Chapter Text
This isn't the first time that Ashley Locke has found himself trapped, suspended in the choking, ink-black darkness of an infinite void. In fact, he's been here many times – nearly every night for the past six months, in fact. This empty dream-scape had become as familiar to him as the back of his own hand, though its familiarity did little to lessen the dread that accompanied his visits there.
For his entire life, Ash had suffered from insomnia and the lingering sense of fear and the unshakable sensation of being watched when he awoke from these dreams had only contributed to his long hours of tossing and turning in bed, waiting for sleep to come.
Though he thought of the darkness as “choking” when he awoke, Ash had never been aware of his body in these dreams, he had always been nothing more than a consciousness floating in the endless expanse of black nothingness... Tonight, however, things are different.
He feels the darkness as it presses in on him – feels it thick, slick and clammy against his skin. It feels almost hungry for him as groping tendrils tighten around his body and with a shock, he realizes that he's completely naked. The darkness rubs against his bare skin, oozing over him like viscous tar, coating every inch of him. It wraps around his arms and his waist, it wraps around his thighs and slowly, it prizes his legs apart, exposing his cunt. Ash tries to pull free, a powerful mixture of fear and sudden arousal overtaking him now.
His heart hammers wildly in his chest as the darkness slides over him. It presses against his nipples, grinding against them as they stiffen in response and it rubs against his clit – which responds in kind, throbbing and hardening as sudden shocks of pleasure roll through his body. The darkness tightens its grip and Ash cries out in shock as it begins to slip inside of him.
It isn't just his achingly eager cunt that the darkness claims – though it certainly claims him there: splitting his lower lips open, drawing another cry from his lips and surging forward, shoving an impossibly thick, impossibly huge tendril into his quivering hole, bigger than anything Ash has taken into himself before. It pries open his asshole, pushing past the tight ring of his sphincter and Ash can feel the darkness searching its way through his body, feel it writhing in the depths of his guts...
And as he cries out, it takes advantage of Ash's open mouth, gliding past his teeth and over his tongue, invading his throat and leaving behind the taste of sulfur and charcoal. His throat bulges with the size of it and Ash gags helplessly as the darkness continues its journey down ever deeper inside of him, as it continues to fill him as full as it can.
Tears spring up in his eyes. It hurts – the darkness's probing tendrils inside of his guts and his cunt and his throat is more than his body can take, he feels the way his lower lips are spread wider and wider, feels his belly distending as the darkness floods his innards. He can hear the wet, sucking sounds as it thrusts itself into him, feel the spiderweb lines of stretch marks as they ripple across his belly. He's spread so wide and filled so full that he can barely even think.
He wants to scream but his mouth and throat are full, he wants to escape but he can't free his limbs from that choking grasp...And even if he could, where would he go? The darkness that surrounded him was endless, there was nowhere that Ash could run from it. He whimpers, squirming as his insides are ravaged by the void.
Even the holes which could not normally be taken in this way are violated by the ever-hungry tendrils of shadow – the darkness slipping into his ears and up his nose, pushing its way into his skull, making his head spin and his thoughts grow fuzzy. Ash knows this isn't possible – not without killing him and yet, it happens and it almost feels... No. No, he won't let that thought take root...
The darkness pushes into his urethra and fills his bladder with its dark ichor and it even slips into his tear ducts and into his nipples and into his pores – sinking into Ash in such a way that makes his entire body one with it.
The darkness surges within him – its thick tendrils thrust wildly into his mouth and his cunt and his ass, stretching him, filling him, breaking him. His insides pull out with them as they withdraw, pulled into open air and Ash tries to scream. It's going to tear him apart, it's going to rip him open! This is going to kill him! It pours itself into him, flooding into where his breasts once were, causing his chest to swell and grow heavy with it, heat pooling within his newly remade breasts as the void changes him in accordance with its liking.
He doesn't want this! He doesn't want to be changed like this – made into the living flesh-light of some insatiable astral void...
