The Devil's New Clothes (Solo: Rated Aure)

[Devonus]

(The following adventure through madness contains graphic material suited for mature audiances. Subject matter may include, sexuality, grotesque violence, nudity, madness, drugs, and all the other things that go bump in the night)

It was a frigid eve, the moon behind clouds looks so lost, so forlorn. Perhaps it knew, that tonight, some were fated to mourn. Agar was lost in the wood, free on this night to seek out and do as he pleased. It was a simple matter, I attended tonight. I had been to this logging village on many a night since I awoke, always careful to seek out the weaker, or those who visited from far away lands for the strong sturdy wood gathered by courageous hands in the red wood.

The hunger was soft, it did not need nor desire that warm quench of blood to still its burn. A mild nuisance that barely went noticed by my mind or flesh. I could skip tonight’s meal, perhaps wait another day or two before actually slaking my thirst, but I desired the company of more living souls, and it was a rare night indeed I could ignore their ever persistent thrum of blood and beating heart, regardless of how still the beast may be inside. No it was far better to simply find a poor soul, lost in the darkness of the night, rarely found before the morn and I was gone.

My tall lithe form walks steadily down the trail, a ranger returning from the cursed forest, no attempt to conceal or hide my presence, such acts always seemed to catch the eye of any woodsman lingering past the safety of day. A few locals to many had fallen to my need to silence their braying regarding my skulking about when I was younger. For a time, I had remained away from this place, in truth this would be my first visit in sixty years or more, far beyond the natural life span of most who lived in this place, save the occasional elf or half elf, and they rarely lingered long this close to the cursed forest.

Still, it was a rare occurrence to find any soul about this late, so I am much surprised to hear a frantic shout aimed at me.

“Blandieeeee, HEY BLANDDIIEE...”

I frown in annoyance, the loud obnoxious sound ringing in my pointed ears. I turn to the source of the yelling, hand on hip and my head cocked to the side, an air of disdain and superiority aimed at the hunched figure by a tree. Its a balding old man, sores dot his face as he shivers in the cold beneath a moth eaten blanket, bare feet poking out from beneath, curled in and buckled as he attempts to huddle away from the cold. His feet bleed from open wounds and scratches, the blood dances in the air, smelling half dead, yet alluring in some fashion as well.

“Ey, blanddiee! My clothes, their magicked yes they is!”

I scoff in annoyance, turning away from the begger and start to head towards the village again, Its soft glow shimmers not far away, the faint scent of mortal life, of sweat, flesh, blood, and sewage. It hangs in the air, disdainful, filthy, yet so full of life and inviting. I murmur to myself to just ignore the senile old man, hearing him rustle and move towards me.

My long hair flairs out behind me as I attempt to move as fast as humanely possible away from the crazed man. When I feel his greasy, pocked sore hands touching it I spin with horrid rage in my eyes, mouth opened to deliver a flurry of insults, only to take a step back, mouth agape in mild shock and horror.

The man is emaciated , flesh seeming to barely hang to from visible bone, eyes sunken and sullen, what were perhaps brown eyes are open wide with madness, red veins straining against his corneas, trying to burst from his ill figure, and, he is completely Nude. His member stands erect, pustules ooze and dot it from the scrotum to tip, rashes cover most of his legs, scratched open by his own scaly nails that just touched my hair. I stumble back, aghast to be so accosted on what I hoped would be uneventful night.

“See Blandieee! Theys magicked, an wondrous! Light and luxurious, thread count in the thousands they is. Ands the ignerent and stupid no see them, nose they dont! Yous can though aright? Yous stunned by their butty.”

He approaches me, arms flung wide in presentation. I’m so stunned by the mans madness that barely realize he is coming closer till his member brushes against me and he brings his arm around me.

Blast this fool to hell! No one will miss such an affront to life, he is more damned in his existence then I!

I grimace as I plunge forward, allowing the man to press his withered and diseased flesh against mine. I feel his ragged crusted nails in my hair as my fangs sink into him. I focus on the blood, ignoring the fact that the mans pustulent member now presses against my leg, letting the hunger consume me. Even then, my mind could not completely repress the defilement I was now being inflicted with, but the beast cared little. His blood tastes old, musty, disease danced on my lips, a horrid rank taste, the man literally tasted half dead. However, amongst all the rotten, depraved taste that trickled down my throat, an invigorating essence danced.

