FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The old clock behind the broken protective glass ticked softly as the minute hand moved to indicate 8:31 pm. The invitations specified 6:00 pm. Sarial realized he was hungry. The smell of delicious turkey had faded, and the meal was undoubtedly cold. They weren't coming.

The demon wolf's shadow body flickered like smoke dispersed by cold wind, his fiery eyes alone remaining completely still by the empty chairs surrounding the table that he'd set for five. He roamed in the silent room that served as his kitchen and dining area, focused and yet lost.

Sarial hesitated. He moved to begin picking up the pretty plates of black porcelain, only to immediately change his mind in case someone might still show up. Realizing he was being ridiculous, he bent to pick up the tableware once more, changing his mind again, all of it at the pace dictated by the ticking of the forlorn clock.

Once more, his friends had neglected his party. He considered calling them, but what was the point? His invitations were perfectly clear. He'd only look pitiful.

Sarial always used to listen when his hero friends spoke about the world being filled with kind, good people and beautiful things worth saving. What deceitful bullshit! Instead, he should've set this stupid plane of existence ablaze with the Void Flame of Eternity, just like he'd planned to do those three years prior at the Cathedral of Despair. During the dramatic final battle in the sunken corrupted edifice, they'd bombarded him with their words and promises that appealed to his weaker, shameful side. Home. Family. Belonging. He'd let them win.

However, Sarial hadn't renounced his demon identity and culture to end up throwing lonely parties, devildamnit! After converting, he'd done everything in order to fit in with his new hero pals. He'd switched sides for their company! Well, also because they were smoking hot males... Sarial had always been very appealed by mortals' intimate rituals, and he'd welcomed the opportunity to get closer to them physically. Still, he'd mostly done it for the company! He wanted gifts, and affection, and merriment! He wanted to do winter sports with his canine friends in the fluffy December snow that fell outside in big sticky flakes. Did they think that being a cursed spawn of the great underworld prevented him from wanting to cry in his kitchen? How hard could it be to remember his parties? Did they do it on purpose? He doubted everything. Perhaps his activities sucked? They couldn't know that, though. They never even got to try them! What if they didn't truly like him, and merely pretended in order to keep him from obliterating the world? No, that was silly. Nobody could be that petty. However, it was possible that they pretended to be his friend to mock him behind his back. Hmm. His Angelmas tree! It must've failed once more! Maybe it didn't look good! That had to be it. He wasn't skilled at making things look good. He still struggled with the nature of "good", and it was true that the wintry banderoles in the entryway might've been more welcoming. He'd bought them at a discount. Or maybe the smiley-faced balloons betrayed him. Were they misplaced or inappropriate? Not colorful enough? Too colorful? Were his parties too garish for Angelmas? Why didn't they just tell him? He'd improve if they gave him a chance. It was so unfair!

Sarial grabbed the closest cheerful floating sphere with unholy reflexes, and tightened his sharp deadly claws to burst it in anger. There was a pop, and the fragile smiling bubble was no more. He stared at the sad, destroyed rubbery remains in his palm, and he wanted to cry again. Now, his balloons weren't symmetrical, and people enjoyed symmetry, so they wouldn't like his party even if they came... Why had he done that! He was out of balloons, and if he burst another one, he would further ruin his efforts to cheer up his demonic apartment!

Sarial shook his head to snap out of it. Not this time. He wouldn't fall into this cycle of doubt and pain, and end up going to them for comfort again. He knew exactly how that went. Oh, they were sorry! They'd forgotten! They would be there for his party next year! Triple promise! The filthy liars. He always went to their_events, birthdays and whatnot. Everything was lovely, then, and he consumed cake with them. Why didn't they consume desserts with him during _his parties? They were too good for him because he lived in the District of Sin, he was sure of it. Loyalty his butt! Those mongrels! Those filthy, nasty-

A sound outside of his apartment, in the corridor, like light paws. In a blink, and for the twelfth time, Sarial practically floated on his clawed toes to his door and he listened, ears perked. His shadow heart beating so hard that it might bury the knocks on the door. He waited, terrified and ecstatic, preparing what he would say to excuse his friends' unacceptable tardiness and make them feel at ease so that they'd be happy and visit him again. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds.

Those jerks! False alarm. Always false alarms! Only wasted hope and disappointment. No! Enough! He wouldn't take it lying down. This was the last lonely party for the Baron of Screams. His friends would pay for their rude thoughtlessness.

Sarial howled to his tarnished ceiling as the sinister powers of hell were unleashed through him. The emotional payload caused him to sneeze a few times, and he looked for a tissue. It always happened when he got particularly intense feelings. Luckily, he'd bought the double layered, soft kind, made in the District of Heaven, with cute snowflakes on the box. It soothed his twitchy shadow nose, and he felt a little bit better. A plan was forming in his mind.

Shaking himself up and sniffling, Sarial walked to his secret stash, hidden in his kitchen. He moved the bread box and lifted the discreet trap door underneath. An ebony box lay in the hollow space, buried in salt to neutralize the catastrophically powerful magic within. He took it out and placed it on his black, spiky kitchen counter that he'd attempted to cheer up by placing red ribbons on the spikes. It was nothing, really. He'd kept two or three doodads when he'd switched sides, just in case. It reassured him to know they were there, even though he never had any intention to use them. Well, until then, that was. He opened the box, digging briefly through the artifacts, and found the large sapphire with the intricate copper setting. The Spirit Enslavement Gem of Avalon, which he'd bargained for with legendary Morgane La Fée herself, back when he was a young and foolhardy demon. It brought back memories. Yup, he'd need that. He shut the box and buried it again.

Next, Sarial padded to his room. He grabbed some personal effects on his nightstand, and swiped his Hell's Bells credit card, which had a fiendishly high limit. The interests would be a kick in his sharp fangs, but he needed some material. As they said in the commercials: "You can't put a price on revenge!" The shadow demon grinned fiercely as he marched to his door. This year, there would be company, and gifts, and most importantly, there would be hot merry snow sports, whether they liked it or not! His jerk friends would taste the harsh winter of his soul, but they wouldn't forget this party. Ever.

Sarial grabbed his coat and left.

Snowfall increased over the city, rushing the evening into the night. Without the slightest breeze to move the heavy clouds, Meccael knew the soft white film coating the streets and buildings would soon accumulate. Though he wasn't really cold, the pale wolf shivered briefly as his steamy breath left his mouth and nostrils, covering his watch with mist when he tried to take a look. He wiped it with his gloved paw. 11:17 pm, and still no news from anyone. Curious. He'd expected an angry call from Karim, by then, accusing him of missing Sarial's Angelmas party on purpose, which would be true. Meccael didn't like to disappoint the gray wolf; he was a good guy, but sometimes his holier-than-thou attitude got on Meccael's nerves something fierce.

The wolf rose from his crouched position on the edge of the rooftop, and swiftly travelled further on his patrol route. His lengthy leather coat made pleasing crackling sounds as he moved. It covered him tightly and completely, even including a hood to hide his luminous muzzle. Meccael might have been discharged from the Army of Heaven, but even stripped of most of his powers, he was no less born an angel. He was tall and nimble, naturally well-built like most wolves, but his cyan eyes and his fur of mottled beige and white gave away his holy origins, due to the fact that they glowed a bit, especially in the dark. For a sniper, this was a problem, and thus the edgy leather coat was necessary, otherwise he'd have to tuck his tail into his pants, which he hated. Boy, did he ever miss his weightless silver armor. Earthling clothes weren't the same. It wasn't like Meccael to complain, however, and if the Heavens didn't want him, then he'd fight evil with the mortals. This was how he'd formed the Good Wolves with Karim, after his banishment.

Nearing the end of a roof, the wolf took a short run-up and hopped easily the meter-length gap that separated the buildings, landing in increasingly thick snow. He adjusted the heavy bolt-action rifle on his shoulder, and checked his pocket for the single magazine that he'd bothered to bless and bring along. He knew he wouldn't need it. The forces of darkness had recently taken some serious blows, and would reel for a while. The end of December wasn't a particularly active time for evil either. Every night was a quiet night, but Meccael patrolled anyway. It was still a better use of his time than going to Sarial's absurd party. A demon -- reformed or not -- had no right to host an Angelmas feast, as far as he was concerned. It soiled the very spirit of the holidays!

The wolf stretched his arms and jumped to pull himself over a rectangular stairwell exit. The metal was slippery due to the snow, and the sniper was careful. He used that elevated position to reach and climb over the next higher rooftop, and he walked on the large red-brick post office, checking down every corner. He loved that place because it gave him a great view of many streets and narrow alleyways where fiends loved to fester in ambush, hidden from mortal eyes, but not from Meccael's. He found nothing suspicious, though. After sweeping the snow, the ex-angel sat over the ledge overhanging one of the major streets. His booted paws dangled casually as cars infrequently flooded the area with light. Most stayed home due to the weather. The wolf checked his watch again. He wished Karim would give him an earful about being uncaring to Sarial already, so that it'd be done.

Meccael wasn't stupid. He was prepared to admit certain things. Sarial was a useful asset, yes, and his increasing collaboration with the Good Wolves was certainly one of the major factors involved in their recent successes. However, the holy wolf refused to consider the demon as one of his own, and Karim's efforts to have the shadow fiend accepted by the others worried Meccael. What everyone seemed so keen to forget was how close Sarial had been to literally destroying the world. Oh, Meccael remembered that day in the tainted cathedral, alright. The ex-angel knew his shit, and that demon was the real deal. He'd felt true dread on that day, in a way to which neither Karim, nor Ollie, nor Cole seemed able to relate. That mortal terror had never completely left him. He struggled to this day, trying to understand how they'd won, and why their enemy had so easily surrendered after his plan was foiled.

The wolf shook his muzzle to clear his thoughts. He had to face it once and for all. In his heart of hearts, he knew that their world should've ended on that day. Sarial had the upper hand. His ritual was complete. And then he just... started being affected by their attacks. If Meccael could know for a fact that they had the power to stop the demon, maybe he would be able to trust him, like Karim and the others. Since he didn't know that, he'd remain on his guard, and he wouldn't let the "reformed" spawn of hell get too close. Someone had to keep him in check, even if it made Karim angry. It was as simple as that.

And why wasn't anyone calling?

Movement below. Suspicious. Meccael sprang to his agile paws, discreetly peeking down into the dark alley running alongside the post office. Through a fire escape, he witnessed a dark form holding their brown winter coat, moving sneakily in a very familiar way. The blob leaned left and right as it left paw shapes in the fresh snow, constantly looking behind to make sure it wasn't followed. Meccael didn't take his weapon off his shoulder just yet, but he dropped from the roof to the fire escape without a sound, glancing over the railing for a better view. He saw the smoke-like tail protruding from under the coat, hanging straight and tense, and leaving a brief trail of darkness when it moved.

Sarial! What the heck was he up to in the dead of night, creeping guiltily in a neutral district? Why wasn't he at his stupid party? Was it over? Did he merely use it to draw the Good Wolves away and keep them busy while he found an excuse and slipped out? Obviously, he was up to no good. Meccael finally had him!

The ex-angel ran down the fire escape and jumped the last floor, landing in an expert crouch as he kicked up a small cloud of snow from the pavement. He was tempted to load his weapon, but it was too soon for that. He wasn't even sure about the gravity of the trick Sarial was up to, or if he'd even be aggressive when found out. It was more likely that he'd crumble in apologies, and Meccael would bring him back by the ears in front of Karim and the others. For once, the sniper would have proof of wrongdoing. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that the reformed demon's apparent passivity during the last three years was an act. Better be prepared.

Meccael took his rifle in his hands and inserted the magazine of holy bullets. He didn't touch the bolt, however. He'd only load the weapon if there was an immediate, confirmed and deadly threat to someone's life. The Heavens had kicked him out for "leading a crusade tainted by hate". He'd accepted their judgment, but Meccael hadn't forsaken the principles of the light. He much preferred to be killed rather than to risk accidentally hurting an innocent, even if that innocent used to be a demon like Sarial. That being said, of course, Meccael didn't truly buy the Baron of Screams' reform, so he kept on his toes when he peeked around the corner at the end of the alley.

Behind the post office were several walk-in storage containers that people could rent, piled on top of each other. Meccael spied from afar as Sarial climbed up a volley of stairs and he stopped at the second row of gray metallic boxes. He paused in front of the one numbered 15. He looked around to make sure he was alone one last time, and then he unlocked one of the double doors, disappearing inside.

The holy wolf pulled back behind the wall and waited, wondering how long the demon would stay inside. Almost immediately, his sensitive ears perked up and oriented themselves toward the right direction as he heard the door open and close again. Meccael checked beyond the corner once more, hidden under his black leather coat, and saw Sarial leaving toward the main street, undoubtedly returning to his home in the District of Sin to get back to his dumb party. Meccael couldn't wait to discover what dirty little secret the latest "recruit" of the Good Wolves hid in there!

Within twenty seconds, the sniper had rushed through the shallow snow, and had gone up the stairs in order to stare at container number 15. Above the lock, which required a key, a small laminated sign had been taped to the metal. It read: "Sarial's very intimate, personal property, plz respect!"

Meccael scoffed as he shook his head and got his lockpicks out. Oh, Sarial. If he really had anything humiliating in there, the pale wolf promised to only care about potentially dangerous items or secrets. The lock soon fell to his mad skills, and he slowly pushed the door open.

The container was dark, but the wolf found a switch next to the entrance. A single light bulb lit the space. It was practically vacant. At the end, there was an empty cage, the likes of which served to transport tamed animals. This one seemed fit for a large feral dog. How was that intimate? Meccael didn't get it. Unless Sarial was into weird kinky stuff? Possible. Meccael got closer, listening carefully in case the demon would return. On top of the cage, the sniper found a yellow Post-it note. He took it and read the words: "Hello Meccael! Thanks for respecting my privacy. Don't look inside the box!" Sarial had signed the note.

This wasn't looking good at all, but there wasn't anything in the box, was it? No, wait, there was! Something shone in there. A kind of gem. Meccael felt vaguely ashamed that Sarial had so correctly guessed what he would do, but then again, he figured he could always just leave everything there if none of it was dangerous, go away, lock the container, and pretend like he didn't know about anything. The pale wolf knelt and reached inside, grabbing the item and quickly bringing it under his nose. As soon as Meccael touched it, even through his gloves, his nature as a celestial being allowed him to detect the twisting power inside. The artifact was neutral in alignment, but terrifyingly ancient and potent. It was a huge sapphire set into intricate engraved copper, representing crowns, above crowns, above crowns, above crowns, above crowns... When had he fallen into this endless pit? It made no sense. Where was he?

The world flashed white and was gone.

Karim made his way through the crowd, beaming happily and nodding at the heartwarming smiles as people applauded and moved aside to give the brawny wolf a chance to reach the stage. He was humbled to read the deep appreciation in the eyes of the attendees, and he tried to be careful not to embarrass himself by bumping into someone and spilling his drink over his indigo custom-tailored suit, like the previous year. He'd never hear the end of it! The fighter truly did feel like an elephant in an antique shop, but nobody seemed to mind the ridiculous time it took him to cut through the audience, because they were busy taking pictures from up close and trying to shake his hand. He did his best to shake as many as he could, blushing and wagging his tail. There were felines, canines, ungulates, avians, rodents, even the occasional resident of the sea, and he was glad to meet all of them. He felt like a politician, if people actually loved politicians. Or a rock star. He couldn't believe the outpouring of love, and he held back some tears.

