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Quick Kills No.9

Kiss, of the Beast

By

Ezekiel White

Songs are House on Sand by Nothingmore

He is by Ghost

“L-Let go of me” The muffled struggle of a familiar voice drew me from slumber, lid sliding open effortlessly to find two followers restraining Adelaide, who outright froze.

“Aides, what a pleasure.” She would only whine nervously in turn,

“We were told to bring her to your quarters, she belongs to you.” One of the hooded figures added. The rooted display pedestal drew my gaze, empty bark bound tendrils waving around in want for something to hold. This, this made me smile, a diabolical finger resigning her fate,

“Kneel her on there, back to the root.” My grin couldn’t be stifled, I felt an odd sense of relatability as she struggled, knowing how those dry tentacles felt, lacing up her hands, arms, torso and neck, nicely secured in place. I’ll admit she looked pretty with that necklace of hers, slowly curling its way around the throat, mmph.

“Anything else sir?” My brow raised at the address, waving them off without thought, turning ones full attention to a new display piece. Adelaide quivered, fur rank with soilage and unwashed junkie sweat, tear trail stripes as face paint.

“Wh-what are you gonna do to me?” Several shaky words sought mental solace, ohhhhh the possibilities were endless. Torture? Starvation to the point where she’d eat bits of her own filleted flesh, a little struggle snuggle? I could, I could administer some hostile hospice, letting her mind do the work for me. No, too one track, we’ve got to go big here, dawning my best smile, I leaned in close, and asked the real question.

“Where, is, Cleavy?” I wanted my knife, my partner at work and bed, I felt for the cold empty leather sleeve still slung to my backside cruelly made empty by this, this lascivious mutt. Her eyes went wide, ears perked,

“My knife, you took, my knife, where, is she?” Your dragons eyes narrowed upon the thieves own, I really hate thieves, scammers, con-artists, their dismembered parts fall into the same bin as kiddy fiddlers. Her expression dropped, weighed by terrified guilt toward the topic at hand.

“I- I-“ She hesitated, her answer clear as day in mind but painful to say,

“Yessssss.” I hissed, my face was glowing with warmth, residual light basking her fur in lighter hues.

“I sold it.” Those three words, those three, simple, words, shattered me, didn’t really think there was anything left that could hurt me like that statement, right there. Connotation implying a deafening immutable loss, my friend, my lover, my spouse, gone, gone at the behest of a junkies shallow, frail addictions. A knife wasn’t just gone, a significant part of my being had been cast to the nothing, never to be seen or held again, probably cutting some assholes vegetables or basking in a pawnshops plexiglass shit lit case. I wasn’t mad, I was sad, tossed unexpectedly into an ocean of mourning, my snout dipped, shadows blanketing the eyes,

“Every, single, last, awful thing, I could do to you, you would deserve. That wouldn’t get me Cle-” I choked, snuffing it back and standing on it less the contents under pressure lead to ruin.

“That wouldn’t see Cleavy back where she belongs, no. No, the worst things I could do to you pale in comparison to what you’ve done to yourself, I just have to let you sit, and enjoy the show.” One could see the gears turn slowly with the occasional, erratic jerk, trying to decipher my intent, it was true though, I didn’t have to do a thing. The root must’ve sensed a growing disdain as she began tumbling out the infamous addicts anthem,

“I- I- I’m” And the root slid between her lips, dainty veins gripping loose face hole flesh before pressing further down her throat, like a worm, coiling itself backward then lurching forward. It filled me with as much joy as I was capable of, seeing this giant tree snake slither all the way down into her belly, fully seating her lips apart, whimpering, bound and gagged. I held up one claw, inhaling deeply, letting the heat rise and escape slowly in an elongated hiss. Torch flame heating the keratin dagger beat red, she whimpered, jumping in place when both eyes turned to her. Slowly I held it out, letting the tension build, jabbing it in the taut fur just over her sternum, those muffled pained cries and hissing skin were a much needed shot of cathartic release.

Were it not for the root I’d be conducting her song, inch by inch that smoking claw drug down her front, just enough to irreparably scar flesh and cut raggedy cloth. Mmm, the smell of burning hair, skin, and soiled cloth mixed with a tightly gripped shriek, might as well be dinner and a show. The shirt fell apart, letting those scabby chest puppies hang freely, these rotten jean denim shorts unleashed a foulness, a literal discharge that sizzled against my claws. When she sat, knelt, stripped and restrained, marked for the rest of her life, tears silently streaming down her face, sniffling in a roiling bed of agony and trauma, I smiled. This, made me smile, I leaned in, lips to an ear,

“Now, we’re even.” We weren’t of course but I felt, better, about the whole thing, casually strolling out of my quarters, the fires grew dark.

“Is there anything I can assist you with my lord?” There’s that voice again, I looked to see one of the hooded figures who’d brought my display waiting just outside. What’s with these nomenclatures? I hate it when people address me as such. “Master”, “sir”, “daddy” Christ on a stick if I could never be called anything like that ever in life again it would be a tick in the right direction.

“Zeke, I’m just Ezekiel.” Panic took her as if she’d offended.

“I’m sorry my lord,” God, fucking, damnt. Whatever. She continued,

“Every initiate is subservient to those given quarters by the lady our ward. To disobey any direction is punishable by consumption of the sanctuary, as you saw earlier with my sister.” That caught me, meat hooking my brow and pulling them up screaming off their scaled little feetsies.

“That, was your sister?” She nodded, call me intrigued,

“And how does that, what happened, sit with you?” She fidgeted, although somber, eventually pushed out the verbal stool,

“It, was the will of the watcher. I have no say in it but to only serve as he commands.” Wow, the poor girl, I could tell in her tone and mannerisms that it bothered her greatly. Rightfully so I might add, there was no need for the hoods concealment, you could feel the tension writhing, contorting inside, soul screaming in bloody torment, baying for vengeance. That whole scene replayed in gruesome detail, eyes beset upon the girl, looking to me to be her vessel of action. My brain stopped, focused on the opening of that violent display,

“What’s your name? Initiate.” The girl paused, bewildered, akin to asking her to spread eagle and shit on my chest.

“My friends called me, Alli.” Recalling that name and her before times almost came off as foreign, swore I could see a slight smile as she spoke.

“You had addressed Church because you three had found some sort of breakthrough? I’d like to see what it was.” She nodded,

“We think the plate on the statue depicts the ritual for ascension, we wrote our translations out in several books.” Ascension, there’s that word again, Liberty and Church held the act with some sacred reverence. Deviants like them don’t casually attribute such worth to anything unless there’s real weight to it. Well gang, there’s a mystery a foot, and we’re gonna solve it, nothing else to do in this shit hole.

“Bring them to me, find them and head to my quarters, wait there until I return. Don’t let that dog inside loose, and don’t open the door for Church.” She’d be safe in there, that nutty fox would have a field day with her knowing what she was attempting. For tonight I’d be exploring, I was eager to get out and about in this delightful world of fantasy, to prowl and hunt freely. Ohhhhhhhh the smile I wore whilst meandering, it was pure, eager, wickedness distilled down into glowing fangs.

