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Home Alone.
Releasing the Sadistic Inner Devil.
After college, Luke was ready to take flight into the corporate realm. However, his lively imagination got the better of him. Lucas de Kok had been wise. Working several part-time jobs and juggling his studies. Amassing a tidy nest egg for his future. Even before donning his graduation cap, he had turned the heads of eager headhunters, all vying for his engineering talents. All he needed now was a cozy place to call home and a garage to park his car.
At just 23, Luke is a tall, reasonably good-looking, yet unremarkable Dutchman. To call him average would not be doing him a favor. Lucas could stand his ground, even if he wasn’t as muscular as he’d like to be. And in the bedroom department, he held his own, too. 6 firm inches could, and did, please the few men and women he encountered. But he wasn’t all that outgoing. So, those hookups were few and far between.
And the man has a few skeletons in his closet. He found himself grappling with anxiety and the challenge of forging genuine connections. Social college gatherings have felt more like a chore, so Lucas de Kok often left those parties by himself. Failing to score a date yet again. Deep down, he isn’t quite sure what he wants from a relationship anyway. Leading him to refrain from pursuing anything or anyone.
While recruiters recognized his potential, they consistently pointed out the need for Luke to work on his people skills. They thought the man was too passive to accomplish his lofty goals on the job sites he wanted to work at. He has the brains to do so. Luke just lacks the vision to achieve this goal. Although, maybe it is his imagination that gets in the way of it all. You see, Lucas’s mind usually worked overtime. Making him unable to see what is right in front of him. And that held true for forging relationships as well.
The one vital insight he gleaned from those conversations with the headhunters was the geography of his future career. All those enticing consultant engineering job opportunities were concentrated in the vibrant western Netherlands. Close to the bustling industry hubs of Amsterdam, The Hague, and Rotterdam. This was a good thing, for Luke thought the nightlife in these places could help him a lot, too. Excitement and anxiety intertwined as he contemplated his next steps.
Determined to establish his base first, Lucas searched for an affordable home between those cities in the Dutch rural heart. He did not mind if the property needed a bit of work. As long as the man could move in quickly. Eventually, he found a small 1950s farmworker home. It looked solid enough, but he could not escape the feeling there was something odd about the place. A one-bed, one-bath tiny home without a garage. Yet, it was situated on a quiet back street near some smaller towns with the amenities Luke needed.
The price had dropped significantly over the last couple of years. It reflected its status as a rental property. It was sold ‘as is.‘ Lucas haggled a bit and managed to get the price down even further. Sight unseen, he bought his first property. Paying in cash and getting the keys and the paperwork sorted in less than 14 days. Luke couldn‘t shake the feeling that the previous owner was relieved to be rid of the rental property. The expansive historic manor farm, with its 7 tiny worker dwellings, had been demolished years ago after a fire. Leaving only Luke’s new place. It had been all over the national news. He saw the realtor, notary, and owner exchange ominous looks as Lucas left them after signing over the house.
Lucas de Kok couldn‘t contain his excitement as he pulled up to his new home. Driving a rented box truck, packed with everything he cherished from his student days. Despite the rural, raw charm of the place, it felt like a new, thrilling adventure was about to begin! Luke had never lived on his own before. Well, he had a student apartment for himself. However, there was always someone within earshot. But out here, the nearest neighbor lived over five hundred meters away. By Dutch standards, rural, indeed. With an adrenaline rush, he expertly maneuvered the moving truck backward onto the gravel driveway. Ready to unload his sparse belongings into his new residence. Or so he thought.
AI image - Grok X.
Luke’s new home, Helling 66F, Netherlands.
And it’s a good thing he did manage to get the property cheap. The outside was a mess. The optimistic realtor pictures had sneakily concealed that the parcel had not been properly taken care of in years. Lucas walked around the building once. Taking in the surroundings and what was left of a quaint garden with a wooden shed. It had a relatively large backyard for such a small house. Space to extend the tiny home with an extra room and garage workshop, thought Luke beamingly.
It wasn‘t much, but it was his without a mortgage. And that’s what counted, according to Lucas. From the outside, Luke could not see much of his new place. The mismatched curtains were drawn, and the overgrown thorny shrubs made it impossible to get close anyway. It was as if some long-forgotten renter did not like visitors. This gave Luke the impression this house had a few eerie secrets.
