Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12141213.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Other
  Fandom:
      Silent_Hill_(Video_Game_Series), Silent_Hill:_Revelation_3D_(2012)
  Character:
      Heather_Mason, Alessa_Gillespie, Claudia_Wolf, Valtiel_(Silent_Hill),
      Harry_Mason
  Additional Tags:
      Forced_Orgasm, Breeding, Nightmares, Monsters, Rape/Non-con_Elements,
      Tentacles, Horror, Cults, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy, Religious_Content,
      Sacrifice, Hurt/Comfort, Sleepwalking, Hypnotism, Size_Difference, God
      Complex, Not_Beta_Read, Sorry_Not_Sorry, Worship, Cunnilingus, Teasing,
      Tentacle_Sex, Nipple_Licking, Not_Canon_Compliant, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, shitty_ending, Impregnation, Forced_Pregnancy, Ritual_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-20 Words: 4650
****** kamikazee ******
by BigScaryDinos
Summary
     Heather carries a god inside her during Silent Hill 3 - who is the
     father?
     It wasn't immaculate conception that's for sure.
     OR
     Where does Heather go when she sleepwalks?
Notes
     never wrote anything like this before, feedback = love. you can
     decide if you want silent hill 3 heather or silent hill revelations
     heather but in my mind this follows for sh3.
 
 
“Dad,” she started looking at her father over the table. He chewed a pancake
thoughtfully and regarded her. “I've been having some awful headaches lately.”
 
Awful was putting it mildly. They were utterly debilitating. More times and not
she couldn't see straight when they hit. They'd only started back up since
she's been having the dreams earlier in the week. It felt like nothing helped,
laying down or sitting in a dark room. She would shut her eyes and rub her
temples. She could think happy thoughts or scream as loud as she could and it
didn't do an inch of good.
 
“Have you tried anything?” Harry asked motioning towards the kitchen cupboard
that served as the medical supply closet. Heather nodded. Yes of course she's
tried everything. Tylenol and Excedrin and Motrin and Naproxen. She had taken a
handful of each just two days ago went she felt she couldn't take it any more.
 
Her first reaction was sarcasm. Sometimes she felt like her father forgot she
was a teenager and asked stupid questions as if she were still a child. Instead
she bit back the remarks blooming inside her throat.
 
“Nothing helps.” She admitted instead, raising her spoon to her mouth. She
slurped cinnamon tinged milk. He watched her as if studying for some sign of
disease in her face.
 
“Maybe we should go to the doctor.” Her father contemplated, only succeeding in
sending a  primal shiver of fear through her. She had always been terrified of
doctors, nurses, hospitals. It was something bone deep that she'd always been
unable to shake.
 
“No I'll be okay.” She decided. After all it was just a headache and they did
go away as quickly as they came. It was a few moments of pain randomly through
the day that she was sure she'd rather soldier through than deal with white
coats and lab tests. The threat of some old wrinkly man with a stethoscope
poking at her under a paper gown made her skin crawl. Harry nodded his
agreement unsure if he should pursue the conversation before finally letting it
trail off into the silence between them. He picked up a newspaper and flipped
to sports.
 
She didn't bring it up again.
 
                                      ...
                                        
There was something off at night. Normally, like any other girl her age she
derived some kind of pleasure from staying up late but sleeping in. For some
reason lately she had been struggling. She had brief glimpses of dreams,
reoccurring but just out of her reach. She would wake up in a cold sweat some
days wondering what had happened but only feeling the faintest connections to
what happened once her eyes closed. 
 
She tested it out one night, she kissed her father's prickly chin then went to
her room. She sat for hours, at first reading website articles about lucid
dreaming, before growing bored and turning to Buzzfeed quizzes and point-click
flash games. She would stay up tonight, she thought as she clicked away and
bought nonsense on Ebay. She watched videos of cats and laughed a little too
hard at blogs her friends had written. She wasn't tired at all.
 
In fact she never even noticed that she had gone to sleep until she woke up the
next day.
 