As an infamous candy man leading an intrepid troop of potential successors, I danced and sang my way around every tunnel or side hall that honey combed Sanctuary. I'll tell you it’s the oddest thing having people bow and kneel themselves to the wayside out of respect rather than being wary of you. Not sure which one I prefer honestly, at least with fear I can smile and appear like I belong with the normies, respect has its own rigid funk you can’t wash off without a healthy amount of foolishness. This place had changed, from new turf that threatened death or worse around every corner to my own little sweet shop of horrors and bemusement, but we all know, where I was headed.

One, and only one door in this fantastical hellscape glowed, the one with a forest permanently stuck in a golden dusk, you could see and almost feel how nice it was from down the main corridor. Glowing beautiful sun rays reaching out to sanitize the other wise dark and moist rooted gut locker.

“I could use a break.” I told myself, just a pin, a slight pause in the constant schlog of endless angst and morbidity, fun as they are sometimes the null setting on life and just existing is the trick. I say all this but you and I both know why I was there, somebody eyed me, wasn’t not gonna try to fuck it while setting everything around me on fire, as one does. And oh what a lovely place this was, beautiful forest where you’d hunt goblins or something after getting Isekai’d permanently stuck in golden dusk light. Sorry, I keep saying that but it really was this places best selling point, warmed the scales and held everything just right, would’ve made a great get away to pitch a tent, live like animals, nude and fucking where ever you wanted.

I’d decided to break away from the main path opting to follow a fairly shallow stream, it ran me through a field that split away from the dense trees, god, you could see for miles. Bird, deer, and usual foresty type shit were plentiful, I made it a game of how many of them I could spot while mindlessly wandering. Not sure when the field had opened up but I’d seen one large shrub off in the distance, now thanks to absent mindedness it was right before me, and not a shrub at all, just a giant fucking tree. Oh look, my prize, sure enough, sitting up in this old birch crown was that Satyr whom paid me no mind, I’ll be the first to admit subtlety is not my forte, but I could whistle, the sharp and loud kind too. Just as two claws pursed cracked lips,

“I’m aware you’re here.” He spoke, never really glancing or acknowledging me with a direct look, that alluring aroma of cinnamon filled my lungs, firmly clamping down any spectrum of attention, what was this? I couldn’t look away, form and energy just as tasty as this musk.

“Oh, so, satyr huh?” What? Despite everything this was still a uniquely new experience, he chuckled,

“A dragon, huh?” He was conducting this convo via the fruit in hand, snarky bitch, but there’s a smile, silence followed.

“Earlier, why were you starring?” Curiosity, that’s what had drawn me here, that and my nose but that look, it was so familiar, one of a pained existence nimbly traversed by the bruises received when it couldn’t be. Easily recognized by the gaunt expressionless face, tired of carrying the weight of whatever it was. He didn’t answer,

“Even when your friends ran off, you stayed, looking back, why?” Silence beckoned as he starred into that fruit whom he was so enamored with,

“Why are you here?” He asked, four words every one and single thing in this place had sought to ask with increasing frequency,

“I like to hunt those who would predate the weak, and I have a damn good time doing it.” There’s an answer, a real sulfur born answer.

“Mm, you’re a devil are you not? Partly anyway.” He asked, still showing little interest in my words,

“Aye.” From what I knew, both parents were from a humble if not motley clan of fire dragons and misfits, they always seemed off to me. Not themselves in any way, but as my creators they never fit one hundred percent in my view, too run of the mill to have birthed someone so naturally drawn to the insidious. Plus the rather large birthmark on the side of my head, scared most while outright inciting others to mob violence.

“I see, I’m a bit of a prince among your kind. Kneel before me and despair.” I’m sorry, and you are?

“Hah!” No, a verbose chest heaving chortle answered, he grinned.

“Defiant and violent. Tell me, what do you want here? What do you hope to accomplish by being here in this realm?” He asked, gaze still, not leaving that damned fruit.

“I don’t know.” True, I’d shot from the hip in a reactionary fashion forever, the new autopilot if you will,

“So you’re an animal then, living and breathing by your most basic needs, pissing and shitting as you walk, killing and eating what ever's unfortunate enough to cross your path, breeding any and every poor fawn or buck that shambles through the thicket.” I’d suppose yes, never really gave it thought, my silence confirmed that.

“Well you’re here, beast, that’s farther than most get. If you’ve come seeking something more, I can show you those doors. Prove to me you’re worth that.” That scent, it alone had his fingers interlaced with my rib cage, never mind he was putting up quite the front, how could I not, right? Something new and shiny had wandered before my nose and oh, oh how I would have it.

“How?” Name it, wasn’t doing anything with my self anyway. This, this however got him to look at me, golden mane catching the sun brilliantly, eyes matching the ghoulish heavy as earth haze that colored them.

“Deeper in this forest is a place where death screams for life to hide, in there is a book, a real one of a kind, bring it to me.” The corners of his lips curled upward with the request,

“Bring that, to me, before you try and entrance anyone with grandeur.” That shit eating grin of his sharpened, an equally poignant digit pointing off to the horizon where dawn faded. Cold again, but he wasn't wrong, whatever it takes, to earn this creatures favor, I'd do it. I still don't know why I bit so hard unto the idea's hide, but given the story thus far, it could use something nice.

I was off, with the same devil may care in a grim dull direction I'd been pointed, but this time, this time there was purpose, lusty lie driven purpose. Don't give it too much thought otherwise it won't make sense, THERE I WAS, trouncing my way over brush, boots crushing nimble little fuck sticks paid no general mind, none was owed. Thoughts rolling between carefree peace and wondering how good his asshole would feel when this was all said and done, what a fool I was.

"Where bare death screams." Sure as a dead hooker turns tricks for cheap and just as I'd seen from afar, after picturing yet another mighty dismount and a few backshots glazing Goldie, suddenly the forest, wasn't. Thoughts of carnal defiling had kept the visual feed unplugged, unrecognizable until a truly stark change had occurred, lush flora and thriving fauna exchanged for silence, dead, still, bare, silence. In fact, I don't remember the last time I'd heard anything, nor seen that healthy glow I'd been so enamored with, just dull gray and blackened skies.

A little further down yanderway there wasn't even any trees, the woods opened up to a small field with a slight hill, that crest of which showed me the gem this place hid. I'd say it were a cesspit decorated with headstones but that would imply that someone gave enough of a shit to toss the bodies in, remains as far as the eye could see, littering the grounds around traditionally placed grave markers.

Whisps, soft gusts of wind walked their icy steps over the back of my neck, inaudible words dashed as whispers around both ears, none of them made sense, almost as if they were a distraction, nymphs pulling the door open for their boss to step through.

CONSUME

That almighty cock-sucking voice backhanded my brain hard enough to stumble,

“GOD...FUCKING...DAMNT” HoohhhHhHhH, I was really beginning to hate whatever that thing was, one day I'll cut it in half. It's all powerful presence faded in a dull ache, seemingly to pop in and remind me of my celestial owner, would love to meat them for all the taunts they throw. The sky was bereft of that voices source, eyes searching for something or someone to brutalize, no such luck but as my sight fell from the heavens they conveniently landed upon a pew. Standing out, tall amongst the chiseled stone, there was a stand, that had to be it.