Luke beamed with excitement as he fished the keys from his pocket. With a click, he turned the lock and swung open the front door. Revealing a small, dilapidated hallway lined with old-fashioned wood paneling. Dust motes danced in the golden morning light streaming through the grimy front door. The bare wooden floorboards creaked softly underfoot.
He had anticipated a nearly empty house, but the scene before him was unsettling. Clearly, the previous tenant had left in a rush without even bothering to clean up after themselves. Remnants of their life lingered behind like ghosts of the past. A scattering of forgotten trinkets hinted at the stories once shared within these walls. The realtor had assured Luke that everything on the property was his, mentioning only ’some furniture‘ left behind. But Luke hadn‘t expected a whole collection of abandoned belongings waiting to reveal their mysteries. Or for him to have to pay to get them carted off.
As Luke stepped inside, his eyes were immediately drawn to a pair of scoffed engineer harness boots lying discarded on the floor. A black cloth two-piece motor combo and a plain denim trucker jacket hung forgotten on the built-in clothes rack. It would have been so much more exciting if those clothes were made of genuine cowhide, thought Luke fleetingly. Lucas did not own stuff like that. Leather clothes were made of dreams. For men, much more macho than him.
And besides that, the previous owner must have been much smaller than Lucas. He disregarded the jackets and focused on the forgotten boots. Even though the cool-looking vintage Wesco engineer boots were child-sized compared to his boats. And that smell? What was that smell? Luke wrinkled his nose as he closed the front door behind him. Thrusting the hallway in semi-darkness. The gas and water were switched on already, according to the realtor. But the electricity wasn‘t.
The lingering odor wasn‘t anything unpleasant or dirty. But there was a definite prominent shoe-store aroma emanating from the place. It was as if Luke had just walked into a shop full of handmade boots or leather handbags. The heady pung was omnipresent. Not a foul aroma. But you could almost cut the air with a knife. He gasped and took in a lungful. It made Luke feel lightheaded and surprisingly horny. Brushing a hand absentmindedly over his cock in his work pants.
In a far-forgotten past, the youth Lucas got sexually molested by a group of evil bikers. Since then, Luke has had a thing for men in tough-looking boots. So he bent down for a closer look at the square-toed Wescos. You see, Lucas de Kok had once seen a dozen burly leather men abuse a dark-skinned homeless guy. Those sinful guys had scrupulously dragged the older dude into a deserted alley. So they could have their horny way with the struggling sod. Seeing these Wescos had reawakened these horrible memories. They made him lick their boots and worship their leather gear.
One of those guys caught the youth Luke lurking. Watching what they were doing to the homeless man. Back then, The boy had never seen anyone have sex like that before. It intrigued him, though. An evilly buff gang member grabbed the young boy from behind. Dragging him to their play space. He got passed around the evilly brutal group.
But weirdly enough, Luke did not struggle against them. They made him lick their leathers and touch those huge hairy penises. Forcing the boy to watch how they sexually abused the man. Making the boy eat some salty, sticky white stuff. Creating a few demons that Luke carried with him while growing up. Back then, the boy was too scared of these evil bikers — in their tough-looking clothes — to tell anyone about this scary experience. But in retrospect, it formed him into the person he became.
Luke is notably tall even for a Dutch dude, measuring well over two meters, and he typically wears European shoe size 46. However, the dirty square-toed Wesco boots had a marking of US size 9 on the bottom, indicating that they were at least three sizes too small for him. When Luke lifted one of the macho harness boots, he suddenly heard the distinct sound of heavy footsteps overhead. Luke gasped and dropped the unpolished engineer boot onto the floor.
AI image - Grok X.
Forgotten small work boots.
“Who’s there? I swear, I‘m armed! You better get out of my house!” Luke shouted, his voice quaking with a mix of fear and bravado. It was a bit of a stretch, really. The only weapon he had was a multi-tool, stuffed deep in the pocket of his work pants. Sure, it had a sharp blade, but getting it out was more trouble than it was worth. In reality, that little tool didn‘t look like much of a threat at all.
In a moment of misguided courage, Luke shook his fist defiantly into the shadows. Though, of course, silence was the only response. The eerie sounds faded, leaving him alone with his heart racing and a grumbling stomach.
“Must‘ve been my imagination,” he murmured to himself, trying to shake off the residual fear. While walking around his new property, he had not noticed any signs of a break-in after all.
“Still, I think it’s time to consider some new locks,” he mused, feeling a bit steadier as he took a deep breath and regained his composure. Coughing, after he filled his lungs with that weird leather scent again.
