Chapter Text
Wednesday: midnight mass
Everyone knows Joe Preston - Joseph Preston II, after his dad - is a good boy, he dresses nice for church every Sunday and talks kindly to the old ladies who tell him the same things every time. He’s not a perfect student, but never slips below a B, and he met his girlfriend Samantha at the church youth group that meets after Sunday service.
Samantha and Joe genuinely care for each other and have excellent chemistry, and fuck as often as they can. Joe has a thick cock, but his girl has happily learned to deep throat it, and if they’re out of condoms she’s always up for anal with a little lead time. The gremlins find the happy couple just so in the back of his car on Tuesday evening, and watch the noisy, verbal show for a while, wanking each other happily, until Samantha catches sight of their ringed glowing eyes. Her scream is a signal for the horde of ten to descend on them, yanking the doors open, Joe is pulled from the door before he knows what’s happened, knocking his head on a tree root in the wooded glade he’s parked in.
It’s early yet, not quite seven, when they had planned dinner with his parents, and a minute doesn’t tick by before Samantha’s hungry holes are filled with slimy, pink cocks that slowly swell with arousal as they use her gifted orifices while the horrified girl is held prostrate. Joe wakes five minutes later to find himself held down where he fell, a monstrous reptilian ape-ish creature with an oversized cock and heavy set of balls, bouncing its asshole up and down on his own engorged dick. It’s small, compact body seems to squeeze its whole being around his dick as it rides his it with a silly, fucked-dumb look of a bad porn actor.
Behind the horrid, horny thing, Samantha is covered in them, still where he’d left her on her knees in the back seat. One straddles the front and back seats with its stubby, muscular legs, dipping its pink slick shaft into her ass while another wraps its arms around her from below, its slathering jaw slurping all over her tits as it fucks her pussy. One somewhere pulls her hair, yet another he can’t see is forcing her head up and down, he can guess on what. He hears her screaming around the thing in her mouth, but he can’t bring himself to struggle, his head swimming from his fall and the sheer madness playing out before his eyes.
“What are you?“ he whispers, as much to himself as the monsters around his girth. To his shock, it answers in a gravelly parody of a human voice.
“ Hornnneeeee… fuck meeee” the thing’s tongue lolls out over its pointed jaw. He’s mesmerized by the sight of its horrid cock, more human than the ones in Sam but somehow not human at all, bouncing and dripping thick cum on his shirt as it fucks itself.
Joe is - like a large number of people across the outskirts of Mirkville at that very moment -quickly overtaken by the nasty creatures’ unhinged horniness. There is an undeniable, and unnatural energy pervasive in the air, like a dense humidity that draws desire out of peoples’ pores - but Joe was also already close to this madness, finding himself every day sinking deeper into perversions with his insatiable girlfriend. He adjusts to the existence of little green monsters with but a shrug, and grabs the thing by its little waist and begins to pump his cock into it. “Like that thick cock you little fuck toy?” He says roughly. Part of Joe is still rational, and just playing along - it feels amazing but these things look really dangerous, and his hope is that playing along will grant him a chance to escape.
“ Uh-huhh” it rasps in reply, its eyes heavily lidded in lust bulge out comically as it yells, “ commmmminnnng ” and it’s oversized cock erupts, shooting wave after wave of cum across Jim’s shirt, two spurts even splatter across his face, with some getting into his mouth. The stuff is surprisingly milky and sweet-ish, Joe can feel a tingling warmth in it as it trickles down his throat, the feeling curls up into his brain like rising smoke. Alien pheromones course with dark purpose through its blood, leaping between synapses and shuttering pathways of rational communication, stirring the madness within him. Horny excitement coursing through his chest, he tosses the gremlin sitting on his dick aside, and stands up to stride towards his girlfriend with mean purpose. Around the passenger side he finds another gremlin shoving her head up and down on its slimy pink member, he grabs the thing and yanks it away, tossing the two foot monster like a stuffed animal, and all the many creatures in and around the car laugh sadistically.
