Legends of the Treasure Child

“And I ran”, Jack whispered, “my God how I ran. I heard them scream behind me, heard them…” Jack’s voice trailed off. “Then I fell, and the air above me was filled with the gust of death and the rush of air being swept back and forth by mighty wings, and the dirt on the ground filled me lungs, made me cough and I couldn’t see. It lifted me by the neck and flew me high up in the air, to a cave several hundred metres in the air. And even through me clothes could I feel that gigantic cock of his against stomach, pulsating with a life of its own.”
Jack paused as Will entered the cabin, carrying some dry clothes and a pelt. He freed himself of the baby which had fallen asleep, and sat up, peeling off his soaked shirt, not minding if Bill and Will saw his swollen breast areas. It had to be called that, for nor could Will call them real breast, nor were they taut and firm like Will’s own chest, just slightly…swollen. Will looked down at Jack’s belly. It seemed like a wrinkled old balloon with way too little air in it. Bill looked over at Will and gave his son a friendly slap on the shoulder.
“You’d do wise to keep yer mouth, son. I don’t think Jack is in any shape to have his body criticised right now.”
“But how come—“ Will whispered in reply, but his voice trailed off as he saw Jack’s challenging look at him.
“You got somethin’ to say, boy?” Jack said sternly.
“No. What happened then, after you were lifted off the ground?”
“One of me crewmen was already there when the demon tossed me to the ground of the cavern like I was an old rag. I remembered being upset right then mostly because I’d lost me hat and me pistol. Then this bunch of weed came to life, ivy I think it was, and bound me hands, draggin’ me over to where that rat of a useless crewmember sat tied to a pole, him to by ivy. The branches were so many, and me only good thought was that I in me wisdom hadn’t agreed upon paying him until we made it to the fountain.” Jack sighed, greedily eating the food Will had found for him.
“Got any rum?” he asked with his mouth full.
“Sorry but no, Jack. You’re on board the Flying Dutchman, remember?”
“All too well” replied Jack. “How’s the wife?”
“She’s fine I guess.” But Will didn’t dare tell Jack how he dreaded every time they came upon a ship with dying souls, half expecting her to be among the crew. It set his heart going every time he’d come across the soul of a dead woman resembling Elisabeth either in height, built or in beauty.
“I watched him die. Watched him being tortured by that demon, well aware that I was next”, Jack suddenly said somewhat absentmindedly before taking another bite of the dark loaf. “And then the demon parted his legs, horribly hairy they were, but…and then—“Jack stopped talking yet his lips continued moving, clearly having trouble getting the words across his lips. Bill could see in his eyes that Jack was far away, lost in memory.

For Jack had been trying to free himself, managing to slide a small blade out of his right boot, carving over as many of the tough branched ivies that he could while he watched his fellow pirate being turned around onto his belly, the pale demon beast positioning his enormous shaft at the puckered entrance of that helpless wretch, then forcing its way in, inch by inch. He had screamed so that Jack had wished for a way to shut him up, to end his misery. And just when Jack thought the beast could enter no further, save half of his pulsating member being on the outside because it was too long, the demon roared, then shoving itself inside in one bolt and into the pirate’s intestines, puncturing a series of vital organs. In that minute Jack froze, his ears hurting as the demon roared triumphantly again. The crewman went spastic, his body shaking, blood boiling out his mouth and nose. Then he went limp, his dark eyes lost up in his skull.

“The Thyrion is…” Jack said slowly, dragging every syllable out of his mouth, “picky. When they go cold and there is no warmth left in the flesh…! He finally stops.”

And then it had been Jack’s turn. The demon had turned towards him, and Jack remembered that he’d registered that the sun had gone down. Darkness was falling swiftly, and Jack had sensed that his life was about to come to an end.
Jack had been writhing like a worm to be free of the demon’s hands, the long and bony fingers pretending to caress his cheeks, scraping his skin with a clawed fingertip. And the demon had taken his time doing so, almost like the unholy creature had been studying Jack, pondering out ways to torture him. In the end, Jack had stopped squirming; only trying to avoid the clawed finger which threatened to poke his eye out.

The demon had then let him go, retreating to the cave entrance, where it had drawn a large circle in the sand, decorating it with unholy symbols. Then it had driven a new pole into the ground in the midst of the circle, and tied Jack to it with a piece of rope. He was thankful to get away from the carcass next to him. And just as he’d been tied up, an unfamiliar burning sensation had welled up in his nether region. It was indeed burning, becoming hotter and more painful by the hour. Jack had suspected magic – dark magic, had felt an urge he only usually felt in the presence of women. He had tried not to move, not to writhe, not to moan. The sensation was in fact quite annoying, for as the night grew darker he had become certain that it was indeed unholy powers that were toying with his body, and the wielder, the three metres tall demon had been content to squat a few metres away, watching as Jack Sparrow’s flesh slowly altered.

In the darkness, no one saw Jack Sparrow’s despair as he came undone in mind as well as in body. The pain searing in his abdomen, mixed with an unknown hunger he sensed only the demon could quench, threw him into an emotional turmoil, knowing it would probably lead to his death if he gave in.
Darkness went; dawn came, and with first light came also the despaired and pained moans from Jack. Weary as he was from an entire night in pain and lust, he’d been reduced to a single-minded wretch, begging for the demon’s cock to come and impale him, welcoming the very probable death of Captain Jack Sparrow.