The Minotauress

The opening in the glans widened like an empty eye socket, and out poured a dozen gushes of thick, globular sperm. When the climax had concluded a virtual five-pound pile of the stuff lay on the floor.

"That's just fuckin' great," Balls muttered.

The thing regained its composure, stepped back, and bowed once more, to Balls.

"Act ingratiated," the Writer suggested.

"Huh?"

"Say thank you. In its act of masturbation, it's paying homage to you. It's offering you a gift, Mr. Balls. The gift of its infernal seed."

Balls looked cockeyed at the Writer. "You're tellin' me to thank a giant dick fer comin' on the floor?"

"It would be a good idea. It needs to know that it's pleased its master—you. Then it will serve you more effectively."

Balls turned a smirking gaze to the Spermatogoyle. "Thanks fer the pile'a cum... "

The beast nodded.

"And though it may not look formidable against an incarnation such as the Minotauress," the Writer surmised further, "we may be surprised. We have no idea to the extent of its powers, and it will obey your every command."

"Yeah? Hmm... " Balls looked right in the thing's scarlet eyes. "Uh, see, what I'd like fer ya to do is sort'a... show us what'cha kin do. Give us like a demonstration of some'a yer demon powers."

The creature tensed its muscular arms and legs and then reached down and scooped up a handful of the voided semen.

The matter looked similar to human sperm but was much thicker, akin to frog eggs. It plodded over to the first door where the pudgy prostitute hung in mid-stages of decomposition. The Spermatogoyle rubbed the handful of sperm up between the dead woman's legs.

"Aw, gross," Dicky said.

"It's rubbin' its cum in the dead chick's snatch!" Balls protested. "What kind'a fuckin' demon power is that?"

"Be patient," the Writer observed.

Now, with a fingertip, the Spermatogoyle wrote an invisible word on the dead woman's stomach, as if finger-painting, but with semen instead of paint.

"A cabalistic inscription, no doubt," the Writer supposed.

Then the creature stepped back..and watched.

The dead girl's stretchmark-streaked belly began to inflate.

"It knocked her up!" Dicky railed.

The belly continued to distend, the LOVE DEPOSIT tattoo growing until it was warped. When the stomach looked fit to burst—

SPLAT!

—an evil-smelling liquid spilled out, then—

plop...

The stomach deflated, after squeezing something irregular and brown onto the floor, maybe nine inches long and six in girth.

"It made her have a baby!" Dicky cried.

Then they all did a double-take. "That ain't no baby," Balls noted. "Looks like a giant lump'a shit... "

The Writer summoned his bravado. He picked up the odd brown lump, wiped off some post-natal slime. "No—" and then he pulled the object apart with his hands. He showed it to everyone.

"I thought so. It's a loaf of pumpernickel."

Dicky gawped.

"A fuckin' loaf'a bread?" Balls questioned. "I'se supposed ta be impressed by that? Shee-it! That ain't no power. I wanna see some real magic."

The Spermatogoyle seemed to sense its master's displeasure. It slopped another handful of sperm up betwixt the dead woman's legs, fingered another word on her belly, and—

"Plum knocked the bitch up again!" Dicky exclaimed.

The previous process repeated: the belly swelled, and—

CLUNK!

Something much more substantial hit the floor this time: a severed human head.

"How's that for magic?" the Writer asked.

Dicky gulped. "A dude's head... "

This time Balls appeared rattled. He nudged the head with his boot, turned it face up. The head's eyes looked propped open in rage, and its lips moved, agitated.

"That ain't just any dude's head," Balls admitted in a low drone. "That's my dead Daddy's head... "

A hush filled the room.

"It's alive," Dicky whispered. "It's tryin' ta talk, but ain't no words comin' out."

"No vocal cords," the Writer assumed.

"Never did like the prick." Balls picked the head up by slimy hair. "Spent my whole childhood listenin' to him call me asshole'n shit-head'n white trash... " He opened the crematory hatch. The head's lips silently shouted, Asshole! Shit-head! White trash! and then Balls lobbed it in and reclosed the hatch. "Fuck him."

"That were amazin'!" Dicky applauded. "But look... "

"Our denizen doesn't appear to be finished with its magic show," the Writer noted.

The Spermatogoyle held up a stout finger to flag Balls' attention, then it scooped more sperm off the floor, two handfuls this time.

"What's it doin' now?" Balls asked.

"Continuing the demonstration you demanded," the Writer assumed.

The beast hunkered over now to where Cora's corpse hung. A slick wet sound clicked in all their ears as the thing spread the demonic sperm all over Cora's dead body until she shined as if shellacked. Again it inscribed some invisible occult word, but this time on her forehead.

And then—

Cora's eyes fluttered, and she began to move...

"I'se don't believe it!" Dicky posed. "It's magic dick-loogie!"