Joe grabs Samantha by the hair and yanks her head up to look at him in an awkward angle, her eyes are cloudy and spit and come drip from her open mouth. “You fucking slut.”
“Uhhhh fuck, Jimm mph ” her plea is stifled by his dick.
“You never let me come in your pussy, but you’ll let these freaks do it, huh?” Even as he says it, a new gremlin climbs beneath Samantha to shove its cock into her dripping cunt. She starts to eagerly suck Joe’s cock, moaning with undeniable pleasure even though his grip on her hair is painful. A gremlin hops on the roof of the car in front of him, its slippery cock shining in the waning afternoon light, and Joe takes it in his mouth without thinking. He’s never had a cock in his mouth, but he doesn’t hesitate, and the sweet softness of its precum fills him with even more aroused energy. He blows his load at the same time it does, and Joe finds he loves the feeling of its swollen cock deflating in his mouth, the taste of its load lingering on his lips. He leans against the back of the car as the gremlin falls off the top of it, breathing heavily and watching his own erection stay rigid with awe.
A few of them remain in the car, pummeling his girlfriend, but Joe notices the others begin to wander off. One of them says something about party time , and that sounds amazing to the still horny boy. He quickly jumps in the front seat, jumping in surprise at the gremlin in the passenger side - it’s different, girly, it has little tits and hair and lipstick.He only needs to smile and gesture for her to crawl over and start to suck his cock as he puts the car in reverse, then starts to creep along the road weaving in between people and monsters seemingly headed in the same direction. Joe gets lost momentarily in the sound of Samantha being railed in the back and loving it, you always were a fucking slut , he thinks to himself. Then, with a start, he realized they’re headed along a very familiar route. Time for church. He doesn’t reflect on how quickly his behavior and mindset have changed, or how moments ago he saw a three foot green monster with tits and thought: hot . He’s driven by a singular madness, a long repressed desire to fuck his girl in front of the whole community, to show them how hypocritical they all are. He comes again just thinking about it, and he comes so hard the world seems to tremble around him.
***
Claire Edelman admires her son for his edgy attitude -she had been a mean girl herself, with little time for other people’s bullshit - and he is much the same, a force at such a young age! Claire knows he is a sociopath of sorts like her, unusually indifferent to social taboos and norms; since he’d turned thirteen or so and started to take on a man’s body, they’d laugh together over the idiocy of others.
Claire walks naked down Church Street in the center of Mirkville, her large breasts and slight belly swaying as she moves her hips in the warm evening air, imagining she feels her son’s semen inside her. Her husband Mike is brain dead in the red wagon she drags behind her, not literally, he just shut off at some point during the last few days of constant, insane sexual assaults. Clair had resisted at first too, the strange green creatures which had hidden in the basement had done things to her she’d only fantasized about. But it was Jimmy that had won her over, forcing her to admit to all her most perverted fantasies as he’d plowed her. She shivers at the memory, how the two of them made Mike watch as they laughed about how small her husband's cock was while weird monsters raped him.
Claire has no idea what they are, but she’s following them into the night and out on the street, and she’s not alone. They are all around her - there must be hundreds - but so are neighbors and friends, most with a mad delirious look in their eyes. She’s already stopped twice to blow a good friend's husband and a neighbor's son, but all of them are moving inexorably towards the old brick church building at the corner of Main and Church streets. How perfect , she thinks, old fucking two faced assholes.
***
Dugan Howard sits in a pew as a young man he doesn’t know stands over him on the polished wooden bench, forcing his cock down Dugan’s throat. At forty two years old, Dugan had only days ago been on the verge of a mental collapse. He’d married his high school sweetheart, and she’d left him a year and a half ago, ever since he’s been obsessed with exercising and hooking up with younger guys. And obsessed is the right word. He finds guys at least two or three times a day, which in a place like Mirkville means a lot of driving, chatting, cajoling. One of his regulars is a manager at the local Ingles, and it was when he was going over for a regular hookup that the creatures took him.
