Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino

Forward: As with many horror franchises, the first installment was fast-paced and filled with action, including enough of a story to form the foundation for future installments. This installment will be more in-depth, exploring the history of the Egregors, the psychology behind them and the family, and how they have affected the family.

Even Louder than Hell

By Lola Presents

Chapter 1

Lincoln was aware of the large, pink, fleshy tendril attached to his back as it lowered him into the infinite, inky abyss sprawling underneath him. Yet, he could not control it. All he could do was bear the descent, watching closely for any change in his environment. For the longest time, nothing happened, but eventually, the black void gave way to a slight pink hue.

And as Lincoln continued to descend, he gradually discerned more detail, making out a dark humanoid form directly under him, surrounded by a sea of pink that seemed to writhe and undulate in waves. Closer still, he finally saw that the shape was female, and the motion around her was not a single mass but made up of fleshy writhing tendrils.

Finally, near enough to see with clarity, Lincoln saw his sister, Lucy, floating on an endless sea of tendrils, her naked form exposed and vulnerable. Her long, black hair fanned outward in all directions, and she was undulating sensually, her eyes closed, moaning as her hands explored her body.

Occasionally, one of the tentacles would move across her form, depositing a thick trail of sticky cum as it slid over her skin when she would gather it with her hands, forcing it into her vagina. Continuing the descent, Lincoln witnessed one of them entering her gaping anus, eventually emerging from her mouth.

Lucy's eyes opened when Lincoln arrived within reach, and she reached her sticky hands up for him, calling his name. "Lincoln..." she whispered without moving her lips, beckoning him closer. "Please..." she came Lucy's disembodied voice again. "I need your flesh..."

Finally making contact with his sister, Lincoln embraced her, wrapping his arms around her and slipping his massive cock between her folds. And as they lay together, supported by the vines, some reared up, producing cartilage-like spines, and slammed them into their bodies, leaving them in place as they withdrew for another piercing.

With every prick and prod, Lucy and Lincoln moaned in unison, thin trickles of blood drooling from their wounds until finally, they climaxed together. Then, the tendril suspending Lincoln raised him again. He reached out for his sister, longing to hold her, have her, and be inside her.

And as Lincoln groped helplessly at the void between them, Lucy began screaming, and her belly began to expand at an alarming rate. Before Lincoln could react, his sister's abdomen tore open and black goo spewed forth from the fissure in her gut, blinding Lincoln from being a further witness.

Lincoln sat upright in bed, startled by his dream and its apex, coinciding with his alarm clock. Sighing at his recurring dream, he rubbed his face of sleep at wiped his brow of sweat, then reached over and turned off his beeping clock. After throwing back his covers and swinging his legs from the mattress, he sat on his bed, gripping the very edge.

Lincoln never knew what to make of the frequent dream and had difficulty classifying them as a nightmare. It was entirely hot and exciting after all. At least while he was experiencing it, but now that he was awake, the thought of having their skin flayed while making love was not entirely appealing.

Yet, they managed to stir deeply repressed memories of what had transpired in their home eight months ago, and part of him wanted to go back to sleep to experience it again. But, he had school, and afterward, he planned an evening of Wiccan studies. There was no time for anything less.

It was paramount that he free his sister from her catatonic state so they could finally be together. Until that happened, he wouldn't feel complete. Lucy had taken some of him with her when she chose to bind herself, and his heart ached constantly. Yet, so far, no solution had presented itself.

Standing, Lincoln dressed and fixed his hair in the circular mirror that hung above his dresser, then grabbed his bookbag and headed downstairs for breakfast, wondering how anyone in their right mind could ever find pain appealing. And like so many mornings before, today offered nothing different in terms of an explanation.

"Good morning!" chirped Leni, as lively and cheerful as always. "How was your night?"

"Same shit, different pit," Lincoln replied, having grown sarcastic and spiteful at being the only one to remember anything.

"Lincoln Albert!" scolded his mother, Rita, shaking her whisk at him. "Language, please!"

Lola folded her arms and frowned at her older brother. "What's the matter with you, anyway?" she inquired demandingly. "You've turned into a real grumpypants, you know."

But before Lincoln could respond to his sister, his mother called out to him, "Lincoln?" she prodded as she stirred Lana's eggs. "How would you like your egregor today?" she asked.

Lincoln's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "Excuse me?" he replied. "What?"

"How do you want your eggs?" Rita asked again, staring awkwardly at her son. "Fried or scrambled?"

"Oh, uh..." muttered Lincoln, dropping his arms lifelessly to the table. "Scrambled, I suppose. It works better between toast. Otherwise, the yolk pops and drools everywhere."

"Alrighty," chirped Rita, acknowledging his request. "Coming right up!"

As he waited, fidgeting endlessly, Luna and Luan came bounding through the kitchen, grabbing pop tarts on their way out the door to wait on the high-school bus. Not long after, Lynn waltzed in and made herself a raw egg smoothie, downing the whole thing in one swallow and left as well.

"That's so gross..." observed Lisa, scrunching her face at her sister's strange beverage. "How could someone like that?"