But as more of the darkness pushes its way into his skull, as it begins to thrust into his ears in much the same way that it thrusts into his other holes, the feelings that fill Ash's body begin to shift and change. The pain remains, of course it does, but it begins to feel good. He feels his body stretching to accommodate it, feels the darkness surging within him and he feels terror and bliss filling him in equal measure. The darkness ebbs and flows like waves breaking on the beach and Ash feels his body tightening, feels heat growing in his belly and between his legs, spreading through him.
Dread fills Ash's chest. He can't. He can't possibly cum from this... If he does that, if he lets the pleasure get to him... Ash is terrified of what that might mean. In response to his approaching orgasm, the darkness that fills him seems to swell – stretching his insides beyond any possible limit that they might have had...
Oh God – the pleasure is unbearable – the feeling of oneness with the endless darkness is more than Ash can bear and despite the ever weakening pleas of his mind, despite Ash begging his body not to cum, his body gives in to the feeling.
The orgasm smashes into Ash, crashing over him and sending him into a bliss like he's never experienced in his life. A desperate scream of climax vibrates in his throat, his back arching and his toes curling. The darkness sinks into a space inside of him that shouldn't be there – pushing past his cervix, prizing the tight ring of muscle open and curling into a uterus that had been removed over a year ago. And even that, even that impossibility – that change which should have been horror to Ash – is yet another source of bliss.
Oh God! Oh FUCK!
The darkness swells ever more, pounding his holes with a violence that drives thoughts of anything but pleasure from Ash's mind. The darkness pours itself into him, filling his mind with itself, filling his body with itself – pouring thick, sticky ropes of itself into his guts and his re-made womb and his stomach and his re-made breasts and his head and oh GOD! He doesn't want it to stop! Ash screams and writhes and moans in delirious pleasure. Please, oh please, let it continue! He wants more and more and more! Oh God, let that darkness fill him full to bursting!
Is this not what he was made for? Is this not his purpose? The darkness has filled him so truly and utterly that Ash's world has narrowed to nothing but it and the way it fucks him and fills him and he cums again. And again. And again.
His body is past the point of over-stimulation, past the point where pain and pleasure are anything distinct and every sensation rolls together into unbelievable bliss. Again and again and again and again the darkness brings him to climax. Again and again and again and again Ash cums and is filled in turn with more of that wet, sticky ichor. Over and over the cycle repeats until he feels as though he has been dissolved into the darkness that surrounds him and he is nothing more than the faintest speck in the face of infinity within it...
And all that there is within that speck is the desperate, aching need for more.
Just before the dream ends, just before the very list bits of Ash's consciousness dissolves, he feels a sense of approval. That whatever intelligence controls this darkness, whatever being it is attached to is pleased with his response and a voice that would shake him to his core if Ash still had a core, rings out, filling his senses with its presence:
“Good boy...”
Ash's eyes shot open as he bolted awake. His body was covered in sweat, his heart was bounding wildly and... fuck, the space between his thighs was sticky, hot and throbbing. What the hell was that? He shook his head, trying to clear away the...
Well, they weren't exactly images, now were they? The dreams had never done that before – he'd never had a dream that intense before, either. It was un-fucking-believable. It was almost as if it had actually happened, he felt swollen and raw – like he'd gone one too many rounds with one of his biggest toys. He peeled the sweat-soaked sheets off of himself, sitting up and looking around his bedroom.
The sunlight that streamed through the cracks in his blackout curtains didn't seem as bright as it should have and the sensation of being watched which always accompanied the dreams where he was lost in that infinite shadow-scape was stronger than ever. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the faint outline of...something writhing across the floor. He jumped, blinking several times and trying to make sense of what he'd just seen... Or not seen.
It was just a hypnogogic hallucination, he doesn't feel completely awake just yet, the world around him distorted and dreamlike... That was the only thing that made sense. It didn't have the... quality of the real things he had seen. No tingling fingers, no hairs raised on the back of his neck. It was just the remnants of sleep still clinging to his mind making him see things.
The glaring red display of the alarm clock beside his bed caught his eye and anything that was left of sleep quickly fled from Ash as he swore loudly.