“Bingo.” The ground was soft beneath my boots, like this place never stopped being freshly turned, maybe for newcomers to sink easily, maybe, for the dead to rise and haunt again. It’s strange, I always feel the most peaceful when surrounded by resting dead, they listen, never demanding anything in return. No knives to stick in your back, just happy someone’s come to pay visit, here was no different, although I’d be lying if I didn’t feel something coasting through the surrounding air. I wasn’t wrong, when my claws outstretched to snag my book, a voice I hadn’t heard outside of nightmares called,

"Ezekiel?" Soft, questioning, warmth, the tone of an angel wondering what I'm doing here, before me stood a visage.

"What are you doing here?" It asked, I couldn't believe my eyes, magnificent gentle blue scaling on a form I'd longed to wrap myself around since I'd done it last.

"You're dead." I growled it back, silver mane whisping as the head smiled, flashes of bloody horror ripped through me. Still coldness kept warm in my arms, our room perfume bombed by rancid copper, his bed soaked with icy, lifeless, wet.

"Not here." It answered, it couldn't be him, my chest felt heavy, something tried punching it's way out, from the inside. My vision started blurring, I found a head stone to perch over, chest clutched

"Those people you've aligned yourself with, all the things you've done, is this truly what you wanted? Who you've become?" He stood over me, energy, the likes of which I'd rarely felt, puts a mans scales on end, making everything spin. I looked up, his scales had drained to a pale white, mouth crudely stitched shut, both wrists held up at his sides, slashed open and laughing, they were laughing. Blood spewing, churtling laughs,

"How, dare, you." Even a smouldering match can burn down a forest but holy fuck, you chose to mock me with same sloppy slashed slits that birthed me? In an instant I steadied, rallying to one leg, everything was clear, claws reaching to grab a solid fistful of hair. We were an inch apart, this thing, this lie, this taunt, bent under my will, free hand finding its taught throat,

"You.. made, me." I could feel the heat in both eyes, their glow reflected in it's face, it smiled, it fucking smiled.

"See you soon." Another empty lie as it jerked, throat removed with ease, blood spouting all over, showering everything as it fell back. Tombstones, grass, me, all covered in a lovely red font, no sooner had it disappeared under fog, I turned, the pedestal now right behind me. Rather out of place with all the "here lies" and "R.I.P"s, one single book wide podium of matching stone held my prize,

"There you are." A book wrapped in tanned skin, its face a humans frozen in horrific sadness that stretched and ached while thumbing it's pages. Inked in blood, each page was filled with acts and rituals to malign the living in graphic detail,

"My kind of book, I might just have to give you a read, seems you and I are bound anyway." I didn't recognize a single symbol in this infernal book but if anyone can teach me how to read it, the satyr could. The walk back was not without discovery either, thumbing it's pages I came upon a resurrection ritual, I don't know what else it could have been.

* * * * *

Some time later I found my current goal in the exact tree, right where I'd left him.

“You surprise me.” He opened, words catching an ear as I neared, book in hand, held out in offer,

“Keep it, it’s for your path, not mine. I can tell people where the tools for their metamorphose are but never require them. The fact that you returned with it at all, tell me, what did you see?” Flashes of youthful tragic magic and the mocking ghoul restrained any words.

“Ghost, a ghost.” I managed, he nodded still laid back, conducting himself at rest,

“Makes sense, that book is right up your alley, Ezekiel.” He said my name, that's half way to moaning it,

“I can’t read it, the symbols are foreign.” This, this prompted him to sit up and look at me, with confused pity of all things.

“If you’re truly a demon, you can read it, come back when the symbols make sense.” With that he whip cracked from existence, lithe body swirling into a marble too small to see and vanishing.

“Well fuck.” An uttered claim to the ignorance of my task, I’d do it, no clue how, but, I would.

On the way back out, those pages inked with blood drew me in, congealed along the edges as if the book itself never stopped bleeding. Etchings of possessed beings turned revolting nightmares littered a decent portion of its reading, illegible symbols or runes filled gaps where there weren’t any build a banshee how too's, dissection rituals, binding rituals, summonings, where was it, where, was,

“Ah hah!” Rarely did a book occupy my claws, mainly as there was little use for them, this, this had purpose. The ritualistic rights and incantations for, resurrection, it couldn’t have been anything else by the imagery, and what’s this?! It unfolds! Oh joyous day, yet as the pages dropped revealing more and more ways to blaspheme death, a searing red hot poker drove itself sideways through my brain, illicitly imparting staggering waves of migraine bashing pain. Neon blood symbols swirled in echoes, choirs of angry voices yelled their meanings, annunciations, their lettering settled as words, all before the final fold unfurled. In the half second it took a full spread page to drop, I understood everything in that book, grasping more in an instant than three decades of degenerative living could impart, and, it put me down. Dirt and grass caught me, wings folding overhead was the last memory for a good long while.

* * * * *

You’ll have to forgive me, cache's a bit spotty after that, whole spans of living cut out via serrated hammer. Who knows how long this haze took from me, months, years, a decade? It all became fuzzy VHS slag with a few memorable bits flashed behind them. Diligent studies were fraught with cyclic patterns of achieving only to see it once again not be enough, the next marker salaciously set just before my nose yet remaining out of reach. All the while that horned bastard delighting in my sexual warpath of frustration, I’d achieve, grow, and nose dive into rage when just another task was added to the never ending list. No one was safe from it either, Alli, Church, even several monsters I caught lurking in the walls, all fell under the dragons wrath, nigh a complaint in sight either.

That ghastly tome became my obsession, when the topic of resurrection came around, even he, the great demon prince, grew mum. SO, naturally I had to explore it myself, if there was ever a chance at blue scales against mine again, this would be the path. Those coffers in my chamber would be cracked, surprised to find my saw in the first one, boxes two and three empty, with the last holding but a singular skeleton. I hummed, contemplating how said specimen would be acquired when the still, deceased body of Adelaide caught an eye.

I stood, marveling how the tree had kept her relatively preserved, penetrating every hole, feeding on her waste and urine, amplifying her throws of suffering through withdraw. Oh how she whimpered, it was a lovely noise to nod off too, before I could even utter words of fondness for her bemoaned torture, the book was splayed, laid out for the session of a lifetime. Didn’t take much, a good bit of line work, some symbol sketching, all in blood of course, can’t do any fleshkraft without the oil it so craves.

“Klatuuuuu Verataaaaaa Niktow!” Growled, bellowed from the chest these vile incantations I’d so come to love struck air, pouring over a one dead dog carcass.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand nothing.

“What a croc.” Frustrated yet again! But with every failure there is a silver lining, I moved close, scrutinizing over every little hair, scab, or fold of pale skin, looking for even the slightest sign of life. Nothing, absent sound, breath, movement, nothing, I turned to further internally lament when the smallest whimper caught my ear.

