Demonic Dream??

Demonic Dream??

Damian had made a mess out of it. Out of pure refractoriness and total boredom he didn’t go from one classroom to the other, when the hourly change of lectures came. Instead of that he started walking around in those parts of the old school building where nobody came. His absence wasn’t noticed, he already had the reputation of being a truant and so he had the opportunity to reconnoiter everything. And there was a lot to find out. His school was temporarily situated in an old boy boarding school, awaiting the readiness of its new buildings. It was an old, majestic building, tucked away in the woods, with most of it being unused and empty. Damian was surprised over the many rooms and halls with high ceilings and high windows, through which only very little light entered, covered as they were by layers of dust. Every little sound he made reverberated in the hollow, empty spaces.

Sauntering along he ended up on the attic of the building. It was a high and almost empty space with a complicated truss of rafters and a creaking wooden floor. The light trickled through small holes between the roof-tiles and was filtered by them to a beautiful, soft, almost gold-colored shine. On the attic he found some old metal beds and a heap of pillows.

“Who would have thought that?” mused Damian with a smile. It was a nice spot to spend the last school hour in a comfortable and cozy way. He lied down on the pillows, made himself comfortable and started dreaming about this gorgeous boy in his class, playing with himself at the sheer thought of it. When he had cum, he snuggled up against the pillows for a nap in school time.

He realized himself that he had done something terribly dumb when he opened his eyes: it was dark! “Oh shit!” he muttered in himself, “And what are you going to do now?”

In this pitch darkness it seemed impossible to go back to the parts that were actually used by his school. And even if he managed to find his way back, it would be useless: the doors would be closed and he would be locked in until the next day.

The only thing he could do was to resign and make the best of it. It was a relief to find out that he had his cigarettes with him. That might bring him through the night, which promised to be long. But with time passing slowly and after several cigarettes his mood didn’t get any better: he was hungry, lost his sense of time and felt terrible.

Suddenly he startled…did he really see it right? Yes, there it was again, a flickering of light. Maybe someone came looking for him after all. He looked again, but couldn’t understand what he saw. The flickering was there again, but not on the floor. It was high between the rafters and it turned into a real spot of light, which remained where it was. It started going hence and forth and grew every second. Damian was sure it was getting colder as well in a very rapid tempo, causing goose-flesh on his arms. He started to shiver.

With the cold growing more and more intense, the light spot moved down tantalizingly slow until it reached the floor, where it started to expand. But it didn’t only get bigger, but higher as well. It became a column of blinding light, which moved slowly towards him until it stopped a few yards from Damian’s feet. Damian thought he was imagining things, especially when he heard a dreary, very unsympathetic laughter, which seemed to fill the whole space, and he also heard a faint panting. But…there was nobody here, only he himself and some light blot.

There was something happening that he couldn’t comprehend. Damian started to fear that he lost his mind….he saw things that couldn’t be true. Was he hallucinating? Or…was it all true what he saw?

The light blot changed again and in an old, ghostly man appeared in the blinding light. His empty, hollow eyes lay deep in their sockets, his skin was shriveled and looked like old rumpled parchment. His face was wrinkled and looked incredibly pale. He laughed without a sound from a mouth which was toothless and as wrinkled as the rest of his face. He had long, filthy white grey hair, that came to his bony shoulders and he was dressed in a robe, which might have been white in the past. On bare, bony feet he shuffled towards Damian. The boy was paralyzed by fear: he couldn’t move and he was unable to utter a sound. Only his eyes functioned and they registered the dreary spectacle in front of them. The funniest part of it all was: he could see through the figure, as if he saw it without it being there.

The old man continued his shuffling towards Damian and finally he spoke…the voice didn’t seem to come from his mouth, but instead it filled the whole space with an unpleasant echo.

“At last young semen again!”……

He licked his crumpled lips. Damian realized himself that he hadn’t pulled up his drawers and jeans after he had cum and the shape looked with clear delight at his limp shaft. It bend over with difficulty and extended his pale hand toward the part..the hand stroke it for a few seconds. It felt cold, infinite cold. Damian recoiled, but was trapped between the pillows and a rafter. The shape laughed…again the hand stroked his manhood again.

“Stand up”, the shape ordered with the voice which seemed to come from all directions.

Something in his head wanted to resist, but despite that Damian stood up as he had no will at all. It seemed he was under total control of the creature. While standing up his jeans and underwear sank to his ankles.

“Get your shirt off”, the creature ordered.

