“Tell me that wasn’t great?”
“It was…” Iago shook his head.
“Different? New? Exciting?” Hunter winked. “Exciting would be the best answer.”
“Wrong.”
Hunter pulled away, he didn’t understand. He was sure he was on to something, that Iago was seeing the light, but still all he could say was wrong?
“No, love, it’s not wrong. You are what you are, and you have to just accept that.”
Iago nodded slowly. “Yes, you are right. I know what I was made to be.” He pulled Hunter close, and ran a finger up his face. “This must never happen again.” His finger stopped against Hunter’s forehead. “You must see the truth, and abase yourself.”
A sharp pain stabbed his brain, and Hunter staggered back, holding his head. The pain continued, surging through him, causing him to fall to his knees. Once it finally subsided he opened his eyes and looked up at Iago. “What the hell did you just…”
What stood there by the breakfast bar was no man. It stood at least eight feet tall, a beast from hell. Leathery wings sprouted from its back, while coarse black hair covered its body like dripping oil. Its limbs were long and thin, built with sinewy muscle, and hanging between its legs, poking out of the dark hair, was the longest and most repulsive penis Hunter had ever seen.
“I have traversed the world more times than you can conceive of,” the creature said, its voice deep and resonant. Hunter swallowed; his throat dry. The voice, although lacking the warmth, was unmistakably that of Iago. “Always the men feared me; my name became myth, a tale used to scare adolescents. In Mesopotamia, I was known as Lilu, and my son was Gilgamesh. A great warrior, created for the war above. I have seen so much of this world, but never have I seen it so changed as now.”
Hunter couldn’t speak. This was beyond him. Iago, that most handsome of men, who had seduced him with just a look, was this creature, this… “What…” Hunter ran his tongue over his lips. “What are you?”
“I am incubus. I am he that preys on mortal women, he that raises them up to be the bearer of warriors, the victors of the war above us all.” The creature, the incubus, moved forward, every muscle in its legs moving beneath the oily skin. “This world is wrong; men no longer fear me, instead they wish to mate with me.” Hunter barely had time to blink before the incubus’ claw-like hands surrounded his throat, lifting him off the floor until his face was inches from the demonic visage. “Can you now bear children? Does the seed of man swim within you to create new life?”
Hunter wanted to answer, to explain what it meant to be gay, why it wasn’t wrong, but he could barely get breath into his lungs. Only the air supply through his nose was preventing him from fainting, such was the creature’s grip on his throat. He was getting delirious, he must have been, to even think that this creature cared what he thought.
A scream echoed from somewhere in the house. It had to be Caitlyn. The creature turned its great black head, its yellow eyes casting a look at the closed bedroom door. “Behold,
man
, you are about to witness the true meaning of creation,” the incubus said, and released its hold of Hunter.
He dropped onto the kitchen floor, hard. But he did not make any attempt to get up, instead he gasped for air, which flooded his lungs like shards of broken glass. His vision was becoming blurred, but he had to focus. To see what the incubus was going to do next. And so he watched. There was little else he could do.
The incubus approached the small flight of steps that led up to the hallway, and with each step it took its form began to change. First the legs and arms pulled in tighter, and the coarse hair seemed to melt into its skin. The wings folded tight against its back, sinking into the tight muscles there. Slowly the black oily skin became lighter, until it was the bronze it had previously been. Once again the creature was Iago, only this time he was completely naked, and for a moment Hunter found his eye lingering on the bubble butt as it moved in time with each step.
Hunter shook his head and looked away, reminding himself that Iago and the incubus were the same thing. That the perfectly formed man, the most stunning example of hunkdom that Hunter had ever laid his eyes on, was really that demonic creature which preyed on women. That lived to…
“Oh god,” Hunter said, his words barely a breath. He knew why Caitlyn was screaming.
*
It was impossible. And it was unwanted. Two thoughts, intricately linked to the size of her belly. Caitlyn could feel them (yes,
them!
) moving inside her. That’s what had woke her up. She had been sleeping, dreaming nice dreams of her and Iago, of all the fabulous things they would do together, when an alarm sounded in her head. As if her body was trying to nudge her from her dream.