They’re nasty, horrid looking little mean bastards, but he hasn’t looked back since that first orgasm. Dugan's eyes are red, he’s hardly slept in days, but the cock in his mouth and the other pummeling his ass are too wonderful to fall asleep on. The pew shakes with the force of someone else’s fucking, but there’s been a lot of shaking recently. Dugan doesn’t even really register the sensation, his brain is overwhelmed by cacophony of moans, groans, and nasty cackling that cascade off the high rafters above. Church is filling up.
***
Kum Min-ho, known as Minny by the locals, is living her dream. Literally, she has had a recurrent dream since her early twenties about being gang-fucked on the alter of a church. It’s a dream so lewd and vivid, she’s often wet when she wakes up from it, and tries to go back into it, knowing that once the warm covers are pulled back, she will be horrified with her bedtime thoughts. That’s her phrase for it, bedtime thoughts. But it isn’t bed time, and she isn’t dreaming. Her mind could never have come up with these horrible little lizard apes that surround her, filling her hands and holes with their raw, slippery cocks. Min-Ho is a deeply religious woman, and though she first thought she was being punished, she realizes that this is the Lord’s gift to her. She orgasms for the n th time, something her husband had never bothered to figure out how to do, and the world shakes with her. She is soon to find out exactly which lord has blessed her so.
***
“Holy shit!” Jackson Browne is the first to notice, or at least say anything. He was fascinated by watching the body of this weird little creature that was mostly tits and a weird cunt, slide up and down the dark brown flesh of his manhood, its body expanding around it. From the corner of his eye, the grocery clerk sees the stuff seeping out from beneath the bottom of the altar he’d knelt at every Sunday for nineteen years. The White church, they call it in his family, but his mother wants respect, their respect.
Now the altar seems like it’s bleeding, but the stuff moves with intent. It wraps around the leg of some fit dude being fucked by monsters over the communion railing, sliding over both of them like that Venom thing from that movie. The look on the guys face as it engulfs him is pure ecstasy. The air warms and thickens, the trickle becomes a flood as the dark stuff poured itself into the growing crack that stretches down the middle of the aisle between the pews. Then the shaking really starts, and greenish-black tendrils thick as a telephone pole shoot out of the unnatural dark, coalescing like fingers to stretch the gap wider, everyone is laughing, and so is Jackson. He feels like the ground and floor collapses under them, but he isn’t falling. The hymn with the refrain And I will Raise Him Up jumps into his mind as his body is wrapped in the most intense, erotic feeling he’s ever experienced. He comes, his orgasm feeding the ancient horror that has him in its thrall, and his orgasm shivers through every cell in his body, from his fingernails to his spasming, tingling anus.
And I will raise him up, and I will raise him up, and I will raise him up on the last day.
His tingling cells rupture mid-refrain.
***
Elsa Holfsteader wakes to a violent rumbling, much stronger than the strange little quakes that have become familiar. She’s immediately alert, her anxiety is lately as bad as it has ever been as everyone in town has been going mad for two days. She registers the hour is three minutes past three in the morning as she slams the button on her custom security remote that makes the external floods spring to life, while leaving the interior dark. The house is dug into the mountainside high up on one of the edifices that looks over the town of Mirkville - Elsa now sees the mountains she’d thought were a protective kind of ring around the town are like a hellish container, reverberating the incredible noise that fills her ears. She rushes out to the scenic view the floor-to-ceiling glass panels in her living room afford her, where she’d spent the last few days with her two hundred dollar binoculars watching as the town below went mad. A lithe woman of sixty-two, Elsa is - as her late husband had been - more than mildly paranoiac, and their house is a minor fortress, filtered water, stocked freezer, panic room fully stocked. She’d come home Sunday with the intent to stay holed up, and she was doing just that, watching as traffic patterns became erratic, people wandering around half or even fully naked - and then Tuesday afternoon it all seemed to go quiet, even the school busses hadn’t seemed to run.