                                      ...
                                        
                                        
“Daddy,” Heather began setting a plate of spaghetti in front of her father and
turning back to the stove to get her own. “I'm worried I'm sleep walking
again.”
 
“Why's that honey?” Harry asked. “This is delicious by the way.” He twirled a
long noodle around his fork before putting it into his mouth.
 
“I just, feel like I might be.” She couldn't afford to use the wrong words,
couldn't turn the conversation off before it had even started.
 
What Heather kept to herself was that in her dreams things were coming into
focus. She was at amusement parks and the woods. She was out on the streets and
rooftops and when she woke up she was in bed but her clothes were dirty. Her
feet were bare and filthy. Her legs felt tired. This morning when she woke up
she had a rather large bruise forming on her back with no clue where it had
come from. Her body ached. Her mouth was dry and there was dirt under all her
fingernails.
 
“Well you haven't been sleeping walking since you were little.” Her fathers
face darkened remembering the circumstances that surrounded his only daughters
childhood. There were some lovely memories but most were tainted with the
stories Harry would never fully reveal and that Heather was furious she
couldn't recall.
 
“How did I stop then?” Heather looked at her father so deep in thought, dinner
sitting untouched between the two. Harry was a good man, just a private one.
Heather wished once he could just open up. Just tell her what had happened.
 
“You just stopped one day.”
 
“Very helpful, Dad.”
 
“I'm sorry, princess. I love you, I just - “
 
“It's okay.” The idea of ignoring the problem seeming to turn her stomach but
the thought of sending her Father off into one of his rare but devastating
silent moods much more crippling to her. His silence a greater weapon even if
unintentional than some half remembered adventures under the moon. “I wake up
in my bed, it's not like I'm going anywhere. I'll be okay.” She laughed, a joke
she tried.
 
Harry visibly seemed lighter, better that the topic  was nearing it's close.
 
“Well just let me know if it's still going on.” He smiled at her over the
table. She smiled back and hoped it was convincing.
 
“Of course.”
 
“So, you're starting at that new high school soon aren't you?”
 
“Two weeks yesterday.” Heather replied, grateful for the change but without her
heart in it. The problems she was keeping to herself weighed heavily on her
mind and stomach as she struggled through her plate. The rest of the dinner
passed without another mention of her sleepwalking.
 
                                      ...
 
 
“Daddy,” Heather sat on the couch with Harry in his recliner. The two were
watching American Idol. Not for any reason other than to laugh at the
auditioning acts. “I'm having some weird dreams.”
 
Honestly she wasn't sure why she was telling her father, knew it wouldn't
amount to a solution but still wanted to just get it off her chest. Moving into
a new town just a few months ago and during the summer break she hadn't had the
chance to meet any new friends. Nobody her age she could confide in, not that
this was normal teenage girl secrets. Even if she had met a friend she wasn't
so sure she could talk to them about this.
 
“What kind of dreams?” Harry asked, he sipped his after dinner coffee and his
eyes flickered from the commercials to his child. The shadows played tricks on
their faces while Heather tried to find the right words.
 
“Just weird dreams. I wake up in my room and I go places like to the roof and
then there's all these people and this - “ she stops suddenly acutely aware of
where this dream is going. Only in the past two nights has it retained any kind
of clarity but that doesn't make it any less disturbing. There's monsters, and
the things they do. Heather shivered on the couch as a worried Harry prompted
her for more. She can't exactly say what these monsters looked like, only the
fleshy feel of them touching her arms and even that sensation comes and goes.
Sometimes she remembers it and other times it's misplaced somewhere inside her
brain.
 
“This what, honey? What happened?”
 
What didn't happen? Harder to explain that she'd like to admit she shook her
head pulling herself from her monologue 
 
“This fog. I can't- can't remember it all. All I know is there's these people
following me and watching me and eventually I wake up in my bed and I know it's
a dream but it's just so bizarre.” She simply can't bring herself to talk about
the monsters. The horror of them and what they do while the crowd silently
watches is too much to confess to her dad.  What's worse than the horror that
she remembers is the times she can think of the dreams with some form of
clarity and it's not fear she feels when those things touch her. It's some kind
of warmth. Sometimes it feels like she wants those things to reach out and grab
her.
 