Damian obeyed again. He stood naked in the light in front of the ominous creature, who extended his hand again and started stroking the boy’s belly and balls. Damian felt a funny sensation gliding over his balls. It was an incredibly intense cold, but at the same time he noticed how his shaft got up. The creature bend over and murmured:

“At last young semen, after all these centuries!”

Damian’s tool disappeared into the mouth of the ghostly thing. It was as sticking him into a reefer’s deep freeze compartment, but it remained hard. He felt the tickling sensation of sucking. The old one sucked vehemently and greedy, his spittle dripping on his chin. While sucking his fingers danced over Damian’s balls and belly, making an occasional detour between his buttocks. Damian felt the pressure rising and although he found the whole situation disgusting he came, whether he wanted or not.

The creature seemed pleased. Satisfied he licked his lips and a mean and sinister laugh was heard.

“Your semen are delicious, boy!” he murmured.

With a swift move, that Damian hadn’t expected from someone as old as the creature, he turned the boy around. But the terrified boy had other things in mind. Again he attempted to flee, away from this terrible apparition, but his body was unable to follow the commands from his brain. The paralyzing fear kept him without movement and soon he felt ice-cold hands stroking over and between his buttocks. All of a sudden he had the feeling as if an icicle was thrust into him.

“Nooooooo…..”….and then…then it went all black, a deep intense black.

He noticed a blinding light when he opened his eyes. But somehow the light seemed normal. He looked around and saw a man in a white coat and another man in plain clothes.

“Well, hello”, the man in the white coat said with a kind voice, “You are back again!”.

Damian looked at him, not fully comprehending. With a dry mouth he whispered:

“Oh, really? But where then?”

“In the hospital”, the man replied.

“Oh damned,” Damian thought, “how the hell did I end there?”

Although his question remained unspoken the plain clothes man seemed to read his mind, answering:

“The janitor of your school found you two days ago when he opened up. You were naked and unconscious behind the front door”.

Damian looked a bit dizzy at him. Two days…?

“Yes,” the man in the white continued, “and they brought in suffering from a severe state of hypothermia”.

“And because you had very peculiar injuries I would really like to know what happened to you”, the plain clothes man joined.

Damian looked back at the man in the white coat, who nodded emphatically:

“Yes, frost injuries on and around your genitals and around and inside your anus. Very peculiar indeed, especially in June”.

Damian closed his eyes and tried to create order in his mind. Flashes of memories went through his mind like rockets.

“So, son, what happened to you?” the plain clothes man asked.

Damian kept his eyes closed and sighed deep. Then he looked at the man in the white coat and answered:

“If I tell you that, you’ll send me directly to a madhouse!”

Damian made his second mistake in a couple of days. After already having been so dumb to start walking around in the old school building he now told the two men, who were standing besides his bed, what had happened to him after they exerted some subtle but determined pressure. The doctor and the detective (because that is what the plain clothes man was) looked at one another in amazement and bewilderment and the doctor barely noticeable shook his head.

So the next morning Damian moved from Intensive Care to Psychiatry. He debated and plead and insisted that what he had told was absolutely true, but it solicited only soothing remarks, like “Don’t worry, son, you will be all right!”. In the end he disappeared in an empty room with only a mattress on the floor. Not one single other object could be seen in the few square yards.

He resigned again, there was not that much else he could do. He was aided by his medicines, which made him dozy and sleepy. The day went by. Damian looked outside through the armored glass windows with bars in front of them until dusk came. He eyes grew heavy and he fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.

He woke up from a noise that he didn’t actually hear, but that his sub-consciousness more or less sensed. He looked at the only window and saw it was dark outside. Another sound….his eyes shifted to the direction where it had come from and he stiffened of fear.

There he was, the same translucent old man from the attic, complete with filthy hair and frowzy robe. Daman felt how the temperature in the room dropped with a dizzying speed.

“How did you get here?” he asked with a choked voice.

The only answer was a soundless mean laugh. Then the man spoke:

“That is quiet easy, boy. You are here!”

Damian was taken aback by the answer and looked questioning in the hollow eyes. Again that mean, soundless laugh.

“I went inside you, remember? And I am still inside you. By entering you I took possession of your spirit and of each of the worthless cells of your mortal body. You are possessed by me, boy. So wherever you are, I’m there too. But don’t worry. I won’t bother you too much”

Damian looked at him in disbelief

“Am I getting out of my mind?” he asked himself softly.

“Oh no”, the creature answered, “I’m here, well…that is: in a sense. I am not material or tangible, so I am here, although there is nothing”.

“But…who are you?” asked Damian in a sudden surge of defiance.