At last, Karim neared the stage, and the organizers ushered him out of the crowd, taking his glass and guiding him up the steps. The wolf bothered to glance and smile at the two cameras filming the fancy event, even if he didn't care about fame. He simply felt that whoever might eventually watch this at home also deserved to be acknowledged. He waved at the crowd, huddled around their small tables. The host of the soirée, a sharply dressed tiger in a white suit, went to his encounter and placed a friendly hand behind his shoulder as he bent forward, whispering loud enough to be heard over the applause.

-- This is an honor. I watched every single one of your fights, and that was before you started saving our lives.

Karim nodded and laughed.

-- Thanks. I can't pretend that I'm not happy to meet a fellow boxing enthusiast.

The tiger tapped Karim's shoulder, and extended his open palm to designate the podium, while stepping aside and clapping in turn. The spotlights were blinding, but the wolf in the blue suit knew that heavy light was flattering on him. Like most every gray wolf, his fur was a mix of colors, but his gray back, head and ears were darker than the average, and luminous spots revealed the stylish ink-black touches around his ears, descending around his face, and following along the top of his stout muzzle, making his pronounced lupine features more compelling. Soon, the audience quieted down to listen to the admirable founder of the Good Wolves.

"Thank you, thank you all for this indescribable welcome!"

The crowd cheered Karim loudly for a few seconds.

"It is a distinct pleasure for me to be invited here, in this time of thankfulness, to speak about my experience with the Good Wolves. A lot of you have already heard the rumors, so yes, I'll finally confirm it today."

Karim marked a comedic pause, and raised his strong fist.

"We _did_punch evil in the face!"

The room laughed and hushed.

"All jokes aside, I'm not especially fond of making speeches. This isn't what I do best. You guys know what I do best already. You've probably seen me at the front lines, when the bad side of town gets a tad restless. That's because my gift allows me to be there and take the unfurling darkness."

It was literally true. Karim faced the threats head-on, while Meccael destroyed them from afar. Fighting as a team to maximize the members' greatest strengths was the principle on which the pair had founded the Good Wolves. Cole had joined soon after, to help them organize their efforts. They'd kept the name, even though he was a Doberman. Heck, Ollie wasn't a wolf either, and he'd joined too. Karim couldn't help but feel fuzzy and proud when he thought of his boys. He breathed deep and continued his speech:

"Just as I walked on this very stage, our gracious host said that I save lives. He's wrong, though. As tempting as it may be to view me as important, and as appreciative as I am of the honors and attention granted to me, keep in mind that my efforts alone would be completely in vain. There is no Karim. There is only the Good Wolves. We have no leader. We merely do our best to share the gifts that we have for the betterment of everyone. In fact, our recent string of successes could more appropriately be attributed to the addition of our... of our newest..."

Karim froze completely, maw agape, staring blankly like a total dummy, as the horrible, horrible reality crashed upon him. The audience buzzed awkwardly as they wondered what was wrong.

Gifts. Angelmas. Sarial's party! Fuuuck!

Minutes later, Karim ran upon the cheap carpet toward the exit of the cultural center, shoving his arms into his coat while a lonely security officer watched him pass by with a confused look. The wolf didn't even remember what deconstructed nonsense he quickly babbled before getting off the stage, awkwardly ruining his clever speech concerning the unique skills and abilities that everyone could share as gifts for the betterment of all mortals. He vividly visualized that moment, months before, when he'd written in large red capital letters across the week of the 24th on his wall calendar: "DO NOT FORGET SARIAL'S ANGELMAS PARTY AGAIN" and then had underlined "AGAIN" two times. Naturally, like every single person in the universe, Karim never looked at his wall calendar.

While running outside in the snow, looking for a cab and waving to every single car in the dark, just in case, he whipped out his cell phone that he'd shut for the event at the cultural center. It was 9:38 pm. He'd missed a call from Ollie at 5:02 pm, and then one from Cole's house at 6:47 pm. Ugh! He was so mad at himself! How could he have forgotten? He'd look like such a total asshole, and deservedly so, for lecturing the others about the importance of this party for Sarial, and then missing it himself!

Wait a moment.

An ominous feeling invaded the muscular wolf, like glacial water pouring into the hull of a sinking ship. He checked the missed calls once more and took a moment to think. Cole had called from his home at way past six. Did that mean the Doberman wasn't at the party either? That left only Meccael and Ollie. Meccael had already pretty much said he wouldn't go. They even had a fight over it. Ollie had tried to get in touch at five, and knowing the timid fox, if he was alone... Overtaken by a ripple of perfect dread, Karim realized what this could mean. If the wolf was correct, the situation could be more critical than he'd imagined. He immediately phoned Sarial's house, hoping to hear the sounds of an ongoing little event, but more realistically expecting a devastated shadow wolf to pick up with sobs in his voice. It rang, and rang, and rang.

"Pick up, damnit!"

Nobody answered. Karim finally found a taxi and climbed on board, his mind blank with stress. What to do? This was catastrophic. He gave his home address to the driver, on the off chance that Sarial had gone there to seek comfort from Karim, like he'd done the last two years when they'd missed his Angelmas parties. It wasn't far, but there wasn't a second to lose. He imperatively had to find Sarial, stat! The founder of the Good Wolves had never said anything to the others -- especially not to Meccael -- to keep them calm, but he was perfectly aware that Sarial was a very special shadow beast. In truth, the demon was an authentic force of nature. He was in a difficult transitional phase too, and he still needed guidance and support. If they'd fucked it up as bad as Karim figured, the entire mortal realm could be in danger. The wolf was convinced that no mortal had yet witnessed the true power that Sarial could wield, and it would be far better if that opportunity never arose.

Karim slapped his own muzzle, calling himself stupid multiple times until the car slowed down. He threw an outrageous amount of money to the impeccably skilled ox driver who thanked him with a heavy bovine accent, and the canine sprinted toward his house.

The lamp above the door was still on. The ornamental hedge shrubs framing the entrance looked fly. The yard was covered in a charming, thickening coat of snow. Everything was wrong, though, because Sarial wasn't sitting by the door or pacing between the columns supporting the pediment over the entrance. Karim couldn't give in to panic. He took out his phone once more, and prepared to call everyone, one after the other, to check if they were with or had seen the shadow wolf, and recruit their help in locating him. He found Meccael in his contacts, and moved his finger to press call.

-- Hey, Karim. Who are you calling? Looks urgent.

The sturdy wolf stopped. He slowly, slowly turned to face Sarial. The reformed demon stood there, not more than three meters away, with his hands casually stuck in the pockets of his brown, puffy winter coat. As always when he remained static, the minuscule movements in the strands of his fur left near-invisible smoke-like trails, giving the impression that he was vibrating or flickering. The flaming eyes looked on with detached curiosity.

-- Uuum. No one. I was looking for you.

Karim pocketed his phone, amazed that Sarial was just there, looking normal. The ex-demon waited.

"I'm so, so sorry that I missed your party, Sarial. Is it already over?"

Sarial frowned with some solid puzzlement.

-- What are you talking about? The party's tomorrow. I was just taking a walk 'cause I'm a little anxious due to that.

The release! Karim felt like he hadn't been able to take a breath for a long time. He felt like he'd found a beautiful clearing in a magical forest in spring, just when the temperature gets warm enough to be comfortable, but not hot enough to oppress. Despite the snow, his mind was only fresh grass and happy butterflies flying cheerfully away. He hadn't missed it, he'd just messed up the dates in his mind. Oh, it was so amazing! He couldn't believe how afraid he'd been that he'd actually managed to miss Sarial's holiday celebration for the third time in a row! No words could express how good he felt, and how happy he was to be with Sarial, right there. Karim tried to play it cool and hide how utterly reassured he was.

-- Yes, you're right! Wow, I was scared I'd missed it again, for a while. Good thing you were walking... in my neighborhood?

It was a bit odd.

-- Yup, I decided to swing by and see if you were home, in case you wanted to walk with me.

Karim was too utterly happy to think about it.

-- Sure!

The large wolf stepped up quickly, and joined his handsome shadowy friend as he turned and walked in the direction he appeared to come from. Damn, was Karim content. They took a few steps.

-- I'd like to show you something, Sarial said.

The demon wolf looked to Karim, slightly worried.

-- Of course. What is it?

Sarial burrowed his hand into his pocket.

-- There's this odd jewel that I found. It feels powerful.

Sarial held up the blue jewel set in copper. It definitely seemed ancient and significant to Karim, though he wasn't knowledgeable about artifacts. It was Cole's domain, as their mystical and technological expert. The ex-demon slowly inclined his hand to drop the object, so the gray wolf caught it.

Sarial sneezed, just as he did when he was very upset. Karim barely had time to sense that something was wrong with his friend, after all. When he looked up, Sarial grinned vengefully and his eyes blazed with hellfire. The stalwart wolf fighter wobbled, compelled to take another look at the copper setting for the sapphire jewel. He saw stacked crowns as his legs began to falter. He thought back to his calendar.

-- No. It was today, he mumbled as his spirit sank.

The wolf fell heavily in the white snow.

Ollie padded left and right in front of the indomitable door, helplessly torn. He was right there! It was absurd that he couldn't simply knock! He wanted to go to the party! He desperately wanted to go and have fun with Sarial, who was surely super sad and alone in there. The problem was that he also didn't want to go by himself. It would be fine if Karim or Meccael was there with him, but they weren't! The fox with the flashy red fur knew for a fact that no one else from the Good Wolves had gone in, because he'd been pacing in front of the door for hours since six o'clock, when his courage had failed him! Darn! How could he be so pathetic? It wasn't even that he was afraid of Sarial. If anyone had ever not been afraid of their new buddy, it was Ollie. He loved hanging with the shadow wolf! He knew for a damn, undisputable fact that the ex-demon desired nothing more than to find care and affection with his pals.

In fact, that sort of was the problem.

What if the fox went in there, what then? He'd be alone with Sarial! He had no idea what he'd say! What if it was immediately awkward? What if he blurted some misguided attempt at small-talk to break the tension, and only emphasized how bad it was? What if Sarial immediately regretted inviting Ollie, when he discovered how un-fun and embarrassing he was without Karim or Meccael to lead? Even Cole would walk in there, no problem, saying: "sup," and Cole barely ever interacted with real people, unless it was mediated by twenty firewalls, or networks, or whatever -- Ollie didn't understand the Internet. One thing was certain: in this moment, that door was more terrifying to the fox than any evil monster they'd ever fought.

Angry at himself, he spun a bit more harshly, and like many times before, his ears picked up movement in the apartment. He'd been heard! Panicked, Ollie darted away in the corridor to hide into the nearby staircase, even as he secretly hoped that Sarial would open the door, this time, and catch him, breaking his agonizing dilemma. The door didn't open, though. After a few minutes of stressful silence, Ollie returned to the door, and resumed his indecisive pacing.

What could he do? This was unbearable! How could he be such a pussy? Ollie had tried calling Karim earlier to regroup with him and join the event together, but the wolf's phone was off. That had been the start of this nightmare. Ollie didn't dare try Meccael, because he didn't realistically expect the ex-angel to show up at all for Sarial's Angelmas celebration. Truly, it was Karim's absence that messed him up. Had he decided not to go after all the speeches about how important these events were for Sarial? It made no sense! Argh! Why did it even matter? If Ollie had any balls, he wouldn't need any hand-holding to knock on a stupid door! Screw this! He'd do it! He'd knock right now!

Ollie stepped up to the door. He breathed deep. He rubbed his padded hands against his pants. He decided to peek at the time before he'd knock, and saw that it was 8:30 pm. He slowly, carefully put the phone back into his pocket. He stretched his fingers lengthily in preparation for the complex act required of them, and they formed a tight fist. He raised his arm. He considered what would be best, knocking twice or three times? Was knocking once a possibility too? Probably not, it'd seem strange, and the sound might be confused for something other than a knock. So, two or three? Three seemed insistent, but two might appear shy and unsure. Maybe he could compensate by knocking harder? But knocking loudly might be too aggressive... Which was less aggressive? Two loud knocks, or three normal ones? What was he doing? He just had to knock! No one cared about the methodology to do so! He was so weak and pathetic! If Ollie couldn't even muster the mental fortitude to decide on a way to knock, what a disaster it would be if he found himself alone in a delicate social situation! What if Sarial was crying inside?

Guilt submerged the fox. If Sarial was crying because he felt forgotten, that was only more of a reason to get in and be there for him! Ollie's panic doubled, tripled. Anguished, he turned and took a few steps away from the door, his arm utterly paralyzed.

Rushing steps behind the door. Ollie froze like a statue. There was no time to retreat to the stairs. He waited in abject dread.

A terrible howl of solitary pain and rage resounded from the apartment. There was no mistaking Sarial's distorted voice. It was too late. Ollie had messed it up, and now he couldn't just blast in there. He wouldn't dare. Not after that. Regardless of the terrible guilt, regardless of the regret of missing what should've been a fun, warm time with his good friend, the only path left was the one of pure cowardice. Ollie fled in shame, sprinting through the halls and stairs until he found himself out of the building, on Rot Avenue, and he breathed in the cold air. It stung his small vulpine fangs. He felt like a miserable excuse for a friend. Poor Sarial! He was surely sad and believed himself abandoned...

No! This wouldn't do. Ollie turned around as he sensed a surge of unexpected courage that, in the back of his mind, he knew would fizzle out by the time he made it to the door. He had to try anyway! It was part of his duty as a member of the Good Wolves to be there for the others. If he had to camp all night in front of the door, then so be it. He'd bring firewood and marshmallows.

The decided fox marched violently back through the ominous-looking entrance of the building, where he bumped directly into Sarial. Their canine snouts collided and they locked stares, equally startled. The shadow wolf was only slightly taller. He carefully brought his head back and his muzzle up, unsmooshing their humid black noses.

-- Ollie? You came!

He sounded unbelievably happy. Out of the thick winter coat, his shadow tail wagged fiercely until it brutally stopped. His flaming eyes narrowed. The joy hadn't lasted long.

"What took you so long?"

The vulpine muzzle and lengthy ears dropped.

-- I couldn't! I was there on time, Sarial, I swear! I wanted to, I tried, but I couldn't knock!

-- Knock?

Sarial connected the dots. His expression was torture to Ollie. He was disappointed. He was wounded. He didn't understand.

"You preferred standing in the corridor instead of coming in for my party?"

-- No, not at all! Forgive me, I was afraid!

-- Afraid? Afraid of what? Of me? angrily demanded the ex-demon.

The fox pulled his own ears.

-- Of this! Of exactly this! That I'd mess up! That I'd say something wrong or do something weird, and that you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore! I wanted to see you, and to celebrate Angelmas, but I stressed out!

Ollie sniffed, his panic subsiding. He took a small box out of the pocket of his coat, covered in black wrapping with cheerful little white wolf skulls.

"I brought you this."

Sarial took the present with his two hands, staring very intensely at it and holding it close to his shadow heart.

"It's rum cookies," said the apologetic vulpine. "I know it's lame, but you seemed to like the ones that Karim makes for the meetings."

Considering that Sarial was tightly hugging the box, Ollie revised his estimation that his friend would be disappointed by his present. The dark wolf was soothed when he finally looked up.

-- What about the others?

Ollie shook his head and shrugged powerlessly.

-- As far as I know, they were supposed to be here. Maybe not Meccael.

Sarial's eyes blazed up.

-- They'll be on their way soon, trust me. You'll remember this party for a long time.

-- Really? You're not cancelling it?

-- No. I'm merely changing the festivities and the hours.

Ollie twisted his hands.

-- Am I still invited?

Sarial finally smiled.

-- Of course, you're invited. In fact, I'll make sure you're very comfortable while I buy stuff and fetch the others. You can help me prepare the festivities.

That sounded strange to Ollie, but whatever. He watched as the demon wolf produced a blue jewel out of nowhere.

"I also need you to look deep into this," added Sarial.

-- Okay. Why?

