The Minotauress

books on the table, then turned toward Balls in his glittering smock.

The Spermatogoyle bowed.

'It's paying you reverence,' the Writer told him. 'It's thanking you for bringing it out of its domain in Hell.'

Balls stared, appalled. 'Well yer fuckin' welcome, ya big dick... '

Morbid curiosity forced the Writer to take a closer look at the heinous entity. The great column of penile meat was beating, and beneath the flag-sized swath of flesh that covered the erection, veins fat as garden hose throbbed. The hood of the foreskin hung limp over the tip, but then the brawny hands reached up and pulled it back over a corona like the top of a bald man's head... but with a hole in it that more resembled the deep doughy navel of the dead prostitute on the first door. Stranger still, the thing seemed to be displaying the ghastly glans to Balls in particular. And then—

'Aw, man!' Balls complained.

The beastly hands lowered down the fat shaft and began to stroke up and down...

'It's jerkin' itself off!' Dicky marveled.

The Writer lit another cigarette and sighed.

As the stroking continued, the scrotum began to tighten and the infernally large testes drew up. The ponderous legs flexed as the hands quickened their pace, and in a few more moments the creature was actually thumping up and down on its callused heels, in apparent excitement.

When the action of the hands reached a fever-pitch, the creature tipped its entire penile body toward the floor and—

'Aw, good Gawd!' Balls exclaimed.

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!