Warning: this story is not for the squeamish. It starts out 'purty' but then it gets ugly (only for this chapter anyway)… so don't say I didn't warn you. I will not be held responsible for any trauma caused. Thank you to devastatingly dashing Dean for being fictional, hence no guilt on my part. He makes such a cute and compliant toy. Also, you might enjoy this story if you are slightly cracky. Unbetaed so forgive the mistakes that might pop up.
Spawn
Chapter One
The name on the modest little building said "Giuseppe's". It was a family owned Italian bar and restaurant. And the food was first class, considering that the town was smaller that an ashtray and the population was made up of hillbillies. And it was called, aptly, Concrete. Dean shoveled Penne and Bolognese sauce into his mouth. After chewing for a few seconds, he looked up to find Sam glaring at him, disapprovingly.
"What?" Dean seemed to ask, around his pulverized Italian mouthful.
"Close your mouth when you chew." Sam hissed "It's disgusting."
"Listen, Primrose, I don't tell you how to eat your girly salad. Don't tell me how to eat my man-sized meal." Dean said all those words with his mouth still full.
"It's a Caesar salad, Dean. And it's really good. You wanna try some."
Dean made a show of gagging, dropping his fork and holding his chest. The fake choking lasts slightly longer than necessary and finally, he sighed at Sam with mock-relief.
"Sorry about that, man. I thought of your vile salad in my mouth and almost threw up. But I'm okay, now."
Sam didn't even blink at that. Some of the customers were staring at them, mouths hanging open, puréed contents on full disgusting display. Sam was so used to Dean's attention-whoring that he didn't even blush anymore.
"You're really funny, you know that." Sam said, flatly, not even bothering to come up with something original or smart.
"Well, I gotta." Dean said with mock seriousness, "Somebody's gotta bring some color into your dull little life."
Sam watched as Dean flashed him a grin and went back to shoveling. Sam smiled softly. Dean had no idea how accurate he was. Sam stole a thankful glance at his clueless brother and went back to nibbling.
"I'm not sleeping in the car, Dean." Sam bristled, "That thing that I thought about you, an hour ago. Well, I'm taking it back. You're a douche."
"Oh, come on Sammy?" Dean groveled, and yes, only Sam's allowed to see that side of him. "This could be a life-altering experience."
Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing this nonsense.
"Fucking some one night stand is never life altering." Irritation made Sam potty-mouthed.
"Fucking that one night stand is life-altering." Dean countered, discreetly, bobbing his head at the Monica Bellucci look alike. Sam didn't want to look at her. He knew if he did, he would get a raging hard-on and not only would that be embarrassing, it would also prove Dean's case.
"Yeah, I get it, okay." Sam concurred, "She's a knockout. I'm really happy for you, Dean, believe me. But why do I have to sleep in the car, every time you wanna scratch an itch."
"Cos, she has a room-mate who's a light sleeper, and from what she told me, skilled lovers make her ..er .. vocal. And I know I've got skills. Oh, c'mon Sammy, motels were built specifically for vocal chicks." Dean's whining now. Again, something he only does in Sam's presence. Sam shook his head. There was no use fighting a horny Dean. Horny Dean was a stubborn mule.
"I'll get another room." he murmured, defeated, and Dean shot him that boyish "can-get-away-with-anything" grin. Sam always wondered how Dean could smile like that after everything he had been through. Dean winked an eye (his way of saying thank you) and turned to go to the beaming and beautiful Monica look-alike. He stopped, however and turned; a curious look on his face.
"What were you thinking an hour ago?"
"No chick-flick moments." Sam blurted, grabbing his laptop and making a run for it. Dean smiled warmly at his frantically retreating brother.
Monica was over-eager. Her name was not Monica but Dean had to call her something. Shockingly (for such a classy looking lady) she didn't want to trade names. Anonymous sex was a kink for her apparently. Dean didn't care, as long as he got some. They kissed and groped each other from the door to the bed. Monica would have torn his shirt off, if he handed pulled away and stripped quickly. As soon as he was naked, she was on him again, pushing him to lie flat on his back, shoving her tongue into his eager gasping mouth and reaching down to squeeze his cock. He was painfully hard and bewildered at her eagerness. Toppy bitch, he thought gleefully. He was grinning like a loon, when she impaled herself fully on him. That's when he stopped grinning. Because, she was dry down there. Wasn't she supposed to be flooding up a storm? And the lubeless friction felt like he was rubbing his dick against cement. It hurt. But, by some miracle, he was still hard. He wasn't turned on, just hard.