He took a second look at the boot he dropped, suddenly realizing it said: Size 46eu. Startled, Luke looked around for the smaller boots. But they had definitely gone. What was going on? Both embellished metal-tipped boots were in his size, after all. Even the square toes were much pointier than before. What is going on here?
As soon as Luke saw these highly spit-polished urban cowboy boots, a vivid image flashed through his mind. It was of a man sitting on a bench in a known gay cruising area. Flashing the tough metal-pointed harness cowboy boots in Lucas’s direction. He wasn‘t sure if this guy was imaginary or if he had seen him somewhere before.
Lucas sort of admired these tough guys in boots like those. But these were pretty costly and not really his style. Luke being an average Jo, ex-college, sneaker-wearing kind of man. Yet, there they were. Ready for the taking. As pointy as the ones of that man in his mind. But still... However, Luke could have sworn that these boots were not the same ones he had seen when he had entered. And that felt weird to him.
Internet image.
A man wearing embellished pointy cowboy boots.
Luke skittishly looked around, listening for more sounds. Bending down to carefully place the polished heavy cowboy boot back on the floor. Making a mental note to try them on later. Doing so made his dick tingle a little. The same image as before flashed through his brain. But this time, the man walking tall was Lucas de Kok, himself. In all his buff glory. Wearing a macho vintage biker jacket. Flashing his enormous reddish satanic erect cock to a young shop assistant in a hardware store.
It was as if a hardcore taboo porn flick had started playing in his mind’s eye. Luke was pushing a lumber cart through the shop. His heavy boots hammered on the painted concrete floor. Oozing a sense of brutal toughness around the place. As he passed the shop assistant, his 9-inch reddish cock popped out. Wiggling up and down on its own accord. Beckoning the shop assistant to come closer. The barely legal boy skittishly looked around. The bait was laid, and the boy reached for the 9-inch prancing dick.
Luke could sense the weak kid had a thing for tough, dominant guys. He commanded the boy to the garden center section. Ordering him into one of the wooden sheds. Things happened fast after they met. Lucas forced the kid to his knees and throated him without remorse. The shop assistant did not know what hit him. But he got pushed onto a rain barrel, and his ass lost its cherry. Sadistically, da Cock dumped a load into the boy’s ass. Forcing him to clean his cock. And as casual, as if nothing odd had happened, he continued shopping. Leaving the bewildered, gay-curious boy to stroke one out on his own.
What the hell? His man tool wasn‘t red, nor did he know that young dude. Luke had to shake his head. He did not own a rugged manly jacket like that, either! And his dick was... No! It could not have been him. His tackle was considerably shorter than the man Luke had envisioned. Although, he would not mind a longer dick like that one. This was all so weird!
That distinctive smell intensified once more as he straightened. Lucas got a little dizzy. Feeling woozy from the heavy, intoxicating leather scent. His nose was inches from what he thought was a small pale-blue denim trucker jacket. However, it suddenly appeared to be a torn jean vest draped over a vintage Brando leather jacket. Luke looked stunned at the combo. Feeling butterflies in his stomach. Throughout his school days, he admired other tough men with the guts to wear stuff like that. But felt not brave enough to pull off that look himself. Silly, really.
The stained denim waistcoat was covered in lewd patches, pins, and metal studs, primarily of the Devil-worshiping variety. There were skulls, biker gang patches, and heavy metal band emblems. To make things even stranger, it was actually his size. Luke could clearly see the 2XL label stitched inside the biker jacket.
“What the hell is going on here?” he thought in horror as he reached for the heavy jacket with the denim vest in the built-in hallway closet. This was far from the norm for Luke; he didn‘t own anything like this. Well, until currently. Everything inside this property was his now, after all. A strange force compelled Lucas to put on the rugged-looking coat.
He removed the smelly denim waistcoat to admire the full leather look beneath it. The shiny, smooth texture gleamed in the beam of sunlight seeping through the front door curtain. Illuminating the heavy but supple black leather. Lucas resolved to drape the leather jacket over his shoulders. It instantly sent shivers down his spine. Surprisingly, he liked the sturdy coat’s smell, texture, and weight. It seemed to cling to his torso like a second skin over his denim shirt. The jacket made Luke feel braver than he actually was.
Looking in the hallway mirror, he surprisingly exclaimed, “... Dang, Not a bad look, De Kok.”
Ruffling up his neat hair and flicking up the collar of the macho black coat.
“Not bad at all.” Looking aroused at his own tough reflection.
