Monsters

by Rob Knight editor

  I shot some of the graffiti. Most of it was basic crude intaglios: initials, drawings, dates. There were some more skilled artworks. One in particular made my skin crawl. I didn't recognize it, but I shot it anyway. It looked sort of like a summoning seal, but I'd never seen one with eight points. The language around the edges looked like Latin and I figured I could translate once I got it developed.

  The seal had me curious, but it made me nervous at the same time. A low-grade stomach churn and the skin crawling on my neck like It was watching me -- whatever It was. I'd see what I could find in the occult section at work. I finished the roll and got back in my Beetle. I drove out of the gate as darkness fell and straight to the nearest bar.

  After two drinks, my hands stopped shaking and I poured myself back into the bug and drove home. I'd develop the pics after work. I didn't feel like fooling with it right now.

  I didn't feel like eating either, so I just went to bed.

  *** So pretty this one. Oh, Lord of Lust, let him... no, he didn't touch the seal. Damn. Ah! A picture. Now that I can work through. Yes, and he's a developer sort. When he develops that one he's mine. Mother Lilith, why do you put such mortals so near yet so far, like the temptations of Heaven? Is it to remind us Winged Ones that we can have neither?

  He's sleeping now. Father Asmodeus won't mind if I take a peek. Hm! Bisexual. He dreams of pretty red-haired girls and pretty blond boys at the same time. I wonder which way he'd like me better? The succubus shape never feels as right as my incubus form. Most demons are neuter and we Winged Ones switch as the mood takes us. But a few, like me, have a distinct preference. I am male.

  I conjure a mirror and look at myself, molding my features into what I have seen in his dreams. Blond doesn't look bad on me. I award myself a penis such as I have seen in paintings: as thick as my forearm and reaching to my knees. It juts straight out and I imagine taking him with it. The way he would clench and gasp, the way he would be unable to scream for the pain as it rips into his fragile mortal body. In my mind's eye, the tip emerges from his throat to ejaculate over his face.

  This stepbrother of mine is my lawful prey. He has taken my seal, my summoning route, to himself. I decide to chance a dreamsending. Asmodeus frowns on such, but what the Lord of Lust doesn't know won't hurt me. Only El is omniscient, and he stopped caring for my kind when Mother flouted his command to return to the Man of Dust.

  I slip into my prey's dreams. I do not retain the prick I had chosen, but temper it to something more reasonable: as thick as my wrist and the length of a cubit. He thinks he's a top! Isn't that precious? No, dear brother, you are mine. I let him think he can penetrate my dream-shape, but roll out from under him at the last second. "I think not," I snarl in his ear, driving myself home. Hot, so hot around me, like the lava fountains at Mother's palace, like the sulphur springs at Father's tower. And tight. This one has never been breached, even in his dreams. These mortals are not bound for Heaven; they are Heaven, or as close as I can get.

  The blood from his tearing eases my passage and I ride him viciously, slamming my hips into his body just to feel the curve of his sweet ass against my groin. He fights and curses beneath me. But what are curses to one born in Hell itself? I mark him with my teeth on his shoulder, but only in his dream. There will be no marks in the waking world. At last, I allow myself to come. I pour him full of the hot lead that is my trademark, listening to him scream his way into his death throes.

  As he thrashes and begins to wake, I return home. Develop the pictures, little brother. Then you'll taste true fire.

  *** I hate nightmares and this one was a doozy. Whoa, rape dreams. That usually meant I needed to get laid and soon, or I needed to lay off the witch-trial testimonies. But I was never on the bottom, even in my dreams. I was always the rapist before this one. A disturbing turn of events, indeed.

  I tossed for a while but didn't get back to sleep. Great. Four AM, and I was wide awake. The store didn't open until nine. I got up and showered and started developing the pictures. There's a thing called accidental quality. While I'm very deliberate about my work, I still leave room in the margins for the magic to happen. Sometimes, it's a fall of light that I didn't notice or a cluster of leaves that deserves to be blown up to a photo of its own.

  Today, it wasn't happening. Every shot was exactly as I had seen it through the viewfinder. I finally found the design. That thing still looked like an eight-pointed summoning sigil. I hung the picture to dry, very carefully not touching the wet surface.