Without waiting for an answer, Ollie stared into the large sapphire.

-- It's a mind control artifact. In reparation for the rudeness, I've decided that you guys will have to obey and entertain me unquestioningly until I say the party is over. We'll have lots of fun, together!

-- Oh, okay.

The fox continued to gawk, and then he shivered slightly, blinking.

"Oof, that was bizarre. What now?"

Sarial seemed unsure. He glanced at the jewel in his hand and shook it near his ear.

-- Did... did it work?

-- I think so. I feel obedient.

-- I mean, people usually fight it and lose consciousness. Didn't you attempt to resist at all?

-- No, no. It sounds fair.

Sarial crossed his arms.

-- Huh. Let me test. What's your name?

-- Oliver Saint.

-- And now, what's your name?

-- It's still, uh...

-- Perfect!

On this, Sarial gave the nameless fox his apartment key.

"In this case, go and place the meal I prepared in the fridge. You'll reheat it later when I tell you to do so. In the meantime, you'll wear something more appropriate for you, and don't touch anything you're not supposed to!"

-- What do you mean, "appropriate"? asked the subjugated fox with a first hint of worry.

Sarial grinned infernally.

Faint techno music could be heard coming out of Cole's large, comfortable earpads. Green lights on his headset flashed in synch with the beat. Four screens faced him at all times in his dark den. They were the main sources of light, while the room was kept warm by his massive, mighty computer, which buzzed quietly and permanently. The screen on the left displayed Cole's playlist. The screen on the right displayed his social media feeds and voice chat rooms. The top screen ran a muted news channel, which the black Doberman scanned every thirty seconds or so, watching for potential dangers that might require an intervention from the Good Wolves. On the main screen, he was boss-busting on Questbook IV. Ha! No one else could boss-bust with a neutral Cleric!

Nevertheless, Cole's killer streak wasn't entirely lighthearted. Half an hour had passed since the time stated in Sarial's invitations, but it wasn't too bad yet. He usually arrived late at such gatherings, but he did feel a little bit guilty about it this time, mostly due to Karim's pressure during the last months regarding the importance of being there for their newest member.

In honesty, Cole didn't doubt that it was merely his lazy instinct making him not want to go. Once he'd be at Sarial's place, and would meet up with the other Good Wolves, he knew he'd have fun and be glad that he went. The shadow wolf's Angelmas festivities would probably be a tad unusual, but their demon friend never failed to be interesting company. He intended to go. He simply felt no need to rush, especially if Meccael wasn't even coming.

Glancing at the top screen, Cole saw a reporter standing outside, informing him that neat, chubby snowflakes were falling, which he felt really added to the holiday spirit. It also increased his guilt for still being sitting there playing Questbook. The dog had exactly zero qualms about playing games for innumerable hours every day, but he did feel a sting of regret when it led him to follow his lazy voice too much, and neglect his RL friends.

Pushing himself into action, Cole made a deal with himself. After calling AFK for a minute, he popped his phone and rang up Karim. Indeed, the Doberman was astonished that the wolf hadn't already called to organize a lift for him. They all knew he didn't have a car. Usually, when they planned an event, Ollie or Meccael would pick him up, or Karim would propose to walk together. If they'd done that, Cole would've gone for sure.

But their unofficial leader didn't pick up. His phone was turned off. Was Sarial's party cancelled? It was possible. Either way, Cole felt justified by his attempt to contact Karim. Now, he could play some more with peace of mind, because he'd tried. If they called him back, he'd go to Sarial's. In the meantime, Cole returned to the world of Questbook IV to discover that he'd received a mythical raid invitation by a member of his guild.

Hours later, after the successful raid, Cole's gaming guilt had grown beyond compare, and he knew that he had to get going right this moment, or he'd miss Sarial's Angelmas feast completely! This time, he called Ollie. The fox picked up, but he sounded different as his voice filled Cole's headphones. He seemed anxious, or excited, or both.

-- Hello?

-- Hey, it's Cole. What's up with Sarial's thing? Are you guys still there?

-- Uh, I guess.

-- What do you mean "I guess"? Are you there or are you not there?

-- Yes.

-- Can you come pick me up? I tried to call Karim earlier but his phone was off, and he never called back.

-- ... Gimme a sec, I'll ask.

Cole frowned as he waited. Since when did Ollie need permission to fetch someone? From whom? Why did he sound so confused?

"Nah, there's no need. Someone else will come."

-- Who? Meccael? Is he there?

-- Umm, I don't think so.

-- Ollie, is something wrong? I'm not hearing much going on.

-- It's not started yet. Everything's fine. Just don't fight it.

-- What?

Ollie hung up, leaving Cole with an extremely bad feeling, which only worsened when a fiery circular portal brutally opened in his room. The dog gasped and spun on his chair, tearing his headset away when Sarial stepped from the portal.

-- Hi, Cole. Playing Questbook? Loot anything good?

The shadow wolf looked vindictive, shimmering with emotion.

-- Sarial! Are you crazy? You can't abuse magic to open hell portals like this just to travel around! Something else could slip through!

Sarial sneezed and smiled.

-- Not today, they won't. They'll know better than to pick a fight with the Baron of Screams.

Cole slowly pushed his chair back toward his desk. He opened a drawer as he kept staring at his visitor.

-- Been a while since you used that title.

-- It still fits.

The shadow demon opened his arms, and gestured toward the burning portal.

"Come on. I'm your lift. Faster than taking the bus!"

-- I don't think so.

-- I'm not giving you a choice!

Sarial threw his hand into Cole's face, holding the easily recognizable Spirit Enslavement Gem of Avalon! Instantly, the dog looked away, shielding his eyes with his right arm as he violently repressed mental pictures of the sapphire jewel set in detailed copper. He had no clue that Sarial had access to that kind of artifact, much less the power the control it! With his left hand, Cole searched the drawer for bottles. Sarial warned him.

"You're no warrior, Cole! You can't stop me, so give up! I still have other stuff to deal with after you."

Their not-so-tamed demon changed his tune when the Doberman flung a bottle of holy water with force. The specially designed thin glass exploded against Sarial, and a loud hissing sound took over the room as the air filled with white smoke. Angrily, the shadow wolf retreated through the portal with a subdued growl, but the mystical opening remained. Cole couldn't believe this was happening! Meccael had been right all along! He had to contact him and the others, to make sure they were fine, but he took another bottle from his drawer, in case Sarial tried his luck again.

Turning back to face his keyboard and screens, Cole barely had time to do anything when he received an urgent message from Ollie stating "Plz help! Look at what he did!" The message had a photo file attached with it, which Cole clicked fearing what he'd discover. It took a moment for Cole to grasp what he was gazing at.

Massive, taking over his entire main screen, the blue jewel appeared.

-- Ah, shit, said Cole while he fainted.

It was close to midnight, on the day of Angelmas. A living room existed in a state of pure self-contradiction. The sinister apartment of which it was a part -- inherently demonic in design like all homes in the District of Sin -- had been decorated in preparation for the heavenly holiday. The floor of black and crimson obsidian tiles was littered with fluffy white blankets simulating snow. The furniture built of vulgar, arrogant woodwork and tarnished, spiky metal had been adorned with smiling balloons of red and green, and banderoles depicting elegant snowflakes had been hung to the ceiling. Every dark corner of the living room managed to look filthy, while also having been thoroughly cleaned by a meticulous soul. In the center back of the room, where a television set should normally be showing the nightly news on Channel Vile, a massive painstakingly decorated Angelmas tree shone in red tinsel and silver lametta. Though it was lit up by friendly yellow lights, it seemed to aggressively dominate the room, boisterously imposing its holiday presence with violent force.

In front of the tree, a long rectangular box offered an ominous mystery. Big enough for many people to fit into it, and wrapped in simple black paper and a white bow, it demanded attention, but revealed nothing of its content.

When the sole occupant of the room awakened, he couldn't help but be affected and worried by the insanity of the place, as he looked around. The black Doberman emerged from his confusion after a few seconds, and soon remembered how he'd fallen prey to Sarial's trickery. Cole tried to move, but immediately realized that he was tightly bound to his seat, legs attached to the feet of the heavy chair, and arms behind its back. His shock increased as he realized he was bare-chested. No, worse! His pants were gone too! He'd been completely stripped down to his boxers.

Around him, nothing moved, but the canine heard near-constant muffled moans and whines that he didn't recognize coming from the adjacent kitchen, as well as the jingling of metal rings and the taut cracking of leather straps as something or someone regularly pushed against them. Terror gripped him. Though he was no field agent, like the other members of the Good Wolves, he'd always known that being the mystech expert for the group would make him a prime target. Still, it was his first time actually being captured, and he'd hoped he'd never get the dubious honor of getting into a real situation. Sarial had betrayed them. Had he changed his allegiance back to the forces of evil? This scarcely made any sense to Cole.

The canine struggled against his ropes without any effect. He was tied up to this chair, and would remain so. Somehow, he'd known that getting free wouldn't be as easy as in action movies, where the protagonist always got caught and quickly found a way to escape. In reality, getting captured alive by your enemies was pretty fucking bad, actually. Good Wolves fought prudently as a team specifically to avoid such an end. The Army of Darkness wasn't known for being forgiving, and its leaders would relish making a definitive, painful and debasing example out of Good Wolves members.

He couldn't stop thinking of Meccael. Sarial had mentioned still having to deal with something when he'd attacked the dog in his house. He probably meant Meccael. Even if the others had been captured already, Meccael had never trusted the shadow demon in the first place. The glorious fallen angel would be difficult to surprise. It was likely he might come in and save them before it was too late, if Sarial wasn't already defeated. Maybe there was no cause to freak out just yet.

Suddenly, an unexpected vision simultaneously froze Cole's blood and pumped it full of adrenaline. Light vulpine claws rang on the floor when a well-known red fox entered the living room from the kitchen.

-- Ollie! What's going on? What in the world are you wearing?

Ollie gave his tied-up friend a subdued glance and blushed. The fox wore a tight laced corset, trapping his silky chest, and a short black-and-white miniskirt, like that of a maid outfit. His raised bushy tail lifted the skirt, shocking Cole with the reveal that he wore nothing underneath, keeping his white rear in full display whenever he faced away.

-- Was that my name? It doesn't ring a bell. You'd better use Cookie, for now.

Ollie gave an even more embarrassed smile, and pointed to the black leather collar around his own neck that had been imprinted with his new designation. Cole was blown away. He'd never seen Ollie so beaten, so obviously reduced. And the fox didn't even seem to fight it.

-- Cookie? Your name is Ollie! Stop wasting time and untie me! We have to leave, now, before Sarial returns with his demon buddies to take us somewhere we won't escape from!

The cross-dressing vulpine shut one eye, squeezing his hands apologetically.

-- Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea. Sarial's kind of annoyed at us, on account of us missing his party again. I don't think he switched sides, but I really recommend you play along without giving him any trouble. It didn't go well for Bandit when he tried that, and now he's receiving the necessary obedience training.

Cookie pointed his thumb toward the kitchen. Cole blinked. He listened to the faint, pathetic yelps of pure distress floating from the next room. Whatever was going on in there didn't sound agreeable.

-- Who's Bandit?

-- You know... Our leader! Big wolf, dark fur. Can't remember his real name.

-- Karim.

-- Maybe.

-- That can't be Karim. His voice isn't that high pitched and whiny.

Cookie shook his head uncomfortably.

-- Like I said, I highly recommend playing along.

-- Meaning? What does Sarial want from us?

The servant fox sighed, but lifted his finger, halfheartedly reciting:

-- The Good Wolves are to behave as docile, prideless males under Sarial's complete dominion for the duration of the festivities, until they've been properly trained, and merry holidays have been acquired for everyone.

-- This is insane!

The fox chuckled nervously. He lifted his finger once more to continue quoting the instructions, but he went over the last part faster and didn't pronounce nearly as much.

-- Also they are to keep their tails aloft at all times and show absolute, unquestioning sexual submission, because Sarial would enjoy that a lot.

Cole simply nodded for a few seconds, eyes wide, before becoming meditative for a spell.

-- You know, I always kinda felt like Sarial might be into males. Us, specifically.

The fox broke into a good-natured grin as he agreed.

-- He wasn't terribly subtle about it.

Cole switched back to rightful outrage.

-- Regardless, we can't comply with that! Look at yourself! You're wearing an animal collar and a skirt! I saw your bum when you walked in! Do you realize? You just showed me your asshole, man! What the hell?

Cookie gazed away, skillfully avoiding Cole's stare.

-- We may not have a choice, anymore.

The captive dog resumed fighting his binds, moving the chair with his weight, suddenly afraid to know why he'd been stripped down to his underwear.

-- Well, as far as I'm concerned, Sarial can get out onto the main street and sniff the traffic. I'm _not_going be his boy toy! We have to resist until Meccael gets here.

The door to the apartment opened as Cole ended his declaration, and the demon walked inside, carrying a large white gift-wrapped box held by a sky-blue ribbon. The package looked awfully heavy. Sarial grunted as he placed it down under the tree, next to the other far bigger black present. The shadow wolf seemed awfully pleased with himself, licking his fangs. He turned his attention to Ollie when the fox hurriedly performed a subservient curtsey, and stood ready to serve at the demon's beck and call, bowed and silent. Sarial patted the fox's head as if the latter was an owned pet, and then pulled the barely clothed male to himself while massaging his neck by grabbing strong fistfuls of his nape. The conquered fox let it happen, even turning aside a bit to rub his warm nude butt teasingly against Sarial while the demon unzipped and threw his winter coat to the floor. He pointed to it with a nasty grin.

-- Pick it up, servant.

A glimmer of indignation shone into the fox's eyes as he very briefly hesitated to comply with such a needlessly discourteous order, but he swiftly caved in shame.

-- Yes, sir.

The ex-hero bent down to the floor. Due to his raised tail, he couldn't help but offer a vulgar glimpse of his hole and balls, under his short skirt. Cole snarled angrily at the indignity imposed to his comrade, but the fox completed his task, hanging the coat into a closet near the entrance. Ollie, or Cookie, rather, returned to his place, waiting to be of use again. Pleased with the show of compliance, Sarial walked up to Cole, next, who glared defiantly from his chair. The demon dismissed his humiliated fox slave with a curt flick of his shadowy hand.

-- Head back to the kitchen and prepare some tisane or something. I need to have a private chat with our friend, for a while.

Cookie threw one last look at the staggered captive, remorseful for leaving him alone with Sarial, but he swiftly slipped away to fulfill his command.

Though he felt excruciatingly vulnerable, Cole locked stares with the hellish lupine. He had no intention of granting that traitor any satisfaction, but Sarial seemed already pretty thrilled, just from gazing lovingly at the bound, naturally chiseled dog in tight boxers. He circled behind the chair, boldly trailing his hand across the dark, twitchy chest, which caused his infuriated captive to bark and growl belligerently, to save face as his defined pectorals and dark nipples were shamelessly enjoyed.

"Welcome, Cole, to my special Angelmas party!" said Sarial as he opened his arms wide and turned around. "We'll start by making sure everyone is in the appropriate mindset for the activities I have planned. Following this, we will unwrap the presents, and when this is done, there'll be merry snow sports outside!"

Sarial crouched and poked his shadow muzzle into Cole's neck from behind. The Doberman recoiled when he sensed the demon's hot pink tongue leaving a humid mark in his short fur. The demon toyed with his prisoner, giving his naked shoulders a firm rubdown.

"I hope you're comfortable and ready to be broken in. I must say, for a gamer, you're a damn yummy prize. Makes me wonder what would happen if someone took you out every day for some exercise. I could give you some fetch quests."

-- I don't know what you think you're doing Sarial, but this isn't acceptable! You can't violate people's rights like-

The shadow wolf interrupted his massage and walked in front once more, presenting his captive with the palm of his hand.