This was the first time he wore leather of any kind. And judging by the stiffening bulge in his pants, it turned him on. As if something had possessed him. Lucas certainly felt butch enough to take a look at his new bedroom.
Internet image.
A burly vintage leather Brando jacket.
Suddenly, sounds emanated from the creaky stairs. Someone appeared to be coming down. But when Luke ventured a glance toward the attic, there was no one there.
“Get your shit together, Lucas Da Cock! Don‘t piss in your pants, man. You must not have looked right. These clothes were always here.” thought Lucas soothingly. Listening intently for sounds coming from upstairs. “... You don‘t believe in ghosts! No one is up there. Go look. Scaredy cat.”
He sneaked upstairs after a quick peek into the filthy kitchen and through the living room door. Luke wasn‘t quite sure why he tried to make no sounds going to the attic. It was not like he was breaking in. He owned the place, after all.
Like the layout downstairs, the attic was divided into two spaces. The door leading west — above the kitchen — was firmly locked. A sturdy wooden chair was wedged underneath the door handle. Creating a makeshift barrier that held the door tightly shut. As if someone had trapped something behind it.
As Lucas stepped through the other door on the landing, he was greeted by the surprising spaciousness of his bedroom. The creaking gambrel roof created a cozy atmosphere. Yet still allowing for plenty of headroom — much to his relief.
Luke was glad he had brought his own bed, though. The old stained mattress, lying on the floor under the eastern gable window, looked disgusting. Its 1.80-meter length could not accommodate Lucas’s 2.07-meter gangly fit frame. Being 6 feet 9½ inches had its drawbacks. And the man loved to be able to spread out on his bed.
That the space was dank and painted in dark colors did not bother him much. Luke was a master of his paint-gun. Some extra insulation, plaster boards, and a few coats of paint would liven up this depressing space. No, what worried him was the room on the other side of the landing. Lucas threw the biker jacket on the leather Chesterfield couch next to the bedroom door and went to investigate.
AI image - Grok X.
Luke, sitting on the Chesterfield couch in his bedroom.
Yet again, that unexplainable, eerie sound echoed through the air, sending a shiver down his spine. Luke felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A warning of the strange energy swirling around him. Just as he was about to leave the bedroom, he heard an imposing, booming voice that resonated deep within him. It was a voice that seemed to claw its way out from the shadows, with a metallic, clanking intensity that left Lucas breathless. The chilling realization struck him. It wasn‘t coming from outside; it reverberated inside his very soul.
“Give into it, boy. You‘re in my home. Put the jacket back on and come over here! Do it! Satan commands you.”
“Who’s there?...” stammered Lucas. Full well knowing, no one could be up here. He was making stuff up, again. Thinking he must be tired or something, Luke lay on the Chesterfield next to the bedroom door against the eaves of the gambrel roof and closed his eyes for a moment. Thinking hard, rubbing his stomach.
As he lay back, his hand wandered into his work pants. Grabbing his shaft and massaging it for a while.
“Ahh, yeah... Finally! Some fresh meat.” Growled the echoing voice in the back of his mind, “... Give into it, boy. And get your sorry ass over here. I know you want to. Let Satan set you free!”
AI image - Grok X.
Lucas’s daydream about the demon.
The voice, the fleeting thought, the bizarre daydream — whatever it had been — sent a shiver down Lucas’s spine. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He didn‘t believe in ghosts, and Luke had a job to do. “Ghosts? Ha!” he scoffed at the idea, and faith wasn‘t his forte either. God or Satan? “Absurd!” he declared in his mind. “Or is it?” wondered Luke.
A surge of urgency ignited within him; he had to move his bed up here and claim this dusty space for the night. The moment he realized this, the echoing voice abruptly vanished. It was as if Lucas held the power to silence his inner demons with just a spark of creativity. Even though the seductive calling had been very enticing.
Lucas set up on the black Chesterfield couch to take in the odd decor of the bedroom. He could just make out a blue and gold threadbare rug. It lay on the floor — at the foot of the stained mattress. It had a mythical depiction of the snake-like dragon figure Ur. Ruler of the world of darkness, a realm associated with impurity and the forces of evil.
Lucas thoughtfully ran his hand under his chin. He recognized the image but couldn‘t remember where he had learned about it. All he could think was that the carpet was strange. Come to think of it, the whole room felt odd to Luke. Scattered on the floor and all over the purlings stood candle stubs. Thick globs of wax had oozed over their sides. On the slanted walls — between the boarded-up dormer windows — hung enlarged photos of young men dressed in leather. They looked to be in their early twenties, with dark hair and fair skin, and were relatively attractive.