Dean realized two things at that point. One: he'd forgotten the rubber, which was a first. He'd never been so fucking hungry for it. He itched for it usually, but this was like breaking out with a rash. Two: there was a horrible but familiar stench in the room. It hadn't been there before. Dean wracked his mind trying to attach a memory to the stench. That's when it hit him. He had endured the same filthy odor in hell; the smell of burning blood and decaying flesh. And the stench was oozing from the bitch on top of him. That's it, thought Dean, quality time is over. He reached out to punch her, but froze. Her eyes went red (as opposed to the usual black with other demons). Well, that's new, Dean gaped at the still thrusting creature. He didn't know what type of demon it was. Perfect. All he knew was that it was horny and he wasn't wearing a condom. Dean became desperate, pushing up with his hips, trying to dislodge her, only to find that his strength was quickly draining away. He was barely able to whimper in pain, when she started to tighten like a vise around him. Hell memories came flooding back to him, thanks to that damn stench: the disembowelments, the rivers of blood and faeces, the look of agony and horror on the faces of the damned. Please, Dean thought, please stop.
The tears and shame came from nowhere. He was so eager for this bitch. He brought this on himself. Dean closed his eyes…willing it to end…willing it to stop. He wondered if the thing planned on killing him. The thought of Sammy finding his corpse like this, the next morning, mortified him. The creature's hips speeded up, the dry friction so agonizing that Dean's eyes flew open. When she pulled him completely into her and held him there, baring her teeth, body arching and keeping that pose, Dean realized that she must have come. Well, it's about time, Dean thought. This was the first time he'd been with a girl who hadn't cared if he got off or not. The beast gasped, tired and started to fall backwards, until she was resting completely on his legs, despite still straddling him, his hardness still buried inside of her. His lower body was pinned under her shockingly heavy body. In any other circumstances, Dean would have really admired her body's pretzel-like quality. But, not now. In fact, Dean was sickened by the thought of ever touching another female again, which was surprising considering he was still hard as a rock. Dean didn't fret over that detail. He knew the bitch was making it happen. He didn't know how. He just knew. The creature and Dean lay like that for what was probably one minute, but seemed like an hour. The tears fell incessantly and fear grew. What was it planning to do? It was just lying there like a discarded pretzel, doing nothing. Dean needed to get away from that bed, from her. He didn't want to be touched anymore. He needed to shower, get the stench off him.
He felt the creature move above him. Good, he thought, now she'll either leave or kill me. Dean would have preferred death to facing Sammy tomorrow. The damn kid was too darn perceptive. I can't tell him, Dean's panicked mind screamed, Sammy can't find out about this. His thoughts stopped, however, when he realized that something even worse was going to happen. The creature was not moving. It was just her belly that was jostling around. Dean's head was rested on the uncomfortably hard pillow, so he could see despite having no strength to raise his head. And what he saw almost gave him a heart attack. Her abdomen was becoming distended, right before his eyes. In ten seconds flat, the bitch managed to accomplish something a normal woman had to suffer through for nine months. The belly, however, was growing even larger. Dean thought about that movie about the alien dude who fucked all these chicks and knocked them up and then their bellies grew and the babies came bursting out of them and the poor hot chicks died and the alien dude kept all the babies. Dean stopped thinking. That was clearing not going to happen in this case…because the bump was not a growing baby. Dean watched in horror as the belly button opened up and a wrinkled, straggly-hair, big-breasted, partially decomposing, fully grown female torso emerged. She had talons instead of hands; three fingers, one thumb, like an eagle. She even screeched like one, and Dean startled. The hell-smell was completely unbearable now.
Dean was bewildered. It has one lower body and two upper bodies. What the hell was this thing? Succubus, hag, witch … none of them were like this creature. When the creature's talons reached forward, Dean's mind screamed, and when he thought he heard a stern 'Silence!', for the first time ever, Dean Winchester did as a demon told him to. His fear was that paramount. The creature picked him up and hugged him to her ugly bosom, coaxing his mouth open with a demanding thumb. When he felt her large nipple push into his slack mouth, Dean cried openly and without shame. The stern voice spoke again; 'Suckle'. And even though Dean's mind was repulsed, his mouth complied; suckling and tugging on the heavy nipple. When he felt metallic thick liquid spurt into his mouth, his mind screamed, 'Kill me. Kill me, now. I wanna die, please.'
'Hush, now' the stern voice sounded like chorus of four screechy asthmatic women, 'calm down, child. It would have been over sooner, had I not noticed your lips. (Dean's nearly limp hand had crawled up to clutch at the side of her revolting bosom, while his greedy mouth tugged on her breast, feeding on her blood, infant-like.) Your lips are too tempting. And you are majestic. Revenge has never been so sweet. I wish I could keep such a fair creature as a pet. But die you must, little one. Everyone agreed to that rule.'
'God, if you're out there,' Dean thought, 'please help me.'
Of course, the creature heard Dean's prayer as well. And she was livid. Flinging him onto his back, she swiped at him several times, tearing his lips and cheeks apart. His chest was completely 'ribboned' and the mattress was soaked and crimson. Dean felt himself go numb. 'Let this be it' he thought 'Let me die.' And despite everything fading to darkness, that fucking erection didn't go away….
THE END … For now, anyway.
A/N: If you hate this story, I won't blame you. It's kind of disturbing, I know. If you don't wish me to continue with the rest of this story, I completely understand. It's not a long fic, just three or four chapters, at the most. If you leave a review (any kind) I will smish you, in gratitude.
