Legends of the Treasure Child : Demon Spawn

He set fire to the altar. He drank in the rank smell of burning flesh, gazing at the flames licking their way upwards, devouring the tapestries, the body on the cross, watching it roast and turn crispy black. He turned his attention to the stairs at the left which led upwards into a tower, or a possible second floor. He caught glimpse of a terrified monk just behind the doorway. Following him, John heard the hasty steps as the monk obviously ran for cover.
He heard a door somewhere above him being shut. Oh well, he’d eventually find them all. Coming up the stairs, he stood for a moment and sniffed the air. The air was heavy with fear, and he sensed a group of monks right away. He walked over to a heavy door made from solid oak. Peering inside the small barred outlet of the door, he saw a room where all the furniture had been toppled over and used to build a barricade in the corner farthest away from the door. He could see heads bobbing over the top as they occasionally peeked to look, and he heard them talk amongst themselves as they discovered that he was at the door. Then the chanting began.
He couldn’t help but to notice the circle on the floor. It was drawn with orangey red chalk, and had been filled with Aramaic symbols. There was a similar one in the roof above. He heard the monks chanting nervously from behind their barricades of stools and tables turned on end. There was no surge of energy from the circle, no pull which beckoned John to enter it. He took a closer look, and saw a big crack in the wood in the ceiling. The circle wasn’t closed properly. They were attempting to catch him in a demon trap. A trap which was made poorly, and the flaw so evident they couldn’t possibly have known what they were doing.
John decided to kick the door in, and it fell to the floor with a loud bang. The monks answered his attack by standing up and chanting even louder, invoking a number of angels already known to John. They drew the sign of the cross in the air before him, calling upon the warrior angel Michael to fight the demon, but nothing happened. With every step he took, he saw a thousand questions in their fearful eyes. He stepped into the circle. Still there was no surge of energy. Nothing, just useless writings on the wood. The monks looked from the circle, to John and back on each others. Their worried faces all plastered with question marks were comical; they swiveled their heads to and fro like a disoriented flock of geese not knowing where they’d just landed.
He stepped outside on the other side of the circle, just a mere meter away from the table. The monks came in all sizes, tall and lean, small and chubby, and John found himself pondering about whom to choose first. Then one of them tried to bolt, heading for the door. He was effectively stopped, not by John’s hand, but simply because the long and beanstalk-looking monk tripped in the hem of his own robe. Struggling to get up, completely engulfed in fear, the monk made it to the door, but John made sure to shut it with his mind. They all stopped to stare in disbelief as the door wouldn’t budge an inch. Just as he turned his face back to the others waiting behind the barricade, something wet stained his face, and he realized they’d sprinkled him with holy water. Again they all stopped in anticipation, obviously waiting for him to be in pain or to cringe in fear.
He groaned a little as he realized he’d gotten himself wet, and decided to take out his irritation on the monk at the door. The monk was feverishly tugging the door handle, but to no avail. John swirled around, grabbed the monk by the neck and hauled him across the room. The monk sailed through the air and landed on top of his religious brothers, and in the process the ‘barricade’ collapsed. John rounded them up, one by one, and stripped them naked. The nakedness made them even more defensive, rendering them practically immobilized. Some of them threw themselves at the barred windows, screaming for help. Others ran to the door, but to no avail. They all sensed that the worst was yet to come.

Outside, a hooded man stole through the corridor until he came to a halt before the door of the cell which John had entered into. He removed his hood. He held his breath as he watched his religious brothers scream for help, pleading for the abed to help them. He saw the look on their faces as they realized he had no intention of aiding them in any way. Had they but known that he’d in fact betrayed them all and thus served them to the demon on a silver plate, they would have been hurling curses at him instead.
The abed showed no remorse, as they one by one disappeared from the door. He watched their fingers clinging to the bars of the outlet until they could hold on no more. The air was thick with screams and prayers. The abed folded his hands and moved on to his private chambers. He’d await the final meeting with the demon there. All preparations had been made.