Wake up
, it was saying,
you have simply got to see this
.
And see she did. As soon as she opened her eyes she noticed it. The massive lump in her belly, her skin stretched out like some balloon. She had never asked to be a mother, never
wanted
to be a mother. She knew she’d make a bad one, learned far too many mistakes from her own mum. There was nothing she could teach a child that would be useful.
She was careful. Always, no matter how serious a relationship she was in, she was always careful. A couple of years back she even had the Implanon contraceptive implant put into her arm, supplying her body with the progestin needed to stop ovulation. Only one in a hundred women with the implant got pregnant. She was sure it would not be her.
But, wait. The little lives growing in her, her body undergoing amazing changes so damned quickly. Hormones out of whack! She wasn’t thinking straight. She’d been pregnant for, what, an hour or two? How was she supposed to react? Think things through calmly, or go off her rocker.
Caitlyn screamed again.
*
The door opened before Iago reached it, and Caitlyn stepped out, looking around wildly. She pointed at Iago. “You!” she yelled, her arms flailing at him. “What have you done to me?” She pointed at her belly. “I mean…how?”
“Be calm,” Iago said, reaching out to her. She tried to pull away, but in her condition she could not move fast enough. He led her by the arm into the kitchen, and Hunter got a full view on her new “condition.” She was dressed in her usual pink satin pajamas, but they were now incredibly tight around the waist, while the top was no longer open, the bottoms having popped under the sheer pressure of her expanding belly.
Caitlyn was very pregnant.
And still Hunter just watched, the air ripping through his lungs.
Iago glanced over at him, as he helped Caitlyn to sit on the bottom step, and grinned. Hunter felt a shiver shoot up his back. He had to do something, prevent whatever was going to happen from happening. He attempted to rise off the floor, but his strength failed him.
Iago had done something to him.
The fake-man knelt beside Caitlyn, his naked knees resting on the cold lino of the kitchen floor. Hunter blinked, unable to miss the lengthy manhood hanging between Iago’s legs. Before Iago had revealed his true form, when he had still worn the tight boxers that now lay shredded on the floor, he didn’t seem to be packing so much. If he had been, Hunter would have noticed. Clearly, when disguising himself as Iago once more, the incubus had failed to disguise the thing that now hung so freely. Accident, or was it a spiteful act to remind Hunter of what he might have had, had things been different? Is that why he had winked? Iago was playing with him, sapping him of his strength so he was forced to watch while this…
thing
…that had so worked its way into Hunter’s very soul played out its twisted act of creation with Caitlyn.
*
“How is this happening?” she asked Iago, now calmed by the gentle administrations of her gorgeous man. “We only slept together last night… And tonight we…”
“One night was enough,” Iago said. “It always is enough,” he added with his calming smile, the one he had used on her so many times. She touched his face gently; his skin was so warm. Warm and soothing.
“But how? I have this implant; it’s supposed to be ninety-nine percent…”
Iago shushed her. “Be proud, my dear
katharos
, you will give birth to my new legion. And soon we will win the war.”
Caitlyn just stared at him. “What war?”
*
Hunter looked up at this. Iago, the incubus, had mentioned the war before. The war above!
Of course. He had read enough mythology books over the years; he had heard of the war in heaven. But it was just a myth, right? Like the incubus was a myth…
Reality crashed in, and Hunter’s brain shut down.
*
Iago noticed the man pass out, but he did not care. The world of man had become more complicated, and he needed more time to study it. But right now he had more important things to which he had to attend.
Caitlyn let out a scream of pain, and Iago turned to her. Beneath her belly, deep in her womb, his children were moving. Already they pressed against the birth sac, wanting to be free, to join their father in the war. It was only a matter of moments.
“Be at peace,
katharos
,” Iago said. “You cannot prevent this.”
She looked up at him, and he was struck by the anger and hate. He was not surprised by it. So many women over the centuries had responded the same way, once the truth became clear to them. Iago and Caitlyn were not destined to be with each other, she was merely an incubator for his seed to create life.
The truth hurt. “You bastard!” she screamed.
Iago smiled. “I am many things.”
