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Day 23: Parasite/Virus

"The rise of a new god"

By Patrick D. Lambert

Commissioned by Steel Strings

"Wha... what's going on?"

A groggy Steel woke up surrounded by nothing but darkness. His head couldn't stop spinning, and his body refused to react. He had no idea where he was or what time was it. Did he fall asleep again while watching the TV? No... he wasn't at home. His last memories were somewhere else.

"Where... where am I...?"

The street. He was coming back from work. And he was walking through the park. He remembered the wet grass under his paws and his jacket damp from the drizzle threatening to turn into a furious storm. He cut through the park and crossed through a dark area, and then... nothing.

He tried to get up but something stopped him from doing so. His wrists were held firmly, and his ankles too. As he woke up from his slumber and strength began to return to his slender body, the fox named Steel fought against the bindings holding him down, only to discover he couldn't even raise his limbs from the cold, cold surface he was lying on.

"What's going on?!" He repeated, shaking his head to unveil the darkness covering his eyes. The fear was building up in his head, and the worst scenarios took place before his eyes. It was hard, if not impossible, to pick from the many gruesome ends he believed were awaiting him in the following minutes. A painful death after another, brought upon him in so many different ways.

His struggle fed his panic. The more he fought against the bindings, the more he sunk into the desperation brought by those twisted and gruesome destinies.

"Somebody help me!" He screamed.

There was nothing in his face blocking his vision. He was submerged in pure and absolute darkness, trapped in a secluded and humid room, with no way out of there. Yet he refused to give up and continued his struggle even after the bindings had started to hurt the skin of his wrists. }

Shackles. He soon felt the cold metal biting into his skin, binding him to the frigid surface. The iron clasping his limbs finally crushed his attempts to escape, as he realized he lacked the strength to break something so thick. He continued pulling, each attempt weaker than the previous one, not out of hope but just as a reflex from his arms and legs.

Until he finally stopped once the pain on his skin forced him to stop. With tears already rolling down his cheeks, he suffered from the depressing end awaiting him and regretted all the little mistakes that got him there. He hadn't even seen the face of the maniac who abducted him, and something told him he wouldn't have that chance. Steel would leave this world without knowing who or why he was punished like that.

He thought about his family and friends, the people he cared about the most, and the pain from knowing they might not even know what happened to him pierced through his heart like the sharpest knife. And it made him cry. And the sorrow made him throw another pointless struggle that only hurt him more.

*CLANK*

The abrupt sound of metal against metal forced him to stop, and Steel looked around, desperately. He heard the rusty hinges of a heavy door, then the steps of someone walking down a wooden stair--no, he heard multiple steps. And voices too, muttering something his pointy ears couldn't understand.

"H-hello? Who are you?"

He had no hopes after calling the strangers to identify. They continued what he believed was a chant of some sort, one that made his orange fur bristle.

As they got closer, Steel saw the glare of a light source they had brought with them, and the unmistakable sound of a strong flame and cracking wood. The details of the little room became more notorious, the darkness pushed away by the fire. Rocky walls, proper of a cave more than a basement, and a set of pedestals on the sides, made to hold the torches carried by them.

But it was what stood before him that really froze Steel's blood. There were no words to explain it at first sight; the statue of an anthropomorphic abomination standing on two large legs that ended in abnormally large hooves. At first sight, its body resembled a bull or a bovine, yet it lacked the musculature and its hips were too small that it was a surprise the upper half of the body could hold up. The thin arms twisted on themselves in a praying gesture, and the fingers extended like snakes. The face was of a bull, his mouth resembled more the maw of a wolf, with sharp teeth and a large tongue wrapped around the jaw.

The disgusting imagery made him feel sick. It was hard, if not impossible, to imagine something like that being real. The mere thought of it made him retch. But he had no time to think about it, not with the stranger who had arrived already forming a circle around him. Now he was sure they were chanting something, however, he couldn't understand anything of what they were saying, as they all spoke in a language he had never heard before.