-- Stop right there. Bandit already gave me that speech when he woke up.

Sarial stepped to the side and spun to face his previous position, adopting a disciplinary frown with his fists against his hips. He pointed an accusatory finger at his imaginary self, lowering the pitch of his voice to deliver a surprisingly effective caricature of Karim.

"That's going too far, Sarial! Being hurt that we missed your party doesn't grant you permission to kidnap and restrain us, and much less to use mystical artifacts against us! You have a right to be angry, but this is dishonorable and wrong. Good Wolves don't do that. You know you have to be respectful to your friends, and let us go. We won't be angry, but you must stop this folly right away!"

The imitation ceased, and Sarial stepped back into his place, ironic.

"A sensible appeal, don't you think? I liked it a lot. Very convincing. It made sense to try talking me down, since I'm a pushover, right? Well, that was right before I gave Bandit his new name, collared him, muzzled him, and prepped him for a few hours of domestication. Do you want to see him, now? You'll love it. Mortal bodies aren't really equipped to deal with the kind of lust that I can generate directly in your minds. The result is quite entertaining!"

The demon was having wicked fun, hopping around, putting on a show, but Cole found himself petrified by the sudden remorseless attitude. This was nothing like the Sarial he was used to, who was polite, eager to learn how to be a better, gentler person, and quick to back down and apologize upon being criticized. At the same time, it wasn't quite the old, world-destroying Baron of Screams either. What Cole had in front of him was something unknown, in-between, and this being had his fate in his hands. The dog's gut twisted horribly in renewed apprehension. Gosh, he wished he wasn't there, bound to a freaking chair! If only Meccael could hurry and save them!

Sarial casually stepped into his kitchen and disappeared. Cole heard the sound of a heavy table being loudly dragged, and the demon promptly reappeared, easily pulling the table with a single hand. He released his charge when it was in full sight through the doorway.

"Presto!"

What Cole saw delivered a greater shock to his system than anything he'd witnessed before. He finally completely grasped the grim mess in which he found himself. On top of the table, his resolute gray wolf leader, the strong and ever noble Karim, had been transformed into a supremely vulgar display of the most complete sexual degradation he could've ever imagined.

The detail that affected him the hardest were the crazed teary eyes over the muzzled snout, frenetically jumping around with every undignified squeal of mindless supplication as the dark, lushly furred lupine body squirmed and swayed in its bondage. Punishing leather straps kept Karim's thick arms and legs tightly folded to force him down on his elbows and knees, and his helpless padded toes wriggled pointlessly up in the air. His strapped limbs were strictly immobilized in a star shape, unbecomingly spread apart with tight ropes linking under the table. The demon enjoyed every second of this unbearable triumph, strutting around the table and brushing his fingers against the captive hero's sides, as the formerly proud and composed wolf whimpered and begged his evil master. The broken lupine shivered and waved in reaction to the proximity of Sarial's hand, his square shoulders, his back, and even his wide open buttocks undulating, while his rigidly elevated tail patterned in elegant blackened lowlights wagged in appeasement for the conquering force. Under the yielding tail, his thinly stretched anus vibrated strongly with the large plug that had been mercilessly shoved deep into his rectum, but the true center of the humiliating torment was Karim's puffy red cock. The heavy erection was ceaselessly flung along with the exposed fuzzy sac containing his defenseless large balls. The subjugated leader of the Good Wolves gave out muffled moans of obscene distress whenever he was shaken by powerful spasms of his waist and thighs, as if the restrained captive was feverishly and uncontrollably trying to hump something just out of reach. Two severe iron rings at the base of his throbbing shaft and right under its leaky tip appeared to prevent any sort of conclusion to the relentless, horrible unholy arousal that had crushed this honorable male into a squealing, crying slut.

Cole urgently tried to turn away from the ignoble attraction, because he didn't want this disturbing vision of his admired and respected friend to live in his mind, but gruesome fascination for this quivering, helplessly immobilized centerpiece prevented him from staring at anything else.

When Sarial smirked and finally allowed his punished slave to meet his palm, the strapping wolf eagerly rubbed his ears, his head, and very soon frenetically buried his entire face and muzzle into his cruel master's hand. Despite the overt unconditional surrender, Sarial appeared in no hurry to end the sentence. Instead, he gripped the black collar identifying "Bandit", and pulled the disgraced fighter's face close to his own.

"That's right, beg, Bandit, beg as you reflect on your place and your earlier disobedience. I can't let you set a bad example for the others, can I? They look up to you. You'll follow, you'll heel, and you'll do it all without protest, and _especially_without explaining why what I'm doing is wrong."

Poor Bandit nodded enthusiastically, hoping to be released. He fought back against the erupting, torturous tremors of need twisting and curving his body to maintain his acquiescent eye contact with Sarial and keep his wolfish chin lying tamely into the demon's hand. For naught. The shadow wolf laughed and walked around the table once more, sending the extremely heavy table with its canine decoration sliding back out of Cole's sight with a single push of his leg. He crossed into the living room, dusting off his hands as the flame behind his eyes burned a touch brighter, and even more tragic muffled pleas rose from the kitchen as Bandit understood his punishment wasn't over.

"As you can surely appreciate, there will be no moralizing speech of any kind. The way I see it, I accepted your offer of friendship in good faith, but you've proven deceitful. I expected better from you heroes, but it's nothing that can't be fixed. I'll simply have to train you myself into much more profoundly loyal friends. Therefore, until the festivities are over and I deem your taming completed, I want a pack of disciplined, unclothed males, disposed to keep their tails held up high for me."

Sarial took a slick piece of black leather out of his pocket. He held it before the Doberman's eyes. "Tango" was written on it. Cole recoiled at the sight. His hope sank when he was struck by the grounding and bitter knowledge that this item would soon be attached around his neck. A pressing desire to defy the mortifying proposal filled him, but the dismay of having witnessed Karim's sordid fate paralyzed his muscles.

"Now, you'll wear your collar like a good boy. Tango is your name, from this moment on, and you'll respond promptly when you're called."

The barrage broke. The dog was a fully fledged member of the Good Wolves! The specialist in mystical artifacts, technology, and he also was the coordinator for the team. Merely because he wasn't a combatant didn't mean that he had no courage. He frowned and snarled.

-- No, I won't, and this ridiculous bullshit isn't my name! I'm not afraid of you, Sarial!

The demon paused. His toothy grin widened.

-- I see. You don't like Tango? What should I call you, then?

-- I already have a name!

-- What is it?

The Doberman hesitated. He wasn't sure why. It felt extremely silly, but he had to stop and take a moment. What was his name? The strange feeling of having momentarily forgotten something as critical as his own name washed over him and he almost laughed. He made an active effort of memory, remembering that Sarial had said his name only a few minutes earlier, when he welcomed him, but he couldn't recall the word that had been pronounced. It sounded like... The dog drew a blank. Frustratingly, the only name he could think of was fucking Tango! Alarm began to grip his thoughts with its corrupting claws, and thinking got even harder. The canine tried to remember his childhood. What were his parents calling him? Obviously, he couldn't remember a single actual instance of something so banal, but he never had to actually think back to any specific event to remember his name before! He thought about his fox friend, who'd also said something about losing his name, but even if it seemed he should absolutely know it, he couldn't remember that name either, or that of the gray wolf being disciplined in the next room! All he could think of was Tango, and Cookie, and Bandit, those stupid pet names given by the demon! This couldn't be natural.

The Gem of Avalon. Sarial was playing with their minds.

"Something wrong, Tango?"

-- Damn you, fiend! Give me my name back!

Sarial casually pretended to pick some dirt from under one of his claws.

-- If you can't remember, it probably wasn't very important. Why don't you give up and be Tango for a while?

-- That is notmy name! I'll never respond to that!

-- Are you sure?

-- Yes, I'm sure!

Sarial cracked his knuckles, and spoke slowly.

-- I'm giving you one last chance to change your attitude, accept the fact that I'm in control of this situation, and to stop busting my balls. I strongly advise you to take it.

-- Or else what? spat the dog. You'll torture me the way you did for... for...

-- Bandit.

-- That's not his name!

In a flash, Sarial grabbed the bound dog's shoulders and bent over him, staring muzzle to muzzle.

-- But it is! And, please, Tango, get real for a moment. I can sense your mind. Bandit had a most magnificent will, compared to yours; a vibrant spirit with the strength of his honest convictions! I broke him in a few hours. You think you're anything like him? You truly believe that I'll need to deploy any serious effort to make you bark and beg? I swear on my black soul, ten minutes from now, you'll fall in line with the others, calling me master, and crawling on all fours with your neat little pucker offered in plain sight for my amusement. Whether you think you will or won't is entirely irrelevant. However, it'll put me into a much better disposition if you comply readily, so think carefully about the next words that'll leave your maw.

Sarial rose and adopted a composed stance.

"Tell me. What is your name?"

A moment of stillness.

-- Not Tango!

Sarial violently threw the collar on the floor and kicked it away as he exploded into infuriated excitement. He paced left and right, gesturing with his hands and talking so fast there was barely any pause between his words.

-- Fine! As you wish! I'll pick a different one! How about Bitch? Is that more fitting for you? Do you like it? Of course you do! Bitch it is. We have a problem, though. I don't have a collar for that name, so how can we make sure to remember what you truly are? I know! We'll just have to note it down somewhere.

The shadow demon extended his arm to the side, glaring down spitefully at the black dog who straightened into his binds to meet the burning eyes with aplomb. A large noise resounded from a small room to the right, like a bathroom drawer falling down and spilling its contents on the floor. A small electric clipper flew out of that room directly into Sarial's open hand, as if attracted by an irresistible magnet. With his forceful left hand, the shadowy brute pressed down onto the captured hero's shoulder to immobilize him.

-- What are you doing?

The clipper was flicked on and emitted a strong buzz. Without hesitation, Sarial callously applied the vibrating blades under the Doberman's right pectoral, beginning to trace the first letter as the captive yelled and thrashed about violently, attempting to unbalance the chair to which he was solidly tied.

"No! Sarial, stop! Fuck you, you crazy bastard! Take that fucking thing away from me! Stop, you cunt!"

The protestations and struggling continued to increase in harshness while letters kept being traced one after the other in blatant pink flesh. The dog swore quite a lot. Sarial giggled pitilessly and finished his oeuvre, sweeping severed hairs away with his hand before he stepped back to admire the result and threw the clipper over his shoulder.

The caught canine stared at his own chest in sudden silence, burning in helpless indignity as he read the painfully obvious letters that formed "Bitch" across his chest.

"Sarial!" he gasped, miserable. "You- you shaved that into my fur. Aw, what the fuck have you done! You don't mess up a man's fur!"

Pleased with his precise handiwork, Sarial took out a smartphone that the dog instantly recognized as his own.

-- It seemed appropriate. It's your name, Bitch. Consider it a reminder for you and everyone else. As for your male pride, it won't be a factor for much longer, so don't worry about it. I'm addressing that issue as we speak.

The demon held the phone forward. The captive gaped with dead eyes while he heard a few pictures being taken of him stripped to his underwear, utterly roped to the chair, and with "Bitch" degradingly shaved into his fur. He couldn't do anything about it.

"These are glorious. You have no clue. Wait."

Sarial approached, slipped his indexes around the elastic waistband of the tight blue boxers, and pulled them down slowly from under the captive, leaving them crumpled a bit lower around his thighs, and revealing his limp black penis, pathetically balled over his sack.

"There you go," added Sarial as he grinned obscenely and took a few more pictures. "You look so conquered and hot; even a straight demon could masturbate to this."

The dog's outrage made a blazing comeback.

-- Screw you, Sarial. If you think this'll be enough to threaten me into doing anything-

-- Oh, no. Not in the least. These are merely souvenirs for later. I'll take a few more very soon, when you're broken and cutely pleading for mercy. No, if I wanted to threaten your gamer ass, I'd pick something you care about a whole lot more than your public image. I mean, let's face it, the only people whose opinions matter to you are us. Good Wolves! And we would never think less of you for having been reduced into my personal slut, so that would be pointless.

Sarial smiled cryptically and went silent. He stared at the phone and kept touching the screen. Anxious and exasperated at being forced to sit there humiliatingly with his boxers lowered and his sex in plain sight, the bound canine finally lost patience, and challenged the shadow demon. He wanted to know what Sarial would do to him, because not knowing was worse. The smoke-like lupine kept fiddling with the phone, wasting time.

-- Then what? Do your thing already!

Sarial didn't lift his muzzle from the device.

-- Oh, look! I found the character management screen! Your Ranger gained a level since last time we played. You've been a busy little pup!

The dog went rigid for a fraction of a second too long as cold dread blossomed into his heart.

-- You're logged into my Questbook account? he asked as casually as he could.

-- Yep. At first I wanted to threaten you to delete a few characters. It would've worked. Six thousand hours into that Cleric! Then, I found something even better. Now that I know what to look for, I can see it in you, plain as day. Your worst fear! That is some juicy terror.

The dog barely dared to ask, expecting the answer.

-- H-how did you log in?

-- With your password! I viciously extracted it from your mind. Want me to remind you what it is? "#AoHwhitefallen69sexyBB" Does our angel friend know that you think so highly of him?

Cruel ice formed into the captive's stomach as he looked away.

-- ... It's just random words.

Sarial burst into laughter.

-- Of course, it is. You've never had any fantasies about rubbing your fat shaft against his sweet, fuzzy angel balls, or to press your muzzle tightly into his immaculate chest fur while his glorious angel cock delightfully milked your prostate, or to kiss him deeply while you both rolled into a soft warm bed, closely intertwined. You're not a fag, or anything! He's from Heaven! Purity incarnate, right? He'd probably look down on such lowly filthy desires.

A moment of nightmare. The dog could barely breathe, understanding how fucked he was. Adrenaline pumped into his blood as if there was a direct and immediate threat to his life. He knew in this exact instant that he would indeed do anything Sarial demanded. He envisioned himself down on the floor, his tail held high and his anus offered. He'd bark. He'd beg. He'd sing and dance nude while Sarial took pictures. He'd even swallow all of his evil demonic sperm as often as the shadow hound desired... Or even let him ream and fill up his rump with thick demon cream as if he was a hardcore sub in a gay porn flick. Sarial owned him whole. His voice wavered, on the edge of panic.

-- You're not going to tell him, right? If I-

Sarial interrupted him with a brusque gesture.

-- What's your name?

The bound dog couldn't breathe. He was so terrified that he had to search into the hellish gaze looking for a reassuring trace of mercy.

-- It's... It's Bitch. My name is Bitch.

-- Show respect to your master, Bitch! Try again!

Sarial slapped Bitch's sensitive nose to correct him. The pain and fright at the thought of displeasing the demon made the Doberman's eyes wet.

-- M-my name is Bitch, sir. Please, it'll be exactly as you said, all I ask-

-- No, you don't. You ask for nothing.

Bitch couldn't believe this was happening, and that his dignity was so easy to trample over, but he swiftly accepted these added restrictions.

-- Yes, sir.

Sarial caressed his new pet, exactly like he'd done for Cookie. Bitch's thin black ears were gently squeezed between the warm padded fingers until Sarial's hand switched to expressing possession with long even strokes on his neck. The dog knew he was being tested. The touches became more intimate as the hands lowered, rubbing his vulnerable stomach and even his inner thighs, dangerously close to his masculine bits. Bitch observed uneasily as he discovered the depths of his own willingness to submit, and let another male explore him. His soft sex and balls felt much less virile to him when he sat there quietly, buried in shame, and let Sarial take a tight handful of his junk. His testicles were promptly turned into toys, being pushed from one finger to the next, squeezed lengthily, stirred, and playfully weighted onto Sarial's palm. His dick fared no better, and the black muzzle dropped lower and lower as his erection grew from the vigorous poking, pinching and stroking, until the handsome slave's limb stood tall and hard, and Bitch was primed for a full display of his unquestioning obedience. Faint clicks announced that pictures were taken of his towering erection.