  I dressed for work. Two hours on the register, a couple hours receiving and stocking. Then another couple on the register. Tanisha, our regular cashier, is cute and a great lay, but she's bad about pulling no-call, no-shows. I spent the last hours of my day straightening, officially. Unofficially, I was checking out every grimoire I could get my hands on for that sigil and an explanation for my dream.

  After work, I didn't want to go home and I didn't have anything to shoot. I went to the bar. Maybe I could get lucky tonight. Instead of taking it in my dreams, I could be putting it to someone. Oh yeah. A little China-doll sitting at the end, nursing a hurricane. She smiled at me. Definitely Chinese. I've learned the subtle bone structure differences in the various Asiatic prey. I slid down and bought her a drink. It was the usual small talk and she expressed adequate interest. I took her back to my place. Nice little body, compact and slim. Pretty face like a pearl in the dim room. I said all the right things and made all the right moves. She tasted good all over, got wet just right and was tight around me. It was just a physical release, though, and when she dressed and left all I felt was relief.

  I lay there for a while, not able to figure it out. Ordinarily, I'd have kept her a few more hours, showing her an even better time. But the dream was still haunting me, making me wonder. I'd never been on the bottom. Did it hurt the pretty boys as much as it had hurt me? I wasn't hung like that blond nightmare and I always used plenty of lube. But I really didn't care about them, it was just idle curiosity. If it hurt like that why would any man be on the bottom? Not that most bottoms were what I considered men anyway. Pretty boys, nice fucks, blowjob mouths. Not men.

  I got up and took a leak. It was still early, so I checked my pics. They'd dried nicely. This time I traced out the sigil. "What are you?" I whispered. "Who do you summon?" I still hadn't found anything. I'd have to take it to someone. I packaged up a few for the Flyer and a couple for a book editor. By then it was past midnight. I went to bed, puzzling over the insignia.

  *** This is too easy. Entirely too easy, dear human brother, now that you've touched my seal, naked even. The only thing more I could have asked would be for you to have shot your seed across it. Then you'd be mine forever, in this life and the next.

  This time I am not so brutal as last. He retreats when I invade his dreamspace. This time, I am myself, not in the guise of some fair mortal. I walk toward him, my wings high and proud. He finds a place to stand and tries to stare me down. I can see that the horns and talons are unnerving him.

  I run one talon along his jaw and he holds his ground. Oh yes, tighten with just a little bit of fear, beautiful brother of mine, son of my mother's first husband, that makes it all the sweeter for me. I smile and let him see my fangs as well.

  So brave! He reaches out and touches one of my horns and then runs a bolder hand to stroke my wing. I'm taken by surprise and flex involuntarily, sending a whiff of sulphur tinged with lavender washing over us. Now he smiles, a rather cruel one. He's learned I'm not invulnerable to his charms. It amuses me to let him continue to think this.

  "Beautiful one, you have drawn me across dimensions and worlds to love you."

  He snorts a laugh at this. "Love? Devils don't know love any more than I do." He runs the hand from my wing to my torso.

  I shift into a less comely form, tail lashing and fangs bared. "Would you prefer to make it a simple fuck?"

  "Turn back." I oblige the request. "Why not? You're hot." His hand has slid down my body and
wrapped around my cock. He can't close his fingers around it. "And hung."

  "Hotter than you know, my lovely one." "Michael. My name is Michael." It seems endearments unnerve him more than my appearance. He reaches out and touches my horns. I catch his wrist.

  "After the archangel. You're so brave, pretty thing. And you don't even believe in me." "You're a dream. I don't have to believe you." I pull him closer and kiss him hard, invading and demanding his surrender. He battles me, clenching teeth, turning the advantage with his tongue. Oh delightful! He has spirit, this one. In the end, though, I will win. I always do. The dreamspace is my world and even he cannot resist forever.

  When I take him, he fights, protesting that he is not a bottom. I laugh and change my prick into something improbable: double headed and made of steel. He screams under its unyielding assault, against the metal that forces him into its shape. Such lovely screams.

  I rake my talons down his back and taste the warm blood that seeps from the gashes. He snarls over his shoulder as my tongue burns him. "I will wear you out, human," I growl as I shove myself in to my completion. My claws are wrapped around him, rubbing him hard and fast. He is hard despite his fear, or maybe because of it. I stroke him to a bitter, painful orgasm and smear the seed across his belly as I vanish.