*

John’s breathing was ragged and his hands shook violently. His eyes had gone solid black, yet everything he saw was veiled in red. He finally gulped down the blood of his victim. He’d let it linger in his mouth, taking delight in the iron taste. The entire room was surging with dark energies, and it was like a breeze blowing gently on him, stirring his dark brown hair and tugging at the bloodstained shirt he wore. He contemplated on his handiwork all the while he tried to recognize the sensation washing through his body. At some point in the mayhem he’d exercised upon his victims, he had risen to a higher level, until all he registered with his senses were the blood, his never tiring cock and the messed up skin of the monks. In his bloodlust, John felt invincible and free from duties and worries. He was a god delighting in torturing his subjects! But when was the last time he’d felt this way? Why was there something tugging at the back of his mind, like it was something important he ought to remember about the way he felt? He looked again at the display before him, and as it dawned upon him what he’d done, he sobered up just long enough to see the twisted, shapeless thing he’d created by melting together their bodies with foul magic. The rancid smell of blood, urine and droppings mingled with negative energy filled his nostrils, and he almost puked. John looked again. It was actually a fabulous piece of work when viewed upon from a positive angle. Their torsos had been bent forward and melted together at the shoulder blades, into some kind of many-legged looking spider with a serious genetic flaw. No matter how he turned this many-headed thing, naked bottoms with wet, bloodied rectums met his gaze. It kept veering from side to side as an unknown number of legs tried to coordinate their movements as if not to fall. Their owners kept screaming and moaning in terror, frantically trying to escape their equally frightened melted together neighbors. Their apparent clumsiness mostly reminded John a newborn buck learning to walk just after birth, and he simply had to laugh wickedly, feeling his manhood harden again at the sight of all the naked rumps forming a circle, gleaming with sweat in front of him. How could he possibly deny himself another round with this unbelievable masterpiece of living flesh he’d created, before he went after the big fish; The abed? John laughed again. A wicked, demonic laugh he wasn’t sure where originated from, but hey, who cared right now? He reached inside his trousers, and wrapped his fingers around a rock hard, erect cock, feeling the veins in his manhood pulsate with more and more need with every stroke, up and down. He clasped the nearest behind of his newly created multi-legged monster, and plunged his manhood into the swollen opening, earning himself a wail of agony. The action set loose a tidal wave of terror among the melted together owners, and the fear was like a smoky blanket which rose to the ceiling. John drew it all in with deep breaths, thrusting away as hard and fast as he could. He felt the shivering mass of flesh moving, saw them try to escape, heard them wail and beg to God for mercy. John decided to try another ass, and pulled himself out. He walked to the opposite side, and did as last time, plunging deep inside. This was one of the narrower ones. Good. He could feel the insides of the monk’s rectum squeeze around John’s pumping manhood, a sensation which contributed to his lust. He pumped the monk hard, and at the same time he mentally pushed himself inside the minds of his victims. He discovered they were all at the edge of insanity. How fun it would be to give them a little push! John chuckled again, and switched ass. He focused for the tiniest of seconds before he found the threads of their minds, binding them together in a mental hive. He then induced lust, feeling the echo of increased heartbeats resound in his ears. The multi-legged, flesh-colored spider wavered and calmed, as John felt their minds spiraling downwards from elevated and intellectual minds to basic levels. He switched again, and again after giving each a serious pounding, thrilled to see blood seep from their entrances afterwards. The unfortunate group of monks had now become a single-minded, moaning and heavy-breathing unit, where its hands began to find their ways to their cocks. John decided enough was enough; He did after all have to save himself for the prize he knew awaited in some somber room ahead. He pulled out and did up his trousers.
Then, one comprehensive sentence finally left the mouth from one of the by now deranged and maimed monks who absentmindedly searched surrounding legs until he finally found his own cock: “The P-Power of Christ compels Th- Thee”. John stood to gaze at him just as another one wailed loudly, then began to writhe and toil. The two monks neighboring him screamed also, as the one writhing in the middle suddenly came hard. Not able to tear his gaze away from the moaning multi-legged man, John opened the door, feeling the sudden urge to leave behind the monster he’d created.

There was something about Christ. That was indeed it, and it was so real it actually compelled John to go searching for the abed as he’d originally intended before he’d been side-tracked by his own lust.

*

The abed absentmindedly fingered his rosary. He kept staring at the door in the other end of the office, waiting for the demon, waiting to finally be able to exhale.

“I am Thy Abba” he muttered to himself over and over like he was rehearsing for something. Sweat kept pouring down his forehead, and he would once in a while swipe across the frowns with his right sleeve. “I am Thy abba”. He shifted in his chair, and a sudden shiver cascaded through his fat, pig-like body. He stared at the door again, his eyes like two black and white marbles staring through the half dark. Only a few scented candles illuminated the sparsely equipped chamber. “I am Thy—!“

The door to his chamber slid open without a sound, even though the abed knew it normally creaked and complained in its hinges. The abed cleared his throat, preparing himself.

“Don’t think I do not see the circle you’ve drawn on the floor, Abed” John’s voice resounded with unusual depth. It was the energy of the circle which altered the sound. John appeared outside the door of the Abed’s chamber.

“M-my son. Wilst Thou not enter?”

“I am not your son, old man” John replied contemptuously.

“Did you like the gift I gave you?” the abed asked, his voice trembling with trepidation, or perhaps a hint of expectation. It was difficult to tell.

“I enjoyed them very much, thank you. Now they’re a bunch of inseparable, mumbling idiots!” John replied, a little lighter in his tone. “And now, I’ve come for you, abed” John said, not bestowing the abed as much as a smile.