“FUCK!”
The bright digital numbers informed him that he was thirty minutes late for his shift at the bookstore where he worked. Ash dressed quickly, cursing the fact that he didn't have time to shower before he left. Sure, he could have just said “fuck it” and been an hour late but he didn't feel like dealing with the scolding that would've come with it.
As usual, work was nothing but tedium. The bookstore rarely had customers and those it did have were usually dumb college kids, trying to get into Wicca or Reiki or some other new-age bullshit and Ash had neither the time nor the inclination to explain that no, they do not carry books on ' Angel Tarot', they only carry legitimate occult literature so unless they were looking for reprints of the 'Ars Goetia' or collections of Gnostic Heresies, they were out of luck. He was, of course, forced into doing so. He couldn't just kick potentially paying customers out of the shop.
Not that they kept the shop in any sort of condition that would be appealing to customers. The books within Locke & Keye were kept in such disarray and arranged in such a haphazard manner that, were it not for the fact that the sign read 'Open' , most passersby would assume that the shop was long abandoned... And those few customers who did come into the store would often be completely unable to find the specific book they might be looking for – and Ash wasn't usually able to find it either. Locke & Keye gave up its treasures only as it deemed fit and any attempt to find a book that the shop wanted to keep would be utterly impossible.
Which wasn't something that Ash minded all that much. He hated the idea of the books which the owners had spent their lives collecting disappearing into the hands of some dabbler who would abandon their dedication to the occult within a few months, once some new trend came up...
It was just after lunch – a blissful thirty minutes where he could flip the sign on the door to 'Closed' and forget that the rest of the world existed while he worked on his research and slowly nibbled at whatever sandwich he'd brought with him to work that day. Today, he didn't have any sandwich. So it was just research...
Lately, his research had involved the founding of Shady Glen – the town that he had been born and now, once again, lived in – and its connection to several other towns and cities across the United States. His mother, Agnes Locke, a well-renowned parapsychologist had discovered that, scattered across the US, there were several places which seemed to have had disturbingly consistent populations... One of which, was Shady Glen.
Originally built by the future founder of a massive mining company, Shady Glen had ballooned to nearly ten-thousand people between its founding in the late 1700s and 1906... When the population abruptly ceased growing, stagnating at just over nine-thousand, five-hundred inhabitants. After that, ever census showed the population of Shady Glen hovering at a number somewhere between nine-thousand and ten-thousand people. Even after the mine had disappeared, even after the logging companies had cleared away every tree worth felling, Shady Glen just kept going...
Of course, these days, with the Shady Glen University being founded in 1918, just as the Spiritualism movement came roaring back into existence and now, as the Satanic Panic was finally winding down, there were quite a few newcomers moving into the city. But even with the over-all growth in population, the number of true locals never really changed. It always hovered between nine-thousand and ten-thousand. For every person born, someone would die. For every person who died, someone was born...
He flipped through the pages of the history book in front of him, one of at least six that were spread out across the check-out counter and examined the information... It looked like, prior to the arrival of European colonizers, the area had been largely uninhabited, as even back then, strange things and disconcerting things happened on this unhallowed ground on a regular basis.
Which was why his mother had wanted to live there in the first place. Oh sure, there was Santa Marta in California, Fall's Hollow in New England and there were similar towns in Louisiana, New Mexico, Washington and Minnesota... But Shady Glen wasn't too far from Agnes Locke's birthplace of Charleston.
Ash flipped another page, eyes scrutinizing the grainy black and white photograph emblazoned on the paper in front of him. Try as he might to focus on the paper, however, he felt as though something was tugging on him. Some hook buried deep in his chest trying to pull him from his seat behind the counter and into the stacks. A faint voice in the corner of his mind, barely more than a whisper, that called his name insistently. Ash frowned, shutting the book abruptly.
“What the hell do you want, now?” He asked aloud – speaking both to his own wandering mind and whatever genius loci was in charge of Lock & Keye... Or maybe, whatever book it was that wanted his attention.