He was untied from the chair, and gently guided down to all fours after Sarial snapped his fingers pointing the floor. Bitch truly felt like he deserved his name. Exactly as announced earlier, he ended up lifting his tail on command for Sarial, and he spread open his cheeks to offer the desired intimate view of his rear, knowing that he would forever remember doing that. As he lay like that, low on his elbows and knees spread wide with his massive erection and orbs hanging like ripe fruit, he heard the phone click a few more times before it was put away. Bitch accepted this as well. It didn't seem to matter if the demon accumulated every last piece of compromising material in the world. It couldn't get worse.

-- Congratulations, Bitch, you get plus one to your mortifying spinelessness skill, and a new alternative class as a Whipped Slave.

-- Whatever.

-- What was that?

-- Whatever you say, sir.

-- Exactly. Roll over and stay on your back.

That was him, now, Bitch realized. Sarial could blackmail him as long as he desired. That was his life. He flipped to his side as best he could and then pushed himself flat on his back, elevating his knees and paws like a kinky sissy slut with his hard dick against his belly. Anything Sarial wanted out of him, he would yield.

"Can you believe how easy it was to make you entirely receptive to orders and sexually pliable? You think Bandit is so cowardly and meek that I could've used some dirty little secret to bend his will? No, mister. Bandit is entirely comfortable with what he is and who he loves. He's not terrified of being found out and rejected like your sorry ass is. Right?"

Sarial nudged his pet's side with a soft kick.

-- Yes, sir. My ass is very sorry, sir.

-- Ha! Ha! I always liked you, Bitch. You're fun to be around, but you have an overinflated sense of your own importance. That's why you can't confess your love. It'll burst your bubble if you're refused, and you're too much of a wuss to deal with your own self-judgment. That's the advantage with being from the lowest pits of hell. We don't have that problem.

Suddenly, a shadowy paw was presented to the dog's snout.

"Kiss my pads, slave."

Bitch was surprised by the unexpected command. He stared at the large paw in his face, slowly grasping that, yeah, the order had already been given, and he had to comply. Closing his eyes in disgrace, he brushed the pads quickly with the tips of his lips.

"Here you are, kissing my foot because you can't get over yourself. Do you detect the irony?"

-- Yes, sir.

-- My paw's dirty. Lick it clean.

Bitch couldn't bring himself to confirm the order. Sarial didn't like that.

"You're my property, Bitch! Lick and swallow that dirt or suffer the consequences of growing some balls!"

-- ... Immediately, sir.

There was no hope to avoid it. Bitch simply came to grips with the fact that his mouth would serve Sarial as a paw cleaning apparatus, regardless of how he felt about that. He started with the soft and more pleasantly textured pads, and very quickly sensed a significant film of dust and dirt accumulating as he pressed his hot wet tongue and moved it around, covering the surface as best he could. The acrid mineral taste of dust combined with the highly unpleasant texture of small rocks, tiny unknown grains and invisible hairs that had probably come from his own chest caused Bitch to gag multiple times. Sarial gave him no chance, pressing his paw harder against the pet's muzzle.

-- The funniest thing about this is that your precious wolf of the light has been a mortal for years and years. You think that hasn't changed his views about sex? You think he hasn't had urges? For all we know you could've asked him out tonight, had the two of you come to my party, and if you'd been a real man. Instead, you're here, taking your rightful place as my worthless carpet. Now, gulp down and lick faster!

Without any other option, Bitch managed to swallow in an incredible feat of resolve. Still, the horrendous bits didn't all go down, and spread into his mouth and throat. There was no time to wait, however, and the imperious paw forced his tongue back to work even as he gagged a few more times. He sucked the toe pads, and beyond that, couldn't delay cleaning the fur any longer. Bitch returned to his master's sole and tongued it dutifully. The key was to avoid breathing through the nose and eat the grime regularly so it wouldn't accumulate into disgusting little mounds that made him want to retch so badly that it was impossible to swallow them. Eventually, after slurping every toe and in-between them, the poor pet realized the paw was clean.

"Did I tell you to stop?"

The docile Doberman resumed his task urgently, dreading the possibility that Sarial would have him lick the filth off of his other paw as well. It was considerably easier and more comfortable with the clean shadowy paw, and Bitch continued his service, focusing on warming the pads with longer deeper strokes of his tongue that covered extra surface.

"It's easier, now, isn't it?"

Bitch meekly nodded but didn't interrupt his service. Sarial finally appeared pleased.

"You thought I'd need force to make you accept your place, but here you are, frightened and peacefully licking my paws. You weren't even close to a challenge, were you?"

At last, Sarial calmly removed his paw from his flattened slave's snout. Bitch figured this would be the perfect time to placate his master in order to ensure that he wouldn't have to do the other paw. He sighed inwardly, but gave out a degrading little yelp before he spoke.

-- No, sir. I'm a subby bitch, sir. I was no challenge at all. May I add that my name was particularly well-chosen, sir.

The demon wolf rubbed his chin in reflection.

-- I'm starting to like what I see. Perhaps you're ready. Up.

The dog was beyond glad to flip around and rise to his knees in a nice sitting position. It confirmed that there wouldn't be any further paw job for the moment. His hellish master was padding away toward the kitchen. The calm, dignified wag of his tail expressing the immense dominating enjoyment he got out of bowing yet another captured hero to his bidding.

"Bitch."

Responding to his name, Bitch looked up expecting an order, but Sarial simply kept heading to the kitchen. Realizing he had to tag along, the dog hurriedly caught up, crawling lowly, tail raised. The obsidian floor hurt his knees, but he didn't want to risk complaining, so he followed quietly at the top wolf's side and entered the kitchen.

At the end of the long room, among gargoyle-incrusted cupboards and impractical-looking counters with sharp spikes along their edges, Cookie was curved over the table with his lean vulpine muzzle placed serenely against Bandit's. With his right hand, the fox had taken one of his friend's, and with his left hand, he very carefully patted the gray wolf's head. Small tremors still traversed Bandit's agonized body as his large reddish dick palpitated with regular moans, but the muffled sounds were more appeased and controlled.

As soon as Sarial entered the room, accompanied by the docile Bitch at his paws, Cookie gasped and jumped away from the table, standing guiltily and quickly straightening his demeaning outfit.

-- Your herbal tea is ready, sir! I was just, uh...

-- Being there to reassure your friend. That's allowed. I don't mind.

Sarial instructed his subjugated Doberman to stay, and marched forward to pour himself a cup of tisane. While the demon grabbed a nearby chair and sat down at the table, Cookie took a better look at the dog and gaped. Bitch cringed when he witnessed the reflection of his own wretchedness in the fox's expression, but he remained on his knees, pridelessly waiting for his next command. Their last hope for this to end was for the holy wolf to save them, but the dog almost preferred him not to show up, or else their evil master might be tempted to make some "entertaining" reveals when he was about to be defeated.

Sarial sipped his hot beverage and glanced at the degraded wolf bound in front of him.

"So, Bandit, have you abandoned your precious values and dignity? Are you ready to recognize your master and show your ultimate obedience?"

Bandit frenzied in his strong binds, forgetting the peace into which Cookie had painstakingly managed to lull him. Though the strapping wolf couldn't really move much, the way he wiggled his anus up and down and wagged his tail with loud supplicating squeals sufficed to demonstrate that the morality of the situation and the respect of his rights were no longer his main preoccupations.

Sarial flicked his hand and the ropes immobilizing Bandit instantly broke and fell under the table. However, everything else remained, including the straps keeping his limbs folded, the muzzle, and the vibrating plug stuck deep into his asshole. All the same, the heavy wolf fell limply onto the table, moaning one last time in indescribable release. The unholy arousal that he'd suffered for hours had ended.

"Down, Bandit!"

Nevertheless, when Sarial pushed an authoritative whistle and issued the order, Bandit forgot about rest and gave out one pleasing whine as he struggled to gracelessly turn around on his restrained limbs and face their demon master. It was eerie to watch Bandit, this muscular and unstoppable force of a lupine, be taken by the collar and dragged off the table like a bad pet caught on forbidden furniture. The only sounds that could be heard as he instantly went down under Sarial's control, folding his tied arms and legs under his belly, were the tinkling of his collar, and the vibration of the plug still punishing his butt. The shadow fiend placed his clean paw onto his back, and pressed the dethroned alpha's chest against the floor. Bandit's tail never dropped even for a second. His eyes opened after a few moments of staying still and letting Sarial transmit a clear message concerning the leadership of the Good Wolves. Facing each other, Bitch's and Bandit's conquered gazes met in mutual dejected understanding; there would be no further defiance of Sarial's rule.

The demon sipped some more calming tisane, evaluating his progress with the preparation of his canine friends.

"Cookie."

The fox dashed to the uncontested master of his pack, and stood to attention.

-- Sir.

-- Strip and join Bandit, sweetie.

-- Of course, sir.

On this, Cookie removed his skirt, but he encountered trouble with the laces of his corset. He slid closer to Sarial in an implicit request for a helping hand, and the demon obliged with a gentle touch. Completely bare save for his collar, the fox took place in the middle of the kitchen, right next to the bigger wolf. He adopted a similar stance of patient submission, lying low with his chin to the floor, and his bushy tail swaying high. With his first two captives well-disciplined, Sarial finally got up and marched to Bitch.

-- As you can both see, Bitch, here, had a change of heart and decided to accept his place. He was uncomfortable with the name Tango, so we selected something more fitting for him.

Sarial crouched near the miserable tech expert, reduced to sitting down on his legs. Bitch waited passively, hoping he wouldn't require any further training. The demon grinned and opened his hand.

"Shake."

Shake? It took a while for Bitch to understand what was demanded of him, but he soon came to the conclusion that Sarial was referring once more to simple feral beast tricks. There was no point to this! It wasn't even difficult or anything! Yet, Bitch really struggled with forcing himself to comply, and flushed with shame when he offered his soft left hand away, obediently placing it into Sarial's palm like a pup.

"Other paw."

The dog had to look away from this depravity. He brought his left arm back to himself, and extended his right hand, dazed. The room seemed stuck in time, or trapped deep under the sea, as he showed that he was no better than a dumb pet. Sarial released the hand, tracing his finger along the large letters shaved in the broken Doberman's fur.

"Tell us, Bitch. Why is that name more appropriate for you?"

Near mindlessly, Bitch uttered the first thing that came to his mind.

-- Because that's what I am, sir. Cowardly and slutty.

Sarial turned his back on the dog and padded slowly toward Bandit and Cookie.

-- You thought you were the hero of this story. The one who courageously refuses to compromise his honor until the end! Ha! No. You're not important. Just another chunk of tasty male ass in my collection. Understood?

Bitch could barely hang on.

-- ... Yes, sir.

-- Good. Fall in line.

In a way, as he joined Bandit and Cookie to lie down at Sarial's feet, Bitch experienced relief for no longer being the center of attention. At least he wasn't alone in this. When hugging the floor next to Cookie, the fox's mild warmth brought him much comfort in this strange moment, and knowing that Bandit was close by also contributed to the Doberman's inner peace, even if the strong wolf wasn't in a better position than himself. An odd kind of humbled tranquility settled over the kitchen.

The shadow wolf crossed his arms, and paced vigilantly before his tamed friends, watching with a severe frown, but they remained exactly in their places. Their three stiff and appropriately elevated tails barely moved, save for Cookie's which wiggled just a tiny bit. Only their eyes and the tips of their snouts followed the movements of their master. He breathed deep, and exhaled with lofty fulfillment.

"This is nice. Can you believe how difficult it was for me to gather you guys here, for Angelmas? How hard could it be to just show up and have a good time instead of abandoning me all alone with my stupid tree, and the mountain food that I painstakingly prepared for you, and... and..."

Sarial sneezed. He shook his muzzle. His pointy lupine ears flapped about and swiveled back into place while he rubbed his nose and sniffed.

"It doesn't matter, I guess. You're here, now, and we can unwrap the presents and have fun together in the spirit of the holidays! Yay!"

The canines discreetly glanced at each other, but the demon caught it and squinted hellishly as he pinned each of them down with his stare.

"Do my foolish pets have anything to say about the quality of my Angelmas spirit?" he barked as tiny firebrands flew out of his orbits.

There were no criticisms.

The luminous wolf waited inside his dark box for about an hour, according to his estimation. His wrists were chained together, he had a collar around his neck, and he'd been stripped completely naked, to increase the disgrace of his defeat. Additionally, Sarial had decided to exploit his divine flexibility against him, while he was unconscious, by forcibly bending his lower half and legs backward over himself to fit inside the pet cage, so he had his paws touching his shoulders. While the position didn't truly hurt, it wasn't anywhere near comfortable or dignified. Even so, the worst part was when he'd attempted to call for someone, anyone that might hear him. As soon as the sound had begun to form in his throat, the angelic wolf had been surprised by a violent shock in his neck, which had transformed his attempt to call for help in an immediately muted little yelp of pain. Sarial hadn't merely equipped him with a collar. He'd purchased one of those awful shock collars designed to silence animals that vocalized too much for their owners' preferences. The knowledge that this kind of merciless device also worked wonders on him wasn't a pleasing one. The fallen angel also soon noticed that he'd completely forgotten his own name and that of his companions, which made more and more sense as he thought about it. It was traditional for demons to brutally suppress the personality of conquered slaves that they intended to keep as cattle for their sadistic pleasures, and the gem that Sarial had used surely had mind-controlling properties.

This was extremely bad news for the holy lupine, because it would make him very easy to control for his captors. Thus, when his box eventually shook and swayed wildly, the captured soldier of the light assumed that he was being carried deeper into the dark dungeons of the evil side of the world, or maybe even through a portal to hell itself, from where escape would be impossible. There, the spiteful minions of darkness surrounding him would be ecstatic at the rare chance to subject a helpless warrior of the light to ingenious torments and intimate defilements for perpetuity, shackling him down in burning irons and systematically studying which methods extracted from him the best moans of agony and shame. It would take some doing, but, ultimately, his spirit would be stripped by their viciousness. Little by little, he'd begin to succumb to his despicable fate. Once he'd bow to their depraved, corrupting wishes in hopeless attempts to receive their mercy, they'd finally move his chained, marked, exhausted body to one of the Fields of Supplication. The most valued slaves and captives of hell agonized there, singing together an endless discordant melody as their misery and submission were farmed for the demons' pleasure and power. For a member of the hated Good Wolves, Channel Vile would probably create a stupidly popular multipart miniseries documenting the entire process to celebrate the hero's meticulous reduction into supplication cattle, and find an excuse to rerun it every year. The caged wolf could already imagine the box set: himself, broken and bound with his wrists tied to the floor and his legs attached to a spreader bar, muzzle locked open with his shiny fur so totally coated with loads of dripping demon seed that it would be barely possible to perceive the shape of a wolf underneath. At the top of the box, the title would read: "Nice Bitch." Near the bottom, the description: "How a hero is trained into everyone's eager fuck toy. In six epic parts."

The fallen angel didn't look forward to this exceedingly likely future vocation as a slave of the inferno, but he wasn't crippled with terror either. Like the rest of his divine kinfolk, he'd learned to accept and lessen his own fears in service to the greater good. Self-detachment was necessary to accomplish the tasks of the light. His own doom and infinite degradation wasn't that much of a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Nevertheless, when the boxed lupine heard Sarial's voice making a short statement concerning a special present that they would all enjoy together, he assumed that he was speaking to a circle of laughing devil lords, but no. Paper wrappings were torn and the cardboard panels surrounding his cage fell to reveal Sarial's living room.