Elsa doesn’t need her binoculars to locate the source of the rumbling, she can plainly see the little church at the center of town explode outward. There is no fireball as there would be if it was bombed - though she sees a few explosions around its base - instead there is a grey-green seething mass that expands shamelessly towards the sky. The air seems to boil around it, its surface shivers and shimmers in the moonlight. For a moment, the great shadow appears to have something like a head and shoulders, but she blinks and the shapes squelch into a dome lined by a hundred red-orange eyes. Tentacle-like tendrils emerge and disappear. Elsa recalls the angels of the Old Testament, some of which are described as horrifying, many eyed creatures - and the dumbstruck awe she feels is appropriate to the biblical scale.
There is little noise save the occasional crunch of wood that resonates from beneath its shambolic gait -but in her head something vibrates, her reptile brainstem resonates at an unperceivable pitch. Elsa stumbles away from the window where she stood as the shatterproof glass that protects her bowes in, then outward, shattering onto the deck with a cataclysmic noise. The unseasonably warm air carries a strange sound, the lurid moans of a thousand townspeople. Elsa moans too, her nipples are painfully sensitive and erect, she tears her flannel night shirt from her body, it’s heavy fabric too coarse for the tender buds. Her breasts seem more pert, but that’s impossible, but Elsa can’t think, her vagina aches, it’s sopping wet and her clitoris thrums and pulses with blood. Elsa moans, she can’t help herself, she climbs to lay atop her expensive dining table in the dark like an offering to an elder god, she rams her fingers into her pussy, lifting her breast to her own slavish tongue.
When they come to her, Elsa thinks they're angels, answering her prayer. Like cherubim, some of them are like little animal people, reptilian with bat-like ears and long arms, and glorious dripping cocks. Others are stranger, one flies in on actual bat wings, and two have strange pig-like snouts. She feels her hair painfully yanked back, and the last thing she sees before she loses her mind to lust is an evil grin and malevolent eyes of orange and yellow, and a sickly red cock that drips a foul, slimy substance.
Elsa silently thanks God, but she is thanking the wrong one.
***
Wednesday: Dawns Crusaders
Eliot famously wrote: “this is the way the world ends/ not with a bang, but a whimper.” He’s right, but that noise is one that contains a wealth of different emotions and feelings, at once a sob, mixed with laughter and a moan of unmistakable erotic pleasure. Society is in human nature, a nature that acts on itself, revises itself with each reaction - but social order creates its own Other dialectically, chaos flourishes at the edge of the rule book, every new norm and law begging the question: what if we don’t ?
The capitalist social order erected by white Christian men for their own enrichment and empowerment collapses not beneath the weight of its brutal industry, nor the cataclysmic power of the weapons their chauvinism produces. It is indifference and ignorance, the assurance of their own correctness, that destroys their world. The native tribes who lived on the land that became North Carolina did not always get along, but all of them knew of the darkness at the heart of the Mirkville mountains. Not through any mystical nonsense, they simply learned from their own experience, and passed wisdom down carefully through generations, wisdom that died with the white settlers who slaughtered them. When the first white settlement disappeared, leaving only a few crude houses, a great dark stain on the earth marked with strange runic symbols ,and an abundance of rumors, a church was erected over the awful site. Wisdom was not passed down, and progress quickly shook out the memory of the dark disappearance from the collective consciousness. The patriarchal puritans’ social order is perfect for the Deep Ones, it wakes Them, and for centuries shapes Them - They thrive on the thinly suppressed messiness of bodies that troubles the white men so.
