Finally got this story finished. If you need a refresher, here was Part 1 and Part 2.
“What did you…do to me?” Officer Wetzel said, groaning, something deep inside his guts twisting, and he found himself gagging, and then vomiting black bile at the wall in front of him in a great gush. It tasted vile, but no sooner had he wiped his chin with one sleeve of his uniform, than a second surge hit him. Something was caught in his throat, something sharp–he hurled again and felt it dislodge and fly out of his mouth–it hit the brick wall with a soft tink, and then landed in the puddle of filth. The demon bent down and picked up the small, gleaming thing between two fingers, and examined it. “That’s…that’s mine,” he croaked. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew, somehow, that it belonged to him.
“Pity–I was hoping it would be a bit larger. I certainly didn’t think you’d give it up so easily,” the demon said, and slipped it into his pocket. “And yes, it was yours–but that body of yours can’t hold something like this, not anymore. No–not even god will love you now. Be thankful the devil needed you at all, sinner.”
The officer grabbed for the demon, but he stepped back, watching the man crawl towards him. “I know I promised you a weekend, but I still have some pressing business I have to attend to–you’ll forgive me if I catch up with you a bit later. Do try and enjoy yourself–you’ve earned it. Still, I will need your clothes…”
Wetzel tried to find his feet, but his body was feverish, his vision blurry. He nearly tumbled into the street, but the demon managed to swerve him back onto the sidewalk, and into an alley out of the sun’s heat, where he forcefully disrobed him. Wetzel tried to fight back but his body was giving out–he slumped over, retching up another massive amount of bile, but this time it was thicker–instead of flying out of his mouth, it more…oozed forth, running down his chin and onto his chest, coating his body. He tried to wipe it off, but it just…smeared around–sticky and hot, more pouring from his mouth. He tried to speak, tried to beg for mercy, but he couldn’t speak through the flow–choking and gagging, he collapsed, the filth pouring out of him, coating his body until a few minutes later, none of his flesh was visible–all that remained was a black, rubbery cocoon anchored to the filthy concrete of the alley.
The demon squatted down, and rubbed spot where the officer’s head would have been, and then stood up, looking at the small amber gem which the officer had expelled–that small little chunk of authentic soul the man had still had within him. After all, the officer here hadn’t been his primary target–no, he had someone far worse in need of punishment. After all, if God wasn’t going to bother showing his face, that meant it was up to the devil, to enforce his own idea of law and order here on earth.
He licked his lips, placed the gem on his tongue, rolled it around his mouth, and then swallowed. Immediately, an uncomfortable grumble came from his guts, the purity of the gem rebelling against his demonic nature, seeking exit–but he bound it deep inside himself, corrupted it, and pulled the remnants of goodness forth. It’s human form began to shudder, and a few minutes later his body had become that of Officer Wetzel–fortyish, paunch covered in grey hair, a bushy mustache. He pulled on the officer’s uniform, checked on the cocoon one last time, and then set off down the street, whistling and twirling his baton, cruising the leather and rubber freaks as he went. As much as he might want to abuse the last vestiges of the Officer’s form with a bit more sex, the fact was he didn’t have much time to finish the job–a few hours at most. His demonic force would eat through this skin in that time, and he’d need it where he was heading.
The demon headed away from the revelrie, knowing he’d have a chance to enjoy himself more once his work was completed. The spire of the cathedral was visible, sticking out into the sky above the lower roofs around him, and after a few minutes, the skin already chafing slightly, he found himself at the entrance to the sanctuary, and gingerly placed his hand on the door, the skin insulating him from the holy energy thrumming through the structure. Had he not been shielded by the officer’s remaining piety, his mortal form would have been destroyed, and he would have been thrown back into the pits where he’d crawled from. Instead, he pulled opened the door with a gleeful chuckle, and slipped inside.
The space was obnoxiously pious. He walked through the sanctuary, where several people were praying, towards the back of the church, where the confessional booths were placed. Now here, he could taste something of his own nature, well cloaked and hidden within a false faith. He entered the booth and sat down, licking his lips, glancing at the priest through the screen–who was looking back at him, recognizing the officer’s face, even if…something seemed strange about him, at the moment. But there was an eagerness there as well, which didn’t care about those concerns, and one hand slipped to his crotch, rubbing his cock through his robes. This had become a…habit for them both, and as wrong as Father Nelson knew it was, he…he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “It’s late, Beau–I thought you might not come today.”
The demon resisted the urge to begin stroking himself as well, but he would wait. It would be better if he waited, to make sure the sinful priest was too deep to escape his grasp. When he was his, then he would have all the time to take his pleasure, and it would all the sweeter for his patience, as contrary to his nature as that might be.
Bracken's Corner 