There was, of course, no audible answer, only the continued whispering pull to wander through the rows of bookshelves until he found the tome which called to him. Ash heaved a deep sigh and rolled his eyes as he stood. He only had five minutes until he needed to re-open the store, hopefully this one wasn't too hidden. He could find it, pocket it and read it after work if it wasn't.
He slipped out from behind the counter, walking into the mis-managed stock of Locke & Keye, fingers running over the spines of the books as he went. Every now and again, Ash would feel a sudden shudder pass through him, or feel the tingle of pins and needles in his fingers as he touched on one of the more powerful occult texts hidden away in the store. But none of those were right.
The tug grew ever more insistent and he knew that he must be getting close to it – that it must be somewhere nearby. He couldn't see the door of the shop anymore and had rounded one of corners, wandering into a dimly lit and rarely touched alcove. The books here were faintly dusty and had an air of abandonment to them. Ash almost felt bad for them...And then, he saw it.
Sitting on a shelf at almost exactly his eye level was a small black book – its spine sticking out of the shelf, almost as though someone had started to pull it free and was distracted, leaving it half-freed from its neighbors as they walked away. It wasn't a large book, it was barely any thicker than a standard middle-grade chapter book, bound in what looked like black velveteen. That wasn't exactly a common fabric to bind a book in but he couldn't describe the material any other way. It was so black that the light seemed to sink into it, leaving a small, book-shaped void where it sat. Nothing was written on its spine at all, no publisher's mark, no title, no author. Nothing.
Ash frowned, stepping up into the alcove and reaching out for the book. He wasn't familiar with every book in the shop, but he felt certain that if this book had been there before, he would've noticed it. It looked like it should have been in the glass case behind the counter where the rare and unique books were kept. Maybe it was some kind of journal? Research notes?
As soon as his fingers brushed against the book's spine, Ash was struck with a sudden and intense feeling of vertigo, the world spinning around him as he stumbled backwards, nearly falling into another one of the bookshelves. A surge of energy slammed into him, traveling through his fingers and up his arm, moving along the path of his veins like lightning until it hit his body and exploded through him. He gasped, legs buckling beneath him and fell to the floor, landing in an awkward sitting position, the book held tightly in his hand.
What...the hell...was that?
Ash tried to catch his breath and slow the frantic beating of his heart. Once again, that strange feeling of dread and observation fell upon him – and this time, he was sure of it, he saw a thin black tendril, dripping shadowy ichor, withdrawing into the space where the book had previously sat. There was no tingle, no hairs raised on the back of his neck but... It was there. Clear as midnight, just as black a void as the book in his hand. He looked down at it and then back up at the empty space where the tendril had been only a second ago and all that Ash could see was the old, cherry-varnished wood of the shelf.
He looked again at the book. The front cover was as dark as the spine, but there was something engraved or pressed into the nap of the fabric. A large, open eye, surrounded by curling and dripping tentacles. The image swam in front of his eyes and he could swear he had seen this thing before but...When and where he couldn't quite recall. Faded and peeling silver letters beneath the image proclaimed what Ash could only assume was the title of the book:
The Defiled Void
Fingers trembling, Ash opened the book. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop, begged him not to look but he couldn't help himself. His mother had raised him to be endlessly curious, to always seek out occult knowledge in the hidden and darkened places of the world – and he had never, ever run away from it. No matter how afraid he had been. So he wasn't about to let some book scare him into backing down, nor would he let that feeling of creeping dread stop him from figuring out just what this book wanted from him.
The inside of the front cover was blank and the front page had the following written on it in a sharp, looping script:
To that which dwells in the darkness of the corners of our minds,
which sinks its tendrils into the deepest depths of our hidden selves,
we give our loyalty, our love and our very souls.
Sancta Tenebrae imple nos...
Shady Glen, Virginia, 1790
Ash knit his brows, catching his lower lip between his teeth. His heart was still pounding but it was no longer with fear but anticipation. He could feel the familiar thrill of unearthing something new, something he had never seen before. Now he understood why the shop had sent him to this book, why it had called to him. He was trying to unlock the secrets of the town, of its origins... He turned the page.