Lucas got up, letting out a long, weary sigh. Slowly approaching the door on the other side of the landing. A flutter of doubt settled in Lucas’s chest. Wondering if he possessed the courage to uncover the mystery behind door number two. With careful resolve, he removed the chair propped under the doorknob. Yet, as he reached for the handle, an uncanny thing happened: the door creaked open, seemingly of its own accord.
A towering bi-fold wardrobe dominated the far wall of the cramped utility room, its mirrored doors capturing the flicker of shadows that danced in the faint light. Standing like a silent guardian, it obstructed the only source of natural light filtering through the end-gable window. The dormer windows along the side were no refuge either. They, too, were shrouded in darkness. Rough sheets of black plywood were hastily nailed over them from the inside. The scene mirrored the dormers in the bedroom — both suffocating the space in an almost oppressive gloom. Plunging the attic into a haunting semi-darkness.
Only the faint glow from the pilot light of the gas boiler provided any illumination, flickering in a ghostly manner. Nearby, a mid-evil-looking cooper distillery loomed ominously, its flame sputtering beneath a cauldron that bubbled and hissed. From this bizarre apparatus, thick, black fumes seeped out like shadowy specters, filling the air with a dense, leathery aroma that clung to the walls and permeated the very fabric of the house. The noxious vapors slithered through the air like ethereal phantoms, oozing through the fractures in the floorboards and sneaking beneath the cracks of the doors. Creating an atmosphere heavy with foreboding and mystery.
Without realizing he was doing it, Luke grabbed his multi-tool blade and cut the heavy ropes, binding the wardrobe shut.
The bi-fold doors flung open, and a whirlwind of color, heat, and sound burst out. Slamming the boy across the room, over the landing, and back into the bedroom. It was as if a tornado had just ripped off the creaking roof. Picking the man off his feet and slamming him blindfolded onto the dirty mattress. The rug had blown up and covered the window. All light from the bedroom had gone. In the pitch blackness, sounds of maniacal laughter filled Luke’s ears, body, and soul. Sending the fear of God into the man. And that was odd because Luke despised anything to do with any form of religion.
AI image - Grok X.
The demon, about to possess Lucas de Kok.
As the boy took a reluctant glance between his legs, he noticed the candle stubs burst into flames as those heavy footfalls made the floorboards creak. Suddenly, Lucas felt something heavy jump on top of his chest. Compressing his lungs. It covered his eyes with calloused hands. Making it impossible to see who, or what, was doing it. And then... And then... A thick, musky-smelling thing forced itself between his lips. It filled Luke’s mouth completely. De Kok had sucked a few powerful guys off at college. But not like this. His mouth was unable to take it all. He gasped and gurgled. Spluttered and spit. Luke nearly puked.
A second pair of hands, it seemed, flicked his work pant belt loose and yanked it down. His underwear got ripped at the seem, and Luke’s legs got raised into the air.
“Arghh... Awe... Ooh... Ouch... Stop... Ai... No... Off... Ohh... Awe... Don‘t...” he screamed in his head as he felt a huge cock part his buttcheeks and push mercilessly evilly forward. Maniacal laughter filled his brain again as his ass got stuffed. It felt like all the air had been forced out of his lungs. This horse dick was much bigger than he ever had to endure at college. Luke nearly passed out as a third dick joined the party. And a fourth and fifth got thrust into his hands.
Luke had never been dominated. Neither by the women he dated nor by the occasional man that seduced him into some bro-fun. No, this feeling was totally new to him. Yet, it wasn‘t bad. Or so the ex-college dude thought. It was a lot to take. And it hurt like hell. No denying that. It took the ghostly demon minutes — Or maybe several moonlit days — to possess Lucas de Kok. Forcing himself onto and into the boy.
“You‘ve freed me, boy. Now, we shall become one.”
The demonic grinding voice was like painful gravel underfoot. Resonating with extreme power and malice. The room spun as Luke tried to resist, his body feeling not his own. The shock of the assault was paralyzing yet oddly invigorating. As if this was the thing Lucas had been waiting for. Someone to take over and guide him.
“Relax, Lucas de Kok, or should I say, da Cock. Glad we meet again,” the demon mocked, his form resonating and growing less distinct, merging with Luke’s sole, “... I‘ve waited long for a vessel worthy of my power.”
