It was clear that there was something inside the cocoon, as it roiled, but what it was exactly was difficult to determine. At one moment, something would push from it, reaching out, almost like a hand, only to draw back. Other moments it seemed to bubble and pulse, like it was more liquid than solid. It was waste, really. The waste of the men above–combined with the magical runoff from the shower Maury had the week past–the only time the shower had been used, in fact, in the whole week the men had been there. That–and the demon’s own seed, melding with it, and giving it life, of a sort. Purpose, perhaps, would have been a better word.
The demon walked up to it, ran a hand over the surface, feeling it shudder beneath his touch. It was wet, and his hand came away black and tacky. With his sharp claw, he severed the seams holding the arms to the sides of the body, and as well as the seam connecting the legs, and they flung apart, splattering black goo as they did, the cocoon now resembling a body more than anything else, but a body with no real features to be seen.
He laid his hand back on the thing, focusing, and found its mind. It didn’t have a brain, exactly–but it did think. It was confused. The spirit that had bound it all together was gone, and now it was searching for an outlet. It was meant to be drained away–it wasn’t supposed to be here, was it? The demon calmed it, and the filth inside began to rest and congeal, slowly, the body now undulating rather than rippling, almost…happy under the hand of its master, if such a thing could really understand happiness.
“You’re filth, yes” the demon said, “but not without worth. Let me give you shape.”
The thing felt it’s master push its well into it, infusing it, and it relented. It would be what the Master desired–that was the only purpose it could possibly have. The much inside congealed further, and finally solidified–not quite as solid as flesh might feel, under a rubber skin, but solid enough to be worked. It stood, shuddering a bit, almost like gelatin, and looked down at its master, wanting to know more, wanting to know what it was–and the master showed it the way. Bumps formed along the things arms and legs–awkward and uneven at first, but soon they shuffled about until the appeared to be muscle, the body still holding much of its mass collected in a round, sagging gut, heaving over its crotch. The legs, too, widened and thickened, solidifying until they were a sturdy base, the feet wide, with small claws at the end of sharp black plastic–harmless, one might think, but it could cut someone unprepared to the bone. Below the gut, something else was forming–cock like, but much thinner and prehensile, more like a hose. It sensed that it could be emptied that way–perhaps entirely, should Master desire it, but it hoped now. It was…enjoying this. It clenched a fist, feeling the sharp claws forming there as well, flesh becoming firmer still, its head beginning to take shape, a second hose–probiscus like–unfurling from it’s mouth and nose into a long snout a couple of feet long.
It had no eyes, but it could sense the things around it–and beside it, it’s Master pulsed with the most deliciously radiant force and power it had ever known. It got down on one knee, bowing its head, thankful to the beast which had given it life, purpose, and form–the demon grabbed the snout of the thing, slid the head of his cock into it, and pissed, watching the rubber drone shudder in delight as it took the demon’s filth into itself, storing it away, feeling its power and size grow.
“Yes, I think you will do nicely. Now–you know your place, don’t you?”
The drone stood back up and went to the wall where it had rested for the last week, and stood at attention. The master took it’s snout and connected it back to the plumbing of the house, feeling it shudder in delight, eager to feed more on the waste of the men above–and of its master.
“Don’t worry, I may allow you upstairs on occasion, but it would be best not to frighten the rest from their stupor just yet. But they will all have a chance to taste of you soon, I think–I’m excited to see just how potent that filth of yours has become.”
The drone nodded, eager to obey, and then went still, a statue against the wall. In the dark, it was almost easy to miss the hulking thing, unless you knew to look for it. The demon turned out the light and slipped back up into the house proper, enjoying the sense of freedom he had, now that the coach’s vessel was well and truly his.
The mortal plane–what a joy it was! And three souls here, ready and aching to be twisted and warped to his own ends. They wouldn’t be cast back to hell like Rich’s–no, that would not be nearly so satisfying. They would be his own twisted family here, slaves to their wicked vices–and to the demon’s sick desires, warped until they didn’t even recognize their own humanity. Three would be a good start, but more would come to him–willing or not. He had always desired a harem of mortals, and he was excited to sample the men they’d become, since unleashing them in this house of temptation and vice.
He wandered into the TV room nearby, drawn by the stores of Maury. He was on the couch–the place where he hadn’t left in several days, judging by the smell in the air. He was quite a bit larger at this point–nearly 700 pounds of flab, heaving for breath, covered in hair, drenched in sweat, mind rotted away by the static of the TV he couldn’t seem to stop staring at. Certainly a beautiful image of gluttony–but he could be so, so much more, couldn’t he?
So what’s gonna be Maury’s fate at the hands of the demon?
- He’s as furry as an animal–perhaps he should become the house pigman.
- He merges with the couch, and becomes living furniture.
- Call up the filth drone, and see how he likes a taste of its waste.
- Rewrite that empty brain, and make him the merciless sadist daddy of the house.
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Bracken's Corner 