There was an illustration, rendered in bold lines and crosshatching and it made Ash flush. The background was a black void and held aloft within it, was a young woman with long dark hair which disappeared into the darkness around her. Shadows wrapped around her breasts and around her thighs – holding her such that her legs were parted, revealing her sex, into which surged that same darkness, no doubt the source of the lascivious rapture upon the woman's face.
The faint memory of his dream from the night before flooded his mind – the way that darkness had made a home of his body, how it had filled him and swept him away into pleasure...And Ash's body answered the memory with a sudden heat and growing damp between his legs. His breath caught in his throat. He wanted to shut the book, to get up and finish his shift. He could find out what lay beyond the frontispiece after work...
But he couldn't put the book down, nor could he turn the page or take his eyes from the illustration. The woman's belly was swollen and round – either from the darkness which must have been flowing into her as it had flowed into him or because she was heavy with child... He thought of the impossible thing which had happened in the dream, how the darkness had pushed its way into a uterus that was not there and filled even the deepest part of him with itself...
Ash winced, the sharp pain of a sudden cramp stabbing into his abdomen. He would normally have been irritated with the sudden pain, which had mostly disappeared after his hysterectomy... But it broke the spell of the drawing, allowing him to shut the book and tuck it into the breast-pocket of his jacket, so he was nearly grateful for it this time...
The rest of Ash's shift passed at a crawl, every second that ticked by felt like swimming through quicksand and he found it difficult to stay focused. True, his mind usually wandered while he was at work, but this was... This was different. It wasn't so much like his mind was wandering but rather, that it was being pulled away by something – something which pushed at the edges of his mind, slowly trying to work its way into his head and drag him away from what he was doing.
Ash passed Marilyn as he left the shop. Most nights, they passed each other silently – barely even acknowledging the others' existence. Tonight, however, it seemed that Marilyn had something else in mind. She stopped in the doorway, turning to face Ash with a soft, almost motherly smile on her face that made him feel deeply uncomfortable.
“So, Ashley – how is the research coming along?” Her voice was simperingly sweet, which almost caused Ash to recoil. “Have you made any progress?”
Without even thinking about it, his hand drifted to the small prayer book tucked into his breast pocket, pressing it closer to his chest.
“Uh, yeah. A little. It turns out that the town may not have even been founded by the mining company...” Ash began. “The earliest records of the mining town in Shady Glen are from 1795, but I've found some...” He searched for the right word. “Documents that suggest it may have been founded at least five years earlier.”
Marilyn tilted her head, that smile spreading further across her face, one of her carefully penciled eyebrows quirked.
“Really now?” There was an eager light in her eyes as she spoke, and she leaned in closer to Ash, smelling strongly of patchouli and charcoal, “That's fascinating do make sure to tell your mother about it! I'm sure she'd love to know about it. You're such good son to continue her work like this...”
Ash squirmed internally. “Yeah, I will, once she gets back from her conference in Arkham...”
He did not want to tell his mother about his findings, at least, not until he found a source for them that wasn't the luridly illustrated prayer book in his pocket. Sharing something like that with his mother felt wrong.
“Wonderful, wonderful~” Marilyn cooed. “Well, have a good night, Ashley~”
The bell within the shop jingled as she opened the door and slipped inside without another word, leaving Ash standing on the sidewalk, confused and more than a little bit disturbed.
For all of the years that he had known Marilyn, she had never been friendly, she had never been sweet. When she did speak, her voice was usually cold and clipped. And though yes, she had often asked about the results of Ash's personal research into the occult, she'd never really shown any particular emotions about it. Only a detached, professional interest.
He shook his head, banishing the thoughts. He had other things he wanted to focus on – finishing the book and getting something to eat being foremost among them.
Eventually, Ash found himself stepping into the only all-night diner in the city, which was only a few blocks from his house, and nearly empty – as it usually was after dark. The air was starting to grow cold with the approach of winter, that bitter metallic scent on the air and he found himself wishing he had thought to grab a coat...