The abed decided it was time, and said: “Do not forget; I am Thy Abba.” The Abed waited for John’s reaction with a proud smile on his lips. It was intended as a declaration of truth, and information of the obvious fact, but John seemed indifferent.

“I know very well who my father is, Lucifer Morningstar. And that body you wear really doesn’t become you. I’m amazed you’d think I’d fall for a cheap trick like this; A monastery and a demon trap? Come on! You know me better than that!”

“Deny your heritage! Say you’re mine. The veil of destiny has spoken; Together we could be—“

“—not really interested” John cut him off with a sigh.

“You should have been mine” The Morningstar spoke angrily in dual tongue. It usually happened when the real voice of the demon inside its host spoke at the same time as the vocal chords of the possessed moved as well. John turned to face him. He had contemplated on the archaic symbols inside the circle. A perfect circle, flawless and reeking with negative energy. Suddenly, the rosary fell to the floor, shattered into a million beads. The abed made a choking odd sound, and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull as he died from the overload of being too fat and possessed at the same time. His heart could simply not manage the pressure.

“Now that’s just sick, ‘Lucy’” John said, disgusted by the vile display of the dead abed still standing erect.

“Our children would be greater than ourselves. They would take upon the heavens and make war against our foes. We would drink the blood from the veins of our enemies as they fall from the skies!” Something suddenly shifted in his manner, and The Morningstar said with regret in his voice: “Thou should have been mine. That little whore of a prince—“

“—leave Paris out of this. He made his choice back then. He’s dead and gone” John said, attempting to close off the subject about his heritage.

“Is he? Do you know that for certain?” The Morningstar said, twisting the dead face of the abed into something resembling a smile. John hesitated. It could be a trick question.

“This discussion is over. You have robbed me of my prize. I demand a sacrifice” John said resolutely, seeking to escape the discomfort of the situation.

“Paris should have been mine to fuck, and you should have been my demon offspring to command, not some exiled half-wit demon!!” The Morningstar suddenly burst out, making the dead into an angry display, “you waste your time pampering that ridiculous excuse of a mortal father. Leave him to his miserable fate and be mine! I am offering you a seat at the throne in my kingdom!”

“I’m warning you, you will keep Jack Sparrow out of this discussion!” John growled in return, feeling his anger boiling inside.

“I had hopes for you since you chose to come here and not go on some rescue mission after that bloody bird!”

“What?!”

“Ever since you first caught glimpse of The Abode, and you began to remember things about the past! You forgot about that tiresome helpless pirate whore and set out to find answers here. You want a prize? Well, it’s me! I am more than willing to bestow upon you the sensation of my manhood inside you. We’re going to make such horrible children, you and I” The Morningstar chuckled before he continued as he saw the baffled look upon John’s face, “why, didn’t you know? The eagle’s already flown off with him, the pirate wretch!” The Morningstar laughed. “Don’t you worry, my pet, I’m sure your sire will take care to do some serious dusting off inside his arse!!” The dead abed shook in a staccato rhythm in a poor imitation of the body laughing.
John stumbled out of the chamber with The Morningstar’s laughter ringing in his ears. John found the nearest window, opened it and then grew his wings. He had to get to Jack right away! John had been mislead!
Not long after he’d flown out of there, did The Morningstar the same. He tossed the dead weight out of the window, and the dead abed took flight, only to be blown into a million shards of blood and goo, revealing a swarm of black beetles chasing after John. They caught up with him, and clogged his wings, making John lose altitude. In response, John chose to dive into the black sea, and promptly rid himself of the swarm, drowning them all. But Lucifer, who now was free from earthly form, moved twice as fast as John, and the King of the Eight Plane of Hell set his powers into a current, catching John dead in the chest. Hampered by the enormous wings, John felt himself being dragged down into the deep dark all the while being helplessly tossed about between fish and sharp rocks. Instead of fighting the current, he focused on shape-changing, but by then it was already too late. The Morningstar had opened a portal, and John felt himself being dragged between worlds. The Hellmouth closed above his head shortly after, and he found himself enveloped by rocks and darkness melting into solid cave walls all around him. The ghostly images of trapped souls soon enough appeared, swarming about him like moths to a light in the dark, pleading for salvation. He recognized them straight away. They were the souls of criminals, of murderers and rapists, tyrants and traitors, men and women alike. They all shared a burning desire for release back into the world of the living.

Lucifer appeared before John again, this time in his true form; He was just like John remembered him, shining from head to toe like a golden star. He was naked, his flawless body in the shape of a Greek god. His hair had the color of a golden field ready to be harvested, and it billowed softly in a halo around his head. He had magnificent black wings which beat heavily through the air, wafting away the tiresome ghosts about. Displaying his entire splendor, The Morningstar had a triumphant look on his face as he said: “I show myself to you the way I offered myself to Prince Paris. This body is yours to appreciate, Jehohanan. Just come, and let me melt into you.”