But it is the odd combination of a strong woman, willing to destroy that order that denies her power, and a boy who in his very core wants to be the polar opposite of what this order demands he be, that brings Their dark flood. The Mogwai is a catalyst, directing the boy unknowingly towards the needs it senses in him - altering algorithms on his computers and whispering in his ear while he sleeps - before it transforms into a dark angel of sorts. With its progeny, it spreads the good word in the dark of night, pulling at every chaotic thread of need and desire, every hunger suppressed by the abstemious order of white men. The woman becomes a priestess of sorts - though priestess implies a hierarchy that does not exist - and she directs their depravity towards that symbol of self control. And when the boy, a vessel, finally and fully discards the final semblance of his manhood, the levies against madness are finally ruptured.
***Camp Lejeune: Marine Corps.***
[Content warning: this section has no limits! Skip if you want to!]
The marines stationed at camp LeJeune know something is happening, but no one knows what because no one has words to describe it, and wherever there is news darkness and silence follow immediately. The marines do not know that their base is a singular draw for the shambolic nightmare that leaves a shadow over the sun in its wake as it slouches unnaturally in their direction. The institution is a unique producer of white male order, but also has entrenched those contradictions that produce it. The marines here know the rules, mens bodies are honed and carefully controlled, and never open to violation, and yet in the production of their manhood, ritualistic hazing begs them to rape, to finger and fuck each other, the contradictory destruction and creation of manhood in an ever repeated ritual. The Dark One worshipped in secret depraved cults who call it Shag’HalLoth, finds such filthy irrationality irresistible. It hungers.
The marines, most of them men, many of them boys, feel its presence before it becomes known to them, erections straining confusingly amidst the growing dread. The thing from the news has disappeared, that is all they know. The Dark One is empowered by their confusion, by the encounters discreetly taking place in closets and bathrooms. The ancient thing emerges from the waters of New River, towering over the nearly forty thousand troops before it collapses like a terrible wave with a singular purpose. The military command loses contact with the marine base, but communications do not cease. Instead forty thousand phones tweet, livestream, text, call - seemingly spreading images of their own accord. Some are sent to loved ones, others to the boys they bullied, others to bored housewives in Pakistan. They see chaos: they see mens’ trained, hard bodies bulge as they’re filled with dark, erotic semen; naked boys with their heads stuck through the bottoms of urinals shouting objections despite their obvious erections: men lined up in strict order, hungrily eating out the ass in front of them. It is not that there are thousands of repressed homosexuals in this place, but rather that bodies and desires are messy, and the Dark One thrives in the spaces between the walls people erect to keep the mess out. Many viewers are driven mad by what they see, others say quiet prayers for the dark gods to find them and free them.
There are women too, many of them who have worked hard to succeed within the order of white men, who find themselves submerged in an extraordinary parody of what that order thought of them. The women who understood themselves only as mothers find their wombs filled obscenely, the women who see themselves as merely nurturers have grown men suckling on their suddenly grotesquely oversized breasts, while others - like the hero of our story - finally give in and beg to be fuckmeat for whatever will use them. When the flood passes, the Dark One is Two, their unspeakable masses slouch horridly toward the next bastion of depravity, the unearthly noises they make slowly fading as the moaning and groaning and yelling grow louder.
No taboo or moral has been left Unviolated. A fourteen year old boy is mounted by his beloved pet lab as he eats his sister's pussy out. A drill sergeant is raped by every soldier he put through hell. A mother comes as her newborn suckles. A woman who lived a life of careful sexual repression and avoidance is fucked literally to death. Some bodies collapse in exhaustion, while others push past exhaustion to destruction, and yet others will soon be remade in the plastic image of their shapeless Dark God. By nightfall, the women whose wombs are filled begin to birth little gremlins, and a new wave of madness sweeps through the camp, the lowering sun lost in a red haze.