But the inside of the diner was warm and brightly lit, sending the heat rushing to his cheeks and to the tips of his fingers as he stepped inside and the hostess led him to a booth near the back... Ash barely noticed her, though, his thoughts preoccupied with the book. He knew he probably shouldn't read it in the middle of the diner but his barely restrained curiosity from earlier had overwhelmed him now and he couldn't stop himself from sinking into the pleather-coated foam seats and pulling the book from his jacket.
Looking at it a second time, the creature upon the cover felt even more familiar, the black velveteen seemed even darker – the light seemed to fade all around the thing, something that should've set off warning bells in Ash's head... Something that did set of warning bells in Ash's head.
There was something wrong with this book. It contained something – some knowledge or spirit – that should not have been there. The darkness should not have been seeping from the books edges and dispersing into the light around it like this. Even if it was only some sort of hallucination brought on by mounting obsession, growing hunger and dropping blood sugar... Ash should have known better than to play around with such a thing.
He should have brought it back to the shop, or brought it to his apartment where he could open it in a protective circle, where he could surround it with salt and runes and all of the binding magics that he knew...
But in spite of all of this, in spite of icy fingers of dread that spider-crawled up his spine, Ash opened the book once more and once more, he read the inscription at the beginning...And he felt his lips move to form the words as his eyes slid over them.
“To that which dwells in the darkness of the corners of our minds...” The words were sticky sweet and thick upon his tongue – sweetness mixed with something sick and poisoned...
The lights in the diner flickered and a sudden chill filled the air, but Ash noticed none of this.
“Which sinks its tendrils into the deepest depths of our secret selves...”
The lights in the diner dimmed and the shadows all around Ash deepened. Still, his eyes remained fixed on the words, still he could not tear his gaze away from the page.
“We give our loyalty, our love and our very souls...”
There was a growing pressure in his skull now, making his head spin and the words upon the page grow blurry. Ash's instincts screamed for him to stop. The years of training with the occult warning him that there was something very, very wrong. That he should not finish this age – that the completed prayer should not cross his lips.
But of course, Ash wasn't even aware that he was reading it allowed, nor was he aware of the sudden silence that descended upon the diner. Before, there had been the sounds of work in the kitchen, the sound of hot air being forced through the heating vents, the sound of the radio as it played over hidden speakers...But now, there was nothing, only an empty void.
“Sancta Tenebrae imple nos...”
There was a sudden flare of brilliant light as nearly every light-bulb in the diner exploded into a shower of sparks and broken glass before the entire room was sent plunging into darkness – every light-bulb except the one over Ash's head, the one that illuminated the him and the book.
He looked up from the pages with a start. The sensation of dread that had been slowly climbing up his spine before had become full-blown terror now. All around him, Ash could see twisting, writhing shapes that were even the darkness against which they were set – and they were all coming towards his table. No light came from the windows of the diner, even though every neon sign downtown should have been visible now.
"My, my... Aren't we eager..."
The sound was a cacophony of voices, all speaking over one another in a thousand different tongues all at once. It shook Ash to his core and dripped over him like cold oil all at the same time. It came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, it filled his mind and commanded every last scrap of his attention.
“Who–” Ash began, his voice shaking. His entire body trembled and a cold sweat had broken out all across his skin, despite the sudden cold.
"You have called me and I have answered, child."
Ash shook his head. No, no he hadn't called – he had only read the first words of that book! He had read it before and nothing had happened! No darkness had descended upon the bookstore, no voice made of a thousand voices had spoken to him!
“I didn't– ”
Ash's words were cut off abruptly when the bulb over his own head shattered and all the world was as the void – a deep darkness where nothing could be seen and nothing could be heard but that voice.
Something wet and sticky and cold slithered its way up Ash's chest and then curling around his neck... He tried to pull it off but his fingers simply went right through it – not like it was liquid, but like it wasn't there at all. It squeezed ever so slightly, filling Ash with the terror of being suffocated in his seat...
