Scylla

January, 12, 1X27

My dick hurts. The last thing I am able to recall is the dark mossy mildew which seems to perpetually cling to the apothecary’s ceiling. That, and the smell of mouldy leather, and acidic powder. Her eerily beautiful face looming over me, caressing my cheek with her soft, cold dead hands.

Her lavender scent still clings to my nose. I’d always liked that scent. Ever since I first met her, and she did those things to me which would change my life for the better. She wept then at her scientific failure, but I personally was glad. My mind were clearer after the events. Troublesome thoughts left me, and I honestly preferred myself the way I was now to the way I was then.

Such stupid thoughts. Such stupid considerations.

At any rate, I woke up in my own back yard, naked with a still persisting soreness to my dick. Unpleasant and yet not, like the pain of a swollen belly after a delicious meal. My dick was telling me that I put it to good use last night. I found the hidden key to my back door and let myself in. I crept into bed, but after a while my stomach began to rumble. There was no food at home, however, so it seemed prudent of me to hit the town ad do a little shopping. I washed myself down with a tub of water and a clean rag, and dressed myself.

The town was in an uproar today. The mayor’s daughter, whilst out on a seaside stroll was ravished by a beast. I also found sand in my shoes. I hope the two aren’t related. I’d heard the news in the town square buying meats to store away in that enchanted icebox of mine. Apparently the mayor had called for a paladin and priest. Rumours say she’d come back, belly gravid with seed as though she were already months pregnant, with tail newly spawned and fresh nubs of horn. People are agitated. I recall a similar situation. It ended with a public lynching. Even as I write, I hear the hiss of the blacksmith sharpening blades. I would poke my head outside to observe, but I fear the attention that may bring.

It’s best I lay low. I’ll sneak out, and pay the Lich a visit. First an unwilling subject in her experiments, I’ve found myself morbidly curious in the results. Interestingly enough, this is the reason for my diary. I noticed she did a similar thing, so I thought I would give it a try. I hope I’m doing it well enough.


January, 13, 1X27

I visited the woman. We performed a routine inspection. No physical side effects. I taste just the same, apparently. She called the experiment a success. I don’t see what’s changed. I caught my reflection snarling at me. That sent a chill down my spine. Have you ever looked deep into your own eyes, and pulled a mean face? It frightens you after while. You begin to feel that someone else were on the other side, leering back, giving the expression a truer meaning that it ought to have. I shivered and told her as much. She peered deeply into my eyes, looking for change. There wasn’t much to do but stare back into hers. I’m sure my expression was neutral. When I noticed my expression change again, I jolted upright in fear. She held me to her bosom and ensured me that it was just a trick of the eyes. Her own were tearing up. She clenched her fist and bit her lip as if to harm herself, meanwhile telling me that everything were fine. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell her the news about the mayor’s daughter. I laid with her a while, and we held each other. She whispered apologies, but I’m not sure what she has to apologise about. She asked me if I remember any feelings I once had before meeting her.

I told her I had none.

Just facts, information. Where I lived. What I once wanted to be. I couldn’t recall why I wanted to be what I wanted to be, nor could I recall how strongly I wanted to be what I wanted to be. Just what I once wanted to be. Now that I write it out, I am aware that I don’t actually remember what I wanted to be. At any rate, she seemed somewhat sad as that answer, and merely held me tighter.

I made the judgement that the tightness of her embrace were proportional to how long she wanted me to stay with her. Why that was a thing she would want, I know what. Maybe she was cold? Maybe she just liked the feeling? I suggested that if she were indeed cold, perhaps staining my shirt in her cool tears was counter-intuitive to that purpose, as it only served to wick away my body heat. She just apologised again.

It was nightfall by the time I found myself at the beach, and rather than return home, I felt compelled to wander the night. The bushes shifted every now and then, but I was, for the most part, alone. I like the way the moonlight reflects off the water’s surface. I feel as though there’s something beneath that water. The way the inky depths move seems to suggest that it’s tip-toeing about some place, or something. Something dark and impossibly immense. Something is wants to avoid, but obviously cannot, so it merely does its best to flow around it and pretend as though its waters don’t have to touch it. I get that feeling, at least. Some loose themselves in the sky. I find my serenity looking down into the ocean.

The ground holds no such allure to me. The depths, however, seem to call to me. I used to fish a lot. Staring down there would help me. I am unsure as to why I stopped. All I realise that the call to join whatever is down there, is much stronger when I do not spend significant time by the ocean. It’s a longer walk to go by the beach, but I enjoy it.

Not that night though. My own reflection began to unnerve me, and I was unable to stare beyond it, so I simply hid from it. I curled into a ball, and slept, shivering, wishing I could bury my heart and mind into her bosom again.

When I woke, the sky was dull, and I was unable to tell the time because of it. Tattered rags had been caught in an updraught, and had conveniently fallen to cover me, shielding me from most of the night’s cold. Or perhaps some one had placed them upon me with deliberate purpose. That was an interesting thought. On my way back, I swung through the square to pick up some fresh vegetables. Soup would be nice. Especially in this winter. I’m surprised that I did not catch my death out there last night. I must have shivered fiercely, though, considering how hungry I had become. I earned some stares for wearing naught but rags, but the owner recognised me, and knew I was good for it, despite my otherwise beggarly appearance.

It would seem that the holymen never came. The Mayor’s daughter holed herself up in her room, and would answer no summons. I suppose it is to be expected. The rumours say she were practically sticky with the night’s crime, and leaking a trail from the beach to the mansion. I’m not sure why the image brought a smile to my lips. I put the pot of soup to boil for a long while at a low heat, and came to my study for this entry. The majority of it happened yesterday and last night, but I suppose that since I’m writing about it today, I’ll put today’s date. This chair is comfortable. I may just recline here.