-- Ta-da! Bandit, Cookie, Bitch, may I introduce Almonds!

The shadow wolf proudly presented him with a mocking grin, but not to a bunch of demons. From his pet cage, the prisoner was stunned to observe a well-behaved line of his fellow Good Wolves on their knees, looking mortally embarrassed and discouraged to see him caught. It took only a few seconds for the holy sniper to piece together that they'd hoped for him to free them from Sarial. "Bandit" knelt with his strong neck and shoulders curved, gently rubbing his arms as if they'd been tightly restrained until recently. He appeared to accept being renamed, muzzled and collared with a reluctant look of resignation that the pale-furred male would've never expected to witness in his steadfast fellow wolf. A suspicious vibration came from his rump, surely explaining his obvious erection. Despite all of this, it was their Doberman coordinator who seemed the most desolate. While he wore no collar, the outrageous name imposed to him had been shaved straight into his black fur, making his defined chest into a devastating mark of his naked subservience to his demon master. "Bitch" stared at the new arrival with genuine dread in his eyes, and also a massive hard-on, for some reason. Beyond any other, the poor dog appeared terrified enough to comply with absolutely any command whatsoever, and the wolf wondered what Sarial had done to him. "Cookie" didn't look so bad. Though the fox was also nude and forced to wear a pet collar, his curious eyes followed what was going on with an easy acceptance that conferred him a certain amount of dignity, compared to the pair flanking him. As a supreme sign of submission, the three kept their tails high, presenting their firm captive behinds for Sarial's appreciation as he strutted around them.

At the same time, as scandalous as things looked, the ex-angel couldn't help but breathe more easily. If the shadow demon had any intention to secure his prisoners and turn them over to his evil buddies, they wouldn't still be in his apartment in the District of Sin, right next to a neutral area. It was evident to him that Sarial hadn't truly turned. He could've done it, if he wanted. The forces of darkness would've welcomed the Baron of Screams back with open arms, especially if he'd returned with every single member of the Good Wolves on a leash. As paradoxical as it was, the soldier of light knew with absolute certitude that their demon friend's reform had always been authentic. If anything, it made it even more disappointing and angering that Sarial was ruining it with this lunacy. Maybe a moralizing speech would get him back on track?

...

No. Sarial was a fairly self-aware demon. He already knew that what he was doing was wrong. Reminding him would only irritate him further.

On this wise thought, Almonds' cage was opened from the front, and Sarial pulled the restrained Heaven-born out. His spine and legs unfolded with the humiliating pop of his paws hitting the floor. The hellish hound took a sky-blue bow from the torn wrappings and stuck it onto the whitish snout.

"You guys thought we wouldn't have the entire gang for the party, did you? Surprise! Even our dear celestial friend has decided to grace us with his wholesome presence."

Frustratingly, Almonds was forced to respond softly in a careful, even tone to avoid triggering his shock collar. It made him sound a whole lot more polite than he would've preferred.

-- Sarial. You do realize that I won't cooperate with you in any way, don't you?

-- Of course! You wouldn't reward my evil deeds by granting me any satisfaction willingly! I might be able to bend the others, but there's nothing I can do right now to bully a warrior of Heaven! It'd take me years of constant efforts to grind down your resolve, and to be fair, anything less would've been a serious let down.

-- I'm glad we understand each other.

Using his bound hands, Almonds removed the bow from his nose, and flipped it away. Sarial turned to his other pets, a massive cheery smile slapped onto his face.

-- Aren't you guys proud of him? I sure am. I always was!

Sarial faced the radiant captive once more, going down to one knee close to him. Minuscule blue stars sparkled when the shadow and light furs came into contact, but they soon ceased when the holy wolf controlled his emotions, and accepted the touches. He let Sarial's pads give his muzzle some loving strokes with practiced indifference. He knew he couldn't stop him in this moment, and he refused to allow the provocation to affect him.

"You know, since stepping out of the dark, you're the person I most desperately wanted to impress. It's true! So pure and uncompromising! I guess I figured that if I could get you to accept me, and to be my friend, then it really meant that I'd become 'good', and that I deserved to be among you guys. But you don't like me. You never liked me. No matter how hard I tried to earn your respect."

Almonds shook his head in denial, before he angrily whispered:

-- I liked you well-enough, Sarial. I just couldn't afford to trust you. Now, here you are, proving me right.

Sarial giggled.

-- You liar. You didn't think I deserved your affection, even before this. I'm tainted, right? No matter what I do, it won't ever erase my past sins. I'll never be pure.

-- Correct. You caused much destruction. This guilt is yours for eternity.

-- Why should I try to be better, then, if I can't ever be the same as you guys?

-- The selfless need no excuse to do good deeds.

Sarial's fists tightened.

-- Don't quote the Army of Heaven's rulebook to me! I'm_not_ selfless! I'm a demon! Three years ago, you guys didn't tell me to spare the mortal world because of some abstract morality; you told me to do it because it would make me happier! Because I could belong here, among you! Find affection and warmth! Have friends! I believed this. I did everything right, but I was deceived. There never was a chance for me to fully belong, no matter how hard I tried. This is why none of you ever came to my Angelmas parties, isn't it? Too ironic? Am I too wicked for this holy day? Or do I simply not deserve home and merriment?

The other canines stared mutely, worried at what their heavenly friend was about to answer. They subtly shook their heads at him. Cookie raised his palms and waved them left and right, crossing them, urging him to shut up. Their eyes widened when Almonds slowly stood proud over Sarial before he murmured:

-- It's both.

Cookie face-palmed. Sarial displayed his infernal fangs, hopping to his paws and throwing his arms up triumphantly.

-- Yes! Honesty, at long last! Well, as I see it, we had a deal. I spared this world! I was as helpful and kind as anyone could've expected since I joined the Good Wolves, so I'm owed that chance. If I can't get satisfaction from you willingly, then I'll just have to take it by force.

-- You can't make us accept you.

-- If I can't have the acceptance of my friends, I'll make do with the obedience of my enemies.

-- That kind of twisted logic is the root of evil.

-- Then, I'll be evil.

-- So I won't give you anything.

The shadow wolf hummed, amused. He marched to the trio of kneeling males who bowed slightly at his approach, and grabbed the dog by the arms, which he forced behind his back. Bitch looked awfully on edge.

-- I know I can't truly conquer you, said Sarial to Almonds. Luckily, it isn't necessary for the activity I have in mind. I merely need you to behave for me, and for this, your own code will be my weapon. This feels like cheating but, hey, I'm a demon.

Sarial crouched and spoke into Bitch's ear.

"Besides, this horny pup thought he was so brave. He should have a taste of what Bandit has been through."

Nothing happened at first. Bitch searched the eyes of everyone around, slightly confused, as Sarial firmly held him. It didn't take too long, however, before he began giving frequent glances at his own twitchy sex. After a few more seconds, he wriggled into his captor's hold, and tried to look up to him over his shoulder.

-- Ah, I see. It's very intense, sir.

Sarial kept silent, holding on to his anxious slave as the latter began to grind his teeth, staring more and more intently at his cock. He shivered whole while his black shaft began to leak plentifully under the unnatural sense of arousal. He moved his thighs together, pointlessly trying to squeeze his erect dick between them, even though that was impossible.

"How- how can it keep increasing? Agh! It's way too much and... and it keeps going! I apologize, sir! Make it stop! Please, master! I was arrogant but- Aaah!"

Renewed, greater tremors traversed Bitch's desperate naked form. At this point he fully struggled against Sarial, but the demon smirked cruelly and forced him in place as he squealed uncontrollably, his face deformed by the unbearable arousal.

"No more! No, stop! Please, sir! I can't take- I can't! Mercy, master! Master! I'm your slut! Gaaah! Mercy! Rub my cock, someone please, help!"

Almonds frowned at the sadistic sexual torture being imposed to his friend. Sarial whistled for Bandit and Cookie.

-- Why don't you two help Bitch out with your muzzles? On both sides, come on. Don't let him go insane.

Bitch continued to cry and beg, offering to do cruder and cruder things in exchange for anyone to touch his cock while the gray wolf and the fox dragged themselves to his sides on their knees, and bent their muzzles lower in dishonor. The fox's pink tongue slurped its side of the frenzied, burning sex, while Bandit massaged his half with his muzzled snout. Bitch panted pathetically as the heavy licks and nudges shoved his dick left and right, and the compliant muzzles wiped his fluid away.

-- Aauuuh! Yes! Thank you guys! More! Please! Don't stop!

The ex-angel couldn't bear to watch his noble comrades diminished and be forcibly put to such a sullying use for Sarial's decadent fun. He met the demon's gaze. Sarial put on a callous mask.

-- Hey, Almonds. Are you going to let me play with your dear pals like this? Fall to your knees, take your place to crawl among them as one of my cute puppies and I'll make it stop. You don't have to mean it. Just submit and I'll spare Bitch his unfair punishment.

-- I submit.

Sarial seemed baffled at the quick, unhesitant reaction, but as soon as Almonds sat in surrender, he released the captive Doberman. Bitch instantly curved forward and gripped his agonizing erection, moaning in unimaginable relief as he ejaculated plentifully on the floor, forming a puddle of thick white shame. Bandit and Cookie had withdrawn just in time, but Sarial casually shoved his paw into the black dog's back, pressing him against the floor and staining his shaved pectorals with his own juices as a final lesson in humility.

-- You're such a sorry wuss. Bandit endured hours of this. What do you say for this gift of perspective?

Bitch remained down, crushed, but still managed to breathe a dominated response:

-- Thank you, sir.

The demon fetched him a towel.

-- Good. Wipe your mess.

While Bitch obeyed, Sarial walked up to Almonds. The holy wolf felt little embarrassment for having the demon tower over him. He could lose face in order to protect his friends without any damage to his pride or honor, but it didn't make him any less angry at the shadow beast.

-- If you're going to stoop so low, whispered Almonds, I'll comply with your orders. I won't do it for you, not out of fear or respect. I'll do it for them. You have no hold over me.

-- Yet, you'll call me master if I wish it.

-- It's a word. You could make me say it by threatening others, but it'll be as empty of meaning as you are, and you'll know it.

Sarial nodded in understanding.

-- There won't be any need for pretense. Your strict obedience will suffice. Give me your hands.

The luminous wolf elevated his bound wrists. Sarial unchained them. The demon snapped his fingers and pointed commandingly.

"Join the others and keep your tail up."

Neutrally, perfunctorily, Almonds dropped to all fours and moved in place. His tail rose without resistance, exposing his tight, hallowed butt. He lined up with Cookie, Bitch and Bandit. Sarial puffed up his chest, sighing and rubbing his paws.

"Perfect. This is precisely what I'd envisioned for the Good Wolves. Now, down, boys! Down!"

Bitch already had his muzzle to the floor, so he remained in place. The others joined him in a synchronized movement that drew a big grin out of Sarial. All four flattened before the demon, though Almonds never ceased staring some super sharp daggers.

"Good boys! This is just like I wanted! Since we have order, we can finish unwrapping the presents."

Sarial stepped aside, designating the massive and ominous black box behind him.

"Go ahead, pups. It's for all of us, so you should get to unwrap it as a team."

Almonds growled in annoyance, but he pushed himself up along with the other Good Wolves, padding up to the giant gift box like nice pets.

Almonds was glad when Bandit took the lead along with himself. They began ripping the tough paper at the corners with their wolf claws, to get rid of this silly task as quickly as possible. They were the tallest canines in the room, so it was easier for them to reach the top of the box and tear along the sides while remaining on their knees. The fox and dog attacked the front, chipping at the paper until a larger chunk fell and covered Cookie.

-- Great, said the heap of paper.

-- Don't get lost under there, mocked Sarial.

Soon, the black paper had been stripped and they faced a massive wooden crate. Almonds wasn't quite sure how they were supposed to get it open, and he wasn't alone. The muzzled Bandit simply revolved to the side, pointed to the crate, and turned his palms up at Sarial in puzzlement. To everyone's surprise, the shadow wolf had fetched a crowbar in the meantime. He answered the wordless question.

"You prop it open with this."

He mimicked the act as a warning first, and then threw the metal bar to the large gray lupine. Bandit caught it in a swift and precise movement. He stared at the tall crate, and then back to Sarial.

"Yeah, yeah. You can stand for this. Everyone else steer clear."

Clearly pleased by the opportunity to stand tall on his paws, Bandit skillfully stuck the crowbar behind the front panel and pulled hard on the metallic lever. In one fluid move, the panel tore away from the nails keeping it shut, revealing an unknown shape covered in a final white plastic sheet, but Almonds' attention was immediately drawn back to the now armed, muscular fighter. The room seemed to pause, except for Sarial, who simply extended his hand. He spoke two words with a stern voice.

"Bandit. Give."

The square-jawed wolf looked around, appearing to hesitate, but not for long. After two or three seconds, he walked to Sarial and gently gave the crowbar back. The holy lupine understood. A crowbar wasn't much of a weapon against such a foe as the Baron of Screams, anyway. This was especially true while the fiend had any measure of control over their minds. He'd see it coming.

"Aw! Good, loyal boy! I knew you wouldn't try to hit master with a crowbar. Trying to bash in my skull wouldn't be in the holiday spirit, either."

Suddenly, with his head getting pat, the mighty wolf appeared to snap into a crucial moment of self-awareness. Bandit flinched at how absurd it was for him to stand there, immobile and nude, getting praised by the smaller demon wolf while an anal plug kept him stimulated and hard. His ears folded hard and his tail fell between his legs. Sarial instantly slid to his side, ghost-like, enveloping the offered male, holding the soft abdomen and shoulder, trailing his smoke-like nose into the thick somber fluff.

"Don't be ashamed, it's just us! No one here will mock you. Still, maybe I've been a bit too harsh on you. Your fidelity does deserve to be rewarded. You may remove the plug, for your comfort. Trust me, it'll be best for the merry sport I have planned."

Sarial jerked his snout in direction of the mysterious content of the crate. Expertly, he'd brought everyone's attention back to whatever his scheme was. Almonds approached the large object, and pulled the protective sheet. The heroes witnessed as the mystery of the box unraveled. Almonds gaped, discovering the shocking nature of the next disgrace Sarial had selected for them.

The crate contained a flashy, red-painted titanium dogsled.

Sarial had no idea that his ridiculous plan of turning his hero friends into his own private sentient sled team would be so rewarding! From the moment when he'd watched them line up for him in the snowy parking lot, linked together in single file, he'd recognized that he'd struck gold with this idea.

The tiny bells attached to the cute harnesses that he'd bought jingled happily in the clear cold air of the night with every running step that his devoted doggies took. The demon musher laughed out loud with overt and sincere joy, driving his draught team forward faster, cutting a path through the frosted fields surrounding the city.

-- Mush! Mush!

He heard no protest. The sled accelerated with a sweet vulpine bark of confirmation from Cookie, at the front. His Good Wolves pressed on into the snow as the metallic ringing intensified. Nothing could beat the view of his males working hard together, braving the harsh wind and the difficult wintry environment to drag him and his sled wherever he commanded. Sticky snow and ice clung to their exposed fur; to their legs, thighs and raised tails, and they panted with effort, blowing hot clouds of steam. Nevertheless, they kept pulling onto the ropes, helping each other out by spreading the weight of their charge.

They'd been pouty at first, after being taken through the slippery city streets. While Sarial understood their disapproval, it had been worth it to observe the hilarious reactions of the rare nightly passersby and surprised dark shapes behind their house windows, when they glimpsed their revered heroes roped together and stripped, dutifully pulling their master's sled while enveloped in a merry melodic jingle. The population would surely long ponder the meaning of this kinky holiday apparition!