“What was that girl? Do it again for me.” I rubbed, petted, scratched her ears and rooted neck as I once did a loyal hound. Gradually the noise grew, louder, more pained, her form animated, more lively, fighting harder and harder against the still imposing roots, eyes as white as moons. This concerned me, if it wasn’t Aidez I’d put back in this body then this wasn’t worth doing.

“Adeleaide.” A cool stern tone addressed it, snapping her from the pattern of rapid jerky movements, head up turned with an ear, eyes lost,

“Is this Adelaide I'm speaking to?” The foul, rotted shark tooth smile it hurled back, cackling of a mad witch answering,

“She burns, living hells worse torments because of you.” Didn't ask, don't care, you won't find a shred of guilt within for giving a thief their karma, it continued,

“And oh, oh how we wait to feast upon your soul, Ezekiel. You, you will be a banquet the likes rarely engorged in.” A strong set of claws gripped its throat, a smile was coming on, if anyone thinks they have control, claim, or a vote on me, may they fall off their short, shear cliff of conceit.

“Open.” Eyes alight with that lovely heat, fun fact, a wonderful technique if you're ever dealing with a degradation kink is one set of claws clamped down on the throat forces its recipient to cough open, chest punch optional. Dragon loogies, are also really flammable, they might as well be napalm, whatever this was caught a healthy Hawk-Tuah squarely in the throat. I locked lips, smoke already rolling from the nose, and, well, you know the rest. Although I did try and go for a record to see how much fire I could force out of one breath and into another's, you'd think that since whatever possessed Aidez wasn't mortal that they might do better but, no. Meat and bone are still meat and bone no matter what you do to them, in taste, durability, and flammability, the screams though.

Those were unique, several people all down pitched and synchronized then set on fire from the inside, even as the body crisped to ashy flakes and cinders, their cries died in droves. Burned root and cooking flesh did add quite the aroma to my little slice of hell, turns out the root had consumed most of her insides. No clue how she held on for so long, must've been a very, slow, process. The thought made me purr, justice for Cleavy. After I dare say a somewhat successful delving into reality’s behind the scenes, I figured I’d share and go pay Goldie a visit.

* * * * *

“I did it.” The sun once again bathed my scales, and he, was still, in that, GODDAMN TREE. Nothing, not a peep, he didn't have his beloved apple just a long gloomy stare, sharp whistling didn't even draw irritation.

“That's not good.” What's this? EMPATHY!? We don't do that, at least not sincerely, yet why did I find my self climbing up that thick rough trunk, on my way to bed I suppose. Several snaps and waved claws gradually drew him from the trance but this wasn't right, it was out of panic, his pride was within reaching distance.

“What are you doing here?” He was offended, the peasant had found a seat upon his table, the annoyance I received in turn was palpable. Makes a man smile when you achieve what you weren’t thought capable,

“I did it, I successfully resurrected a mongrel.” Book clutched to his side, smile on his face, what a good little student, full of naivety and pride, but oh how we’d just cracked the door to something wonderful. He wasn’t having any of it,

“Congratulations, I've nothing left to teach you, worse yet you've crossed a line that shant be crossed, I'm sure that little “act” of yours already has you on a few lists.” He leaned in, really emphasizing the disgust,

“I want nothing to do with it.” Something snapped, again, surprised there was anything left to snap, letting a whole nest of pieces slam down into the crowd below.

“No, no, you can't beset me with dull mediocrity then withdraw when I've become realized.” Yet another piece, edges sharp and jagged sliced into place, pulling my eyes wide open,

“I was supposed to fail.” The pause, the shocked look said I'd caught him, Et tu Bruteh?

“I wasn't supposed to make it this far, was I? Everything you sent me after, I was supposed to lose, to fail so you could laugh and claim what you think belongs to you, but through shear bumble fucking luck and drone lased tenacity, here I am.” Uh-oh, sounds like someones games got patched, and all the loopholes are gone.

“What's, your, name.” I'd earned it, time to claim my prize, a nervous facade was built faster than one could say, gas-lit. Such a foul half turned cock in his jaw, he bowed,

“Archeo et vas, Bahl.” It wasn’t what was said, but how he said it, spoken in smokey hisses that sparked as they hit air, rasps in a naturally low threatening tone.

“Most would call me Prince Bahl.” I understood him without ever hearing these words before, he stood, I could see he was not thrilled,

“Congratulations.” Bahl added, snapping from view, normally his little hole he apparates through is too small to follow, today it was about the size of a fifty cent piece. You can’t just leave a hole out in public like that and not expect me to stick something in, my claw touched the edge, it pulled just as skin.

“Ope, where are my manners.” Reeling back one of this scalies finest wads of spitool and lung butter, that wavy wormhole was going wide today. Index claw, first then second knuckle, aaaannnnndddd!

One healthy tug off left saw the world rip away, exchanged for gentle blue hues of magic flame and a small window to my left, stone brick comprised surrounding walls and floor. A small pensieve, a bed, both tucked into a small towers tip, not just just several feet from me, stood Bahls back, tensing as someone else joined him.

“Woh, is this that ivory tower that’s always riding the horizon?” Never thought to mention it, to be honest it seemed, fake, a backdrop fairy tale bejeweled butt plug you’re not supposed to use.

“What are you….” Every word shivered its audible birth, he turned visual artillery in my direction, ohhhh he was pissed. I couldn’t help myself, this little bird bath looking thing was the next ledge for my attention to latch upon.

“What’s this?” Raw living anger depleted for shear panic as my claw drew over its mouth, he acted as though my finger were a rough, leather hewn dagger like sword of Damocles, carelessly dangling over his fate.

“STOP! Don’t, move.” His soft hands held up in plea made mine retreat, slowly. Locked in calm disappeared under feigned, cool headed frustration, eyes held shut, body still as the question was asked.

“How did you get in?” This had to be a trick, a second ago I was off to the fiery void, and now, now we want answers. I thought for a sec when the cheeky wording struck, with a pointing thumb tucked over shoulder,

“Hole, your hole.” Al-most there, my answer cocked his head.

“My. . . hole?” He blinked twice while I couldn’t stop grinning,

“Yeah, usually I can’t see it, today I could.” Bahl thought for a moment then let out a long held sigh, turning to stare at the wall, in silence. Well damned be my attention span, falling back to this bird bath thing, I pointed a claw, just as the question was set to take flight,

“It’s a pensieve, the artifact window through which I can see everything.” He walked over waving a hand across it, the image shifted to Church, he was fucking Shawn’s corpse again,

“From everything I want, or don’t want to see.” His hand waved back, image changing to this scaled dick a healthy whopping balls deep in his guts. Never took the time to figure which one was wanted and which one wasn’t, my god, could you imagine if this whole thing was one big misunderstanding? That’s some good day time TV right there.

“It’s also, the key that keeps me bound here, by lineage and “birthright”, I am stuck here guarding what ever this little slice of reality decides to be.” No wonder the forest was so beautiful, a slave prince for it's guard, the question was there, begging to be asked.

