Demon Infected
The Summoning
The rumble of thunder crashed down on the old farmhouse at the end of Barrowdown Street. Rain arrived in a solid mass, as if giant buckets were upended in the sky. The world dimmed as the clouds thickened, street lights clicking on despite the afternoon hour.
Cinder blocks surrounded an area both spacious and cramped. Despite the high ceiling, the ductwork and furnace for the house made for a constant risk of head trauma for even the moderately tall. The concrete floor was swept clean of the dust which tended to sift down from the wooden ceiling and the dark earth along the surrounding craw-spaces. The blocks were only shoulder high, with mounds of dry dirt extending to the edges of the house above.
A figure dressed in a robe shambled about in one corner of the basement. The terrycloth bathrobe was covered in designs and symbols, stitched with painstaking care in the old robe. The pink bunny slippers which poked out of the robe's hem were somewhat newer. Carrying a box stuffed with objects, the figure moved to the far corner of the basement, ducking with unconscious familiarity below a rumbling silver-taped conduit.
Where the rest of the basement was dimly lit with a couple ancient incandescent bulbs, this corner was in bright contrast. Several modern LED panels flooded it with light from above. The panels revealed a scrawny young man swaddled in the too-large robe. He stopped before the design on the floor, carefully setting candles in marked spots.
There were papers tapped to the walls, filled with diagrams—the plans for the giant circle filled with arcane figures scribed on the floor. Silver and gold glinted in the light, circles and whorls, angles and figures forming lettering midst geometric shapes. Multiple shadows moved around the shining diagrams as the man finished his preparations.
The last step involved carefully cleaning the area with a fine horse-hair brush. His care in cleaning was painstaking. He held a large magnifying glass, the kind sold in drug stores for elderly with weak eyes, to watch each swipe of the brush's path. He used a soft cloth to polish the area within the magic circle.
Once finished, he sat down on a pillow, closed his eyes, and chanted softly to himself. His voice was thready, high pitched, despite his height he sounded quite young. The rhythmic, repeated words were repetitions of arithmetic tables. It had all the appearance of a breathing exercise.
The young man picked up a gnarled stick. There were bits of congealed wax along its length of various colors and it glinted in the light from embedded chips of gemstone or glass. He waved it with a few gestures, the end nearing a collection of tangled wires. Once, twice, then with a click the switch was tripped on a surge protector.
The light panels went out, plunging the corner into darkness save for the pinpricks of flame from the candles.
With a satisfied grunt, he dropped the stick into the box. Another spark of light, this time from tiny book light, and he started reading from a page. There were carefully placed sticky notes with guides to pronunciation.
Like everything else in the corner of the basement, the words were spoken with meticulous care. He fought back excitement, keeping his voice level and monotone, enunciating carefully each word of the strange, guttural language.
His excitement rose higher as something happened in the middle of the circle. Small bubbles rose from just above the concrete, piling atop each other, glinting darkly in the candle light. The pile of bubbles rose to several inches then collapsed into a puddle.
Ripples flowed and spread in the puddle as it widened. The ripples coalesced into two jittering peaks, which slowly rose to form curved shapes. The dark fluid rose, showing the extent of an invisible container formed by the binding circle.
As the rough words filled the basement, the liquid continued to rise, gradually forming spiky horns. An elongated, animal-like face extended below them. The candle flames rose along with the growing form, casting ever-more light through the room.
Flowing energy swirled around the diagram, sparks of darkness which cast shadows of light. They flowed in opposition to the motes of eldrich energy inside the circle confining the gooey puddle. Shoulders formed, then a sloping of bosom. Drips of dark fluid dropped from the antlers which crowned the creature's head.
The flames from the candles split, reached out, and joined to form a delicate network of energy. As the energy speared the man he successfully resisted a startled gasp from marring his pronunciation.
Outside the house, thunder rolled in constant crashes, shaking the world. It was closely matched by the staccato rhythm of the magical chant. Sounds merged, shaking the latticework of flames.
The dancing light and flickering shadow helped mask the form which rose from the depths. It was a mixture of man, woman, and animal, with proportions grotesque in size and shape.
Taken one part at a time, its visage would not have been so disturbing. The combination, though, dragged at the sensibilities, creating a sickening sense of 'wrong'. Despite, or perhaps because of, how its body disturbed the man's vision, the crouched figure caused physical reactions.