"Wha... what the fuck do you want?"

They were all attired in large red cowled robes that covered the features of their bodies completely, and with the torches being held above their heads, he couldn't see who was hiding under the cowls. Steel counted 12 strangers, 6 on each side, with two placing the torches on their respective pedestals.

"What the fuck do you want from me?!" He cried again. The fear had brought back his desperation, and the fox fought with the bindings a third time, already fearing what they had planned for him.

No answer. They kept chanting with their hands held together in a prayer.

"You want money? I'll give you money! I have a lot of money!"

Their indifference to his pleas fed his panic. The fox offered more and more things, but none of those offers were answered by the strangers, whose chant was getting louder and louder.

Until another member appeared from his blind spot. A maneless lion--or was it a lioness? The details of his face walked dangerously over the thin line dividing both genders. An androgynous specimen of beautiful and slightly rough features, beautiful and intimidating, with eyes as red as the flame of hell itself.

For a moment, its image stunned Steel and left him speechless. Its careful walk around the table as its delicate hands inspected the whitish fur of his naked chest felt like the touch of a deity, one that soothed his troubled mind and brought peace to his racing heart. He couldn't explain it. He didn't want to. Steel let himself a moment of respite to feel the love and affection expressed by those thin fingers moving through his short-trimmed fur.

While it had Steel's focus wrapped on its finger, the feline carefully brought up a brush with black ink on it. With skilled brush strokes, the feline painted a series of symbols over the orange and white fur, starting at the chest and moving to the arms. The strokes felt like caresses from a lover's hand, and Steel couldn't stop squirming a bit and feeling the excitement building up on his belly and moving down his crotch. His wings unfolded slowly, bringing to light the beautiful blue and white feathers that were his pride. And not for a single instant he questioned what the feline was painting on his slender body.

He was charmed by the flame in its eyes and the subtle smile through which the feline showed off his white pearls. There was no explanation for it, he just let it do what it wanted, as long as it remained close to him.

But only after the feline finished and climbed on the stone bed on which Steel was lying, was the fox snapped out of his trance. The red robe fell from his shoulders, and its naked body came to light. It had no breasts, and from its flaccid cock hung a string of pre. Yet, even after discovering its gender, the slender frame and golden fur kept untouched the androgynous look that had confused Steel from the beginning.

However, it was no longer beautiful. The feline retched violently while the cultists chanted louder. With each spasm, Steel remembered where he was and what he was dealing with. And when a bulge became notorious on its throat, the fear took over the fox once again.

"Wait! Wait! What is that?!" he cried, struggling with the iron shackles again, and trying to push the feline away with his legs.

Its spasms became more violent. It was visibly in pain, yet it continued pushing something out of its body. The act was as disgusting as the statue behind, from whose solid eyes were coming off a red glare.

Then it knelt, and from its mouth came a slug that slowly fell on top of Steel's belly. It was cold and heavy, and coated in a greenish slime. The lion gasped for air, its job as carrier finally fulfilled. And with his body pining Steel down to the stone bed, he stayed there and watched the slug crawl its way to the fox's head.

"What the FUCK is this?!" Steel yelled again.

He jumped and kicked with all his might, yet nothing moved the lion or the slug away from him. The strange creature kept crawling forward, leaving a trail of cold, greenish slime over his fur. Its squishy body felt disgusting, and the foul odor coming off it was making him dizzy. Steel resisted the urge to puke, knowing he would get it all over it. But the constant retching provoked by the slug had hurt his chest already.

No matter how hard he tried, the strength gained through fear and despair wasn't enough to save him. Even after he endured the pain in his wrists and ankles he still couldn't get off of him the creature, seemingly glued to his fur. The fox couldn't find the words to describe how disgusting it felt, like touching rotten food while washing the dishes.