“And what, sets you free?” Our eyes locked, as they had whilst strolling the halls mid introductory tour, the thought hadn’t rolled through his head in quite a while, I thought anyway, could be wrong, usually am.

“A new heir must be added to the blood line, that or someone incredibly strong must add themselves to the pensieve.” He prattled on for a bit, attention wandering just enough to turn back, watching a single, defiant drop of blood peel itself away from my thumb, crashing into the dream world below. The blank look of disbelief was priceless, I’d pay to go back and see him make it again.

“You’re joking.” Was all he could utter,

“No, but I am that dumb, enjoy freedom.” I offered that sad little satyr the same warm, toothless smile I gave to every kid pried out of a predators nest,

“I don’t suppose, me warning you, as a satyr…. relays the seriousness of what you’ve signed up for, what you’ve agreed to?” Again, a warm smile and a thought while turning to leave.

“No, but whatever the weight, I’ll lift it.” The rest of that night was quiet, the forest seemed extra serene while taking my leave, even Church gave a wide birth while casting fuck me eyes although my mind was somewhere else, he’d have to wait. Don’t you just love a good day? Where the spirits are hoisted by revelations both major and benign? Brain aloft in a bath of dopamine fueled satisfaction, everything seems, better, not sure why I was so eager to sleep, seems time is finally starting to catch up with me.

Dreams, if I had any, were either your normal dreams, cluster fucking nonsense, or outright horror shows filled with nightmarish delights. On the rare occasions, they’d be about sex, tonight would be one such occasion, although, I feel like certain entities went prying where they ought naught have. When sleep took me, the air felt cool yet electric, a deep inviting pool with a downed power line in it. My bed was no longer my own, an ebony canopy piece with transparent white curtains, passed them it was as though I were back in Bahls tower.

“I was wondering when you’d come.” A voice as alluring as marbles skittering over stone floor, you wanted to see where they all went, not a second later his visage pushed itself through the bedside curtain, splayed out, just, for, me.

“Claim your prize, sir.” Curvy thick furred thighs supporting a lithe humans torso, a monument to both grace and majesty I was about to ruin BEFORE you got to those fitting horns and golden mane. Eyes, those eyes man, sandy soft brown, as serious as they were inherently disinterested, like being the rope to freedom AND the quicksand that you get swallowed up by.

“Well?” He chided with a smile, one claw set gripped a horn, pulling him up right next to me, you could tell he wasn’t used to being handled, his face was good and flush. Our lips locked, like making out with a cinnamon bomb, intense and infectious, his soft mouth and nubile tongue conducting the show while those delicate fingers groped handfuls of scalie man meat. While he was set, even now, set on entrancing me as a plaything, my mission was less subtle.

One clawed welders glove of a hand hopped the fence of his supple sides pulling us together, bare smooth skin against rough grainy scaling just over a heated game of tummy sticks. That hand rubbed long, oval circles up and down his back, settling on his spine, I could feel his vertebrae as pronounced bumps and ridges. One by one I traced each, giving them a firm rubbing press in ward, several clicked making him moan, while others made him giggle as I worked my way up toward his nape.

“You know, I thought you’d be roughh-ahhHAH!” He thought he’d taunt me again, right as I wrapped myself up a tight fistful of the golden arraignment and ripped back. I let out a deeply heated breath,

“Just, like a swore I would.” Bahls face was pained, bent between excitement and the latter, it didn’t change, head held back, closest goat leg yanked out from under as I straddled over him. Our lips hovered inches apart, chests pressed, hips and thighs tucked under hooven legs bent back over themselves, with a dragons raging bull staff about to land on Bahls dirt star. Thank god I was already leaking, hadn’t been this horned up since I seared Shawn’s close off and rode him to death, because I was not kind.

Scaled and satyr lips clashed again while that fuckers hot fleshy guts swallowed me right up and fuck me did he feel good, that collective moan while passing through the ring of customs and then you’re in to flare nice and wide. All he could do was whimper under me, tongues clashing as swords held by masters, tight gripping hole trying to both repel and imbibe its girthy intruder spilling pre spunk all about. Goddamn I needed this, claws found his neck gripping that little thing in just the right ways, his whimpers were priceless! Made even better when they became more pronounced under harder pulled back hip throws.

We murdered the night like this, although it didn’t feel like time even moved here, pillows tossed and bitten, rampant stains abound, mysterious cool puddles saying hello between rounds. I think after all was said and done we’d gone a good six to eight rounds, talk about getting your cardio in. Another major life goal achieved, what shall I do next? Yet as we lie there, his golden hair draped over my chest,

“I feel pregnant.” I looked to him with a shit eating grin,

“Well, I want two, a boy and a girl.” My answer was quick, making him pause,

“And you’re just gonna be ok with that? You believe me?” He asked with a rare sincerity,

“After everything I’ve seen here, I’m not going to question it, a boy and girl.” He lay his head to rest upon my chest and as all dreams end, this did too.

* * * * *

One of the last times I ever laid eyes on old Goldie, I was out, perusing the back paths and seedy slick slips of Sanctuary, looking for anything in the aisle of new experiences when sounds of subtle, weak sobs stopped me. It was only really audible if you perked an ear, stood still listening for the quiet to break, just around a corner, there it was again, only up. There, far out of reach, was Bahl, the arch fiend demos himself curled up in a nook, sniveling,

“Bahl.” That flicker, that slight flick of inner spark kicked up again, hope, I’d come to call it hope, would eventually be pillow cased and domed but it was alive for now. He whip cracked from view, popping back in not several feet from me, ugly crying in the mess he’d become, thick furred arms clutching a very pregnant belly. Head held up hopelessly to the side, tears in his eyes, he sniffed,

“I’m free.” Followed with a painfully happy laugh, one of relief, a long over due weight lifted letting everything flow. My eyes hadn’t left the litter mound,

“Mine?” The satyrs horns dipped with a nod, sniffling again, either end of his mouth curling up slightly, rarely did he ever do so in earnest but this, there, there was a smile. I stepped close, the closest I’d ever been let since, far more than anyone should let an animal. As gently as one could, claws reached out, dragging their tips over his engorged navel starting from the upper crest turning clockwise over the voluptuous flesh bulb, ending just above the belt line. I was entranced, for the first time in forever everything inside quieted,

“They won’t be safe.” Bahl spoke, words pulling my eyes from living perfection,

“They?” A single claw began the affectionate trek again, I was going to be a father, about the only thing that would’ve kept me from this path, shear, living, breathing, needing, purpose. I’d had a few errant pups try to claim me as the sire but always came up as another mans so, made solitary sewer living pretty appealing. To finally have it, the anti venom jabbed into me at such a late stage, to be shown the literal inverse to this, this, this dry, fist in the ass way of living. I was speechless at the thought, could one be redeemed after such unspeakable acts? The world was about to find out,

“They won’t be safe, for ours is a union that upsets, everyone. Every factional facet that’s ever been written to have a stake in existence. Not you, nor I will be able to escape it.” And with that, *poof* gone, before my very eyes, hope, vanishing as cruelly as it had been presented.

