gasping moans escaped her, and her hands grabbed pathetically at the tree-trunk fingers crushing her against his palm when the heat began to build beyond anything she'd experienced before. The moans turned into cries, and the cries into panting shouts, and as her orgasm ripped through her, she was sobbing. She buried her face into the side of his finger as she wept and cried and shook violently against him. It was unbearable. Her body felt like static – the culmination of hours of abuse, fear, pain, and adrenaline, all cresting in a crescendo of terrible, numbing bliss. A mind-shattering memento mori, delivered at the behemoth hands of this… this…
With a soft, wheezing whimper, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell limp against him.
He smirked, staring at the tiny human laying prone and unconscious in his hand before lowering to the floor next to his puddles of spunk. He stood up, a little refreshed, and turned to look at her one more time before leaving the room, heading for the rack.
If there had been an onlooker, they might have wondered at that smirk. Was he pleased with himself?
The Evangelion would have been the first to tell them that they were asking the wrong question.
Ellen woke up in a hospital bed.
The room was dismal, and sterile, and windowless. There were stitches on her hands and fluids drip-dripping into a line in her arm. What time was it? What day was it?
Not a soul was to be found or a sound to be heard other than the gentle whoosh of central air and the hum of machines.
Blearily she looked around, and found only a single piece of folded paper beside her bed. It was uneven, folded carelessly – or hastily – and when she opened it the note was printed in some serifed type on a plain sheet of paper:
Whether you are here, or on the other side of the planet, you will have one guarantee in life
I will be the thing that kills you.
Ellen swallowed, her mouth dry, and shivered. She folded the note back up and put it back where it was.
It was strange to be so plainly told something that she knew, deep down. Strange, really? Not terrifying, not dreadful, just strange?
Looking back on it all, everything that he did to her – there was a predictability to it. No question of whether or not today he might decide to treat her to dinner and a movie instead of make her wish she'd never been born. She was there for him to hurt.
In a way, he did that to everybody at Nerv. His mere existence was enough to make you question your sanity, your morals, your place in the universe. Question the motives of capital-g Gods who were said to be full of love and light and have a plan for mankind. The Evas then, surely, were part of that plan.
The Evas were the price humanity paid for… what?
It was actually kind of nice, when she thought about it. Kind of vindicating. As soon as he stepped out of whatever giant test tube they grew him in, he was become death, destroyer of worlds.
She was calm, she realized, as she lay there, staring at the closed door in front of her. Was someone going to check on her? Make sure she hadn't flat-lined? Maybe they put her in here and hoped to forget about her, hope that maybe she just wouldn't wake up and they could sweep another one of 01's Babylons under the rug.
Sorry guys, the apocalypse is coming.
We never had control over it.
Ellen got out of bed, pulling the needle out of her arm, and walked out.
She was in the mood for a coffee.
Well guys, this was super fun (and as far as this particular chapter, super exhausting), but I am officially retiring these two. I've said all that needs to be said about them. However, if any one of you want to take them and run with it, be my guest!
Cheers to everyone who I make just that much weirder and kinkier from reading this. <3
Also, apologies for the shameless self-promo, but I now have a Patreon! In addition to writing macro smut, I -draw- a lot of macro smut, including comics and fetish shit like weird plane men (aeromorphs). Please check it out and throw a couple bucks my way if you're interested in what I'm making: http://patreon.com/kisupure
(This and another sfw/dayjob Patreon is the entirety of my income ATM, which is still only in the hundreds of dollars. Anything helps.)