A/N: Small fore warning. I'm not all that great when it comes to editing stuff so if any of you spot mistakes just feel free to pull out a revolver and go old western on my ass. On a side note, I'm not too proud of this chapter, its kind of info dumpy. And Info dumping is something I hate... But I suggest reading it if you want an idea of whats going to be going on with Steve.
"What's the damage, Strange?" Steve asked, looking down at himself. Clad in nothing but a hospital robe and sitting on a plain metal operating table as the Sorcerer Supreme stared him down with a grim look.
"I'm afraid… it is quite serious. Physically you're fine, aside from a few small changes, but spiritually you've been altered… your soul is no longer that of a human's." Strange stroked his beard in thought, eyeing Steve more closely, "It resembles that of a demon's…"
"A demon's?!" Steve felt his eye twitch, his look apparently turning to one of complete horror before Dr Strange placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You aren't exactly damned if that's what you're thinking. Whether its that of a demon or that of a human, souls are judged by their deeds in life… not for what they are. Though…" Strange looked speculative, "You might actually become damned depending on how this affects you.."
"What do you mean?" Steve kept his voice calm and collected, even though in the pit of his stomach he had an innate feeling that his belief in god wouldn't be able to save him from what Strange was about to tell him.
"Your soul… resembles that of an incubus specifically…"
"Incubus?"
"Yes Incubus," Strange spoke, turning from the table Steve sat on, waving his hand to conjure a book within his grasp. The old tomb was dusty, the leather that bound it looked to be dry and rotted. Opening the book Strange began to sift through its contents, waving his spare hand to will a chalk board into existence. "Ah.. here it is."
Slapping the book shut he rubbed it between his hands turning it into a fine powder which he blew upon the chalkboard, words and drawings magically scrawling themselves over its dark green surface.
"The Incubus… male counterpart to the Succubus…" Strange began to speak, his tone like that of someone giving a simple lecture to a bunch of college students. "Preys upon women who have reached sexual maturity…"
Steve had to choke back the urge to vomit at those words. Prey upon women? Like some sort of rapist?!
Strange paused for a second to look back at Steve over his shoulder, a look of pity crossing his features before he went back to his explanation. "Derives nutrition from the energy created during intercourse… oh that explains a few things…"
With his brow furrowed Steve pulled his hand back from his mouth. "What do you mean? Does that mean whenever I get hungry the only way to feed my self is to have sex?"
Strange looked back at him. "Yes, actually. While I was examining you I found that most of your digestive system seems to have been altered. You no longer gain nutrients from food… although you could probably still eat, your body will simply incinerate the food once it reaches your stomach."
Steve shot him a skeptical look, before the doctor conjured an apple and handed it to him.
"Here," Strange spoke, before Steve bit into it.
It tasted juicy and sweet, quite possibly the best apple he had ever had, there was no way his body would reject the sustenance this could offer. Steve, of course, found himself eating his own thoughts when he swallowed the few bites of apple he had taken, only to feel an intense heat rise up in his stomach. It hadn't been an uncomfortable heat.. but it had certainly been warm. For a moment there he had wondered if his belly had begun to glow with the heat of his body incinerating the apple.
"I see… what else?"
Dr Strange turned back to the chalkboard, "Incubi are demons of the night, usually preferring to sleep during the day. Physically, you're still mostly human though… so we don't know how much that is going to affect you."
"Alright… anything else? How often am I supposed to… feed?" Steve bit back the bile that rose in his throat at what that word meant now. He liked women… but he certainly didn't enjoy the thought of them being food.
The sorcerer didn't turn to face him, the man was quiet as he looked over the large board, before he spoke up suddenly. "Ah here it is… It says… Incubi who have reached sexual maturity and those who have been turned into Incubi through alternative means usually need to feed every night. Older incubi can go anywhere from weeks to years without feeding depending on age and individual willpower."
Steve looked to the window, he was in the operation room of the Avenger's tower, which meant he was one floor below the top for. For all of a fraction of a second he contemplated barrelling through the glass, before he shook his head pummeling the dark thoughts back into the recesses of his mind. He'd fight this. Till the day he died he'd fight it.
"Is there… any cure?"
Dr. Strange turned to him then, a look that seemed to bear good news upon his face.
"There isn't a cure for this… but there is one thing…"