Picking the loyal fox for the lead canine proved to be an excellent choice. Cookie obeyed his verbal commands with a hell of a lot more enthusiasm than the others. The fox had never viewed himself as an alpha in the first place, and what he truly wanted was to be with his buddies, regardless of context. Serving Sarial also assuaged his terrible guilt for wounding the shadow wolf's feelings, so he was reliable. Once the team leader received their master's instructions and swerved left or right, accelerated, or any other directive, the rest of the team didn't have much of a choice but to follow tamely, or pull hard in a different direction, thereby hurting Cookie. Since they would never do that, Cookie was the perfect leader to keep his pack in step. Besides, the cripplingly timid fox could use the experience of being in a dominant position, for once, and it hadn't taken very long for the red-furred and black-pawed little guy to adapt to it and build confidence. Sarial could tell that he was having fun, running ahead of the pack, being in charge of setting the pace and the course for everyone else. That said, even though Cookie was strong and robust for his kind, he remained a fox, and couldn't truly measure up to the bulkiness of the wolves. Therefore, Sarial had placed Bandit right behind him, correctly assuming that the mighty gray wolf's foremost priority would be to shoulder as much weight as possible for the smaller companion occupying his sight. Thus, in reality, Bandit pulled the team together, but he did so according to Cookie's guidance. Bitch followed simply as additional muscle and support. Last in line was the unbroken Almonds, who had to carry most of the sled's weight. The demanding effort kept the holy wolf too busy to grumble, and he even occasionally seemed to lapse into his task, momentarily forgetting his anger. Heck, due to Sarial's shadow-wolf nature, he shared the same instincts as his canine team. He occasionally gave in to his desire and hopped off the foot boards to push from the side of the sled, for the sheer satisfaction of running with the others and contributing to the group effort. He was a sucker for teams, always wanting to be part of them. He made sure not to do it for too long, though, lest the Good Wolves forget who was the musher and who were the mushed.

Sarial directed his sexy convoy of subjugated pups toward a small pine forest in which city residents enjoyed walking during the summer. There, their paws sunk deeper into the fresh snow, and progress slowed down significantly. Trees -- especially fallen ones -- also provided regular obstacles, and Almonds had to deploy even more efforts to swerve the sled sharply around them. Sarial still enjoyed the slower trek thoroughly, relaxing while his pets struggled diligently for their master's praise, which he gave them. He breathed in the natural scents of evergreens, and gazed at the graceful mix of white and green that the frosted branches offered to his senses, glad that he didn't have to hop his way through this thick powdery snow. He also kept an eye for the signs of fatigue that had been steadily increasing after a few hours of sledding. Frustration and sentiments of helplessness facing the difficult conditions were mounting as he pushed his obedient males to their limits. Eventually, Cookie, who had the task of creating the trail by plowing through the snow, slowed down to a near stop, panting hard with a meek tinkle of his harness. Almonds slipped and fell briefly. Bitch emitted tiny unconscious whines as he breathed. They were all drained.

"Clearing up ahead. One more effort! I'm sure heroes like you can reach it. Show me what remarkable beasts you are! Mush!"

Sarial's challenge stung some prides, especially that of the wolves. Bandit caught up to Cookie, picked up the startled fox under his left arm, and powered forward. Almonds had no choice but to reluctantly respond in turn and display his formidable force, to Sarial's immense glee. Bitch could barely drag his paws along, so Sarial descended to push. Sure enough, despite the horribly deep snow, the howling cold wind through the trees and the weight of the sled, the three wolves got everyone into the quiet clearing.

"Whoa!"

The stop command had been given, and relief filled the courageous but exhausted team. Cookie giggled and wiggled his paws for Bandit to gently deposit him into the snow. Sarial took a small shovel out of the sled's basket, and extended its telescoped handle. He moved between the breathless canines, showering each of them with praise and head rubs.

"Such good boys! That was amazing! Everything I could've wished for and more! Now, what we need for this to be the absolute best Angelmas celebration ever is to build a nice fire for us to rest around! Unhook yourselves, take a breather, and then fetch me some kindling and bigger branches. I'll start clearing some of that snow."

Sarial started shoveling, but he paid careful attention to what was going on behind him. His linked pets stared at each other for a while. While they weren't too pleased with the circumstances, the ambiance wasn't as hostile as earlier. Regardless of the humiliation of having to humor Sarial, the truth was that they'd accomplished something impressive, dragging that dogsled. They knew it, and they knew Sarial knew it as well. An odd sense of guilty pride floated. Eventually, Bandit shrugged, chiming softly in the night.

-- We might as well, said Cookie.

They detached themselves and just... did what the demon asked. The rigorous exercise had definitely helped transform Sarial's grumpy friends into a more contented, compliant and better-humored pack. Only Almonds stayed behind, frowning as usual, but not at anyone in particular. The heavenly soldier gazed into the snow, lost in deep reflection. The shadow wolf let him be.

A few minutes later, they had a decent bonfire, lighting up their private little clearing, and melting the ice from their fuzzy limbs. Sarial arranged the positioning of his -- by then -- warm and restful males. Bandit, as a tough and fluffy hunk of wolf, stretched down behind him to serve as his comfy pillow. Cookie had to wait to the side and then fold over Sarial's belly into a light foxy blanket of happiness. Bitch, naturally, would go down like a good dog at his master's paws, and curl tightly around them to keep them snug. Only Almonds remained. The celestial lupine stood near the fire, clear from the silky jumble of furry submission, arms crossed. He kept a defiant attitude, but it was obvious that something bothered him. He'd lost his indifference. Sarial wished he knew what the ex-angel was thinking about. In any case, the demon had the perfect place for him in mind.

-- Almonds. I want you to lie down over my legs, close to Bitch, and snuggle with him.

The Doberman coughed, gasped, and went utterly still in paralyzing terror. The holy wolf turned his head to the demon, buried under his sweet pets.

-- What?

Sarial repeated his order more sternly, throwing a glance at the dog.

-- Snuggle. Together. Immediately!

The pale wolf appeared surprised.

-- Why?

-- Because I order it.

Almonds snickered.

-- Ha! Sarial, please. Think again if you believe that physical intimacy with another male will trouble me in the slightest.

All could hear the nervous chattering of the black dog's teeth while the fallen angel unhesitatingly approached and lay down next to him.

"Don't worry, buddy. I'll just hold you close. Sarial wants to intimidate us, but we won't let him win so easily. Even naked, there's nothing weird about this."

Luminous arms softly, carefully closed around the dark back in a gently tightening cuddle. The nervous chatter of teeth ceased instantly as the Doberman positively _melted_into the immaculate fur.

"See? There's nothing to it."

However, after a few quiet minutes of Bitch clutching perhaps a bit too hard, or digging his snout a smidge too enthusiastically in Almonds' perfect chest, the wolf of light began to figure out the truth. It was far too evident that this was the ultimate best moment in the entire life of their gamer comrade. When Almonds looked up questioningly to the rest of the group and saw Sarial's massive grin, his face changed with the confirmation of his suspicions.

"Oh."

His brilliant hand soothingly stroked the short-haired back as the dog squeaked in pure bliss.

"I didn't know you felt that way. I guess we'll have things to discuss in private when we get back."

Sarial peacefully scratched Bandit and Cookie behind their ears. He didn't want them to feel deprived of attention while Bitch got his from Almonds. The angelic wolf scrutinized him, perplexed by his motives. There was only one logical way to interpret that last order: it'd been for the dog's benefit. The luminous wolf appeared to wrestle with this knowledge, until he finally settled down, his mind made up.

"This here is what you truly wanted, isn't it?" asked Almonds, already knowing the answer. "Being close to us."

Sarial yapped with the elation of witnessing the ex-angel finally get it.

-- The harnesses and bells are merely opportunistic, because I wanted payback. Us resting together around that fire, keeping each other warm despite the unforgiving cold? This is the best. Now, this world is worth it, because I have my loyal Good Wolves with me. And they make pleasing sounds!

Sarial stuck out a mocking tongue and gave Cookie's shoulder a nudge. Bells rang cheerily in the clearing.

Almonds didn't respond, but the wolf emitted a passive, neutral growl, without showing the teeth hidden in his white muzzle. The low ponderous rumble of his noble voice didn't build up; it simply emphasized his presence. It meant that he still had things to say. That was fine with Sarial. He let him organize his thoughts.

Wrapped into his deliciously tamed heroes, who were now calm and respectful, the shadow beast supposed it was time to share his treat with them. He plunged his hand into the pocket of his coat, and took out the small box that his endearing vulpine had given him. He lovingly removed the wrapping with the little skulls, and exhibited the box of rum cookies. The sugary smell of quality molasses spread around every single black nose, all of which silently twitched as they sniffed the familiar aroma. Rum cookies were the traditional snack that Good Wolves ate together when Bandit summoned them at his house to prepare for a mission. These weren't homemade by their leader, but experienced canine snouts could tell quality.

"Guess who among you gave me those," said Sarial as he pulled the box's lid.

-- I did! proclaimed Cookie without delay, lifting his hand from his privileged spot on top of Sarial's waist.

They smiled.

-- That's right! confirmed Sarial. We all get to enjoy it together. Treats for my good boys!

The shadow wolf turned around to his muted pillow, who gave him a disgruntled glance. He probably expected that he wouldn't get a reward on account of the muzzle. Sarial rubbed his belly reassuringly.

"Here, let me take that off."

After freeing the gray wolf's maw, Sarial started distributing the cookies.

"Happy Angelmas, you guys!"

He gave one to Bandit, and one to Cookie, who gobbled it down without delay, and one to Bitch, who barely managed to unglue himself from Almonds long enough to accept it, and... then there was only one left. It was a small box, containing only four cookies. Sarial locked eyes with Almonds. The latter seemed amused.

-- Only four of the Good Wolves' favorite snack, and five Good Wolves. What are you going to do, demon?

Sarial hesitated, realizing with very real pain that he wouldn't even get to taste the only gift he'd received. Self-sacrifice wasn't in a demon's nature, but it was just a cookie, and he'd already announced they'd all get one. His flaming eyes died down into sad embers, but he sniffed hard to suppress his incoming sneeze. He pretended not to care.

-- Meh. I was never really one of you, anyway.

He held the cookie out, and Almonds reached for it.

-- Today, a demon gives me something he truly wanted.

The angel stared hard, uncompromising in his verdict.

"But the act isn't selfless."

Sarial shrugged. Yet, he felt at ease. He sensed that they were reaching some form of mutual understanding, perhaps for the first time. The statement didn't feel like an accusation.

-- It isn't. I do it because I want you guys to like me. It's what I always wished for.

The glowing being nodded, staring at the sweet snack in his hand. Fire crackled peacefully. He finally appeared ready to speak his mind.

-- You know, I've been thinking about what you said earlier, and about the last three years.

-- Yeah?

The clearing fell dead to hear the softly-speaking wolf.

-- I kept my distance from you, and I knew it would influence the others. I couldn't let you in our group. Not really. I told myself it was because I couldn't afford to trust you. You were... different. Strong for a demon. Too strong. I kept my guard up, arguing to myself that if the Army of Heaven hadn't sent someone to stop you, it meant that we mortals could defeat you by ourselves. You encouraged that reassuring fiction, holding back in front of us so that we wouldn't be scared of you. We pretended to buy your weakness act, even if we sensed the truth. It was easier that way. More comfortable.

Bandit suddenly chimed in, too interested to hold back.

-- It's true, isn't it? That day in the cathedral. You let us win. That's why the fight turned around.

Sarial remained silent. Almonds pressed him.

-- Go ahead, say it. It won't change anything. We know it already, deep down. Just clear the air. What would happen if you went all out, right now?

The smoke-like wolf blinked. It was a time for truth, so he took the Spirit Enslavement Gem of Avalon out of his pocket. He lifted his spell, removing his subtle presence from the minds of his friends, before hiding the jewel once more. The air shone and they breathed, feeling less oppressed, less dominated. Sarial answered the question honestly.

-- Your world would perish, he admitted.

It wasn't a threat. It was the detached statement of a reality. Meccael, Karim and Ollie nodded in acknowledgement, but Cole, who'd never seen Sarial in action with his own eyes, was disturbed by the reveal. Meccael rubbed the dog's neck to reassure him, while Ollie squeezed Sarial's shoulder with a bright face.

-- Don't worry, said the fox, he'll never do it. Even before, he wanted us to stop him. That's why Heaven never sent a soldier, right? He was our responsibility. He merely needed us to nudge him in the right direction. Am I wrong, Sarial?

The demon rolled his eyes at the embarrassing question, and glanced aside. It was rather emasculating for a demon with serious credentials to admit they didn't _really_want to destroy the world. Then again, that wasn't really his crowd anymore, and Ollie was more-or-less correct.

The shadow flickered and sighed.

-- No, I guess not.

Meccael silently approved. An icy gust blew over the bundle of canines, angrily whistling through the trees, blinding them with powdery snow for a few seconds. Sarial drew his knees a tad closer to himself, but Cole and Meccael followed his movement and pushed against his raised legs as the Good Wolves instinctively huddled tighter into their confused but safe jumble. Karim curled around Sarial's back, his heavy gray tail resting onto the demon's waist, tickling Ollie's withdrawn red paws as the fox sought cover into the dark flickering arms. They shielded each other from the elements.

Then, the wind subsided and it was over. Meccael opened his hand, somberly weighing the cookie, still intact on his padded palm. He continued:

-- I was lying to myself, and I knew it. It mattered little how hard I tried, or how well-prepared I might be, I wouldn't have been able to stop you anyway, so that's not why I didn't trust you. I suspected your change of heart was genuine. No. I didn't accept you because I didn't want to accept you. The Baron of Screams wished to redeem himself. As a Heaven-born, I should've welcomed this. All I needed to ensure your loyalty was to give you a chance; to offer you my goodwill. It should've been an easy price to pay, but I couldn't. Do you know why? Because you are impure.

Sarial listened attentively, patient. The pale wolf struggled to control himself as he processed his anger, careful not to trigger his shock collar. He swallowed the chilly winter air, after which he released Cole and brought himself to his paws, taking a few steps away from the fire and flipping around to glare at Sarial.

"I didn't give a damn about the honorable efforts you made to behave, or how much you helped us for three years, because you did it for yourself. I wished you to be a traitor. I didn't want you to win, Sarial! You didn't deserve to get rewarded! Not you! Not a criminal! Not a... Not a demon!"

A vision of blinding crystalline wings flashed and disappeared as the fallen angel roared into the night. It'd been so brief and so cruelly perfect in its beauty that Sarial and the others gaped in awe, watching as the shock collar placed on Meccael's neck fell in the snow, destroyed by the righteous honesty of the emotions that nothing could silence. It was the sole proof that what they'd glimpsed had actually happened. Meccael didn't even appear to notice, overtaken by his outrage.

"It wasn't fair! Do you understand? I haven't been happy since my banishment, years ago. Not for a single second! You know what my crime was? Hating you! Demons! You fed your power with the suffering of countless souls! And I..."

Meccael opened his arms and screamed into the obscure sky.

"... I just failed to be perfect! Yet you get what you truly want, and I don't?"

He finally calmed down, his anger exhausted. He dropped to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut.

"How could I accept that?" he whispered. "How could I watch, and see how much it meant for you to be one of us? How you loved it when we gave you a simple compliment. You were so happy, and I was unfit for my high task. Miserable. I didn't fear you; I despised you. I was jealous. I wanted your integration to fail. I missed your parties on purpose. I wanted you to be frustrated, and sad, and lonely. I wanted you to be punished, even if it risked turning you again... At least, if you destroyed everything, it would prove that you were even more wretched than I was. I would've sacrificed the world out of spite. I'm the worst. I'm more evil than any demon could ever be."