He placed his hand on Caitlyn’s belly and, feeling their father’s presence, his children broke free, tearing their way through the woman’s internal organs, cracking the rib cage as if it were a weak prison, and ripped through the layer of skin.
Blood splattered Iago’s face, and his bright teeth erupted through his lips in a smile.
The war could now continue.
The incubus glanced down at Caitlyn’s dead eyes as its children swarmed up its black, oily arm. The woman would never know the great service she had performed, like so many women before her.
Still there was another who would know. The incubus rose to its clawed feet, and turned to where Hunter lay, still out cold. Death would be swift for the man, but the incubus did not wish to kill him. Although it knew that it would never be able to impregnate a man, something new stirred within, brought on by a remembrance of a kiss.
“Different? New? Exciting?”
Yes; all these things. One day the incubus would return, but in a new form, one Hunter did not know. It wished to explore further this new breed of man. The war would continue to wage without it for a while; its children, spreading out over its body as they were, would see to that. Yes, it would take a break from the war, and see what Hunter had to offer.
*
Three Months Later…
Questions, accusations, statements, medical examinations, even psychiatric evaluations. No one was quite sure what to do with Hunter after the police had come to investigate the reports of screaming from the neighbors. At first it was assumed that Hunter, who was huddled in the corner of the kitchen, cradling Caitlyn’s body in his arms, blood all over his clothes, had killed her. But medical examinations proved that somehow something had ripped itself out of her, killing her painfully.
Hunter wouldn’t talk of what had happened, not at first, but eventually he opened up. And that’s when they placed him in the psychiatric hospital, just for tests, of course. He’d been there for over two months since that one-off visit, and they were happy with him, although his counselor was worried for his safety.
Hunter was worried, too, but he had kept his nose clean and eventually his day-out was approved.
He knelt by the grave and placed the flowers gently on the ground. He thought it was going to be hard coming to see Caitlyn, but it was proving surprisingly easy. In his own mind he was still trying to sort out what had happened while he’d passed out, but it was as if there was some block preventing him from thinking too hard about it.
Hunter knew it would remain a mystery. And of that he was glad.
He smiled thinly. “See you soon, Cait, love,” he whispered, making sure his companion couldn’t hear him. He was pretty sure the orderlies at the hospitals had no idea what he was planning. It didn’t matter; soon he wouldn’t be a problem for them.
He stood up and walked over to his companion. A new member of staff at the hospital. A stunning young man from Scotland, with bright blue eyes, light brown hair and a smile that had bedazzled Hunter the second they’d been introduced.
“Ye ready to go back now, then, Hunter?” he asked.
Hunter nodded. “Yeah, love. Thanks for coming with me.”
The younger man held Hunter’s hand and together they walked off. “Ach, man, for ye, anything,” Iagan said, grinning.
Off Flesh
Travel, they say, broadens the mind. It’s a truism if ever there was one. What they fail to tell you is that it can scare the living crap out of you, too. I travel a lot, visit a lot of places, stay at a lot of hotels. I’ve been to some crappy hotels, some really luxurious ones, too. But never been to one like The Cliff’s Edge in Torquay. It was a business meeting about selling outboard motors, pretty tedious stuff, really.
Things started going weird on the Saturday after we’d all arrived. The actual meetings weren’t to begin until Monday, which left us the whole weekend to pal around and get to know each other. You know, chill in the sauna the way half-naked men seem to like to do, play tennis in the convenient courts located beside the hotel, or just go for a stroll into the nearest little town.
After finishing breakfast, scrambled eggs on lightly buttered toast and a couple of glasses of milk, I came out of the dining room just in time to catch Mr. Wyndham entering the lobby. He was dressed in his tennis whites, so no prize for guessing where he’d been. Something of a fitness fanatic, really, which came as a bit of mystery to me seeing as he didn’t eat breakfast. Something told me that Mr. Wyndham, who had a few years on me, would not be around on this little world of ours for longer than I. Still, he seemed a nice enough chap. Like me he had arrived a few days early, so we had the chance to get to know each other a little bit more than the others. I still think of him as Mr. Wyndham, even though by Saturday morning we were already on first name terms. Mark of respect, I suppose. It’s “a thing,” as my niece would have said.