I lay my head that night wondering if that, and how much of everything I’d been shown was fabricated, created for the sole purpose of attaining an outcome or subservience from me. For every one, “decent” milk sucker you come across there’s one, maybe two dozen shit flakes baying for access to your time, energy, thoughts, money. Parasites, we call them parasites, ones that serve no purpose besides grease for the underside of your boot. And yet, I missed them, the mother of my spawn, real or not, can’t say I cared for much besides seeing this, all of this, end.

* * * * *

“You can live a life with meaning, or, you can be happy, never both.”

I'd watched several close friends make that choice, each their own reason, all choosing happiness and loved ones, their life’s work tossed upon the rocks because life had finally made them crack. Their pride shattered, spirit crushed, drive lost, I suppose if there had ever been a choice I might have remained stupid, simple, and happy, but life has a funny way of showing you everything you need to know about yourself before you put the pieces together. Devils, born in Hades, raised by the inferno and its denizens, set loose upon this world only knowing suffering and the torment of others, I understand now I never left hell, couldn’t get away, can’t escape. Why would I want to? I got comfy.

A similar sin nonetheless aye? Whats to be said about learning to flourish in a world where people call basic deviant idiots demons, insulting the name, the very nomenclature I pride myself with. Devils aren’t shallow, frail, open to the world pseudo pop icons festering in the congealing clump that is consumption en masse. No, they’re quiet, they lurk in the dark, waiting, watching for that perfect moment to reach out, grabbing you from the crevice you missed and pulling, brutally through that all too small of a gap. I wish people understood, hell, I wish most just had the capability to actually empathize with an idea foreign to them, that seems like a tall order though. Fellow degenerates are just as awful, untrusting, and prone to acts of self preservation, why not though? Right? Lest the loyal baying holy masses and their paladonic crusaders be set upon them to, “rip and tear.”

And here I was, being walked to my own gallows by a man bent on revenge, not out for the loved one he’d lost but out of ego. How dare I, some insolent cur reach up and take from a noble, how dare my filth stain his pristine table. Oh how he’d make me pay,

“Haha, Hahhahahahaha.” It started as a low chuckle, the story recap rolling in my head, one could imagine my captors displeasure,

*BOOM*

An ear numbing crack rang out, high pitched whistling was all I could hear, ringing church bells and the jerking shuffle of my chest, I was laughing. My joke of a life was finally about to get to the punchline, god I hope it’s good. We’d broached several meters into thicket, where the soil was soft but covered in enough dense underbrush and leaves you couldn’t tell if something was freshly buried. Another dull ring split my vision three times over, everything was fuzzy, looking up from the leaves I’d stood over mere seconds before with something new in it, just several feet from me. Was it, my horn? A shovel slashed into the soil right in front of my nose,

“Start digging.” Senator Crowley growled, I was too busy feeling the cracked splintered end of my right horn to give two shits what this cunt wanted,

“I said,” There was a shuffle and a blunt steel toe belted my stomach inward driving me to cough and wretch,

“START DIGGING.” Okay okay, asshole. I grinned between coughs, assembling enough wreckage to shamble over the diggers cross. The first scoop was smooth, just as I’d expected, each subsequent dozen “plunk-schiffs” saw a good bit more soil tossed. That grin, the oh-so special ass grin, my, grin, the growing elephant at the gravesite, What? I couldn’t help myself, especially when I saw Crowley wearing my trophy tooth, which just so happen to give me the best idea. After one particularly deep stab at the earth I let my shovel sit, hands resting on its shaft and tip,

“Would you like to know how shi died?” My back was to him, grin growing to its full, happy, potential, a rather sharp,

“What.” Was his response, I gave a half turn, corners of that pearly white bear trap showing,

“I said, Do you, want, to know, how sh-“

“BOOM.” Another half inch slug ripped by my head, zipping right through an ear this time, Fuck! that stings, but that’s two. The defiant click of a hammer being reset under thumb was my warning, no, my green light. This would work, *plunk-schiff, plunk-schiff* my burial soil tossed easily enough, pausing again,

“I started with her claws, they came off with ease, just tap, tap, tap-“ BOOM! With an accompanying splat, nerves in my shoulder screamed bloody murder while the hinge hung limp, attached by exploded sinew,

“HAHAAAAA HOOOOOOOOOOOOO FFFfuUCK!” Three, that was three, whipping around laughing like a jester mid joyful beating, wings pressed to one of four dirt walls. Crowley loomed, a dark look to him,

“Do you know what this hole is for? You do understand what you’re digging right?” I couldn’t stifle my elation any longer, I grinned nodding, chuckling while the revolver traced my every move. A sunny disposition wasn’t what he was expecting me thinks.

“Dig.” The gun whipped toward the shovel, doing my best I resumed the exhumation, shovel picking up its hymn. Funny thing about fate, angels, demons, whenever you do or don’t need one, they’re always there for you, to add that extra bit of friction or lift the weight or, make a phone call. Crowleys cell began ringing that obnoxiously stereotypical office drone song of summoning, you could hear the frustration in a grunt knowing he couldn’t miss it.

“Make a peep and you’re dead.” I’m dead anyway asshole, might as well make this fun.

“Hey Honey, no I’m gonna be late for dinner, just tying a few things up at the office.” He answered, Woodbyrds not even bone yet and he’s already replaced her. Makes sense, nothing like a position in the upper echelons of society to keep one’s trim line lengthy. Their call did what it needed to, drawing his attention away from the obedient victim silently digging his grave, he’s got two left right? I’m good with two. One good scoop of grave dirt aimed right for that yapping yuppies open mouth, a gag, a cough, a nice hard shovel sweep and he was on my level.

This is my favorite part, bringing people that think they’re untouchable within reaching distance, shattering the hubris that polite living has ingrained so deeply. Finish the line for me, “Can’t see the forest, for the trees, can’t smell your own ____ on your knees.” That look of pissed off surprise, hahaha, even as the shovel came down several times, bashing it in. Snout bent sideways, scales bloodied and bruised, cell phone scattered to the leaves, body still with the occasional twitch. I reached up, the massive hunk of jade scales made for a good climbing point, he wasn’t dead, just out.

“This belongs to me.” Hubris, shear, living, hubris, as soon as the tooth snapped free of Crowleys neck, those shit blood red eyes flew open, that revolver pressed to my chin. I should’ve pounded his fucking skull flat, decapitated him with the shovel, and disemboweled him anally, but I’d gotten sloppy. There was a half second where our eyes locked, Crowleys eyes held a look of anger, and joy, he was the better predator after all, I’d finally been bested. All I could do was exhale a happy grin, apathy my oldest friend, how you betray me so, didn’t even hear the boom, I was suddenly weightless. A balloon cut free, looking up there was this stupid fucking bright light that wouldn’t shut the fuck up, I didn’t like it, basking everything in warmth and love when I’d probably just pop of out some other cunts stink box. Screaming and covered in shit, no thanks, yet below me there I lay, still, lifeless, the sexiest corpse I’d ever seen, mmph.