Lincoln wondered the same thing, but the proof was before him. Well, it was until it ran out the door. Some people like things that others do not. Was it the same with pain? Did some people like that sort of thing?

"Here you go, honey," announced Lincoln's mother as she placed his scrambled egg and toast sandwich before him. "Eat quickly!" she reminded him. "Your bus arrives soon, and Lynn's already outside."

Forcing his meal down as quickly as possible, he stood as he gulped down his orange juice and headed out the door, where he arrived in time to follow his elder sister up the stairs and onto the bus. While Lynn preferred sitting in one of the middle-tier seats, Lincoln picked the front, along with his best friend, Clyde.

"Another bad night, I see," observed Lincoln's constant companion.

"Yeah," sighed Lincoln, not wanting to discuss it. "You could say that."

"Still no response from Lucy, I take it?" Clyde inquired as the bus pulled off.

"No..." sighed Lincoln before drifting off as Clyde yammered about one thing or another.

However, the brown-skinned boy had become used to Lincoln zoning out over the past several months, and who could blame him? His sister was in a coma, and the white-haired boy held himself accountable for it. While Lincoln hadn't told his friend the entirety of the events, he was aware of their declaration of love for each other.

Despite not understanding it, he gave things due consideration and decided to accept their strange relationship. His ambivalence was partly due to his attraction to Lincoln's older sister, Lori, and partially because Lucy was in a coma. They couldn't pursue anything, even if they wanted to. He'd worry about what might happen if she ever woke up, when, and if she ever did.

The first two classes of the day passed by in a blur as Lincoln shuffled through the motions without paying attention to them. His grades were slipping, but he didn't care. Grades were only interim assessments of what someone knew at a particular time. They wouldn't magically open a gate from which he could pluck his sister, so what good were they to him?

Silently, he sat down at the lab table as his third class began, and he blankly listened to the teacher as he announced the dissection of Lumbricines. Earthworms, in other words. The topic did not entirely grab his interest, though looking at the worm pinned to the tray placed in front of him brought back more memories.

The memories in question were pleasurable and painful both, and Lincoln began to consider that maybe the two were indeed connected as the Egregors suggested. In a daze, Lincoln picked up the scalpel and held it in front of his face. Seeing the light glinting from its beveled edge only added to his confusion, and as he slowly pulled the blade along the back of his forearm, Clyde stood and cried out to their teacher.

"Mr. Goodman!" he yelled, pointing at Lincoln's bleeding arm. "Lincoln's hurt!" Then, the weak-stomached boy passed out and hit the floor.

Lincoln sat alone in the nurse's office, his arm sutured and wrapped in gauze. He hadn't said a word to the lady regarding what happened in the classroom, only that he cut himself. But, as he sat there, waiting for his mother to pick him up and take him home, he stared at his arm, remembering how it felt to lacerate his skin.

Yes, the pain was excruciating, and it still stung. However, underneath it all, there was something else present. A certain warmth accompanied his blood trickling from the opening, a sense of freedom he couldn't explain. And there was an underlying tickling sensation like an itch one felt compelled to scratch, regardless of the pain it induced.

And as his mother arrived and signed him out, he wondered if Lucy had ever experimented in such a way. It wouldn't have shocked him in the least. Many of the preteens at his school identified as emo, and though it isn't the same thing as being goth, they shared enough macabre interests that it might be possible.

Kneeling in front of her son, Rita looked into his eyes and studied his expression. "I'm so sorry, honey..." she cooed in a maternal tone, understanding the pain of loss he felt. Lucy was her child, after all. Any typical mother would've fallen apart to wake, finding their child in a coma. However, she had other children to care for and couldn't afford such luxuries. "I know you miss her," she acknowledged quietly. "I do too. But that's no reason to hurt yourself," she told him, standing and beckoning him forward. "Come on, let's go home."

Lincoln lay in his bed, massaging his sore arm while continuing to read through Lucy's book. He'd already absorbed the basics of elemental representation, the role of one's patron deities, how to create a circle, and how to correctly center, ground, and shield oneself.

Also under his belt were several chapters on blessings and charms, how to use candles, and other implements, such as bowls, mirrors, and athames. He knew how to set up an altar, where to place everything, and in what order things needed doing.

However, he'd yet to learn about authoring and casting his own spells. Unquestionably, that would come later, along with a list of examples for him to pattern his spells after. In the meantime, he filled his head with as much raw material as possible.

Eventually, his eyes began to complain against the strain of constant reading and implored him for a rest. Giving in, he set the tome aside, closed his eyes, and rested his head on his pillow. He wasn't tired, but maybe a short rest would do him good.

Downstairs, Rita had finished folding the freshly dried laundry, organized it into baskets, and was about to head upstairs to deliver them when she suddenly felt nauseous. Steadying herself against the dryer until her head cleared, she placed the containers down and headed upstairs, where she lay on the sofa.

It was challenging to have a comatose daughter to care for and clean, but now her son was slipping into depression, and she couldn't deal with it. She could only think about sleep, and her lids soon fell on their own, committing her to the whims of slumber. However, every time she closed her eyes, disturbing images flashed before her, reawaking her.