He fought back surges of bile as his stomach revolted, his skin paling as blood drained and goosebumps formed across his flesh. The book shifted, hastily grabbed before it tipped over, as a sudden erection speared against the leather.
The human body, confronted by the creature, reacted with sickness and lust, spreading waves of conflicting sensation through the man. Yet he managed to complete the chant with a strong voice.
As the magical chant ended, the light of candle dimmed. Now the energy in the room barely lit the two figures. Sparks formed, falling in a cascade of motes which dimmed quickly, as the imprisoned figure tested its bindings.
"Well then." Its voice deep as gravel but also filled with a wet, sucking quality. Altogether too reminiscent of noises from a porn video. "It has been long since a mortal dared summon me to this paltry realm."
The man struggled to control his body. Muscles spasmed, on the edge of cramps, causing him to shake and tremble.
The creature's mouth twisted, resembling a different opening despite the rows of jagged teeth.
"Your determination is admirable but your lack of experience will betray you. Perhaps you should have started with a lesser demon." Its amusement grew as it waited for the man's body to fail him.
With a strangled groan, the man pushed himself away from the circle. It was only a few inches, but far enough the lattice of energy pulsed in the air just in front of him rather than through his body.
In seconds, his body calmed, no longer strangling his mind with warring sensation. His breathing calmed as his muscles eased their quaking.
He took a sheet of parchment from the book and held it before him, though careful not to cover his eyes. On it were a few sentences written in the same language as in the book.
"Oh ho! How refreshing," the demon said. "Not many realize writing can be used for their demands. Why, it almost makes up for your foolishness in choosing today."
A momentary ripple betrayed the man's concern. The paper steadied as he steeled his resolve. He'd researched the day, even the time, as carefully as everything else.
"Such modest desires you have listed." The chuckle from the being caused the man to twitch in a place he tried to ignore. Mocking him, the creature flexed several of its own.
"But alas, none of them you shall have." The demon's mirth grew.
There was a definite reaction from the man at the announcement. He almost spoke before catching himself.
Snarled, razor-sharp teeth, were shown as the thing's smile grew. Ropes of ichor oozed down to splatter on its expansive bosom. Bulky shoulders moved in an expansive shrug, heaving breasts pulling at the man's eyes. The multiple, teat-like nipples extended, crowded against the barrier, and pushed against it.
The barrier bent.
His eyes widened. "How?" His voice was thick with bile as his stomach contracted. The man tried to scramble back but leaden legs betrayed him. A desperate hand reached and managed to hit the switch to turn on the lights.
Bright LEDs showed the silver trail of a trickle of water. It dripped from the earth crawlspace, down the cinder block wall, to send a tiny trail of water across the diagram.
"Ah. The fear. The terror. Delicious."
He couldn't move. His legs spasmed, her torso twisted, but he was fixed in place. Hands scrambled, trying to find a solid grip on something. Anything.
"Magical sympathy." The tentacle-nipples, surrounded by a distortion in the air from the barrier, reached for the man. "I cannot move so you cannot either. Enough of the barrier remains I do not have complete freedom."
More tentacles forced the barrier to stretch. Bulkier and thicker than the nipples, demon penises reminiscent of various animals stretched forth.
While he couldn't leave, he could scream. The demon delighted in the man's screams as its tentacles grasped him. Some forced their way inside his body to violate while others teased and excited.
As they enfolded the man, the barrier slowly engulfed him. Soon all but one piece of his body was inside the barrier. Although blood dripped from the man's flesh, torn open by jagged lengths of exposed bone, his seed erupted from him.
It poured out in inhuman amounts until with a last crackling of splintering bone, his heart beat its last.
The torture was far from over, though. The demon drew the man's soul from the carcass of his body. Piece by piece, the body was devoured.
"Ironic, is it? Even though the circle is broken, I cannot leave through the breach because of the running water. Even though it is but a few drops."
With the man's death, the summoning energies weakened. With a wet noise, the last hole in the barrier closed, slicing off the man's penis. It jerked on the floor, twitching spasms moving through it as if still ejaculating.
"Because of you, though, I can send something out."
The barrier began to shrink, squeezing at the monster. It sunk back into the inky fluid. Body parts went with it. As the monster withdrew, there was the distinct impression its shape was simpler, less grotesque.
With a last crash of thunder, the creature vanished. The fluid drew back into the center, bubbled, then was gone.
Left behind were the still-animated penis and the wet, sticky, splotches of seminal juice.