“Oh, I’m sorry, how impolite. I am Horace, the Earl of Galcantray…I beg your pardon again, I was Horace, the Earl of Galcantray.”

A silence fell. The creature looked at the boy with a piercing gaze from his hollow eyes. The temperature in the room kept dropping.

“But enough talk for now, boy! I will only bother you when I want to satisfy my lusts. I need your young semen to be able to continue wandering about in this universe and a soft young hole for pleasure so every now and then”.

With one swift move the creature dropped his robe to the ground and shuffled naked to the boy. It was ghastly, a walking skeleton with some skin over the bones moved slowly through the room and the boy stiffened up again, not able to move or to scream. He was completely under the creature’s spell, a victim without a will of his own, more like a rabbit in the last seconds before it is torn apart by a wolf. The creature undressed Damian with flashing speed, leaving the poor boy naked and defenseless on the mattress. With difficulty the ghost went on his knees and again he took the boy’s shaft in his mouth. It had the same effect as before. If Damian had had some conscious thought he would have remained limp of fear and disgust. But it grew again to its prepared position. The ghost sucked it violently, as if its immaterial existence depended on it. Translucent, silver-grey spittle came from the corners of his mouth and Damian had never seen something as disgusting as this. But again he felt how he came in the deep freezer, in which his tool was trapped. It was as if the creature sucked his semen out of his balls by pure violence and force and the boy was not able to do anything against it. The old smacked his lips contently and looked at his incapacitated victim. A surreal, neighing laughter was heard.

The creature spread Damian’s legs…there was no resistance. It seemed as if the spell, which controlled him made it impossible to resist or to flee. Besides: where should he flee to in a small room with only a mattress? He just waited with widely dilated eyes. The creature laid himself on top of him. It brought an intense cold feeling in his entire body, but strangely enough he felt no pressure. It felt as if the thing didn’t weigh anything, as if it was a semblance of cold air in a certain disgusting form. Even more terrifying was the feeling that the creature felt like a magnet. It felt as if drew all his body temperature and energy out of his body. Damian felt something unbelievably cold between his buttocks, he heard the vicious mean laughter. It then felt as if the coldest center of the North Pole entered his body.

Nooo….noooooooo…..NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

It was his luck that the oblivion of a deep unconsciousness came over him.

The assistant Psychiatry on duty was in a bad mood. He had just returned from Emergency, where psychiatric assistance was required and had just decided to lay down for an hour in the doctor’s room, when the phone rang. The boy in the isolation had problems.

“Man, this promises to become a long, long night shift” he sighed.

He entered the isolation room in a somewhat grumpy mood, where he saw two nurses besides the mattress on which laid the patient, to his surprise fully naked. He looked at the patient: wide dilated eyes, full of fear, state extreme stupor,…well, consistent with catatonia, an extreme but not uncommon condition in cases of extreme fear. But what worried him was the almost corps-like color of the patient’s skin. That didn’t make sense. He felt the pulse, which was hardly traceable and noticed the ice-cold radiation that came from the patient’s skin, causing him to shiver. Again he stroked over the patient’s skin, again there was this sensation of numbing cold, increasing his shivers. What was this?

“Get an intensive care specialist up, we have a physical problem here. And call the boss…this is really strange!”

One of the nurses ran to the phone. The assistant continued his investigation. Suddenly he saw something remarkable.

“Do you have his chart here?” he asked the nurse still in the room.

She gave him the stack of papers and he started flipping through them, looking for this one sentence, which had popped up in his memory.

“Here it is!” he murmured, “Entered with severe hypothermia and multiple frost injuries in genital and anal areas”.

He looked up. To no one in particular and without expecting any answer he asked:

“How can a patient in a hospital become new and fresh frost injury?”

The nurse shrugged.

“Oh, is the heating on over here?” the assistant asked, “It is freezing here!”.

The intensive care specialist’s findings were clear: extreme hypothermia with critical body temperature. He ordered immediate transfer to Intensive Care. A lot of doctors and nurses started to work feverishly to bring up the boy’s body temperature. Despite the late hour it was a coming and going of department head doctors, who all left the room shaking heads and who freely admitted that they didn’t have the faintest idea what was going on here. The last to come was the department head of Psychiatry. He asked some questions to his assistant, examined the patient again and flipped through his chart. Then he stared to the other wall, considering all details and questions, trying to come to a conclusion. He didn’t like it…all his know how and forty years of experience didn’t give him one bit of help in understanding what was going on over here. Again he thought, looked up and said to his assistant:

“Make out an appointment with Father Flanagan!”.

