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Or after book will done and printed, if it will

I won't post them here anymore. Just wanted show other side of Alyx, to not let people count her fetish creature.
I forbid feed any parts of my story or art to any AI

Be careful adult content and violence



I just can’t! – Leo shouted in despair.
—"Don’t be like a whiny bitch."
With a heavy sigh, Alyx calmed herself, shifted her posture, tucking one of her paws underneath her. Moving closer to him, she gently ran her hand over his shoulder.
—"Listen," she began softly, "you can’t live your life like this."
—"I know you’re a weirdo!" she said, rolling her eyes in frustration. Running her hand through her hair and smoothing her ears back the way humans do when petting their animals.
—"But you need someone. You can’t push away everyone who tries to get close to you."
—"I know you suffered a lot from others when you were a child! I know they were unfair. I know your family destroyed and despised everything that mattered to you."
—"Believe me, I’ve seen your scars and your suicidal thoughts. I know you still hate yourself. Like I said, it will never go away—your soul was permanently damaged. You missed that moment of normal development that normal people have in a normal environment."
—"But that’s not a reason to push everyone and everything away out of fear of feeling that pain again. Of being deceived, abandoned, unwanted."
—"This is life. It’s... a pretty painful thing. Especially for you humans. You only have a few decades to figure things out and do something for yourself and for others before your story ends."
Seeing that he was still stubbornly staring at a spot on the floor on the opposite side of the room, she remained silent for a moment before shifting closer again, pulling him into a tight embrace.
—"Come here, fuckward. Why did I have to end up with such a whiner like you?" she said with a smirk.
After hesitating, she spoke very quietly, "Listen."
—"You once asked me why I fight demons instead of living as a spirit, or just finding a host and living alone on some island. Why I look the way I do, when most spirits are different and tend to resemble humans more."
When she started speaking again, there was an unfamiliar bitterness in her voice. Leo heard fear, a tremble—he could tell how hard this was for her, how much she, like him, was afraid of losing him.
—"There was a time… when I was a demon, just like the ones you’ve seen."
Leo pulled his head back in surprise to look at her.
—"Yes, I had a family."
—"Demons don’t usually look the way you’ve seen them. That’s just their earthly manifestation, which can change based on the nature of the host. The more insane and cruel the host, the more terrifying the demon appears—to you, at least. It also depends on the demon itself. The more bloodthirsty they are, the less human-like they tend to be, looking more like monstrous creatures instead."
—"We also have castes, or types. Like your elites and nobility. It’s inherited, like your genes. It can’t be changed."
—"Imps are more like your dogs—rabid, bloodthirsty creatures with low intelligence. And the higher your rank, the more human you look and the more rational you are. But that can change too. If a high-ranking demon becomes a ruthless killer of its own kind, they start to lose that humanity."
—"And sometimes… that’s even encouraged. Hell is a place where the more creatively bloodthirsty you are, the more power and prestige you gain.
It’s not the only way to climb to the top, but many family heads… are just absolute psychopaths."
—"My family was ancient and highly respected. And as you can imagine, they strictly followed all traditions—loved conducting dark rituals and tormenting human souls, taking them back to their estate.
It was just a form of entertainment. From the youngest to the oldest, everyone enjoyed causing harm and suffering. Sometimes, they would go on excursions to the human world, kidnapping entire families—killing them in something like a car accident. Or twisting them into vicious, completely insane serial killers.
To be accepted by the elders, to be a true part of the family, you had to do the same. And everyone was more than happy to. I have many brothers and sisters, and they all love tormenting humans.
You have to understand—where I come from, you are nothing more than something between cattle and an insect. Demons enjoy pulling off your legs and watching you suffer.
I never agreed with it. From the moment I could understand myself—around four years old, just like you—I already felt alone.
Yes, we have years too. Demons just live much longer—almost forever, by your standards. But growing up works almost the same. After all, we are all souls in one way or another.
I refused to take part in the family’s torture and blood feasts, which were deeply rooted in tradition.
And while I was little, they dismissed it as childish whims, constantly comparing me to my brothers and sisters as an example of how I should be."
—"But when I became a teenager, things got much worse. They started punishing me for my behavior. I was considered a freak, a disgrace to the family—someone to be hidden away from others. To them, I simply did not exist.
I think you understand exactly what I mean,"— she said, glancing at Leo, who was holding his breath.
Then, one day, my father and grandfather hosted a grand blood feast, inviting the entire elite—and the King of Hell himself.
Since my family was ancient and highly respected, this wasn’t unusual. They had held such feasts before, but back then, I had been too young to take part.
They brought living humans to the feast—crucified on the tables—for their twisted entertainment.
Yes, it’s possible," —she added, noticing the shock in Leo’s eyes.— "But it’s an incredibly rare and powerful ritual. Almost no one dares to perform it because it violates the laws of the underworld. Only the most deranged attempt it.
But this time… it must have been approved by the highest authorities."
—"When it was my turn, I publicly refused to take part. I let everything I had bottled up inside spill out. I told them that all of this—the feast, Hell itself, the very nature of my existence—disgusted me. I told them they were all sick bastards.
It felt like all the light in the world had disappeared. I had never seen my parents so furious. But, keeping their dignity in front of the King of Hell, they gave a single sharp order to the servants to take me away—and then they continued their feast.
Sometimes, things like this happened. But beyond rumors and scandalous whispers, the elite preferred to ignore such ‘disappointments.’ Usually, they just sent them off to do humiliating work or exiled them to some far-off corner of Hell.
I was thrown into a dungeon. I was sixteen. I didn’t know what to expect. I had never heard of anything like this happening in our family—not even in the history books.
For the first few days, no one came to see me. The servants gave me water, but nothing more.
