Bride of the Demon

A couple of times my mother's bathrobe fell open and I spotted her tits. Mom's naked underneath! Life at home after-Herald was a constant hardon.

One night, on one of my trips to Vazcla, I got my first kiss from Juliette. God, did she ever know how! Our relationship was dangerous, "wrong"--either of us would be in big trouble if we were found out--but when Vazcla's princess of football looked into my eyes, I knew I loved her. Surely she knew it, but that night, holding her in my arms, I told her so.

Her fingers swept up into my hair and pulled my face down to hers. In turn I cupped her beautiful features in my hands. My jockstrap strained with such a bulge, I could hear the little poppings of rubber threads. When our lips touched, they merged us together. I felt my soul flow into her and hers into me. Like we became one person.

I closed my eyes, and it was like--like an orgasm without the frenzy. Without the burning, shuddering ecstasy, but pleasure, pure pleasure totally without pain. Complete, overwhelming peace. Happiness. Joy.

I could have kissed her forever. I wanted to.

-==(^)==-

By the end of the football season, Herald had led St. Naphtali to the championship game. And our competition for the final title? Vazcla!

The week before the final game of the season, which would be Halloween night against Vazcla, Dad called me to his office. "Go find Herald Cobalt, and give him this note. I can't get him on his cell phone."

St. Naphtali wasn't that big. I could probably find him just by going from one building to another. Sure enough, I spotted him jogging along the meandering path twisting and winding through the campus. He was far enough away that he couldn't hear me call, so I set out to catch him.

Not so easy. He was jogging at a pace I barely kept up with, and I couldn't close the distance between us. Sooner or later he had to stop or at least slow down, so I followed. For miles. Sweaty. Breathing hard. About to quit.

I finally saw him stop on the far side of the campus, past all the buildings. He stepped off the path and moved through the weeds to the distant copse of trees holding the old ruins. I followed.

Everything was deathly still. Not so much as a car in the distance. Jeez, not even a barking dog. No bird. Not even the sound of a breeze. Creepy.

By then the sun was going down in a blaze of red like the clouds were on fire. I thought about the comet. Bad luck.

What's he doing out here? Where'd he go? I heard no footsteps, no rustling weeds, no crunches of footsteps on dry grass. I headed in the direction he did.

When I reached the ruin of the old chapel, no Herald. I went inside. What a place. Dark and shadowy. Collapsed roofs. Fallen walls. Rocks and litter all over the place.

The only sound inside was the trickling of water, and even that sounded muted, hushed, as if trying quietly to escape the place.

Once inside, I saw the "chapel" was a hell of a lot bigger than I thought. Never been there before and thought it was like the Alamo, but the more I blundered around inside, the more I realized it was an old stone cathedral, not a mud-brick mission.

I was about to call out Herald's name, but something hushed me. Something about the place was ominous. Uncomfortable. A few of the old walls still had the ancient frescos and paintings. In the fading light, they looked odd, like no church art I ever saw. In a room littered with stones from the collapsed roof, I spotted a fresco on a far wall that looked for all the world like a naked woman cavorting with some huge beast. The fresco was cracked and ruined--but I clearly saw the artist had painted in the beast's cock. A big one. Hard. And flesh-colored, not black and hairy like the beast's body. What kind of a church was this??

By then I decided finding Herald Cobalt was more trouble than I wanted. What happens if I stumble over something in the dark and break my leg? Nobody would find me out here for days. Nobody ever came to the old mission except lovers looking for a quiet place to fuck. And even then nobody ever came here after dark. The place was too dangerous. Snakes. Spiders.

I'm leaving!

Just then I spotted a faint light and moved toward it.

In the back, at the far end of one of the transepts, Herald Cobalt knelt at an altar, his back to me. The light came from a candelabra on the floor near him. Wow, Herald Cobalt is religious! But why come all the way out here to pray? The light from the candles was so faint, I couldn't make him out clearly, but that was Herald. I'd know that hunky body anywhere, and it hit me--he's naked!

What do I do now? Interrupt his prayers and give him the letter? I waited.

He knelt there for several minutes then stood up.

Not quite naked. He was bare to the waist--I saw those shoulders and that famous chest, a Sherman tank with nipples--but he wore some kind of kilt, a white pleated thing like from an ancient Egyptian priest.

But the pleated linen divided up the middle, revealing his crotch, and there it was, and it was hard. It was eerie, almost supernatural. The huge prick curved up in that long, graceful arc like a scimitar, and it almost glowed. I swear I felt something, a radiation, some kind of waves, pulsing out from it. I could feel it on my face.

