This story was written for agent Bree Ogden's Halloween week 2 contest. I hope you enjoy my creation.
LUCIFAME
January 21st
My old friend Lucifer stopped by a month ago complaining about how nobody likes him anymore. After five hours of constant whining, he called in the favor I owed him. While I do owe my genius in creation to him, I feel what he is asking from me will end badly. But still I agreed to the terms, so I have gathered the required ingredients. Nobody can ever say that Dr. Lee Spencer isn’t a man of his word.
Ingredients:
1tsp sweat from pop star donor
500 strands of hair from the same donor
Skin from a fresh corpse (Flawless complexion only.)
4 pints of blood taken from sweat donor
* All ingredients from pop star must be taken when donor is—erm—not awake.
Process and results:
After stitching the new skin onto his body, I mixed the blood and sweat together before injecting it into his bloodstream. Once the hair was sewn into place, Lucifer awoke and immediately dawned a meat dress.
Our first try was a fail.
***
February 19th
I acquired ingredients from a new donor and repeated my previous steps. Lucifer awoke and started spitting on everyone. After only being able to say swag, he tried to kill me before I put him to sleep.
We will try again.
***
March 2nd
After adjusting the mixture to 2 pints of blood and a half teaspoon of sweat from a third donor, we gave it another try. It was deemed a failure after Lucifer refused to talk without a track to lip-sync to. Also the head shaving didn’t help. I don’t even want to remember the flashing of his newfound—lady part. Once the crying began after I took away his umbrella, we agreed to try again.
***
April 26th
Our last try. Everything was halved from the original recipe and the Lucifame monster was born. My debt has been paid. I do not wish to see him again. Not after watching him twerking his was to Georgia with his tongue out. In fact, I’m through with creation. He’s gained admirers which means I have truly failed. Creating him has ruined me. This is my last report. I can’t—.
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