In Hell, you can’t die as easily as humans do. Because we aren’t entirely human. We aren’t entirely alive. But even we can die.
What happens after that, no one really knows. Maybe we just disappear into nothingness. Maybe we reincarnate as humans, doomed to become terrible people and return to Hell as sinners. Who knows? That’s why we fear death, too. We have no certainty that it isn’t the end.
At first, I wasn’t afraid. I was angry. At myself, at my family, at the place I was born into. At the fact that I hadn’t just run away sooner.
But escaping Hell isn’t that simple. You can only exist there—or, if you want to leave, you need a host in another world.
Days passed. Then weeks. My family didn’t start treating me better. They treated me worse.
I was their shame. Their disappointment."
She looked at Leo again.
—"You know what that feels like, don’t you?"
One day, my grandfather, who had never loved me, simply decided to get rid of me.
I could no longer be allowed in public, as I was a disgrace to the family’s honor. So he suggested they torture me until I died.
At first, they simply cut my body with special blades. Blades meant for demons.
But when they grew bored of that, my brothers and sister came up with a new game—breaking my bones and waiting for them to heal, only to do it all over again. They found it amusing to see my limbs twisted into unnatural positions.
They shattered every bone they could, using their hands, hammers, or whatever was within reach. Sometimes, they simply beat me, hanging me by my wrists with chains.
They would wait for the bones to heal, and then it would start again.
It was a blood-soaked hell," —she smirked bitterly,— "days upon days of torture. I slept on the floor in my own blood whenever they allowed it.
When there were no whole bones left to break, they tortured me with extreme cold and heat—or simply with searing metal.
At first, I was horrified by what they were doing to my body, by how it looked.
By human standards, I was probably never beautiful to begin with—demons aren’t human, after all. But I didn’t like myself either. Simply for what I was. For my nature.
But soon, a thick crust of dried blood covered me entirely, making it impossible to see anything beneath. And I stopped caring.
I just begged them to finish it already. To let me die.
This went on for three years. As far as I can tell.
I don’t know how they didn’t get bored of it. I suppose those bastards were just so sick in the head that they enjoyed watching the suffering of something that wouldn’t die or break as easily as their usual toys—humans.
And then, one day, it didn’t stop.
During one of their usual torture sessions, I just couldn’t take it anymore.
And everything went dark.
It wasn’t like your death, where you saw everything from the outside.
Yes, I know—you weren’t my first host. I’ve heard plenty of stories,"— she said, glancing to the side.
It was just darkness—nothing. There was nothing at all. It was as if I had fallen asleep. There wasn’t even relief from the torture ending. If not for what happened next, I wouldn’t have even realized I had died. I simply wouldn’t have known. I was nothing. No one.
Then, in that darkness, my body appeared—a silhouette of it. It was glowing. I was glowing. I saw it both as if I were inside that body and as if I were watching from the outside at the same time.
I felt myself turning into pure light, dissolving, reforming.
Something—it was as if something was asking me what I wanted to be, how I wanted to be. It felt like a second chance, but given by something kind.
And then, somehow, whatever I truly was inside, whatever my essence longed for, took the form you see now." She lowered her head, looking down at herself, sweeping a hand in a half-circle to gesture at her body.
I don’t know why I became a cat—maybe something inside me wanted that. Though," —she smiled,— "my ears are wolf-like. Maybe that’s a reflection of my nature.
But I think the fact that, to you, I look like I’m made of latex is a reflection of my last days. No more broken bones—if there are no bones at all. No more physical pain. No imperfections. No scars."
She finished in a whisper.
Leo looked up at her. Tears streamed down the cat-like spirit’s face, rolling down her muzzle, lingering for a second at the tip before falling—down, down, all the way from the rooftop where they sat.
He buried his face against her chest, trying to comfort her, to offer the kind of support that only the two of them could understand—two souls bound by similar stories of pain. He held her tightly, wrapping his arms around her waist. Any higher was impossible due to their difference in height.
Sniffling, she added, with the faintest trace of amusement in her voice, —"I like myself much more the way I am now."
She let out a deep sigh, as if shedding the weight of her story. Leo doubted she had ever shared it with many people in her existence—if she had told anyone at all.
—"And so, I became a spirit. I changed my essence, my nature. I don’t know what kind of forces did this to me.
Later, I found out that according to ancient legends, if a demon dies at the hands of its own kind—after standing against them—suffering for a long time… as if atoning for its nature… it is reborn as a being of light.
I suppose that’s what happened to me."
After a brief silence, she continued.
—"Even after all of that, I learned to trust people again. Not everyone—I’d even say only a rare few. But I do have close friends.
And you… you need to let people back into your life. Let them love you, let them give to you, so you can give something back to the world in return.
Especially since you don’t have eternity like I do to figure it out.
So take my advice as an older being—" she added playfully, ruffling his hair, "—and don’t be an ass."
— Has it ever bothered you that you're a cat now?
— At first, it was strange, — she said dreamily with a smile. — The muzzle, the nose always in my field of vision, the long tongue… and these ears. I kept knocking things over with my tail.
— The paws… Though I liked the paws right away, even though they were such a strange shape. I think it’s because, after everything that happened to my previous body—after the state it was in before I died—I longed for something simpler, something more elegant in the world.
— But now I’m used to it, after a few hundred years, — she chuckled. — And I really love my body. If someone offered me my old one back, or even something like yours, even if it was perfect, I’d still refuse. It reflects everything I am inside.
Leo walked in silence for a while, trying to imagine what it would be like for his body to change so drastically. Yes, he had already experienced being in her skin when she fought demons or showed him her abilities. But that had been her body, not his. And even though every transformation brought them closer, blurring the lines between them and making them understand each other better, he still longed to experience something similar—to have his inner world find its own reflection in reality.