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Message-ID: <28100asstr$978181805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Cutefuzzybunnies@aol.com
Content-Disposition: Inline
Subject: {ASSM} Possession (Necrophelia, Demon)
Date: Sat, 30 Dec 2000 08:10:05 -0500
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Possession

The air in the dank motel room was thick and cloying, reeking of the 
aftermath of 
death.
    
She lay upon the bed in death's languid repose, less than glamorous by any 
opinion. Once luminous skin was now painted in gradations of gray and purple 
by the 
blind hand of decay.  Flies buzzed merrily about, feasting upon the dried 
blood that had pooled upon the cheap sheets from the deep gashes in her 
wrists.
    
He watched her, as he so often had, from a distance.  Standing against the 
far wall, his dark clothing melded him into the deep shadows cast by the 
bare, solitary bathroom bulb.  Only the light in his eyes stood out, pupils 
glowing with a dark luminescence as he looked upon her.
    
She had never understood him, his purpose, and his love.  She saw only what 
her fears and preconceptions allowed her to see.  That's why she always ran 
from him.  Why she always went into hiding, changed her name, changed her 
appearance.  She never understood his love for her.
    
Walking slowly towards the bed, boots heavy upon the bare wooden floor, he 
wondered how it had gone so wrong.
    
He loved her.  He had told her so.  He had explained to her how much his love 
meant, how rare and indeed impossible it was for him to love her in the way 
he did.  Each time she only begged to be released, tearfully begged for 
mercy.  Wasn't the fact that he always released her to run again sufficient 
evidence of his care, his understanding and compassion?  When all he wanted 
to do in the world was take her in his arms and crush her into his being, to 
caress her spirit and make love to her soul?
    
All she did was run.
    
She knew she could never truly hide from him.  He always found her, sooner or 
later.  From the bright, callow chaos of Las Vegas, to the depths of the Old 
South.  Even her mother's cabin in the wilderness.  He always found her.  
    
As he had found her here in this lowly place, this sewer with walls.
    
Above the bed, scrawled in blood she left her last words for him.
    
"You won't find me now!"
    
Walking to the bedside, he looked upon her and sighed, seeing only her beauty 
despite the decay.  He loved her still, as he would forever.  That is what 
she could never understand.  His love was eternal.
    
As she would be.
    
Leaning down, he gently kissed her swollen lips, tasting her decaying tongue. 
 With great care he pulled her eyelids open, revealing sunken, unfocused eyes.
    
"Hello, my beauty," he whispered, kissing her forehead before standing again. 
 With slow precision he stripped away his clothing, revealing a perfect form, 
marred only by an odd tattoo on his shoulder.
    
Free of all clothing, he knelt upon the bed with her, sliding between her 
flaccid thighs.  Staring into her lifeless eyes, he primed himself and slowly 
pushed into her, a burning spear thrust into cold meat.  

"I told you that I would do anything for you," he whispered, slowly beginning 
to move within her while staring all the while into those listless eyes. 

"And so I shall."

The bed began to move, slowly at first, as he thrust into her decaying 
womanhood. Soon the aged springs were protesting and the bed was quaking with 
his desire as he took possession of her lifeless form again and again, her 
sagging breasts quivering in gelatinous tremors.
    
With each thrust he began a guttural chant in an arcane tongue, the feral 
glow of his eyes pulsing brighter with each dark, powerful phrase.
    
Again and again he slammed into her, the chant growing louder and stronger 
until the windows rattled in reply.
    
At last he arrived, his member swelling and unleashing a torrent of fire into 
her womb as he poured himself into her with an unearthly bellow that 
shattered the windows and fractured the mirrors.
    
Those dead, listless eyes stirred, struggled to focus.  His was the face they 
saw, inches from theirs, eyes aglow with infernal light.
    
"Now, you are mine." He said in half whisper and half growl, struggling for 
breath.  "And now," he said, voice distant and slipping. "Now you know a 
demon's love." 

 From the throat of the dead woman came a choked, guttural scream as the form 
upon hers went limp and heavy in death.

Like an invalid trying to remember how to move, she fought her body and 
screamed at her limbs as they struggled to move again, slowly returning to 
life as the dark fire slowly pulsed through her veins.  After a seeming 
eternity she was able to roll to one side and push the corpse from the bed.  
It fell unceremoniously to the floor, arms and legs at odd angles.
    
As if drunk she stood and swayed, reaching for something to steady her 
listing form, sending a lamp crashing to the floor in the attempt.  Leaning 
against a wall, her fingernails dug grooves in the wood as she drew deep, 
thick breaths of air.

She looked at arms, at her wrists.  The deep gauges were gone, though the 
dried blood remained.  The purpling splotches were fading as she watched.  
Within moments her skin returned to its natural pale luster.
    
Confident in her stability now, she walked to the edge of the bed and peered 
down upon the fallen form there, already in the later stages of decomposition.
    
The edges of her lips twitched.  Something was rising within her.  She 
giggled at first, reluctantly.  Then giggled again, and soon began laughing.
    
"You bastard," she said through the laughter.  "You pathetic Demon bastard!"  
She screamed with delight, tossing the soiled blankets around with glee.  "I 
knew you'd do this," she crowed to the decaying corpse on the floor. "Didn't 
think I knew what you were?  Thought I was that naive?  Just a scared little 
girl with her Demon lover bemoaning his love for her?"
    
She laughed again as she opened a drawer, took out fresh clothing, and began 
to dress.  She had so many plans and so much to do, now that she had all the 
time in the world.
    
"Uncle John was a priest, or didn't I mention that? An Exorcist, before being 
defrocked.  He had such wonderful books, all about demons," she said, leaning 
down to smirk at the tattoo. "All about you, Guzrial."
    
"Now I have your essence," she said, standing to look triumphantly into the 
splintered mirror, smiling at the crimson glow within her eyes.  "I have 
eternal life, without a love-struck demon with sulfur for breath barking at 
my heels like a pathetic puppy."
    
"Kiss kiss, lover," she said, blowing a sarcastic kiss to the corpse as she 
started for the door.
    
"Kisses for you as well, my sweet."
    
Whirling back, she looked at the corpse, now only a puddle of foulness upon 
the floor.
    
"What's wrong, little angel?"
    
She spun around again, madly looking about the room.
    
"Where are you," she screamed.  "You can't be here!  I have your Essence!"
    
"Ah, but I am here, my sweet.  I'm here, with you."
    
With horror in her eyes she looked back to the mirror and held her hands to 
her ears, suddenly knowing where he was.
    
She screamed, and he laughed, as one.




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