“Well okay, remember what I told you if you ever think somebody is following
you?”
 
“Yes, Daddy.” Heather can repeat it in her sleep. “Get somewhere public and
safe. Call you as soon as I can. Don't talk to them.” Life on the run for years
has taught her that if nothing else. Stranger danger was a real life learning
experience and everyone she didn't know as a friend was somebody to be wary of.

 
“Exactly. And dreams, they're just dreams.” Harry sipped his coffee again, his
head turning back to the TV as a commercial for a local car dealer faded out
and the show returned. "I know it's hard but  try to go to sleep in a good
mood. Don't think about those kinds of things."
 
“Yes, Daddy.” Heather repeated. She wished she could say out loud the things
slowly drifting into her memories, the things haunting her REM cycles, but she
just couldn't. At least not to her father. So instead she sat and  watched the
TV and laughed at the right spots and awed during the right moments and booed
the terrible singers from the safety of her own four walls, but she couldn't
shake the feeling that something about the dreams was too real.  Something
Harry would never understand. It was just something she would have to deal
with.
                                        
                                      ...
                                        
 
Her eyes opened and she was acutely aware that this was a dream. It had to be.
Her limbs felt heavy, her arms were lead and her legs were iron. She felt the
way you feel in a fever, cold and warm with an awareness of the heated fluids
inside her eyes.  
 
She got out of bed without understanding why or how. She felt too much and not
enough at the same time. It was the déjà vu  of a nightmare repeated night
after night.  She moved without thinking, without knowing or understanding. She
just went.
 
Her bare feet stalked across the floor, her toes cold against the wood despite
the summer heat pressing on her from above. She looked down, attempting to
force herself into reality as she saw the pink of her painted toe nails. She
tried to concentrate and will them to stop moving but it didn’t work. She
continued.
 
There was a buzz, a non stop noise that was something mashed between humming
and hissing. It was primal but not animalistic and it rang inside Heather’s
head.
 
It’s calling me.
 
She exited her room, she passed through the living room, the couch, the
forgotten soda cans and the TV left on with Harry asleep in his recliner. He
didn’t wake up. He didn’t flinch. Cops played, men screamed and sirens sounded
far too loud to come from the screen itself. Harry did not more.
 
Daddy, help me.
 
Harry slept and Heather walked, her eyes glassy and distant as she unlocked the
front door and left.
 
The apartment building wasn’t large but she’d never really met the neighbors. 
There was no reason to explore, she was too old to play in the hallways with
the little kids. The Masons weren’t friendly people, per say. They kept to
themselves and found no reason to go door to door and introduce themselves.
Heather went to and from the apartment without bothering with the halls and
corridors besides her own. Now she walked them as if she had been traveling
them for years.
 
She stood before room 108 as confused as she could be in her current state. As
placid and complacent as she felt there was still an off feeling, would she
really break into someone’s home while she was asleep? She had to be asleep.
This had to be a nightmare. She wasn't really going into somebody's home.
 
With the idea of nightmares and illusions comforting her finally she turned the
doorknob and found it unlocked. It sung open easily, like something inside her
was inviting in. The buzzing inside her head grew louder.
 
The room itself was essentially empty, no furniture and the most basic bare
lighting but there were people - so many people. They stood still as statues
and quiet as death, each covered in a black shroud, ugly white crosses painted
on them. She knew they were alive, they were human even if she couldn’t see
anyone’s face. She stepped forward and found her in the center of a circle of
humans. Nobody spoke, nobody moved until a tall hooded figured pulled the
shroud back.
 