In a wild thought I wondered if that thing was the antenna he used to communicate with the team members.

Then I wondered what that big cock would feel like jammed up inside--then I mentally slapped myself. Idiot! I'm no queer!

I froze, hoping he didn't see me, but he called out, "Slave! He is here."

The hackles on the back of my neck stood up. Slave? Who in hell is he talking to? I looked around.

Then another voice. Behind me. "Yes, I know, Master." Deep bass. Powerful. Booming. Familiar. A thrill went through me, and I got goose bumps. I turned my head to look back.

A ray of moonlight shone through a hole in the roof, a ghostly light illuminated--Dad! My father, the coach!

And he was stark naked.

Dad was bald--always had been--but his muscular torso was also bare, shaved as smooth as marble. His arms and legs were smooth, too. He shaved his whole body!

And he had a hard cock.

Another chill went up my back. Dad's cock was huge. Bigger than I remembered. Bigger than I had seen it in the kitchen. It arced up to the sky in a powerful, graceful curve.

And he had a foreskin! I couldn't believe my eyes!

I looked over at Herald. Jesus God, they have the same cock!

It was true. I also felt the same pulsations radiating from Dad's cock. He spoke: "I sent him here, Master. He is in this room somewhere."



Dad calls Herald "Master"??

Cobalt's voice boomed again through the darkness, "Bhajhad ghiski quicefe lepu coski!"

What??

Another beam of moonlight came through the damaged roof and fell on me like a spotlight! Both men turned to look.

I cleared my throat and croaked, "Hi, Dad." Long pause. "I found Herald."

The men moved toward me, and, finally forcing my legs to work, I backed up, suddenly very, very nervous. "What's with the kilt, Herald? Dad, you been skinny-dipping or something? What's up?"

I stumbled backward over some fallen brickwork, and before I could get up, they were on me. Herald picked me up--"Hey, I'm okay, Herald, put me down; I'm okay"--but he slung me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and walked with my father back to the altar.

There he put me back on my feet, but he moved behind me and held me, one mighty arm through my elbows, holding me tightly. I looked at my father. "Coach!--Dad! What's going on?"

Dad looked at me with cold eyes but was silent.

"Snophatu atvari kwuzete," growled Herald.

"What? What are you saying?"

With his free hand, Herald reached around and tore open my T-shirt, ripping it off me with power yanks.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing??"

Then the hand moved to the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down. With a grip at my jockstrap, he yanked that down, too.

"Hey, turn me loose, you bastard!" I struggled, but fighting against Herald Cobalt was like banging my head against a bank vault.

My father moved closer, and I saw him pick up a long dagger from out of the darkness. I gasped. At first I thought he was going to stop Herald's abuse, but he grabbed the cloth sagging below my hips. With a single swipe he cut through them both, and they fell away. Damn, that fucking knife is sharp!

I was naked except for my running shoes.

And I was scared. "Hey, Dad, look, what's wrong? Why are you doing this? Are you mad at me? What did I do?"--

--"Cushmorna hoblazique!" Herald picked me up and flung me roughly onto my back on the altar. I tried to get up, but both men quickly secured my arms, buckling my wrists in leather cuffs at either side of the altar, and they locked my ankles into cuffs at the other end. Ohmigod, I'm a sacrifice! Jesus Christ, what is this, some kind of devil cult?

I looked from one man to the other. Both had stepped back, Herald on my left, my naked father on my right. I gaped at their identical cocks--big Arabian scimitars sticking out of their crotches. Somehow Herald had updated my father's cock.

I looked into my teammate's face. "Herald. I though we were friends."

His hooded eyes were the color of summer leaves. Strangely beautiful. But cold. I was in trouble bad.

"Vaolora!" his voice boomed out.

Dad produced an antique-looking flask out of the darkness. God, what a weird thing--a round brass ball, it had a curlicue handle on one side and a spout shaped like a cock on the other. He poured from it into a shallow saucer, and what came out was night! Pure black. No reflections! I mean, even India ink will flicker and gleam as light bounces off its surface, but that stuff was like liquid nothing. He was pouring the color black into that saucer, and the black stream slithered into the dish like viscous motor oil. It lay there, a black hole, like something was wrong with my vision.

He moved to the altar and brought it to my mouth.

