The Half Lilin
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2009 by Shin Eris

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Patrick was a normal everyday white-collar worker. He had a normal life, normal job, normal car and normal house. The only thing that was not normal about him was the fact that he was claimed by a demoness soon after he was born. For years he was unaware of that fact until one night the demoness came to him in his dreams and asserted her ownership over him.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mind Control   Magic   Lesbian   Heterosexual   TransGender   Fiction   Paranormal   MaleDom   FemaleDom   Rough   Sadistic   Torture   Foot Fetish   Slow   Transformation  

I looked down at the bed, watching the man gurgle and drown in his own blood. His throat slashed open and there was a pool of blood at the place where his heart should've been.

Shocked and in fear, I recoiled and retreated away from the bed. As my hands touched the wall, I felt a certain stickiness, with the texture of a thick maple syrup covering my hands. I raised my hands and was horrified at the sight of my blood-covered palms and scissor-sharp nails.

Collapsing to the floor, my mind was confused, not comprehending what was happening. As I listened to his dying sounds, I realized that I wouldn't want to be here when the cops arrive. I will need to flee. Fast.

Slowly, I got up from the floor, stepped past the dying man and into the bathroom. I decided that if I wished to leave, I would need to get rid of the telltale signs of my connection to ... whatever happened here. I needed to clean myself.

I closed the door, walking with trepidation to the mirror, wondering how much and how long will I need to take to make myself look halfway normal. As I looked into the mirror, I saw the scariest thing I've ever laid my eyes on.


I awoke with a gasp, or rather, several gasps. It took me awhile to regain awareness.

That damned dream again, I cursed. It's been plaguing my dreams for days now. Always the same dream. Always the same man, same bed, same bathroom, and same face in the mirror.

Try as I might though, I could not recall the face. I recall that it was frightening, but as for details, it was all a blur, except for the eyes. Yes, the eyes. It was yellow and the pupils were slits, similar to the ones on a cat. I supposed it was rather mesmerizing, if one didn't mind the splashes of blood that covered the face. Inside the pupils though, it was filled with fire and cruelty.

That was as much detail as I could recall. Maybe it was time to change prescriptions. This particular one seemed to trade one kind of nightmare for another. Maybe another visit to my shrink will do me good. He did help get rid of my previous nightmares.

But for now, I got to go shower. Mental check: get rid of the alarm clock and buy one with real bells, instead of the one that sounded 'tittit, tittit'.


"Hey Pat. Mr Punctual's almost late again today. What's up?"

I turned around at the annoyingly mocking face of my high school nemesis. That wasn't really accurate though, we must have been enemies since grade school. To say that I hated him was an understatement, I loathed him with the passion of a big bad dog chasing Garfield.

"Rick, my name is Rick. Besides Chris, what do you care if I'm late?" I countered not bothering to hide my desire to strangle him and skin his face.

He acted hurt, which would've convinced me, if I hadn't known him since elementary school, "I only wanted to know how my best friend's been doing. We are childhood friends after all".

Yeah, right. Childhood friends. Childhood friends don't steal their friend's girlfriends, nor do they break their friend's leg just because their friend happens to be going to the prom with one of the most popular girl in school.

"Besides, your mom asked me to take care of you."

I groaned. My mom passed away 3 months ago, brain tumor they said. Only lived long enough to see me graduate and get a job. My little sister cried a river during her funeral, and mourned for weeks. My mom, she wasn't perfect, but she tried her best to take care of us and listened to us, when no one else would. So when she left, we felt as if we had no one else to turn to. My dad handled it the worst. He buggered off for a long, unscheduled and unanticipated voyage across the world in his yatch solo a week after she died. We haven't heard from him since.

 
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