“Alessa. Thank you for joining us.” She was a woman, tall and terrifying with
long platinum hair. She was so familiar but alien all at the same time. Her
face was distorted into a mask of joy and revelation. She stepped forward, feet
away from Heather, her hands outstretched as if in prayer. She smelled like
incense, like a church in the middle of a high mass. She smelled like sweat and
candle smoke. “Alessa, so many nights we have tried, but the ritual will
finally be completed tonight. Oh Alessa, I envy you.” She hummed softly under
her breath and began to chant as if on cue. 
 
Voices joined her, one by one as the shrouds began to move with the intake of
breath.  No faces were revealed but the voices spoke for themselves. The voices
were soft, masculine and feminine. Some had accents, some sounded old while
others sounded child like. The white haired woman stepped back, pulling her
mask over her face once more and taking her place among the others in the
circle without once breaking from her chant, her face the bizarre expression
until the moment she hid it away.
 
Heather couldn’t move, didn’t want to either. Something lulled her, the soft
buzzing coupled with the hum of chanting and the pleasant weighted sensation
over her entire body. She felt submerged. She stood silently watching the group
through heavy lidded eyes. She could see clearly but the darks of the world
were simply put more dark. The shadows danced and twisted behind the bodies.
They played like snakes without a care for the humans around them, ducking in
and out of the dim lights.
 
There was a feeling, gentle on her back through her thin tank top. Something
fleshy, like a long thick finger rubbing her spine through her clothes. She
would have jumped but she expected it, somehow, knew it was coming. It was warm
and did no harm so she allowed it, feeling it pressing itself against her.
Another joined, and another. She lost count of the number, instead stayed
grounded inside the sensation.
 
These weren’t fingers touching her back, but she knew better than to turn and
look. They felt her skin, the bumps of her bone, pressing against her. She felt
them up her back and against her shoulder blades, pressing the straps of her
tank top down, her pants to come to rest around her ankles. Her clothes just a
forgotten puddle. There was no embarrassment here. She was a queen to these
people. They had scared her at first but they worshiped her as well and she
didn’t need to feel shamed while she stood naked before them. She knew what
would come next.
 
These creatures caressed her skin, her face, her chest, her stomach, they were
gentle and they were many. They were creatures to her, not monsters or beasts.
Just beings that sought to help her, make her feel more than herself.
 
She allowed it.
 
 She shut her eyes and swayed, listening to the promises in a different
language, the prayers for a god she’d never understand. She’d heard these
voices before, seen the faces, she knew these people but for now she was gone.
A doll at the whims of the crowd.
 
She felt flesh between her thighs pressing them open, felt it on her chest,
teasing her breasts. It was warm before turning wet, the sensation of a finger
gone and replaced with tongues. The rough licking against her nipples while the
stiffened in the night air, no longer as warm as it had been inside her own
apartment. Here was icy, goosebumps pricked every inch of her bare skin. The
amount of people should cause the room to feel like a sauna, instead it felt
like a cave.
 
Between her legs they suckled, pressure pulling her lips apart. Sucking her
clit, teasing her hole. The tip of a tongue darting in and out of her dripping
cunt, lapping at the juices like nectar. Inches of the thick rubbery appendage
entered her slowly. Her legs felt weak but she did not fall, did not open her
eyes. She listened to the voices and drifted into the sensation, pleasant and
delicious it warmed her slowly from the inside out as the mouths feasted. It
was like she was falling into a bath of warm milk, so thick and enveloping as
she felt the tongue inside her swirl. She moaned with her mouth shut. She
chewed her lip.
 
She was coming nearer to her own orgasm, it was spreading through her body,
this overwhelming heat the rested inside her womanhood, on her face, nestled in
her stomach. She felt something else, felt something approaching as the crowd
gained speed. The chant louder she could feel something closing in the circle
on her.  
 
This was different. Most nights she traveled, was worshiped, felt things
pressing on her and in her but never felt something coming towards her. There
was no fear yet, no terror or horror. Just a slowly blooming concern.
 
