This time, in the darkness, it was different. Before, RJ had been terrified, the strange beings around him a kind of torture. But now, now every touch from a claw sent a burst of pleasure through him, strange mouths fighting for the privilege of sucking and gnawing on his cock, balls and nipples, eager to drink and absorb his cum. Still, RJ had a question, a burning question–when could he leave? He knew, somehow, that he didn’t belong here, that he’d come from somewhere outside–at the thought, the presence around him turned angry, and the pleasure became…painful. He could enjoy it at first, but then he grew terrified, the presence lecturing him inside his mind. There was no outside, there was only here, and he was here to be punished and to punish others–that if he continued harbouring ideas about the world he’d come from…well, he’d just have to see what might happen to him then.
The lights again. Now, they were too harsh to his eyes–the dark, he liked the dark better, he liked being in the pleasures of the dark. He hadn’t changed, much–not nearly as much as before, but his hands…they didn’t seem quite human anymore, and his massive cock was emerging from some strange sheath, that ran up his muscled, hairy belly. In front of him was the endless wall of urinals, but one of them was not like the others. In the place of filthy porcelain, there was instead a body, fused with the wall. It was upside down, the chest emerging from the nasty, grafittied tile, the head looking up at it’s tortured body, arms trapped in the wall, the mouth screaming in terror.
RJ…remembered him. It was the stranger, the stranger he’d fucked earlier. A voice in his head, a darkness, told him that this man had fought them, it had tried to escape, it hadn’t even tried to be good, be free, it still thought it was a person. So now, it had to pay. If it wouldn’t join them, if it wouldn’t help them, then it would be nothing more than an object, a filthy, disgusting object.
The man’s skin had a pasty look to it under the light,; RJ walked forward, hearing something click against the tile floor, the man trying to flinch away from him, and ran his clawed fingers down its abdomen. It…was hard, or hardening. He was hard…too. And he had…had to piss. He bent over, pushing his cock into the thing’s screaming mouth, feeling it widen to take RJ’s unnatural thickness, and with a guttural groan, he released his bladder, feeling much of it flood into this thing, making it bulge out, the skin turning whiter, the screams dying into a gargle as its mouth became the only feature remaining of it’s pasty white face. and RJ’s piss began overflowing the mouth, cascading onto the floor, soaking his hairy, clawed feet. It wasn’t a person anymore, it was just a thing, a filthy urinal. RJ…RJ didn’t want that, he wanted to…to feel good, like he did in the dark. He backed away, leaving the urinal brimming with piss, and the darkness swallowed him once more into their arms.
What they wanted was simple. They wanted his humanity. They wanted his soul, they wanted him to join them, to become the monster he truly was. Part of him fought, but he was weak, he’d always been weak. He always hated that part of him, that morality, that thing which had questioned his cruelty, doubted his self-serving actions his whole life. He was happy to be rid of it. He was…a beast. Violent, angry, vicious. He only followed that which he feared–and he learned to fear the presence, through pain. Pleasure was…so much better, so much more desirable, he would do anything for to feel good.
The light didn’t return for a long time. When it did, he found himself alone, in a small sliver of light just a few yards wide, the light making him shield his eyes. Unlike much of the bathroom, this part he now found himself in wasn’t lined by toilets or urinals, but by two mirrors on either side–and for the first time, he could see himself, his monstrous form. He could no longer stand on his feet alone–the massive bulk of his chest and neck forced him onto his hands as well, like an ape, his hands and feet covered with red-brown fur and tipped with black claws. His face–there was no longer anything remotely human. A snout, a maw, filled with glistening teeth crusted woth something black, white eyes shot with red veins, and deeper…there, right inside him, that same void. It was…in him now, contained him, as he contained it. He licked his chops with a purple tongue, leaving a line of slobber, feeling his cock emerge. Something…was coming. He’d been brought back for a reason, to punish someone, and the lights on one side of where he stood flicked on.
There. There, a few yards away. A man. A nasty, resistant man. He’d been there for weeks, it looked like, his clothing ragged, his face exhausted. He was scooping water from a toilet with filthy, cupped hands, trying to drink, hoping it was clean. The darkness, his God, it had been working on him, wearing him away, but he needed to be forced, he needed violence, he needed to witness his own helplessness and weakness.
RJ roared–the man turned to him, and the look of terror in his eyes made RJ desire the hunt, the fuck, even more. He had no chance–the beast ripped his clothes from him, pinned him to the floor, and rammed his cock into him, biting down, drawing and tasting blood, fucking him not until RJ came, shuddering, which he did over and over again. No, not until the man was sobbing on the floor, and yet pushing back, aching to be filled by this monster’s cock, did RJ withdraw and slink back into the void, into the presence to which he belonged, and together, they cut the lights, and swarmed their new prey into the dark.
Bracken's Corner 