January, 14, 1X27
It was cold today. I had a dream in which I hunted down and raped a screaming girl with my towering erection. Her screams turned into moans, and half way through the act, she twisted on my cock and wrapped her legs around me, kissing deeply. I woke with an erection, and came outside of my window, snickering when I heard someone exclaim below. Laughing, I turned and my sight just so happened to cross upon the mirror. I wasn’t laughing.

January, 16, 1X27
I went and saw the woman again. I told her about the girl, and I told her about what I thought might have happened. She seemed a little upset, but said I should probably find a partner, on the order that I spend each night after the examination with her. I was confused at first, but I assume it has something to do with the experiments. Maybe she doesn’t want me roaming wild after one of her concoctions and running the risk of exposing her operations. In fact, she was so scared she held me in her arms the entire time, not trusting to leave me anywhere else but her embrace.

Once I got free the next day, it was late afternoon. I walked the way of the beach as I always had, but this time there was a stirring in the water. I’d had enough of reflections, so I avoided looking closely, but I was sure now that someone lived nearby. Perhaps they leant me the blanket? I would have to thank them, and return it.

January, 16, 1X27

Can’t sleep. Opened my box for a late night snack, and saw a face staring at me. I stumbled back in my shock and my back stuck upon something. The pain makes it hard to lie down. Tomorrow, I will go and buy food to fill it, so that I can’t see the bottom. That, and I’ll repay what I owe to the vegetable stand owner. I realise that I have as of yet neglected to repay that debt. Well, it’s not as though I ask for more whilst still having not paid for the last lot, so I expect that they shan’t bee to aggravated at my tardiness.

January 20, 1X27

I have been seeing and hearing things which aren’t there more frequently as of late. Not that that is particularly new, just a trend I’ve noticed and have decided to comment upon, using this medium. In the advent one of them does become real and strike me down in the night, perhaps someone will read this someday and know I didn’t simply drop dead. I smashed all the mirrors.

It was walking to the Blacksmith for more nails, I was accosted by a figure robed in a boring, plain brown. It told me in a feminine voice that it had something private to discuss, so I directed it to my home, and continued on my way to the Blacksmith. I bought the nails and had a pleasant chat with the owner, a rather stout man. I found it hard to keep my eyes from the cleavers he hung upon his walls. A dark thought entered my mind, and on a whim I purchased one.

I still had coin left over from my stash, and so I went down to the vegetable store, bought more, and repaid my debt. This left me with enough for a cake and some tea, so I indulged myself before returning home. I dare say I made quite the spectacle carrying a cleaver, nails and common produce, but what ever. I do believe I’ve been seen as eccentric for quite some time now.

Upon returning, I found the figure from before waiting by my door. It was tapping its foot and looking around nervously. Something under its robes shifted upon seeing me, and it took a step forward before seemingly remembering that it had been left out in the open for so long. I seemed angry at that. I let her in, and offered her tea. I say her now, because upon removing the robe, I saw wings, horns, tail, and the face of the girl from my dream. It would seem she were pregnant. It didn’t really surprise me, I mean, I did bloat her with my cum. I said as much and asked her, “So? What do you want?”

I shan’t recount what she said here. She talked quite a lot and at quite a length, and I profess embarrassedly, that I did not pay attention to it all. Some lofty words about love were thrown about, I remember that much.

At any rate, she seemed rather taken aback at my rather blunt questioning and said something about taking responsibility. I think my lack of care aggravated her somewhat, because she began to threaten me. Things like, if I didn’t take responsibility, if I didn’t care for her, she would oust me to the town as a rogue incubus. I couldn’t afford to have the Lich’s work disturbed, and honestly, taking care of her child seemed like it could be a pain, so I struck her down. She fell, but miraculously, didn’t lose much of the tea I brewed for her. I punched her, but not before wresting the tea from her grasp. No sense in wasting such a fine leaf.

It took a great load of balance, but I managed to both strike her face with my fist and set the tea aside at the same time. She began to cry out, but a sharp blow to the mouth dislocated her jaw. The best she could to was semi-loud moans. I punched her throat once or twice for good measure. A scream could be troublesome. A strange thought occurred to me as I laid into her. Perhaps I would be a good father. I really was balancing two acts quite well. I was always secretly in awe of the village mothers who could do chores and bounce a babe on their hip at the same time. Her tail wrapped about by neck at some point, but it was a weak grip. I slipped some fingers under it, and placed the appendage in my mouth.

Biting through it, I severed the tail at a place where it would lack sufficient length to actually strangle me. I crammed the end down her broken throat, and set to using two hands to beat her skull in, brutish as it might have seemed. Life left her eyes after a few more pounds, and I wager that the last they saw was of me. I however, disliked my own reflection in them, so I gouged them out with my thumbs. With the twitching girl now dead, I stripped her and felt myself getting somewhat aroused at the sight. But these things must have an order. Baser urges could wait.
Taking the cleaver, which now seemed to have been bought under the influence of a dark and twisted premonition, I cut to pieces her body, and fitted each to a sack. I figured that the Lich would appreciate the samples. It took a bit of sneaking, but I was quite proud of my prowess, and arrived at her doorstep unannounced and unnoticed. She seemed pleased to see me, and yet disturbed with what I had brought her. Grimly, she listened to me explain the scenario as she sorted and organised each part. When she got to the head, she went pale, and ran out of the room. I heard her vomit.
I hope she isn’t pregnant too.