The bitter angelic eruption ended. Sarial glanced around. Karim, Cole and Ollie were just as stunned as he was. Out of the blue, a single irrepressible high-pitched chuckle came out of him.

-- Ha!

Sarial gently extracted himself from under the Good Wolves. He walked in the snow, moving closer to the dejected fallen angel. He towered over him for a second, before he crouched and caught the luminous wolf off guard with a full-bodied hug. Meccael's arms froze, unsure how to react.

"You're not evil, stupid. You were sad and disappointed, so you were mean to me. That doesn't remotely count as trying to destroy the world. Trust me, I would know. You're holding yourself to an impossibly high standard, and I'm not, so you took it out on me. But I'm a demon. I'll never be pure or selfless. The best I can aspire to, if I work really hard, is becoming an okay guy that used to be a monster. You're as close to perfection as anyone will ever get. Of course it's easier for me! I know that I deserve your ill will for the things I did, and yet I still get to expect you to forgive me, because you're that virtuous! Don't you realize? We all know it's not fair! I feel honored just being allowed to exist near you! I'll never deserve being your friend, but that doesn't matter to me. I want it anyway. I'm a selfish filthy demon, and I demand that you come to my parties, because I like you. I always will."

Sarial released the glowing shoulders. The demon and angel made lengthy eye contact. The celestial blue eyes squinted.

-- Or else what?

The shadow wolf scratched his head in uncertainty.

-- I don't know. I'll hook you to a sled, apparently. I haven't exactly planned ahead with this.

They grinned.

-- I'm sorry, Sarial. Thank you for your understanding. You truly are a good friend.

The shadow beast petted the rising holy ears, and then he motioned to get up. Meccael seized his wrist with a quick lunge.

"Wait. I said I wouldn't do that, and what you did tonight is wrong, so I don't want you to misconstrue this for approval. It goes against everything I am to reward evil. However, I feel like I owe you for the last three years. Just for this once, if it'll flatter your ego and make you happier, I guess evil can briefly win over me. I, uh..."

Sarial gawked at the kneeling wolf, sensing everyone else's attentions on them as Meccael's attitude changed. Clearly, this wasn't easy for him, but the angel closed his knees into a more subdued pose, humbly bent his head, and lifted his tail exactly as the demon had demanded of his submissive pets. He took a deep breath for courage and pronounced the words that grinded his gears.

"... I recognize your dominance, master."

Sarial gasped, placing his hands over his muzzle.

-- You mean it? Just for me?

Meccael offered his hand and opened it.

-- Sure. I offer you this delicious rum cookie as a tribute. I want you to have it. It was your gift, and you deserve it. You can be a little bit selfish. That's fine. You're one of us, even if you're flawed. Let's all be flawed together, and help each other become better.

-- Awesome!

Sarial received the sugary treat and munched it cheerfully, enjoying the rich rum flavor so closely associated with his dear buddies. Still, his mind was mostly occupied by the epically sexy male yielding in front of him. This did beat the cookie, as symbolic as it might've been.

"Does that mean you'll be a good puppy and gladly sit on my lap, if I order it?"

-- ... I imagine it could mean that, yes. If that's what you'd like.

-- It most definitely is.

-- I see.

With an exquisitely firm grip on his nape, Sarial conducted his compliant angel back among his other pets. He lay against Karim as before, and had Meccael take Ollie's place. The heavenly male obeyed with elegant restraint, lightly squeezing Sarial's flickering dark sides with his thighs and wrapping his arms around his master's back. The other canines -- including Sarial -- could scarcely believe what was happening. Meccael was his! It was too magnificent to be true! He could sense the lightsider's radiating allure penetrating his demonic fur, as well as his delightful weight; his perfect and living presence. Sarial couldn't stop feeling his outline, eyes closed to better appreciate the forms of his chest and back; his restful muscles and strong bones. He even dared take in the texture of the side of his sculpted masculine rump. The shadow hound got a wicked erection from it, and there was no way his divine pet couldn't sense it through the pants over which he sat. Nevertheless, Meccael kept his stance, steady and accepting. He looked at Sarial seriously, without judgment, but also without desire. He finally smiled when the demon reopened his eyes, after several minutes.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

-- Oh yes, breathed the demon.

-- Good. I'm glad. Because now, you have to end this, give us the gem, and let everyone go.

Sarial agreed.

-- Yep, very soon! We still have to head back home and consume the meal I prepared. I bought a big pet dish. Not super hygienic, I know. I wanted to get one for each of you, but I was out of money and credit after buying the ton of gear that I needed. You can all go free after that.

Meccael patiently but categorically shook his head. The demon realized with an odd feeling that the angel wasn't asking.

-- Not soon. It ends right now.

The demon defiantly crossed his arms.

-- I don't believe this is your decision to make.

Slowly, Meccael reached for the shadowy muzzle. The gentle claws stroked the warm underside of the demon's chin. Sarial was wary not to get lost into the pleasing experience. Something strange was happening.

-- I'm afraid it is, said the luminous being.

-- Why?

Meccael delicately placed his forehead against Sarial's.

-- I'm being recalled.

Sarial took a second to process the words, and then it happened again. Crystalline feathers of light manifested their divine presence. The wings appeared too briefly to be seen, but they were also too bright not to imprint their complex and flawless shapes into the demon's sight, like a bolt forking into the black horizon. Sarial couldn't ignore the warning, this time. He pushed Meccael aside and hopped to his paws, moving away from his accommodating canines, so they wouldn't get caught in the line of fire. Karim, Cole and Ollie remained stupefied by what unfolded before them. The shadow hound widened his stance and fostered his power, sensing thrilling pulses of unquantifiable energy drawn from the fiery depths of his soul. The black aura surrounding him grew thicker as his eyes blazed until there were only two shards of inferno into a sea of uncompromising void.

Meccael unhurriedly stood. Shining brighter than ever, he left himself completely open as he peacefully turned to face the unleashed devil. Sarial sensed it: he was right. Meccael had started on the path to his redemption, and stood under the eye of Paradise in this very moment. He didn't even appear naked and harnessed anymore. Somehow -- though he couldn't see it -- Sarial guessed the exact appearance of the ornate, mind-bogglingly beautiful set of silver plate armor that should've covered him head to toe. Did it really exist? Was it an illusion? It didn't seem to matter. Even with a mere fraction of his old power as a complete angel, Meccael would be out of his league. Sarial sensed immeasurable awe seep deep into his bones. The demon had never been so utterly dwarfed. It was his first glimpse at the power of the light, and he almost crumbled to his knees right then and there. It was the way of things. The hordes of hell were many, free and weak; the soldiers of Heaven were few, lawful and strong.

Perhaps... perhaps a top-tier shadow demon like himself might meaningfully oppose a freshly recalled, incomplete angel, but Sarial didn't like his chances. Meccael didn't exactly appear worried either. The shiny lupine never bothered to adopt a fighting stance.

"Stop this," suggested Meccael in a potent voice that left little possibility for disagreement. "You know what happens if we battle. I don't want to hurt you, but I can't allow you to mistreat our friends if I can put a stop to it. The party is over and you know it."

Sarial looked around, unsure what to do. This wasn't how he wanted the festivities to end, but he sure as hell preferred not to fight Meccael, for a flurry of different and very convincing reasons, including his preference for not being annihilated. One thing was certain: he'd lost control of the situation. Sarial's pillow, blanket and foot-warmer got up, understanding that they'd officially been liberated. His pets seemed passably annoyed, except for Ollie, who mostly appeared concerned.

-- Don't be foolish, warned Karim. You've had your fun, but you won't beat an angel. You're making your situation worse. Cut it out.

Sarial grumbled. Karim was right. He'd also known from the start that he'd end up having to make amends for his actions. Still, it would've been preferable if the festivities concluded with him still in control, and willingly letting the others go. He might've gotten away with a lighter reprimand, then. Oh, well.

The shadow cloud resorbed as Sarial relaxed and let his arms fall at his sides.

-- Fine, I give up. It was a pretty neat Angelmas celebration, anyway.

Meccael followed suit, toning down the illumination a few notches and ending the standoff. Heavy silence floated for a moment. The Good Wolves regrouped around their demon. They glared while slapping snow out of their exposed furs.

"What?" asked Sarial

Karim hurriedly removed his collar and harness, as did the others. He wasn't pleased.

-- Giving up doesn't erase the crimes you just committed, said the gray wolf.

-- Crimes? Come on, it wasn't that bad.

Cole begged to differ.

-- You bound and stripped us. Dude, you shaved "Bitch" into my chest fur!

-- I was upset! It'll regrow.

-- You... you made me squirt in front of everyone! You excised the entirety of my self-respect!

-- That'll regrow too.

Cole slapped his forehead. Karim took over.

-- That's not an excuse, he stated. Look, we get it. You had a valid reason to be mad, and we're sorry for our part in this, but you can't abduct your friends for missing a party! Much less use a mystical artifact against them, and force them into submission!

-- Three parties, corrected Sarial. One party, no, I agree, but three parties, I think that does deserve a bit of kidnapping. I mean, I would've let you go!

-- You tortured me for hours.

-- I know! I'm sorry, but you needed the training. You would've spent the entire night grumbling and trying to lecture me, and it would've ruined the mood! Technically, it was arousal, though, so it's more like you enjoyed it too much.

Karim looked insensible to that distinction. Ollie approached and touched Sarial's arm.

-- You did force me to play maid for you, and you put a shock collar on Meccael. That wasn't very nice.

-- You treated us like playthings, added the angel.

-- I was hurt! I wanted payback! Three years in a row, I spent Angelmas in tears because my only family in the world didn't show up, and I wondered if they really cared! Demons don't manage that kind of disappointment well, alright?

Surprisingly, Ollie moved first to respond. He squeezed Sarial's hand.

-- Nobody does. That's how it goes, here. We mean to do better, but we make mistakes and we hurt our buddies. It's tough, sometimes. You have a right to be angry with us, but you can't lash out arbitrarily. There are lines you can't cross. Otherwise, we'll live in terror of you, wondering how far you'll go the next time we unavoidably disappoint you, because, at some point, we'll mess up again. This is what imperfect people do. Is this what you want, or would you prefer us to feel safe together, trusting that no matter what, we'll always be able to fix things and be there for each other?

Sarial averted his eyes, and rubbed his claws together.

-- I lost the high ground, didn't I?

Everyone stared at him. He gazed at his paws.

"Okay, okay. I know you guys are right. I was wrong to seek sexy vengeance. Good Wolves don't do that. I do apologize, I really mean it. I'll make it up to you. I swear not to capture you again, even if it was super hot."

Karim extended his hand.

-- Turn it off, and give it.

The demon made a mopey face, but he handed over the inactive Spirit Enslavement Gem of Avalon. Karim examined it for a moment, and gave it to Cole for safekeeping. Their artifact specialist had a secure hidden vault for this kind of thing. Cole couldn't help but admire the mythical object.

-- I can't believe you had something like that lying around. Or that you can actually control it.

-- How powerful is it? asked Ollie.

-- Powerful, said the Doberman. He could've rewritten our entire personalities, our memories, everything.

-- Scary! gasped the fox.

Sarial lifted his finger.

-- But I didn't, so add that to my credit.

-- How do we know that for sure? frowned Cole.

-- I didn't! Seriously, I wouldn't turn you into mindlessly obedient sex poodles! Where would the fun be in that? Actually, let me rephrase that. I meant that I wouldn't do that because it's wrong. Also, don't you think that if I'd been willing to do that kind of thing, I would've made you guys forgive anything I did automatically, so this right now wouldn't be happening?

Cole growled but he appeared to accept that logic.

-- Whatever. You should've turned that in to us. An artifact like this affects the area where it's kept.

-- I keep them in salt. I'm not an idiot.

Sarial realized his mistake when Cole looked about to explode.

-- Them? For the love of everything decent, tell me you don't have more toys like this one!

The demon attempted to look casual.

-- Nah.

-- Sarial...

-- Maybe.

-- Sarial!

-- Give me a break. To survive in hell, you either accumulate enough power to stand on your own, or you become a stronger demon's bitch. I keep my artifacts close; it's a habit! I know what you're going to say. I don't live in hell anymore, but I could only feel secure knowing I had some firepower nearby. I'll show you what I have, but you won't take away my safety blanket. Not yet. I promise I'll never use any of my remaining items against you guys.

The dog seemed displeased, but Karim and Meccael nodded, so he added nothing else. Everyone sighed. It was such a weird, overwhelming night. No one looked certain of what they should do next. They took a few minutes to settle down.

-- How was the sled thing, though? asked Karim. Was it fun?

-- You have no idea!

-- Maybe I will. We need to go back and fetch everyone's clothes.

-- No need. I can bring us back instantly. I just need to open-

Meccael emphatically shook his head.

-- No more hell portals.

Sarial was confounded.

-- But if I don't, how will we go back? On the sled? I mean, I can't leave it here, I have to return it. It cost me a fortune!

Karim smirked.

-- I hope you don't seriously expect any of us to go back through the streets naked.

The shadow hound squinted, finally understanding.

-- Someone's going to have to make multiple trips pulling that sled to bring everyone back, aren't they?

Karim threw a side glance to the others.

-- I know I'd like a nice dogsled ride.

There were a couple of laughs. Sarial rolled his eyes.

-- You want my clothes, too.

-- You have the only set, and as I said, I'm not going through the city nude again.

Sarial looked up into the starless sky.

-- And the sun's coming up soon, complained the demon. I didn't make you guys do it in plain daylight! Meccael! Help me out. You got some powers back. You could transport us!

The angel put on a teasing mask.

-- I will if you ask me, but are you certain that's not a missed opportunity?

-- What do you mean?

-- A ride sounds more fun. You said you wanted to make it up to us.

Sarial's dark ears shimmered and dropped low. He removed his winter coat, his shirt, his pants, and then his unholy, attractive body was in as much of a display as that of the nude heroes. Cole snootily shoved his jingling harness under his nose. Sarial grudgingly took it.

-- You jerks. I thought sexy vengeance was supposed to be wrong, or something.

After quickly dressing up, Karim moved to the Good Wolves' demon recruit, and helped him strap the harness on.

-- It isn't wrong if you do it willingly because you know you've humiliated your friends and you want to even things out, he said. Don't tell me you're too ashamed to put yourself through what you imposed to us.

Karim chuckled and patted the shadowy head. He also flicked a finger at one of the merry bells. Ollie clapped his hands at the view with an enthusiastic meep.

-- You look so adorable!

Sarial turned his sight to his own dark mighty body all prepped and ready to serve. Ollie was right; he did look amazingly attractive in subby mode. Being aware of how desirable he was to the others partly made up for the abrasion of his hellish pride. A certain type of exhilaration filled him at the notion of exploring this further, though apprehension definitely came with it. No matter. Sarial could tell he wouldn't escape this, and he was too arrogant to refuse the challenge.

-- Alright, alright. I can be a nice demon pet. Just watch this.

He hooked himself alone to the dogsled, adjusting his harness and preparing to show off his monstrous power. They wanted rides? Oh, they'd get them. Clearly, he could get a lot of mileage from that sled. Maybe, if the rides were fun enough, he could convince the others to chip in and help him pay for it? Sarial grinned devilishly. Yeah, he could do that. By the next morning, they'd beg him to keep the sled.

Karim climbed behind.

-- If you really want to make the trips before the sun gets too high, I only have one suggestion, said the large gray-furred driver.

-- What's that?

Karim's tail wagged with anticipation.

-- Mush, Sarial! Mush!

And thus, on the morning after Angelmas, the yearly tradition of shackling your tamed demons to a sleigh and taking them out for a ride was born.

The sled was never returned.