"No, Dad! Hey, I ain't drinking--Mmmph!" He poured it against my closed lips, and Damn! the stuff penetrated! No matter how tightly I closed my lips, it seeped through into my mouth!

Bitter! Poison! I tried not to swallow, but it was hot, like jalapeño, and I could feel it soaking into the membranes of my cheeks and throat. God! I'm dead! Poisoned by my own father!

Sure enough, I felt drunk. Dizzy. Couldn't think straight. My mouth fell open, and Dad poured more of the Black-hole elixir into me. Damn, no!! I got even drunker.

Couldn't see. Vision blacking out with those little flashing things at the edges like in a migraine headache. Couldn't focus. Barely see.

Fuck! I struggled against my leather cuffs but couldn't move. I looked from my father to Herald. They stood with raised arms, looking to the sky. Waiting.

Herald chanted, "Puevu finabbu jamadde! Ovoatu Chubog! Chubog! Chubog!"

I looked around. Night fogs had come into the building, making vision even harder, but I saw things. A boom of thunder shook the place--but it was speaking words! "Bajquameni moguretto!" The whole damned building shuddered, and chunks of stone fell out of the walls.

Out of the dark mist beyond my feet, I saw Him, and my blood froze in my veins. Jesus fucking Christ, it was a huge, black man head and shoulders above even Herald!

Petrified, I watched the big man move closer. My vision was unfocused, like in a dream. I'm drunk! Drugged! That drink has me seeing things! The brute moved closer, and as he moved out of the fog and mists, I saw his cock.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! At the apex of those mighty legs was a cock as big around as my arm! At least a foot long, maybe more!

So dizzy I was about to faint, I closed my eyes for a second. When I opened them again, I saw nothing. Just big clouds of dark fog.

But then, faintly through them I saw the red gleams of his eyes. He was still there! The mists parted again and showed me his face. He was even closer.

A demon! Pointed horns grew from his temples. Skin like hot ashes. Smoky black with intricate traceries that in one glance looked like veins and blood vessels--but in another looked like cracks and seams in a lava flow, molten, red-hot rock beneath.

I shook my head. This can't be happening!

His face was cruelty in flesh--or what I thought was flesh. Heavy brows, piercing eyes, a broad, flaring, crushed nose. Thick-lipped mouth in a permanent sneer.

A broad face. Totally bald. A square jaw. Pointed ears.

He looked down at me, and the mouth smiled--or what was supposed to be a smile. Basically a snarl. Bared his teeth. Sharp. Filed to points. Daggers.

I would've pissed myself, but every muscle in my body was taut as a piano wire. The mists faded farther down the huge body, and I saw it again. The Cock.

Staggering. Thrusting toward me like an atomic torpedo. The shroud of foreskin tapered to a huge, scooping mouth, and as he drew still closer, I saw the big, molten-lava cockhead within.

I shuddered. My legs were splayed out, my ass bared, strapped to an altar. A demon is going to fuck me!!

I was helpless. Captive. Prey. A sacrifice. Thunder shook the room again. "Sisnapho!"

My father and Herald moved quickly to the sides of the altar, and Dad smeared some of the Black-hole elixir up and down my ass-crack. As it seeped up my asshole like a squirt of gasoline, I writhed in pain. And got drunker.

I couldn't see straight, but I felt the monster mount me. God, how can he do this?? Like a horse trying to fuck a puppy. But in the dark fog, The Cock nudged against my ass. Locating my asshole, it pressed against me.

As titanic as it was, there was no way it could breed me, but still he pushed, ramming that thing against me. And it hurt, God, it hurt!

He kept at it, my screaming growing louder and more desperate, until finally, "Zobyathu!"

The Cock pulled back and disappeared. The pressure was gone.

While I lay there moaning, Herald moved back to the altar. With a deft movement, he touched something against my asshole, then stuck it up my ass. It hurt, too, and I screamed again. Something was stretching my asshole wide! I writhed, trying to force it out, trying to shit it out of my body--but I couldn't. It was stuck in me.

"You have been chosen," Herald croaked and touched my forehead. "Chubog the Great has chosen you."

"What? Chosen? What in hell are you talking about? What was that? Why are you doing this to me??"

"You will wear the zobyathu until you are of usable size." As he said that, he and Dad began unbuckling the cuffs that held me a prisoner.

They stood back as I scrambled down from the altar. "God damn it, Dad, what in hell is wrong with you!" I was pissed. "Damn it, I don't give a shit if you are my father! I'll report you for this! I'll call the cops!!"