***Timmy***
The TV is filled with depraved debauchery, I have no idea where it’s streaming from, it’s different everyday. So are the people. They bring the unwilling here, to break them. Cries ring up from the basement temple, it's their resistant energy that really sustains the dark forces scarring the last remnants of social order, though I don’t know how I know this. When I felt Them, The Dark Ones, looking at me, on the long end of a horse dick, that was the moment I truly crossed the line.
At first, we’d catch glimpses of what seemed like normal news, and much of it was filled with confusion and chaos. There were military people talking about military strategies and strikes, but we all laughed at that, watching madness unfold from our modern home in the North Carolina mountains. Military strategy only works when your enemy, for example, doesn’t jump on a missile and set it off for fun. It didn’t help either that The Dark Ones’ draw sat deep within people’s repressed psyches, the most forbidden abodes of desire in the modern world. Not exactly something you spill the beans on to the nightly news.
That seems like a long time ago. Mommy went away, and many people followed her, “crusading” she’d said. Perhaps that’s where the new would-be converts came from? Many of the original gremlins and myself are still here, along with a few maniacal perverts - my favorite is Mad Jimmy, the big-dicked short king who dominates and fucks absolutely anything , including his mother, an angry 80 year old man, an actual dog, and me of course. Jay Walker is still here, once an angry, indignant boy - the Scientist had turned him into a girl, somehow, with big tits and a tight cunt. (S)he’d resisted for a long time, but like me they broke her, and now she and I have gone from being eager, dirty sex pigs to guinea pigs.
I can’t tell you the things that have been inside me, but the Scientist has a seemingly endless curiosity - and High Brow has engineered our meager “garden level suite” into an increasingly cavernous retreat where the unwilling are subjected to gremlins of the most incredible nature. He blasted into the mountainside and connected our temple to a growing network of depravity centers, as he calls them. Dark but for those dim red and blue lights, they’re filled with special equipment, cages, urinals, one even has a “shit pit” but I’ve never been subjected to it. Jay and I (some call her Janey but I like to remind her she was a boy) are their little test subjects, to see what they do to boys and girls bodies - though my cock has been locked up so long it’s hard to call me a boy. Test piggy? I’ve had cocks of so many shapes and sizes put inside me, I feel like I’ve been through the catalogue of that old company Bad Dragon at every fucking size. There were the octo-gremlins with tentacles (more than eight, of course) that wriggled in my guts deeper than anything before. The scariest was the spidery one, who’s offspring gestated inside you - I thought that one was going to kill me, for sure. Jay loved it though, that was the one that had converted him from an unwilling cunt to a raving, pregnant whore. And still, just yesterday as the Scientist was plowing my asshole for the hundredth time, he said “incredible! Tight as always!” His accent was british now, and it made me feel accomplished
Jay is screaming now, chained to the wall, though I don’t think she needs to be. She’s birthing a new litter, this was fucked into her by what looked like a devil from an old-timey book, goat-faced and hooved feet. It fucked me first, and in the wail of Jay’s screams I can feel the lava heat of its cum in my guts. I wonder if this new batch will burn his pussy on the way out? I can’t tell how long I’ve rested, Jay’s ecstatic cries woke me, and there’s no hint of outside light in our little testing chamber, but as she passes out I sense a new presence in the darkness. There’s a gravelly hissss and a reptilian slithering, the dim blue light shifts over a massive, slithering form. And then it’s before me, its yellow red eyes rising up beneath a gremlin hood. They start to twirl comically, like that snake in The Jungle Book cartoon, in those hypnosis scenes that had confusingly made my young dick harden. My last conscious thought before its hypnotic power takes my mind is, how do snakes fuck?
AUTHORS NOTE
THis was an ending I conceived of long ago, but couldn’t think of the right fate for our beloved fuck toy. I’ve always thought that Gremlins embodied a cartoonish chaos that was fun to play with erotically, but logically what was the conclusion of their escapades? Elder God, naturally! There may be some post scripts to come, particularly ol’ Jay Walker, but this was the ending - somewhat forshortened - I had long conceived for this weird ass story.