Internet Image - Author @masterthomas65.bsky.social.
The inner demon tormenting Lucas.
“Who... Who are you?” stammered Lucas. Suddenly, feeling the presence in his brain. Flicking through images of a long-forgotten dim past. Bringing them back to life. Clear as day.
“HA, Ha, ha...” mocked the guy railing Luke’s aching cunt. “You know me! I am Satan. I‘ve let you taste my seed before. Haven‘t I? Remember. Down that alley? You took it like a man, as young as you were. And you liked it. You said so.”
Angrily, Lucas de Kok thought, “... So you‘re that biker. Can‘t be! You‘re dead! You crashed your bike in that meth lab years ago. And burned yourself to death. The police could not rescue you from the flames.”
“True and not true! They cooked a lot more than meth in that abandoned satanic farm building next to this place, though. And I met the Dark lord in that fire. I was home! Good thing this house survived. And the tenants made great pets. I‘ve turned a few. Scared others away. Give into it, and let me show you your way, boy. Satan is awaiting you to join him!” echoed the demon in response.
Although the clanking and metallic words seemed to have taken on a more humanoid form. Making Lucas wish he could see what this guy looked like.
The heavy banging thrusts in his ass, Luke noticed, coincided with the leaky boiler dripping into the metal pan in the utility room. The grinding, creaking, echoing voice overlapped with the movement of the rafters and the pipes. And suddenly, it made sense.
That shrimp sandwich from the gas station he had this morning looked dodgy. Tasted okay, though. So, this was just a form of food poisoning. There were no demons here. Luke didn‘t believe in God. Therefore, believing in the Devil was absurd. And yet, huh? His ass felt stretched and filled with cum. And this colossal horse cock was pumping him so damn good. Although he could not explain away how that leather jacket or those pointy cowboy boots just happened to be in his size. Let alone the strange feeling his body felt much more... Well, the young man suddenly had pecs and the beginnings of a firm washboard. Even his dick felt huge, and his swinging nuts weight him down.
“You‘re... Stanley Ursom? Aren‘t you? I read about you in the paper years ago,” Lucas thought, the newspaper article flashing through his brain, “... The police had been after you for years. And you faked your own death! They did not find a body. So, you‘re not Satan! At best, you‘re one of his minions. You‘re just doing his handy work. You‘re gathering new souls for him. Aren‘t you, Stan? Show yourself!” Lucas Da Cock thought harshly.
There was no answer. No movement. Even the omnipresent leather smell had disappeared. The rug that had been covering the window behind his back slid down the wall, and the morning sunlight flooded the room again. There was no one riding Luke’s aching ass or face fucking his throat after all. Even the bi-fold door of the closet on the other side of the attic had closed itself again.
Yet, Luke felt his wet ass and wondered, “... Was this real?” He scooped up the stickiness from between his buttocks and smelled. It stank like man spunk, alright. “Demon Seed? What was going on?” thought Lucas, his heart racing and breathing labored as if he ran the Rotterdam Marathon again. Yet it wasn‘t his own cum. His dick, still stiff as a board, was dry and aching for release.
Luke raced downstairs. His work pants were already around his knees, and he had just reached the dingy toilet in time. The relief was all it took to make the boy understand it all. But the demon was nowhere to be seen, found, or invoked. Lucas felt oddly abandoned. Stanley Ursom — or whatever his name used to be — had somehow felt like a long-lost friend to him.
“Don‘t be like that, Stan.” thought Luke feeling the absence of the presence inside him, “... We can still have some fun. You‘re my demon. You can teach me a lot.” thought Lucas.
Chuckling, “... All hail Stan Ur. My dark lord and savior. After I have emptied my gut, we need to talk. A man-to-man talk. Face to face. This was the best sex I ever had. Even if it was just in my mind. Ha. Yeah. That’s about right. I need to butch up a bit. Learn to dominate. But let’s see if the plumbing in this place is up to spec.”
Lucas meticulously turned on every tap in his new home, watching as the rusty water gurgled and flowed, eager to purge the stagnant remnants of neglect from the plumbing. He flushed the toilet repeatedly, listening attentively for any sounds of leaks. The echo of the flush resonated in the silence of the empty haunted house. After a thorough inspection, he discovered a lone drip coming from the old boiler, a slow but persistent reminder of the house’s age.