I did not expect we would begin so soon...
Ash shook his head vehemently. “No!”
Fear filled him, set his heart pounding and made his stomach sank, causing nausea to rise up in his throat. The wet slimy thing was snaking its way up the side of his face and he could feel it dripping onto him as it did – leaving a trail sticky trail behind it. His breath came in heaving, desperate gasps...
It curled around the outer edge of his ear, probing the ridges and folds of it before Ash felt something cold and wet push its way – gently – into his ear canal.
“Stop!” Ash's fingers flew up to attempt to grab the thing again, to pull it away – to stop it from doing whatever the hell it was going to do to him. He thrashed and squirmed, trying to push himself up from his seat to escape over the table. “DON'T!”
It dripped down further, wet and formless and filling the narrow crevice like water trapped after swimming. He could hear it swishing around inside, hear it as it spread through the middle-ear and then deeper. Ash cried out – screaming and begging for the thing to stop. He didn't want...want whatever this was in his head! He forgot even, that this should have been impossible.
Do not be afraid, you are far too important to kill like this...
The voice was anything but comforting.
“GET IT OUT!” Ash screamed. Tears rolled down his cheeks now and sobs caught in his throat. The thing wrapped around his throat tightened again, cutting off his voice and making his head spin, “pl – please!” He choked.
He felt that sticky, wetness in both of his ears now, felt it trying to find a way deeper inside. It was going to kill him, it was going to spear into his skull and he was going to die. The voice was lying. It had to be – this wasn't something he could fucking survive!
There was a loud POP! And that wetness flooded into Ash's skull, the swishing sound of liquid filling his senses as it pushed into him in waves. In his mind's eye, he could see it – see the darkness that surrounded him as it wormed its way through his brain, following the crevices and wrinkles perfectly, sinking into him, becoming a part of him. He felt a thrust of it, knocking his head to the side and he moaned.
The sound that left his mouth shocked him.
That's it – that's a good boy...Just relax...
Ash felt the wetness seeping through his clothes, felt the cold work its way up under his shirt and down his pants before it peeled them off. It wrapped around his wrist, guiding his hand to the meeting of his thighs.
“Nooo...” Ash murmured. “I can't...Please...”
Another thrust into his head, the swishing sound grew louder. Something dripped from his nostrils and down the back of his throat. Something mingled with the tears that trailed down his cheeks, something dripped down from his ears and onto his shoulders...
“Don't...Please...” He whimpered. “I'm...going...to...”
A third, rougher, deeper thrust sent pins and needles through his entire body. He could barely think and he tried to pull his hand free, but he couldn't move. His body was frozen, incapable of following the commands of his brain... His fingers sprang to life – though Ash was not the one who was controlling them. They slipped down between his legs, middle and forefinger pressed to either side of his clit, spreading his lower lips wide.
“Ah--” Ash gasped as his other hand cupped his chest and took the nipple between his fingers, rolling it between them and sending shudders through him.
He tried desperately to regain control of his body, tried to will himself to stop but he couldn't. Nothing was listening to him and that swishing sound still filled his skull as what Ash could only conceptualize as tendrils of darkness thrust into him, harder and faster as the seconds passed by.
His fingers rubbed at his clit and he felt pleasure rising up within him. He pinched and pulled at his nipple – feeling it in a way he hadn't been able to since his top surgery. It felt so good, sending sparks of pleasure through him, heat building.
Mmmmm, good boy... Let me inside of you, let me become one with you in your pleasure, child...
Something pushed into his cunt, the sensation pushing Ash over the edge suddenly and he cried out in exultation.
“OH! OH GOD--” Wave after wave of it rolled over him and the darkness swelled again and something burst out inside of him – inside of his head, inside of his cunt. He felt it come gushing out of his nose and his ears and his eyes. Felt thick, sticky wetness come splattering out between his legs. “C-CUMMING!”
The feeling of climax just kept extending into what felt like forever and Ash found himself drowning in it, drinking it in and letting it fill his lungs until he dissolved into it and all consciousness left him.