  *** I woke up, tangled in sweaty sheets with come drying across my stomach. A wet dream. I haven't had one of those since I became sexually active. I got up to wash and saw traces of blood on the sheets. After cleaning off, I looked at my back.

  "Huh. Psychosomatic bleeding. That's new and exciting." The eight furrows on my back matched my dreamassailant's talons. "I have got to get laid." Neosporin and band-aids were an awkward procedure, but I managed.

  Another day, another research session. I tried not to squat too much, or sit too long. The dream left me pretty sore. How the hell did I manage to attract an incubus? I thought they only preyed on women. But he was gorgeous. Even while my ass ached, I still remembered the feel of his horns and skin under my hands.

  I was a top, damnit. I didn't get fucked, I did the fucking. The sharp pain in my back as I lifted a box argued otherwise. After work, I went to Inz and Outz. The clerk was crocheting and didn't do more than nod at me. Another cancer cap for the kids at St. Jude's, purple with cabling and puffs. Nobody was in the back room and just some fat faghag skimming the buttons out front. I bought a tube of Astroglide and a box of condoms and left.

  I went hunting. When I'm out, nothing stops me finding what I want. Tonight I wanted a blond twink. I was gonna shove myself so far up his ass, he'd taste it when I came. Took a while and one more drink than I really like to have, but I found him. I'd done him a few times before and he wasn't a bad lay.

  "I'm not really interested tonight," he said as I bought him another chocolate martini.

  "You sure?" I caught his hair, jerked his head back and kissed him hard. I put small bites down his throat, leaving marks that would fade by morning.

  "Yeah." He didn't sound too sure. I ran my hands over his chest and pinched his nipples. He'd always liked that, but I did it harder than he really liked.

  "Really sure?" I pinched them again and he shuddered. I ran a hand over his crotch and felt him all hard under his jeans. "Absolutely positive?"

  "No." His voice was really unsteady now.

  I stroked him just the way he liked. "No, you're not sure, or no, you aren't coming with me?"

  "I-" I pulled my hand away.

  "Finish me, damn you." He was cute when he was demanding.

  "At my place." I draped my arm over his shoulder and steered him out. He was good, like always. I jerked him first and then sank into his gorgeous ass. He liked it fast and deep and that was exactly what I needed. Anything to take the memory of my nightmare tormentor away. I shot, pulled out and pitched the condom.

  He propped up on one elbow beside me and I pulled him down for a kiss. He tasted like booze and chocolate and smoke from the bar. After a couple seconds, he stopped squirming and let me kiss him without trying to get his tongue into my mouth. I ran my hands over him and tweaked those big tan nipples just the way he liked.

  Oh, yeah, just what I needed. I was ready again. My recovery time was usually longer. I reached onto the nightstand for the stuff. He smiled at me, stopped me and licked his way down my body. Nobody sucks cock like a blond twink. Redheads sometimes give them a run for the money, but none of the Asiatic prey I stalked were ever this good. I laid back and let him bring me off. That sexy, slutty smile he shot up at me as he finished and swallowed always tickled me.

  He got up and dressed. I roused myself and pulled him back down onto the bed. "Thanks. Here. Have another drink on me." I tucked a twenty into his waistband, and copped an extra feel. I kissed him again, just so it wouldn't feel like I was paying him off for being so rough.

  "Sure. You know where I drink. Anytime, man." He shut the door quietly.

  I was fucked out. A quick shot of Nyquil made sure I wouldn't stir before my alarm went off. No dreams tonight.

  *** So clever, little brother. You think your medicines and exhaustion will protect you. Feel me now, as I sheathe myself within you. Scream as I run through the changes: iron, fire, spikes, ice, serpents. Sex in Hell is so much more varied than that on Earth.

  Fight me, son of dust. Fight to wake up, prevented by your own design. Ah, you know that now, do you? Irony adds to the flavor of our dalliance.

  Sweet mortal, taste me. Taste the fire as I spend myself, feel it burn itself way up to the back of your throat. Taste the sulphur and lavender of me. No, no, don't spit, sweetness.

  "Mother says I'm seeing too much of you, my lovely one. I need to bring you home soon for her to meet." With that, I am gone.