As Lucas wandered through the dimly lit rooms, he encountered a collection of yellowing notes from previous tenants. Each piece of hastily scribbled paper exuded an undeniable urgency. Compelling the reader to flee, to escape the house’s sinister grasp. The notes detailed chilling encounters, issuing whispered warnings of a haunting presence.
They recounted disturbing obsessions with gay leather sex and the overpowering drive to partake in satanic rituals. They spoke of summoning the dark lord Ur and abusing the captured souls within. Describing the inescapable demands to appease the demon lurking within. Or being incapable of doing enough to please the queer incubus.
AI image - Grok X.
Satanic ritual.
As Lucas de Kok could no longer summon the inner demon, he emptied and cleaned the house. Moving the much-needed cleaning supplies from the box truck into his new home. Removing the curtains. Opening windows and switching on the power. In the pantry — behind the kitchen and toilet — he had encountered an overwhelming stench that nearly made him gag. The foul odor lingered far worse than the musky leather scent Lucas had previously battled. With a grimace, he began to clear away the unsightly remnants of furniture and debris, haphazardly piling them into the overgrown backyard for disposal.
As he sifted through the clutter, Luke’s eyes were drawn to a dilapidated shed in the backyard. It was nearly swallowed by tangled bushes and brambles. Curiosity piqued, he pushed aside the dense foliage and opened the creaking door. Inside, to his astonishment, he discovered a treasure trove of forgotten sex dungeon items. An oversized leather-covered, heavy-duty dog cage loomed in one corner. Big enough to captivate several men. Next to it, an extensive collection of leather bondage and torture furniture stood, its craftsmanship intricate yet creepy. But what truly captivated Luke was the gleaming motorcycle parked prominently amidst the chaos. It shone like a jewel, the chrome and paint in pristine condition, beckoning to him like a long-lost friend.
As he stepped back outside, Luke’s gaze shifted to the south-facing dormer windows of his bedroom. At that moment, Luke’s vision was swept up. The previously plywood-blocked windows had been uncovered. And a burly evil figure seemed to leap from the depths of his thoughts. A strikingly muscular red-horned demon clad in a rugged biker jacket. His black hair flowed like a waterfall, and his large, curvy horns arched elegantly above his head. A thick red tail swayed lustfully behind the flamboyant manifestation. Giving him an otherworldly aura.
AI image - Grok X.
Stan Ur watching Lucas in the yard.
Luke’s heart raced as he took in the presence, feeling an inexplicable connection. Though he merely thought it, the words echoed in his mind with palpable excitement: “... Yours, Stan? Nice bike, man! We absolutely need to get this thing back on the road. I‘d love nothing more than to ride with you.”
The moment lingered, charged with a mix of anticipation and mystery, as Luke gazed at the motorcycle and back at the figure that had finally manifested itself from his imagination.
He glanced back at the heavy motorcycle and wished out loud and in a primal scream, “God Damn, I need to fuck some ass! I would not even mind riding your sorry satanic hell hole.”
“Do I look like an angel? I am Satan! I command you, da Cock!”
“Still talking to me then... Stanley Ursom?” he asked with a dirty smirk on his lips. Lucas looked straight into the demon’s dark and evil soul. Transporting himself from outside to inside the attic in a heartbeat. His feet did not even touch the ground as he landed right behind the demon.
Lucas pushed Stan Ur onto his knees on the Chesterfield. Grabbing the thru zip over the demon’s leather ass seem and ripping it resolutely open. Pushing Master Ur forward over the couch and lifting the red tail up by the base. Exposing the hell hole and sliding his extended manhood resolutely into the Devil’s biker son of a Bitch. As soon as Luke’s aching cockhead felt the heat of the hell hole, he slammed forward. Ramming his hips against the demon leathers. Grabbing the horns of the man for leverage, Lucas started to pump.
This was his form of heaven. The hot hole felt better than all the pussy Luke had penetrated. Tighter than all the asses, he was fortunate to pierce and breed. Lucas felt the evil satanic lust course through his body. Ramming harder and meaner than ever before. Working up a sweat in the black leather biker jacket. Luke knew exactly why he had put it back over his naked torso. It was his connection with Satan Ur. As long as de Kok wore some of these leathers, he knew his future ahead.
The hot hell hole felt so damned good. But after 15 minutes, Luke could not hold back anymore. Violently planting his own seed into the Devil. Merging with Satan’s son in more ways than either of them had thought possible. Luke started to masturbate Stans’s horn-ridges from behind. They felt like curvey penises in his hands. Turning them bright red and making the gay Incubus, Stanley Ursom, into the worst form of being. It made the demon angry, aggressive, and violent. Wrapping his tail around Luke’s throat. Choking the living daylights out of the boy.