My eyes grew bright red, veins pumping the necrotic blood into my soul as that fluid began to course through me. It started simple, a quickness to the world around me, the moments both lasted forever yet rushed past in a blink. For an eternity I drained the mans blood it felt, all around me the world spinned and pulsed, as frantic neurons fired off unable to contain the sheer ecstasy of this mans blood.

And then it was done, the mans cold dead body hung limply around my neck, my eyes staring into his, once bulging eyes bright and lifeless, the blood that had pushed them so far from their sockets receded, now in me.

I stand there for a moment, watching his corpse slide away from mine, greasy yet sublime. It happened so quickly, yet so fluidly, I smiled as it seemed to dance with me, sickened flesh grinding against mine as it fell, reminiscent of the harlots I had visited in the dark places of the world.

I admired him on the ground, each pustule, each scab and rash, shone with new clarity. Even though he lay lifeless they pulsed with a life all their own, shown with a disgusting majesty so far beyond anything I had ever know.

He is beautiful... but he is man?

I kneel besides him, running my hand along his arm in curiosity, and I feel it. The softness, so sublime, woven air that coats his skin. I franticly claw at the air about him, I must have it. Such richness, such splendor, to make even this sickened mortal so beautiful. Its perfection so complete it has no edge.

Perhaps I am ignorant
That I can feel yet not see
Perhaps I who am cursed
am not meant for beauty...

No no, It is mine
I do swear!
Ill take it yes I will
I WILL BE FAIR

Fine, if I can not find the edge, there are other ways to wear such finery, on this forlorn moonlit eve.

[Devonus]

I tilt my head, eyes dancing with mad glee, as I press my steel like nails to flesh that feeds my envy. I arch my back in pleasure, as skin rends before my nail. I start at the scrotum, grotesque yet somehow pure, I marvel as some blood still remains and from it pours.

What madness has me
To drive this sick need?
What causes insanity,
what fuels this greed?

Slice and dice
This louse this lice
He deserves not things so fine
I will take them, make them mine.

Sweet insanity whispers in my mind as I slowly run my finger up, and across his chest. Small rivulets of blood appear as it passes. Slimy flesh clings to my nails, so silky in its perfection. I lift the small flap of skin that dangles on the tip of my nail to the sky and marvel at it. In the moonlight it shines, a brilliant radiance of clothes so magnificent they make the depraved seem sane. I quick brush dirt and leaves away from an area, gently settling the flesh there in hallowed reverence.

Waste not,
want not
So father always taught
We wont let it rot

Yes flesh to feed
Skin for clothes
Bone to bleed
the forest's foes



I laugh with crazed delight, a lesson long ago taught by someone often far far from thought. I don’t stop, I gasping for unneeded breath between long bouts of insane mirth. The gentle caress of my finger replaced with savage strokes of my hand, rending the flesh from the dead man, finally it lays in such a way as to pull it free. The sick, slopping sound of skin being rend from flesh echoes through the wood, it. It peels away, reminiscent of an orange, resisting at first, the flowing freely.

Shhhhkkkkk

Shhhhhhhkkkkkk

After many a moment, or perhaps just a few, who knows for I surely don’t, Flesh lays heaped beside me, gleaming pale dead skin gleaming in the moonlight. Somehow in my madness, I Kept enough conscious thought to peel and cut the skin in such a way as to form some semblance of clothes. Such finery would do little good if rend to ribbons after all. The largest piece, hangs like a vest or cloak. It hangs open in the front, where my fingers slit his chest, and it was carefully slipped away from the mans flesh by cutting around his arms, and then ripped and slid off. The hood of the cloak vest was the bald mans head, it would drape over my head, its eyes hanging where mine were, its ears carefully cut out to allow my own to hang.

I strip bare, piling my armor, clothes, and weapons besides the excess skin that remained, peeled from the arms legs and other regions that had not so easily been cut to be wearable. I now had such finery, its cold wet dank flesh clung to my skin, hugged in love, much as the man had. The cloack was still coated in pus and blood, and my fingers slid along it so gently, so marvelously as I stroked it. The magicked clothing was so beautiful in its purity, it was a shame I could not admire the work I had done, how had I done it anyways?

Was this you?

Who me?

Yes you

Couldn’t be

Then who?