Even when Crowley reared up as the giant green bastard loved to do so publicly and blast my corpse with fire, I still kinda wanted to fuck him. The flames took with ease, feasting upon my meat, scorching that mane leaving ash in their wake, I was fascinated, scales bubbling and popping. My face looked peaceful from over head, the Senator didn’t have much to say or add, even tossed Woodbyrds trophy in with me. Well there wasn’t anything left to do I suppose, Crowley burned a ciggy while he waited for the evidence to scorch off, even though a bullet hole in the skulls a dead giveaway. Floating was quickly losing its appeal but having an automatic hammock did not, casually swinging too and fro over my burning body. Was kinda nice, you know, forgetting the circumstances and all,

“What to do, what to do, now that I have, eternity, with you.” I hummed, randomly struck by a stray bullet of inspiration, Fuck! That’s a good god damn line, shame I’ll never get to use it, oh well. The crackling smokey smell of a good barbecue became too pungent to ignore but that’s all that was left, that and silence. No more worries, no more cares, featherweight and unchained, how you’re supposed to live life, it couldn’t last long enough but for every second in death that wonderful feeling faded, a grim dull heavy ache replacing it. Some hellish turbulence called for me, in the distance, rolling this way, fast too, a looming shadowy presence bolted for this little cookout, and cum it did.

I looked to Crowley who seemed unbothered by it, even as the cloud bolted through the tree line, seems I was the only one aware of it. I didn’t think there was much left for me to care for, oh how wrong I was, that cloud crashing into our general area with a reality piercing cry, something awful tethering itself to me, worse than a hook through the heart. It was a sentencing by birth, new screams calling out, crying to me of all people, at world numbing volume as well, there wasn't anything to be heard but these sharp wails.

In an instant, they stopped, as bullish as they’d come they were gone just as quietly, their emptiness filling my spirit with substance, pulling me right back down into living char brisket.

My eyes reopened to a world of flames, the skin I’d so enjoyed crackled and popped, air hissing as breath was drawn once more, sucking in fire with it. Made speaking a gruesomely hellish task,

“What- to do, what to do, now that … I have, eternity…. With you.” Wheezed good and loud making Crowley freeze, “that corpse must be groaning as it cooks.” He thought, turning just in time to see its chest rise and fall a second time, rasping on the inhale, flames continued licking away, obscuring my view of the sky. I wanted to see it burn too, I wanted, Crowley, out of shear will my body moved, pivoting ninety degrees at the heel, standing before the senator as an ignited scarecrow, head tilting with the loveliest of sickly cracks.

Fear, true terror pulled that man’s eyes apart, driving him to rifle off the last two rounds, concussive blasts ripping right through me, I didn’t feel a thing. With great anticipation I took my first steps, not as a man, but as the monster reborn, and Senator Crowley, the catalyst for this transformation, deserved a proper reward. He’d turn to run but I’d already took chase,

“GET AWAY FROM UAGH!” His head felt cool in the hands, four half charred claws curling into his maw from behind, ripping back to plant him back to the earth, breathless. There was nothing left for him now, no guards, no media, no family, and no, more, victims. Well, one more, scrambling in a roll, clawing at earth and brush trying to escape, my hands found each wing stem, pulling the right one taught and putting a boot through it before doing the same to his left. Wings, two of a dragons greatest strengths and weak points, lots of bones to play with, they aren’t supposed to sit at nineties but there’s something almost poetic about seeing them that way.

Crowley lay yowling in shock, I couldn’t tell if it were pain or shame, he seemed fairly built like me, little taller but more socially groomed, not even sparring much thought as my claws split that fancy suit, all the way down his backside. Are ya ready for the big reveal? Muscle chub body built exactly like I pictured it, hefty balls, a thick cock, and moundly round cheeks holding up that thick tail, all of this of course dressed in the prettiest jade scales. Even on fire this was making feel a certain type of way, and wouldn’t ya know it? Just enough of the old bait and tackle had grown back to put some work in, like shit on walls in a psyche ward an evil grin smeared its way across my face,

“Let’s see what this body can do, shall we?” Those words heaved from a chest of char and smouldering organs, didn’t matter though, was just gonna help keep Crowley warm. In a half a head turn he was able to watch a burning corpse swipe up that errant shovel, raise it over head, bringing it down right over the nub on his dome, gave a nice dull pong that rung. Big ole green and mean fell still instantly, time to claim my prize, I’d never had another dragon before, pulling those cheeks apart to find a smooth balloon knot the size of a cucumber, nice, tight, and untouched.

“Mmm almost a shame to take it like this.” That thought abated as his castle gates were brute forced by the invaders wheeled battering ram, those tight sphincter muscles spastically trying to expel the opposition to no avail. By the gods, he could’ve been a real grungy diesel dude had he not been IV dripped into oligarchal sodomy, balls clapped that first time, the second his insides pulled with me. Whatever his fancy suit was made of, the flames took to it easily, soon we were both just as warm, dancing the horizontal mambo out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

Crowley's insides had gotten a good bit slick with blood and pre by the time he stirred, even a more well bit burned but oh that’s where the fun started, really started. No amount of kicking, struggling, or shouting would save him, even tried rolling over to pin me, big mistake, that just put all the heat under him, and me? Well I was latched on via entwined limbs. Love a good grapplers pin, full Nelson up top with both legs hooked around the bitches own, Crowley's weight held me down while he desperately tried to peel himself off the living griddle fucking his ass.

Our motions hit a fever pitch, my bucking flurry of thrusts dancing in tandem with his screaming flails, he succumbed as they all do. The last thing he felt was a swollen devils cock claiming his insides with sperm graffiti and shushing in his ear, fiery delight taking him as I did.

“What a rush.” I hissed,

Crowley lay as little more than glowing charcoal, gooey bits drooling out to sizzle underneath, I looked from that cooking, raped mess to my hands, they’d reformed, as good as new. Nerves, scales, and all with claws just as black and ebony sharp as before, if not more so, eyes as well, better in fact than they had been. No nasty astigmatism and what not, from that defiled char brisket mass arose a pale, half transparent visage of Crowley, whom abruptly flipped me off, shouting curses as I waved to the ever shrinking spirit balloon, gobsmacked that he lost.

CONSUME

There it was again, as imposing as the eldritch gods were always fantasized to be, had my Master brought me back? Were the bonds I’d made idly now inseparable?

“The Maw.” That was it, couldn’t have been anything else, that droning voice calling to me in fleeting whispers, pulling as miniature black holes set to feed upon my sanity.

The following is what I could only imagine sharks go through when they smell blood in the water, their eyes go wide, a fevered trance and primal urge to hunt down and devour indiscriminately overpowering any other thought.

“Go forth and consume in my name!” A raspy, goblin like bubbling voice growled through my little noggin, and who was I to protest. I couldn’t, the Master spake and I, the mad hound, was to fetch. Something from deep with in my belly lurched causing a slow dull ache to swell and explode outward, sharp tendrils piercing flesh, droves upon droves of razor wire tendrils poured from beneath scale. Oh it felt wonderful, being torn asunder alive, my new appendages peeling themselves at length to reach out and explore, grabbing everything unfortunate enough to be caught. Quickly a bloody nest had been woven where I were to be buried, ichor dripped freely, rain over a wire canopy, I stood, held in place, a newly hatched spider observing its first web.