As Luke came round, he found the Devil hovering inches from his face. He lay on his back on the black leather Chesterfield. A literal demonic horse cock buried a foot-and-a-half up his gut. Looking angrier than he thought possible. Luckily, Stan was a manifestation of the figment of imagination. And Luke never hurt a fly in his life. Heck, he had not even been in a good fistfight with anyone. Yet, he felt safe and complete. The possession made him the man Lucas de Kok wanted to be.
“What is it you want from me, Lucas da Cock?”
“First off, I want to know what to call you?”
“Call me Stan Ur or Dark lord,” said Stan, a little surprised.
“Okay, Stan. Secondly, what I want is the same as what you want. You‘ve read my mind. You know what I need. Teach me. Show me how to dominate other men. Make me love what I am. Who you fucking are. You‘re my demon. You‘ve possessed me for over a decade. Finish the job, Stan.”
“So... Uhm... A bigger dick, larger nuts, more muscles, and a new outfit? Done, done, and done... You‘re not greedy, are you, de Kok? Anything else?” scoffed Stanley Ursom.
“Nah... That will do, but I‘ve got something for you, too,” said Lucas. Pushing the demon out of his ass and sitting next to him on the couch.
“Ha. I doubt that. What would a mortal like you be able to give to Satan?” sneered the demon.
“More than you think. I am not the enemy here. So, stop treating me like one, Stan,” said Lucas resolutely. Grabbing the red horse cock and starting to stroke the girthy pole.
“Shit, Luke. You look amazing! How do you feel?” said Stan proudly, “... Some of my better work.” Surveying the modifications to Luke’s appearance.
“I feel... Ha-hum... Devilish and a little mean. But Goddamn, Stan Ur, I do look good. And my dick is HUGE! All Hail Satan.”
AI Image - Grok X.
Lucas da Cock is feeling devilish and dominant.
“Am I right that you are bound to that closet?”
“Hmm... yeah,” said Stan almost apologetically.
“Well, Stanley...” Luke started to say, but the demon forstalled him.
“Stop calling me that! Stanley Ursom died 10 years ago,” he said hurt.
“Okay, Satan, I think this is a lovely house. Let’s make it ours. I want a separate kitchen and garage out back. And we can build you a satisfying dungeon beneath. Oh... and you and I can go out sole hunting. Seed them, as long as you show me how to dominate those bitches, sluts, and manwhores.” said Luke. Bending over to suck squirts of red hot Devil seed into his mouth. Swallowing Satan’s Satanic Sweet and Sour Sperm. Letting it fill his body, soul, and mind.
“Just one thing, though, Satan. I need to be in control. You can guide me, but let me decide. I don‘t want to be chaste to my death by the local cops. Crash and burn is not really my style. But this way you can get out of the house. We can plant your Satanic Seed around town. Grow the brotherhood of leather-loving Devils. And even if we don‘t find asses to fill, You‘ve still got me. Hail Satan! Fill me up.”
“Really?” Satan Ur asked. Sounding astonished.
“Sure... As long as you supply the leather courage, we can work together. I don‘t believe in Satan, the Devil, God, and all that tosh. And I don‘t know why or how you‘re here. Heck, or what you are. But I am glad we‘ve met in that dirty alley years ago. I knew I would meet your meat again. I need to unload a few more things from the truck. Wanna join me for a ride to the hardware store later? We can flash my dick at some unexpected shop assistant and have our way with him. Or do you want to wait for the paper boy, the milkman, or the postman?...” Lucas sniggered dirty, “... Is that leather stuff in the hallway closet mine to keep now? Now that you have changed it? Is there more stuff like that? I love it for now, until damnation.”
AI Image - Grok X.
Satan Ur and a stunned Lucas de Kok.
Stan drove his forked tongue into Luke’s mouth with a lustful grin on his face. Merging his demonic being into Lucas de Kok. Ready to be summoned at a moment’s notice.
And Luke felt complete. In more than one way, he is twice the man he was before. Possessed and confident that his big nuts would see plenty of action. Ready to take on any gay sex club dungeon in Amsterdam or Rotterdam with seed to spare.
< The End >
Thank you for reading this story.
Please give it a Like or a Comment if you are inclined to do so.
And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spilled cum! 😋
© StrykerJ - January-2025