Truth was, only the gods or the devil knew
how I wrought such a thing in cool evening dew

My mind begs to see the glorious clothing, that twinkles just beyond my eye. To see what wonderous colors shimmer with that soft silken caress. As the majestic clothes once enveloped the diseased man, they now enveloped me, because he did, it all made perfectly good sense.

It was a shame his majesty was much less, now stripped of his clothes, but it was befitting his station. He did not deserve clothes such as these, it was fitting he now lay bare of both cloth and skin. Bones glimmered in the moonlight, red muscle and flesh, scarlet as the forest In which it now lay, exposed for the whole world to see.

“But I so long to test it. I shall know the ignorant, the lesser mind by their view of my majestic clothes... who shall show me the worth of these wondrous clothes I am to ignorant to see...”

In the distance, a soft glow shines, and I'm reminded of where I traveled before the majestic man found me.

“Why of course, I'm certain the village will see the worth of these clothes. I'm certain the wise will prostate themselves before my grandeur...”

[Devonus]

I giggle and dance, the clothes hang so lightly. They tenderly caress me when I hear the wind blow, softly kissing every inch of my flesh with their magnanimous attention. It cools my feverish flesh, so heated is my passion for such vibrant and wonderful fibers to adorn me, that even my cool blooded body boils.

The stupid be damned
Such a strapping man!
With clothes so fine
They'll wish for mine
The Finest in the land!

Why these thoughts?
Wrapped in delusion
Why do I run hot?
What is this confusion?

Well who cares,
the night is fair,
and a fare they'll pay to see
myself wrapped in such lovely luxury.

My laughter runs wild, the high pitched giggle of a frantic child. It travels forward on the the late night breeze to the town far away. Its innocent in its tone, free of malice hate, just the glad sound of someone carefree who has everything. With the red wood receding in the distance, and town now a defined mass of buildings in the distance, I begin to skip. Two score or so buildings huddled around the path I now travel, a well beaten trail forged by woodsman and adventurer alike.

It was one of the few last stops so close to the wood, it was to be my first stop on the grand tour of my lovely new clothes. The world deserved to see such magnificence, such delightful detail. Even though it eluded my eyes, I knew such a beautiful thing would have admirers far and wide.

I nod may head, silently agreeing to myself, knowing full well that sages would appreciate the intricate detail of such fine threads, and naturally infer the wisdom and grace of the one whom they adorned. Even now I saw the first patrons to come and see my beauty. They had answered to my gleeful laughter, hearing in it the tenor of one whom they should see, and worship.

I stop and compose myself, giggling softly as I try to restrain the pure enthusiasm of my joy. I close my eyes and gently caress the dead man skin, running my fingers through the light, evanescent threads that coat it. The threads must lay correctly, and all dirt removed for the approaching purveyors of fine clothes and fine men. I can already see the look of awe upon the lips when they finally see my lovely figure. Just the mere thought of it sends feverish tingles through my skin, blood coursing in grand fashion to show the full endowment of me. Of course the poor souls would miss the sight, as the clothes would of course cover my figure. It was perhaps for the best, seeing as my raging man hood was covered in blood from the poor fool who once glaimed such grand attire as his own.

I'm sure however
Though they cant see my nether
The clothes will accent it well,
And these poor men
The village send
Will envy at how it swells

My brains gone mad it seems
And fight it, I cant.
I don’t know what this means
These thoughts I cant supplant
Just crazy words and scenes
But Its kind of fun, I'll Grant.



They approach carefully, the torch light shrouding their features in glorious flickering light. Rough and rugged, men who live and would die by the edge of Lindequalme. Swords sat sheathed in red leather, probably wrought from creatures in the wood behind me. But tonight the death song of Pode lay silent, only my own mad songs danced, silently in my head. Weather that was better, or worse, for these two, I didn't know, and didn't care. It only mattered if they found me pretty, majestic, awe inspiring. Well, of course they would, only the ignorant could fail to see the glory of my garments. One such as I had little need for the ignorant after all, so for their sake, I hope they could see.

[Devonus]

As the torch light revealed my glorious figure, damp freshly carved flesh draped about about my figure, I marveled at the beauty of these fine threads. It glistened in the moon light, blood, puss, and sweat coating it an ephemeral sheen that shined all the more lovely due to its magic. Surely if my own ignorant eyes could see the power of the magics worked upon this rent flesh, the site for others who could truly see the clothes beauty was astounding.