And there was something else, something Steel perceived only when it was about to reach his neck. A quiet voice, almost like a murmur, speaking from the back of his head. A soft, deep voice that slowly drained the little strength he had left. A different chant reached deep into his mind and stole control over his body, leaving Steel helpless.

But he felt everything. While he was losing control over his body, he still felt the slug approaching. It crawled over his cheek with what felt like suction cups stuck to the skin. Then it reached his ear, and slowly squeezed its way in.

"Please stop! Nononononono! STOP!" He yelled.

But his pleas meant nothing to the creature, who kept pushing its way inside the fox's head. Steel gnashed his fangs and fought to recover control over his body, all of that while the chant in his head became louder and louder, and lascivious imagery played in his mind. An orgy of males and females alike devoted to the most indecent and immoral acts. The moans and screams and pleas for punishment and pleasure, he felt and heard it all. Every. One. Of them.

His mind slowly succumbed to the fantasies forced in by the slug that kept squirming as it entered his head. Its sick slime squished to the sides, staining Steel's hair and face. But the fox paid no attention to it, his focus trapped in a trance set by the slug.

The cultists smeared an oil over Steel's cock, which at that point had reacted to the images playing in his head. Completely out of the sheat, it throbbed at the slightest touch, a glorious rod of decent size the lion took with no troubles. And when all it was left was the knot, the naked feline put his hips to work, and rode the fox that had been chosen as a vessel for their God.

Steel knew it. As the slug continued making its way in, the devious images distorted. All the bodies turned into abominations made of bloody flesh and tentacles, their disguise of skin and fur unveiled by the vision of a deity. He became conscious of the slug's nature and its place as the God of an entire species that had arrived from Outer Space, a species of parasites that fed from sexual libido.

He lacked the strength to resist its call. The slug had chosen him among many to become its host and messenger, the one who would spread its doctrine and bring more people into the cult. The Chosen Son. A flood of ancient knowledge came upon him and broke his mind; the truth about the Universe was unveiled to a mere mortal who couldn't understand how small his species really was. Humanity was nothing compared to the many abominations that ruled the stars, yet he was the one meant to ascend through this knowledge.

The pleasure from the lion riding his cock reinforced the trance. Steel felt the pieces of his mind that made who he was crushed under the weight of the slug, a tiny creature that held inside the power of a God. It had entered his head and was now wrapping to his brain like the parasite it was, corrupting body and mind as it set roots in the soft tissue.

And Steel "felt" the slug inside of him. He felt the little tendrils spread and pierce the gray matter, reaching deep into his brain carefully so as not to damage the organ. The control over his body disappeared and he was left a mere witness of the slug's will, who had claimed the fox as its. And Steel's will became the slug's. The fantasies and the pleasure kept pushing him deeper and deeper into a trance, forcing him to accept and embrace the slug's gift: a life of servitude as its host.

He had reached his climax a while ago, yet the lion continued riding a cock that remained erect. The seed was coming out of his ass, pushed by the furious thrusts. The feline, encouraged by the cultists' chant, gave it all to serve and please his god. Even when he was already cumming over the fox's belly and chest, and his legs and knees were sore from holding up that position for too long, he continued. Because that was what the god he carried inside him demanded.

That was until a simple command made the lion stop.

Slime leaked out of his left ear. It took a moment for his eyes to roll back to their original position. His clumsy movements were evidence of the final struggle put by Steel to stop the slug inside his head. And the creature, in an act of pure malice, let him fight until he ran out of hope, and crushed what little was left of his will, fully taking control of him.

The cultists helped the lion and released the fox from his bindings. He got off the stone bed with no issue and put on a robe brought by the cultists to cover up his naked body. The brown from his eyes had disappeared, replaced by jet-black pupils that looked like a portal straight to the void itself.

With a deep breath and a wide smile, the fox raised both arms and talked to his people, as more cultists had arrived at the small chamber.

"My children," he said, his voice deeper than before, "your God has returned."

All the cultists knelt before him and listened to the slug's thoughts coming from Steel's head. A new God had arisen.