The assistant stared at him with surprised look and exclaimed: “Oh, jeeezz, boss, now that is a real scientifically sound solution!”

His boss looked at him with angry eyes and said with a biting tone: “You know, Mark, I think you could become a really great psychiatrist, if you were able to learn that there are things in the world which we doctors can’t comprehend nor treat! Here is one of those cases…learn from it!”

Irritated he looked around and asked to no one special: “Is the heating on here? It’s fucking cold here!” Then he marched out angrily. Yes, he was angry about his assistant’s remark, but even more over his own incapability to understand what was going on over here, leaving a flabbergasted assistant and nurse behind.

Father Flanagan was a quiet and amiable man. Damian had wondered why they had sent him to a priest. He imagined himself an old man in a long black robe, who would bury him under biblical wisdom and other religious stuff. But he was dead wrong!

Father Flanagan sat quietly behind his desk, puffing a pipe and listening to the stories of the boy about his “encounters” with the sinister creature and what had happened during these encounters. So every now and then he was obscured by the pipe smoke or scribbled some short notes. He was dressed in a slack jeans and a light blue shirt. The only thing that betrayed his position as a priest was the silver cross, which was barely visible on his chest through the upper rim of the wide open shirt.

Father Flanagan studied the boy. He made a tense, exhausted and almost hurt impression. But the father saw more.., he was also beautiful, innocent and seducing. The father changed his position in the chair and crossed his legs to conceal a sudden reaction in his trousers. Not now, he thought, I’m at work now.

Although the boy’s story sounded totally insane and unreal, the father became more and more interested. There was a certain supernatural logic in it and it seemed to be more than just a normal, treatable psychiatric disease. But he decided that he needed further research to be able to tackle the boy’s problem. At the end of their talk he made out a new appointment, determined to spend the time in between to investigate the matter and to prepare.

The second appointment was two weeks later. The father looked at his scribbled notes and said to the boy:

“This is going to be a tough one, just wanted you to know! I really have the feeling that the normal procedure won’t work and that in this specific case I can only fight fire with fire.”

A worried and fearful look came over the boy’s face, but the father gave him an encouraging smile. But in his head he was haunted by the question, if even fire against fire would solve the matter, a thought that gave him cold shivers over his spine. Anyway: it was going to be a tough job to help the boy.

The evening came that the actual thing would happen. Damian rang at the father’s door, who opened, dressed in a morning robe. Damian was told to take a shower and then to proceed to the room besides the shower, without clothes of any kind.

After he had showered he entered the room naked. There was a funny, strange atmosphere. The room was almost dark. Its curtains were closed and the only sources of light were four candles, one in each corner.

The father entered the room with a beaming smile.

“So, did you have a nice shower?” he asked.

Damian nodded with a tense smile.

“Very well. Now why don’t you just lay down on the bed and try to relax?”

Damian felt he could comply with the first part of the remark (or was it an order?), but the second part seemed almost impossible to do. He couldn’t imagine that he might relax. His nerves gave him a tummy-ache, he felt totally insecure and was terrified of what was going to come.

The father kneeled at the end of the bed, folded his hands and closed his eyes. Damian saw his lips moving, but not a sound was heard.

“Oh well,” he thought, “as long as it stays to praying only, nothing much can happen”

And he felt how his body and his mind relaxed in the vague light. But he remained alert. He couldn’t afford to doze off. Then his tormentor would return to lavish himself on his young fluids and energy and he would selfishly enjoy his young behinds. So every now and then he glanced at the father, who was still immersed in prayer.

It seemed an eternity before the father rose to his feet. His eyes had an almost sad look and with an almost apologizing smile he said:

“I told you that I was going to fight fire with fire. The time has come to do so!”.

When he finished speaking, he dropped his morning robe on the floor and stood naked at the end of the bed. Under normal circumstances Damian would have been impressed. The father was a slender and for his age beautiful man, with well proportioned muscles and athletically built. His male member stood out proudly before him, crowned at its basis by a tight sack, in which two big balls were clearly seen. But Damian wasn’t so sure if he could enjoy the sight under the present circumstances.

The father mounted the boy. It went awkwardly, not being used to this movement. The boy felt the shaft’s tip pushing against his hole and closed his eyes:

“No, not again…not another one!”

He felt the javelin going inside him, slowly and cautiously. Because of its size it hurt a little, but Damian noticed that there was a world of differences with “him”. There was no indescribable intense cold, no sucking up his body warmth. Instead there was warmth, real warmth. There was no lugubrious and almost subterranean abuse, but there was love and compassion. Actually, he might almost enjoy it.