He smirked. "It is unlikely they will think you anything but a drugged-out student on a binge."

Herald unfastened his white linen kilt and tossed it to me. "You may wear this as you leave." With that, he and Dad, both naked, turned and walked away. Before they disappeared into the mists, I saw Herald reach down to grip my father's ass.

Shit. Now what? I was scared. What in hell was wrong with Dad? I didn't know him!

Something else: Nobody sticks something up my ass! I don't care who he is!!

It hurt. Whatever it was didn't allow my asshole to close.

I reached under. A curved metal piece about three inches long lined up with my ass-crack. I grabbed it and pulled. Whoa! It was bigger than the hole I was trying to pull it through.

But I had to get it out. Infection! Rust! Slivers! I thought about going to the infirmary, but how would I explain it? And what about the rumors? I've got to get home. I'll deal with this thing in the bathroom!

I pulled up the white kilt, and a cold, wet mess of slime smeared onto my cock. Oh, God, Herald cummed in this! But the touch of the cold stuff started a weird buzzing in the thing they put in my ass, the zobyathu.

Before I knew it, my cock shot out to a full hard, and I was so horny I couldn't keep myself from stroking my dick. God, I'm still raving drunk. I stiffened, fell back into the rubble, groaning loud and hoarse, jacking myself until I cummed--like it was my very first time! I felt the tidal wave growing, growing, and I was amazed, a little scared, but unable to stop. I felt like a little boy.

Then I drowned in the molten lava of my ecstasy, and big spurts of white slime blasted into the air. I writhed in the dirt, feeling it, the ecstasy in every inch of my body. I was a man. A man enjoying the wondrous power of his gender.

When I finally opened my eyes again, all the fog in the cathedral was gone. Evaporated. I was a naked university student lying in the dirt, jacking off in the candlelight. The buzzing in my ass had stopped.

I got up and staggered out of the ruins and hurried back home, avoiding passers-by, moving from shadow to shadow. When I reached home, Mom and Dad were gone--out for another "college dinner." Good!

I ran to the bathroom, yanked off the nasty kilt, grabbed a shaving mirror, and held it down between my legs.

A metal "handle" engraved with strange hieroglyphics stuck out of my ass, a short, curved piece that conformed to the curve of my crotch. I shivered as I looked at it. Again I took hold of it and pulled.

Again the buzzing began, again my cock hardened. Instantly the lust came back along with the heavy breathing, and although I fought against it, again I couldn't stop my hand from reaching down to jack me off.

I fell against the wall, again ejaculating like a teenager. Shit. Tamper-proof! I can't get rid of the thing!

For the time being I had to live with it. I staggered back to my bedroom but couldn't sleep. I lay awake for a long time--until suddenly I noticed the zobyathu was vibrating again. But gently. Softly. Soothingly. It finally put me to sleep.

The next morning, I worried about the morning shit. Now what? I went into the bathroom. Come hell or high water, I've got to get that thing out of my ass! I grabbed the engraved handle and pulled.

It came out! With a quick yipe! of pain as the wide part stretched my asshole, it slipped right out! I was free.

What came out of my ass was a carved, engraved metal device like a top or a turnip--a pointed end spreading out to a wide diameter, then dropping back to a thick shaft (evidently the max my asshole was allowed to close up to) with the "handle" at the end.

Weird hieroglyphics carved deep into it looked evil, dangerous. Simple letters I couldn't understand communicated malevolence from their very shapes.

I shook it. Nothing rattled inside. Heavy enough to feel like solid brass. But it had no openings, no screwed-on lids, no interior access. I couldn't figure out what caused the buzzing.

Well, anyway, the thing was finally out of my ass. I dropped it on the floor, settled onto the throne and did my business for the morning.

As soon as I finished and wiped myself off, a terrible, overwhelming, undeniable desire, a fucking craze to get that thing back in my ass swept over me.

I heard a buzzing sound--the thing had come on, and that sexy, seductive sound made my balls churn and my cock harder than the metal ball itself. No, Goddammit, no!

I panicked! Tried to run from the room, but I couldn't! I fought! Grabbed the towel bar, clenched the shower curtain in my fist! But my legs defied me! Against my will, they shuffled over until I stood over the zobyathu. "No!" I gasped, "oh, God, NO!!" But my knees bent, and I squatted over it. When my ass touched the cold metal, Shluck! the thing sucked itself up against my ass, and with a blinding flash of pain, it popped inside. I had the zobyathu in me again.