I could feel every single last millimeter of wire that tore out of me, it was like getting fucked by your favorite spiked toy but in reverse, guess this makes up for a lifetime lacking knife play. Each one a new appendage, I could tell if it were cold, or hot, touching something fleshy~

CONSUME

The voice rendered me null, I am but only the vessel, just in front of me a small black pearl opened in the air, like the ones Bahl had used. Several wires tore it apart and I was back in sanctuary, panicked screams erupting all around, the large statue of the Maw waiting with welcome. Autopilot took over, wires slashed and tore, drilled, cut, slammed, lifted, smashed, restrained for the worst kinds of awful with blood painting myself and the walls of home in great crimsons swaths.

The real fun began when I figured out how to articulate my metallic pals for moving, scuttling and scurrying around Sanctuary at new speeds. Remembering the red wave that followed after passing several initiates, oh it was great, their evisceration swift and brutal, what? Don’t feel bad for them, they finally get to be seen by their god. Side halls and skirts got a good painting as well, things were going so well, I wanted to, “test” the depths of these gifts, standing before the sea farer's door, I called. Blasting fire and taunting slurs into the abyss, the response was almost instance, kraken sized tentacles crushed every bone I had, dragging me down to the depths. And all was silent in Sanctuary, the chaos had been arrested, for a moment that seemed like this would be where things ended.

Pained, loud pained calls erupted from the depths door, as impressive if not louder than the world tree itself cried, a tsunami of blood and salt water flooded the hall. Volume and force suggesting it was trying to eject something, eventually popping me back out, stumbling, laughing and cackling. How, I hadn’t had this much fun in years, wait, Bahl! I have to show Bahl, yet the door that glowed was gone. Only the empty embrace of dark filled the main hall, smart, I'd have done the same if I were toying with things beyond one’s control. Who are we kidding? No I wouldn’t. I’d let them burn while fucking them senseless, oh I was free. Speaking of,

“Ohhhhh Church~.” I’d turn, that lovely axe wound of fish and rot was still there. How’d he open it? I’d no such luck tickling the spot up top, one run of a long sharp claw between the lips and I knew exactly how the old girl would open. Wires at the ready, six long appendages formed by a dozen leads each, poised as jagged arms of a speculum, shot forward, piercing the giant pink flaps and pulled open a kings door. Surprising there wasn’t a disembodied howl, for good measure a seventh peeled off, reaching up to ensnare and cleave off that little spot. I say cleave but it was more of a tear, these things are surprisingly strong and oh god, the shriek that followed hahaha.

Pained howls of a beast at large sung my entrance, the glint of red scaling and stainless metal shambled from the dark, his rotten nest stank hadn’t changed but it was… clean? No macabre trophies, no cesspit hot tub party, not even Pandora, just an empty bed in a smelly, empty, womb.

“Where was he?” Thoughts began to wander and catastrophize, wondering if liberty scurried off with her son in tow. The bed cradled my ass, sitting there with its weight in loneliness,

“No Church, No Bahl, where did all my friends go?” Seemed like the only people left here were the initiates and I’d slaughtered most for being nothing more than obedient sheep come to suckle from us, from me.

“What.. are you?” A shaky yet familiar voice asked, perked me right up. Spinning around elevated on all wires with a fine old grin to see Church’s steely blue revolver aimed center mass. Ohh that trigger finger was looking awfully tight, and his face was… serious, I’d never seen him like that. The evil grin drawing its way across my mouth probably didn’t help anything but I could see his shots coming. One, two hot chunks of lead zipped toward me at a snails pace making them easy to dip, scurrying up into the ceilings black and dropping down like a spider artfully hunting its first post molt meal.

I couldn’t hurt him, didn’t want too, just wanted to show off the new me, yet as he was pulled up before hand, limbs all taught and wrapped up in razor wire, I couldn’t help but recall how good his ass felt, and, well, lust did the rest. Those piss stained yellow eyes, and hot garbage ass breath bore no effect on me anymore, brimstone's a tad worse than anything the mortal realm can impart upon the senses. Shivers ran down my spine, scales upending as they rolled through, wires shaking all just the same and stripping off clothes while they did.

Now, suffice it to say, what came next was truly a one off, I’m sure I could replicate it these days but I’ve not had the need or want to. Your dragons dick hung nice and low, those shivers running down, all the way down to the tip where it would manifest in a prick, ohh, damn, it was just like getting pierced all over again. And again, and again, and again, lower each time, jutted serrations encircling my hog long ways, until it resembled the bar, of a chainsaw. I groaned as they lurched forward, blood pouring freely while the teeth filled with freshly torn skin, mph~ might recreate this later for funnsies now that I recall. Those blades spun faster, and faster until a metal whine filled the air,

“I.. am.. THE SPEAKER!” Was that, fear!? in his eyes? Church opened his mouth but wires filled that gap, any and all screams were gagged. He was mine, ALL MINE! To play with, the foxes head shook in protest as he was lowered to me, legs held up in bladed stirrups, supple wrinkley hole flesh just begging to get tore up.

Aaaand touch down, distended bits of intestine and chunks of feces flung about, amidst a shower of blood and shredded jerky, the sound was akin to smacking an extra thick patch of grass with a trimmer, glorious in tune and spatter. Church bucked, limbs flailing, body convulsing as his insides were puréed, anything I could get into felt great for several thrusts then got all loose and filled with fluid only driving me deeper. Wasn’t until the gnarled sound and texture of scraping lower spinal cord rung through me did I stop, it wasn’t unappealing don’t get me wrong, it had the opposite effect. That shit rang my bell so hard all the red flooded to white, I couldn’t help but pant, looking up to see old foxy in the throes of shock.

Upon the dismount, whole lengths of large and small intestine hung down, shredded organs fell out, others hung a mere nub left from obliteration. I stood back to admire my work, a large gaping mass of shredded and bloody fox, while looking things over I couldn’t help the feeling that something was missing. The wire looped around his left wrist gave a firm tug giving me just the right idea and with that! Church was torn asunder, arms, legs, head, and freshly fucked torso flung in all directions, his fur tore with the sound of wet denim absolutely sending a shower of gore, shit, blood, and jizz everywhere! Ohhhh fuck, this, THIS made it all worth it.

CONSUME

Oh, ohh I’ve been waiting for you, I’d turned, ready to do worse than awful things to the source of that voice, just on the other side of the bed, was another portal. I looked through to see a world full of predators for me to play with, whether I be a tool of maligned disgrace or the of vessel of some cosmic entity, this, this put a smile on my face.

And so, Ezekiel White, the wannabe saint, was set loose upon the earth, heaven, and hell. To answer summons both great and benign, to horrify all who let enter their minds, the crimson devil. May all who call to the Maw these words be delighted in their destruction.

“ What to do, what to do, now that I have, eternity, with you.”