She heard it, foot falls through the crowd. It was almost impossible to hear
over the voices, but it was still there. She didn’t want to open her eyes,
wanted to allow herself to come as she had nearly every night. She wanted to
get lost inside the moment, forget anything else. It was a dream, after all.
Her dream. She had a right to enjoy it. There were odd pieces of conversations
with the blond woman she could faintly recall and hung on replay inside her
mind, ruining her moments.
 
She must be willing.
 
We must help her accept this.
 
The words still ringing inside her head while she fought herself. Open her eyes
or keep them shut. It scared her to open them. The longer she contemplated it
the more it soured her sensations. The white symbols, the dark coverings,
whatever was coming for her. She didn’t want to see it, even while she knew she
had to. It stopped before her, whatever was coming.
 
She couldn’t feel breathing, couldn’t hear it’s heartbeat. It wasn’t speaking
but she felt it all the same, right there before her. The tongues slowed, her
own heart beating faster and faster as she opened her eyes.
 
Yes, it was a monster. Not a pleasant creature or friendly being. Something
from a nightmare she’d never be able to unsee for the rest of her life. Taller
than her but hunched over as it moved, she watched him almost grow as he stood
fully. He must be at least seven feet tall, maybe more. He was thickly build,
his chest wide and muscular. His arms looked powerful, fingers with the
strength to snap her neck between them.  
 
Valtiel.
 
He had a name but the horror didn’t end. His skull was bare, no hair or facial
features, just a mash of skin meshed together. It wasn’t a mask, was instead
what served for his face. She knew she shouldn’t be afraid but felt the human
fear consume her as she looked at him, where his eyes should be, where his nose
would be but instead found nothing. No mouth or ears. No holes for air.
Nothing. She wanted to scream, wanted to run but the long fleshy bodies that
had been helping her were turned against her, holding her legs, her arms. They
were restraints now as she struggled lamely against them. It was like swimming
in pudding.
 
She couldn’t move, couldn’t think even. There was no struggling, she opened her
mouth, a cry half muffled came out of a raw throat.
 
His cock she saw, was what seemed to be nearly a foot long. Thick. Terrifying,
the same melded skin of his face and his body. She would die before that went
inside her. Would die.
 
She did not know when they chanting turned into screaming, maybe it had been
inside her own mind, her nightmares flooding her senses. Maybe it was just her
own voice.
 
This is a dream. This is a dream.   
 
But the sensation of rough skin against her calves forcing her legs apart was
real. Something was lifting her, pulling her down onto him, onto Valtiel
whatever kind of creature he was. Realization hits her. She’s never been the
queen of these people, she’s the sacrifice. Her entrance still damp from the
tongues from the promise of pleasure he slowly entered her. He's not trying to
hurt her, it doesn't even seem like he's trying to pleasure himself. It seems
like business. It's hard to read non verbal clues when they monster fucking you
doesn't have a face but all the same he seems like hes' had a set determination
without much emotion.
 
Inch by agonizing inch he forced himself silently into her, and she felt as if
she’d never move again. As he finally buried his cock into her the tongues
return, her body safely locked into place by the monster himself, his thick
arms supporting her back as he begins the slow thrust of his own hips against
hers. Her pelvic bone seeming to smash against his with every motion. Bruises,
she's sure are forming.
 
The warm, wet sensation of something fat and hungry sucking her clit, pulling
the sensitive nerves.  It’s so strange the mix of pain and pleasure and she
hates herself for enjoying any second of the torture. Hates that it only takes
seconds before she’s moaning through her tears, streaking down her face. Her
glassy eyes wide trying desperately to not look at the thing without a face as
it fucks her. Ruins her cunt and stretching her. Somebody should help her, but
they don’t. Everyone just watches.
 
The blond woman steps forward, her voice the loudest over the others.
 
“God is in this room. God is with us tonight. God is here. We are your
children. We await your triumphant return.” She shrieks, her voice wild behind
her hood. Heather screams, it’s not entirely in pain.  Her fists ball up, she
could strike out at this monster but she doesn't and instead feels the burn of
vomit inside her throat when she bucks against him. She's never hated herself
more.
 