  *** Not a-fucking-gain! I slapped the alarm off, finally awake. Now I was pissed off, exhausted and still in pain. That settled it. I just wouldn't sleep. I could do it. In college, I once went five days without even a nap. So, work, some pics, a movie, late night TV. There was always the computer. The net is an endless source of diversion. I found myself googling incubi and how to banish them. Plenty of Victorian-era, occult-dabbler summoning spells, but nothing about getting rid of the bastards.

  I showered and went to work again. I needed some caffeine to get through the afternoon, but I was fine. I caught another late evening movie, but I was still home by one. I was nodding over the latest DVD of Queer as Folk -- fast-forwarding to the fucking and ignoring the dyke domestic drama -- and decided on more coffee. I'd broken a nasty caffeine addiction a few years back and avoided the stuff when I could. My eyes felt all grainy and Justin kept blurring out on the blow-jobs.

  I dragged myself into the shower and decided to drive across the river for breakfast. The giant truck plaza that was West Memphis was open all night. Not to mention they had trucker-strength coffee. The Flying J served up bacon, eggs, potatoes and endless cups of black sludge that sang like added electrical current in my nerves.

  I dragged through my work day. It lasted forever: a haze of grainy blurs and incomprehensible demands. "Mike, go home. You look like death warmed over. You've stared at that book for ten minutes and still haven't figured out where to put it." Tanisha yanked the copy of “Star by Star” out of my hand and shelved it with the rest of the Star Wars books. "I knew you had a Leia fetish, but that's ridiculous," she teased. I didn't bother to correct her and clocked out.

  I drank a double Coke between the store and my place and headed straight for the coffee pot. I was about ready to go looking for some speed. While it dripped, I yanked the sigil out and said "All right. Come on and manifest. Let's see if you're so tough in my reality." The coffee was ready. I tossed the photo down and got a cup. I drank it and another while I watched some movie. I was really losing it. I didn't believe in any of this crap: God or angels or devils. I definitely didn't believe in incubi. If this kept up, I would see a shrink, quacks that they are.

  It was a boring movie.

  *** So nice to see you again, little one.
I was growing tired of my hand and your memory. "I heard your challenge. Tomorrow, sunset, at the place you call Rhodes. The world walls are thin there. Now, to business." He looks as if he wants to ask questions. I shove him to his knees and encourage him to put that lovely mouth to better use.

  He's too exhausted to fight me and, if he bites, I can always conjure a nasty surprise. Ah yes, just like that, sweet my brother. Wrap those soft lips around me. Pleasure me with your tongue. Oh, my mortal darling. You have no thought for what awaits you tomorrow.

  I pull him to his feet for a kiss, long and slow. He is too tired to resist, so I show him the delights we Winged Ones were created to supply to the Knowledgeable. There is a reason we have persisted since Mother lay coupling with a certain lustful fallen angel on the banks of the Euphrates. We are not only devourers of souls and stealers of children, but pleasure-givers to the Wise.

  *** I woke up when I fell off the couch at noon. I called in sick to work and went back to sleep. I woke up again when the late afternoon sun hit my face. Something I'd read stuck with me and I had time to test it before I went to Rhodes. The Net, as I said, had been most helpful.

  I drove back to the hospital. The place still gave me the heebie-jeebies. I didn't know why. No such thing as ghosts or demons or monsters or mad scientists doing unholy experiments into Things Man was Not Meant to Know. The latter all work for the government in nice, clean facilities with fat research grants, anyway. I hurried back to the room where I'd found the damn sigil. There was one sure way, my sources said, to get rid of a sex demon: give them what they came for. I unzipped and jerked off, careful not to touch the painted sigil. Fuck, it was cold out here. High coefficient of testicle icing as we use to say in college. Took a while to convince my poor chilly-willy to perform, but he'd never let me down before.

  I came, hitting the wall with streaks of spunk. It all went within the design. I zipped up to go. A pale flash from the room behind me startled me as I left. When I turned back, the sigil was gone. Mission accomplished. I went to Rhodes anyway, just to make sure he wouldn't show up. It was about five and all the day students were going home. The security guard waved me through when I showed him my camera. The evening students walked past the bench where I sat, watching a spectacularly red sunset.