Quietly the father started thrusting in him. “Yeah,” Damian thought, “this is really different! This is pleasant, this is wonderful!”.

Suddenly the father pushed himself up on his two arms, bringing his upper torso just slightly above Damian’s. He looked with piercing eyes to the boy and spoke with loud and stern voice:

“I know who you are! You are Horace, the Earl of Galcantray! You were convicted to a lifetime of incarceration in 1583, being found guilty of raping and torturing young boys, literally sucking all their life fluids and energy out of them and leaving them to a terrible and painful death. Yes, you had your punishment, you perished in your dungeon, as you should. But they forgot to burn your mortal remains, enabling your evil spirit to wander around, lurking young boys in the centuries to come.

Damian looked at him in despair. He started to tremble like a leaf in an autumn storm and felt how he went alternately cold and hot. The air in the room gradually changed. The father continued his quiet and deliberate thrusting and spoke on:

“Leave, Earl of Galcantray. Leave this creature and go to where you belong, to the deepest crevasses of hell, where you will burn into eternity. You were an evil person and you are a dark demon! Now, leave this creature and leave it and all others in peace!”

The trembling in Damian’s body became a violet spasmodic attack with every little muscle violently contracting. He could hardly breathe, had a crushing head ache and the foam was on his lips. He cried, fumed and roared like a wild animal. The father just kept thrusting, quiet and controlled.

Then the father shifted his weight on one arm. With his free hand he grabbed the silver crucifix from his chest, held it in front of Damian’s closed eyes and said in a commanding voice:

“I cast you out, very impure spirit, any ghostly appearance, you are torn out with root and all and chased away from this creature!”.

The boy’s spasmodic moves became worse and worse, his eyes turned in their sockets, his lips turned blue. The room became filled with a fog, which smelled of sulfur, the scent of the devil and of demons and ghosts. It looked like Dante’s hell! The candles flickered, one of them was extinguished by a unimaginable cold gust of wind, the curtains fluttered. It was in one word terrifying.

Still thrusting and holding the silver crucifix the father speaking again:

“I conjure you that you leave this creature with great haste with all your terrors and ordeals of your fury!”

A terrifying, ghastly and blood clotting roar filled the room. It sounded like a tortured person, like a beast coming from hell. Did it come from a supernatural universe or did it come out of the boy. The father crucified himself to encourage himself.

“Go, Earl of Galcantray, go!! In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost…”

An even more demonic roar followed. It was even more unreal and vehement as the previous one and forced the father to gather all his remaining strength. It would be touch or go!

A sudden blinding light flash shot through the room. It changed into a column and rose higher, fading into thin air against the ceiling. A second and third candle blew out in the frosty wind.

The father noticed how he ejaculated in the unconscious boy. Exhausted he swept a hand over his eyes and stood up. He checked the boy’s pulse and breathing, then covered him with a blanket. The trembling and the spasms had stopped and his lips had returned to a normal color.

It was done: the demon was exorcised! But it was a close call. There was a moment in which the father doubted if he had the strength to get the demon expelled. It was the right of the strongest, good against evil, fire against fire. And he had won!

Exhausted he fell in a chair and called for an ambulance to bring the boy back to the hospital, as had been agreed upon. After he had finished the call he stared with tired, empty eyes into the light of the only remaining burning candle and he felt ashamed that he had broken his promise of celibacy. But he also had to admit, that the experience of having sex was a delightful one. A vague and as yet undefined plan began to form in his head.

A week after the exorcism session father Flanagan entered Damian’s hospital room and seemed surprised to find the Department head Psychiatry there.

“Yeah,” Damian thought, “I don’t buy it. This is no coincidence”

The father was satisfied of what he saw. The boy looked cheerful and cheeky and seemed to be improving physically as well.

“Good job, father”, the psychiatrist spoke, “A bloody good job!”

Then he left, because he still had his rounds to make.

Damian looked at the father and shyly took the man’s hand, pulling him towards him.

When their faces were very close, Damian shot up and he kissed the father full on his lips.

“Thank you, father” he whispered softly and coy.

“It is OK, Damian”, father Flanagan laughed, “It makes me happy to see you are getting better again”

“Will I see you again, father?” Damian asked.

“The future will learn about that, son” was the answer.

They had some small talk and then father Flanagan said his goodbyes. He left the room, going to a new appointment with the next demon. Walking through the corridor he smiled inwardly. Now this really was a terrific way to combine business with pleasure!