Sitting up, she sighed deeply, frustrated at her life. She'd already given up her career as a dentist to care for Lucy, costing them half their income. The bills were piling up, and something needed to get done soon. Having images of herself atop Lincoln didn't help her stress level either.

Again, she racked her brain, trying to understand why she had such bizarre visions. Ever since she and her family awoke in Lucy's and Lynn's room eight months ago, they had come and gone like clockwork. Having gone over it a thousand times, she accepted that whatever happened during the two days they all seemed to lose, something terrible had occurred.

But what was it? Why couldn't she remember?

"Mom?" sighed Lincoln, standing at the foot of the stairs, his arms suspended in a strap that ran over his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked, seeing the concern and weariness in her eyes.

Rita nodded unconvincingly and sighed. "Yeah, I'm alright," she lied as he son sat beside her. "How are you doing? I thought you were going to try and get some rest?"

"I'm fine," Lincoln said, also lying. "I just miss her so much..." he admitted a moment later, breaking into tears. "If only I had done something sooner."

"It's not your fault, Lincoln," cooed his mother, brushing his bangs from his eyes as he lay across her lap. "None of us even remember what happened. What could you have done?"

"I..." stammered the boy, gazing into his mother's eyes, again feeling the longing in his soul. "I remember..."

"What?" gasped Rita, cautiously optimistic that she might finally have some closure. "What do you remember, baby?"

"It was Lucy," he began, tears streaming down his face. "She was in love with me," he told her. "Only, I was too scared to admit that I loved her just as much. I rejected her mom! Then something terrible happened," he whimpered, staring at her horrified expression. "Lucy summoned something, and we turned into monsters. And all we could think about was..."

"Was, what?" prodded Rita, feeling a mixture of anticipation and ominous foreboding. "What happened?"

"We had sex with each other," he explained. "You and me. You and dad..." he cried, "...and it was wonderful," he admitted. "The desire, hunger, and flesh..." he whispered lustfully, a glazed look coming over his eyes. "Then, Lucy ended it all by binding herself. Now, I want her back so we can be together!"

Rita had her answer, and her heart and mind raged against each other. Reality didn't work as her son described, but somewhere, deep in her soul, she knew he spoke the truth. Shaking in fear and exhilaration, she cradled her son's head in her arms and pulled him close, her visions finally making sense.

Buried deep within their psyches, mother and son wanted each other. The attraction was there and always had been, hidden to all, including themselves. And every time they thought of each other, the unseen gained strength. And when Rita gently pressed her lips against his, it was as if a dam burst, and everything came rushing back to her.

The intense, raging passion she felt for her son was rivaled only by her need to copulate, and as they embraced each other, something took over them. Feverishly, they stood and stripped from their clothing. Then Rita fell back onto the couch, bringing one leg to her chest, holding it in place, while Lincoln went to his knees, lined himself up, and plowed into his mother.

"Fuck..." sighed Lincoln as he rocked back and forth, his emotions blurring with lust and desire.

Rita closed her eyes and rolled her head back onto the couch, moaning softly as she rubbed her clit. "Dear God, yes! Take me, baby! My flesh is yours. Devour me!"

Upstairs, Lucy's eyes flew open, and she quickly sat upright, gasping for breath. Somehow, her seal had broken, freeing herself and the Egregors. She'd managed to keep them at bay, trapping them within herself, but they had grown smarter and stronger throughout their imprisonment.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been trapped in the void together, but they knew each other intimately now, and it wouldn't be long before they were strong enough to re-enter their world. Trembling, she stood, her legs weak after months of inactivity. However, she managed and headed downstairs to try and find out why her seal had broken.

As the young girl descended the stairs, she began weeping as the sounds of fornication drifted through her ears. And as the living room came into view, all she could do was cry. "Not again..." she wept as Lincoln smiled at her as he thrust himself violently into his mother's anus, covered in her waste.

Suddenly, Rita whipped her head around and leered at her daughter. "Come..." she whispered. "Join with us in glorious ecstasy..."

Though their voices were their own, Lucy could hear the deep underlying tones, barely audible but still there. Desire, Hunger, and Flesh had awakened, claiming Lincoln and her mother as their own. Lucy wept, not only for them but for herself. She had gotten cheated for a second time.

All she ever wanted was to be with Lincoln, and for some reason, the universe kept pulling them apart, pairing him with others. Cursing herself, she slipped seductively out of her clothing, then sat on the couch, exposing herself to her brother, spreading her legs wide, bracing for what would come next.

"Please..." she whispered, utterly devoid of hope and the will to go on. "Take me, Lincoln," she wept. "I love you so much, but I can't do this anymore," she whimpered as large tears cascaded down her face. "Make me one with you."

Lincoln pulled out of his mother just as he came, spraying his white gift across his sister. And together, Rita and Lincoln descended upon Lucy, and everything went dark.

"I... am... Desire..." Lincoln's voice echoed in the darkness, several octaves lower than it should be, sounding as if spoken through broiling water.