The two men stopped, mouths agape in awe at my splendor. Their eyes traced every inch of my lithe and lovely figure. No doubt taking in the god like visage the clothes bestowed upon me. Never mind the torn skin that hung about me, or the wet drip of blood spattering across the compacted earth, no these men were most likely seeing an avatar of godly beauty.

Their awe is to my taste
basking in it to know their place.
I only wish I could see
The beauty they see in me

Horror is what's in their face
Not love or awe of any kind
Not some love of this disgrace
I’m sure we just scarred their mind

“ Are not my clothes so fine?”

My voices screeches in my own ears as I speak. Voice cracking with hi syllable to slip from my gore covered lips. One of them shakes himself from his stupor, the other sputters, struggling to find the words for the grandeur his sight endures. The other seems less simple, and hurriedly rushes forward, fear and awe glimmering in his eyes at the majesty his mortal eyes have seen.

“Yes come poor man, inspect it, caress it, feel the fine silk that coats my flesh. Tell me of its magnificence on whispered breath.”

I close my eyes and lift my arms, eagerly anticipating the mans inspections. Surely he could tell me of it, of the vibrant hues that dance within its folds. So it is with mild surprise that a sharp delicious pain courses through my being. The enchantment of the clothes even brings beauty to that. As my eyes shoot down and look to the sword that has run me through, I revel in the delightful new sensations, Where the sword touches skin, a mild shiver of vibrant cold dances, though it screams of pain, the clothes wreathe the pain in a wealth of fabulously delight. Snowflakes seem to dance along my skin, and as warm blood seeps from the wound, it burns like fire, its warmth merging with the cold of steel like sweet and sour candy, bitter yet delicious. Truly no finer an enchanted cloth existed in all the world.

However, there was the new issue of the man who had so tried to defile my clothes. He stood but inches away, hands still grasping the sword that lay buried in my gut. I could feel the vibrations of his shivering hands as it ran along the cool steel blade. His fear massaged my inside, I could feel my intestines, skewered upon that blade, soothingly being caressed by his horror, it was a new delightful feeling. His eyes were wide with shock as my own locked on his, twas a shame he did not appreciate the gracious gift of my fine prescence. He was not fit to look upon me.

“If you would attempt to defile such fine clothes as these, you are not fit to see..”

I reach out and grasp his head, steel like claws digging into the back of his skull as agony begins to scream from his lips. I tilt my head in wonder as I feel his feverish skin against mine, burning almost as hot as my own blood. I step into him, his frightened fingers still holding the sword and pressing into into me. I moan a little with inch by delightful inch as it slides through, I feel it slip past the side of my spine and out the back, small pieces of intestine hanging from its pointed tip.

His wide awe struck eyes, stare up at me, his lips quivering in fear, knowing his place and that his blasphemy would pay. They seem delicious, small orbs of liquid, laced with vibrant shades of green. Arteries dancing along their edge like ivy. His fear and the blood beckon me as I spread his eye lids wide with my thumb and index. His screams of pain from the claws digging into his head grow silent as feverish breath turns to whimpers. He gasps as my face leans in, tongue stretching out and running along his exposed eye. It taste of salt and the sea, it tingles the tip of my tongue delightfully, and with a satisfied nod of my head, I press my teeth to his eye, rigged sharp fangs piercing into their juicy exterior as I pull it into my mouth.

The goes limp from shock, body unable to endure the excruciating pain as I rip the veins and optic fibers from his skull. They snap free with a wet pop, slapping my face and sliding down it as I savor the juicy interior of his eye. I let him fall to the ground, I'm rather sure the sinner is dead as blood pools from his eye socket into the dirt. His companion lays some distance away, tears streaking his face as he kneels in the dirt, torch laying to his side sputtering in the dark. His mouth still sputters words, feint lines from a prayer catching my ear..

Tis fitting to worship me
Praise the gods for the site you see
Do better then your friend
so you do not share his end.

I kneel, a pleased smile on my face as I place a hand under his chin, my other hand pulling the blade from my gut with a satisfying gasp, my intestines lightly pressing from the wound and pulsing with blood. The man doesn’t flinch or run from my gasp, he simply keeps muttering his prayers and looking towards the sky..

“Look at me penitent one, tell me...How fine are the clothes you see?”