“God is pleasure. God is pain. Alessa, let God in!” The leader screams,
fervent. The monster moves, her own body aches with each thrust. It’s too much,
far too much to take. The over sensation. The over stimulation. The burn of the
hardness trapped inside her, the mouth pulling her frayed nerves in. She rolls
her head back, it could be hours or minutes. Days or years. She comes, the
orgasm powerful enough to curl her toes. Her juices flow freely over the scared
and discolored skin mashed against her.
 
When it burns and she assumes the monster,  Valtiel , she reminds herself,
joins her. She knows he’s releasing his own seed into her womb and it terrifies
her. Inside the place where no fear had existed now it runs through her body in
waves. Terror, shame, lust, fear, pride. She doesn't know what to feel. Doesn't
know how to put together what's just occurred.
 
Monster. She thinks again and again. Monster. Monster.
 
He releases her gently to the ground, lays her softly as she curls on herself
and shuts her eyes, seed running from between her legs and pooling under her
ass. She feels so empty, as if he's taken a body part from her that she's
always had. She shivers. When she opens her eyes she only sees the blond woman,
shroud removed as she knees on the ground beside her. Her monster is gone
again.


“Alessa, understand this, no meat is so sweet as what is treated well before
the slaughter.” Her words were balmy and thick as if she too were in a trance. 
Her eyes are red and watery. Her lips are chapped. Her voice is overused and
hoarse. “My sweet beautiful girl, Alessa, no reason to cry. God chose you. Of
all the people in this entire world he wanted you to birth him. He wants you
for his mother. Alessa I know it may hurt now but God is love and God is pain.
God is hurt and God is comfort. God gives to those who give to him. Oh Alessa.”
Her pales hands stroke bleached blonde hair, an attempt to comfort. It’s alien
in her touch but it’s good to feel human skin again. “Alessa you need to return
now. But we will meet again, soon. I will help you. I will protect you. I will
ensure God will have safe passage into our world.” She plants one soft chaste
kiss on Heather's cheek. "But you must not remember this."
 
Heather closed her eyes. Heather obeys.
 
                                      ...
                                        
 
Heather woke up in bed, the sun burned her eyes as they finally opened. She had
had a nightmare last night but the details were gone. She had been having
nightmares but she could no longer remember much of any of them. The past few
days, two weeks actually, felt so foggy and far away that she couldn’t remember
exactly what was the problem. Somehow she felt hopeful this morning, this would
be the last one, at least for a while. She was sure of it.
 
As she stood she saw blood on her sheets, drops of crimson dotted the white
under her. Not much but enough to force a scowl to her face.
 
“Ugh, that time of the month already?” She asked herself out loud, there was a
tenderness to her when she went to the bathroom. There wasn’t any blood in the
toilet, nor when she carefully wiped herself. She opted for a panty liner just
in case as she got ready for the day, already feeling tired even though she had
just woken up. Maybe she was just spotting. Maybe everything was fine.
 
School was starting soon and she needed to get some new clothes. She dressed
herself carefully, babying the sorest areas of her body. Two matching bruises
on her calves, her stomach, between her legs.  Either she was getting sick or
she was running marathons in her sleep.
 
 “Dad,” she started, gathering up her money and walking into the living room.
“I’m going to the mall okay?”  Harry shook himself awake on the couch as
Heather grabbed a vest from the closet in the hall. 
 
“Yeah, of course honey. God I slept like a rock last night.” He smiled, “Oh
while you're out do you mind picking up a flashlight. Mine wasn’t working last
night at all, even with new batteries.” Harry looked at his only child, sipping
water from a glass next to the sink. “Never know when you might need one.”
 
“Okay, Dad.” Heather smiled, putting the glass in the sink and heading towards
the door. “I’ll get you one. I'll call you when I'm on my way home.  I love
you, see you later.”
 
“I love you too honey.”
 
The door shut silently.


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