A bored demon takes over the body of a young believer for some good, old-fashioned
Phylazim flitted through the ether leisurely. She liked to get close down so that she could see well into the Prime
Material plane, and fly through the walking images of humans on the street, making them shiver and jump. This was
amusing to Phylazim, who was a fallen demon. All people ever hear about is fallen angels, oooooo scary, they're
so baaaad. Well, truth is, there are fallen demons too, and they are way worse off. If you don't work for the forces
of darkness OR the forces of good, then you really don't have much to do during the day. It's like being unemployed,
only you don't have to work for nourishment or a home in which to live.
In other words, it's quite dreadful.
You see, it wasn't that Phylazim wasn't evil. She was one of the most evil demons ever to grace the face of the
Pit. She just didn't like the way the putz in the red suit (that's what she called him) did things. He was always
obsessed with "getting the souls, we must get the souls!" Phylazim preferred to focus on the fun part
-- the carnage. Was it so wrong to take pride in one's work? Was it so wrong to wholeheartedly enjoy plunging the
lives of humans into complete and utter dismay? Apparently so. Phylazim hadn't been allowed back into the pit since
the Prince of Darkness (she always found this to be a rather boring, pretentious title) booted her back in '72
-- well, 1872, anyway.
Today she felt like going out, she felt like having some real fun. She glided down the street, and happened upon
a blue house, and decided to investigate. Going through the wall, she spied a black leather-clad punk playing air
guitar to some barely recognizable heavy metal. He sported a cheap necklace with a pentagram dangling at the bottom
of the chain. Ugh. She'd rather not give the badboy any business, she decided, and left this one behind.
The next house she entered was clean and quiet. She spied a tome-sized version of the King James Bible sitting
atop a podium and smiled. As she glided through the house, looking for anyone whom she could torment, she spied
a crucafix hanging in each room. Whoever lives here, she decided, isn't going to be the type to go to hoof-boy's
side of the board.
Finally she came to a small room in which a young man, about 18, with neatly trimmed hair, parted on the left side
and wearing a pair of reading glasses, was sitting, reading music and singing while playing on an acoustic guitar.
She grinned wickedly, recognizing the pathetic strains of "Kum Ba Ya" even as he sang out of tune. She
looked him over; red and white horizontal striped polo shirt, navy blue shorts, and penny loafers with short, white
This was it, she decided, she had to mess with this one. But what would she do? She thought as she circled him,
thinking of the various ways to make him miserable as he missed note after note. Inter-planar communication, perhaps?
No, too subtle. Maybe she should knock things over using telekenisis? Naw, too lame. Posession? Ah, yes! It had
been ages since she had had a good posession!
She leapt into the boy's prone, unsuspecting body easily. Leaping up from the chair, she bashed the wooden dreadnought
against a filing cabinet until it was splintered into a non-repairable heap. "Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll
forever, baby!" She shouted at the top of his lungs.
She sauntered into the bathroom, casually knocking over ceramic replicas of Christ and other biblical figures,
as well as cheap statues of cocker spaniels and squirrels, which all shattered as they hit the ground. She looked
at the boy's body closely in the mirror. He was pretty fit. This body would last a good while standing up to all
the junk she was about to put it through, she decided. She slid his hand down into his pants and evaluated his
privates. "Ooooohhh," she cooed, "impressive..."
She picked up a small lighter and pulled his pants down, and moved through the house, burning random knick knacks
and papers while masturbating in a rather rough and careless manner. She found some cooking wine in the pantry
and guzzled it, though it wasn't enough to really get a buzz off of. She found an extra large bottle of Elmer's
glue in the hall closet, and made toward the family's elegant grand piano, taking a swig of the glue, which went
down the boy's throat slowly.
Phylazim lay on top of the piano just in time to reach climax, and made quite a mess on the lid of the baby grand.
She then proceeded to pour the glue down in between the keys of the piano and onto the hammers and strings inside
of it. "Heheh, that'll piss 'em off," she laughed.