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The Story of Ajax.

By Brake

Or I could tell you about the time that a little dingo nearly caught someone on accident. Was a fiery little thing he was, had a swish in his tail and a song in his heart. No, not a real song. Or maybe he did. I don't know. If people talked about him at all, before we Changed him, they would have said he had a song in his heart. In fact, nobody really ever much talked about him. That was part of his charm, part of his attraction. He was a little nobody, just a blot in the photo. He sat in the third seat, second row of every classroom, barely raised his hand or spoke, and minded his Ps and Qs at home. He had a couple of friends, but they were mostly occupied with each other, and he with his reading and music.

Obviously, he was delicious. I mean, how could you not?

This one, I think it was Bacharrul who Changed him. No, I know it was Bacharrul, because of the thing with the necklace. Bacharrul has this thing for necklaces, you know. You know.

So, yeah. The kid's name was Asil.

So, Asil lived in a pretty decent home life, as far as they think home lives can be decent when they are staid and constant. He had a mom and a dad, both still married, both of whom paid attention to him when he spoke, and took him out for his birthdays, and taught him to save on his allowance so he'd have money when he went to college. He liked to play computer games, and also ride his bicycle. In grade school he'd not stood out much. When teachers talked about him, they said he was a good student. Pays attention, they'd say. Gets along well with others.

In high school, it was pretty much the same thing. Except they added, Turns in his homework on time. So, yeah. Basically, he was a good kid. They're the best kind.

So. This one night, he's at home. Mom and Dad are out, on their anniversary I think, I don't remember exactly. His friends weren't there either, and at any rate he was alone in the house. He played games until the sun went down, then made himself a frozen pizza and watched some TV. He had tan brown fur, and black ears, because of some fox on his mother's side.

Bacharrul came in at midnight, while Asil was still watching the TV. It was a horror movie on one of the premium cable channels, the kind that parents normally censor from kids who figure out the code after a week of careful observation. His parents didn't censor it, though. The movie was extra scary for Asil because the antagonist was a wolf. Asil really didn't like how wolves looked. That was something he got from his father, who held a rather orthodox view that wolves were natural sinners. It wasn't something that manifested itself in the way he acted at school, or in public. But in his small pool of friends, there was not a wolf to be found. They frightened him, as they were mostly bigger and a lot more aggressive.

Bacharrul came as a wolf.

He waited until the dingo was engrossed in the show, then worked some of the standard stuff, so the boy's attention was focused solely on the screen, his mind wandering, his senses dulled so he wouldn't notice Bacharrul's transition from our side to theirs.

Have you ever met Bacharrul? Mean fucker. I like him. This one time, he Changed a rabbit that was afraid of big cats. Know what he did it as? A mountain lion. He took all night, and took the little rabbit all manner of ways, and for the rest of the rabbit's life the mere sight of a mountain lion made his mouth and arse hurt, and turned him into a quivering, frightened mess. That demon has style, does Bacharrul. I like calling him Bach, on account of how well he plays with people like that one composer did with music.

So anyway. Bach comes in while the dingo is engrossed in the TV, then takes him right there, in the living room. All the lights on and everything. Bach had made himself huge, black as pitch, with red eyes. I think they were glowing. He took Asil's mouth first, for a solid two hours, until the dingo's throat and jaw were sore and his belly was full of cum. Then he took him the other way, on his stomach, rough. And that was what almost did him in.

You know what Bach told me it was? He said it was the way the kid mewled. Honest to Morningstar. It was one of his oversights.

See, while this little dingo was a virgin (obviously--who makes that mistake anymore?), he had a secret that he'd never told anybody. He'd never written it down in a diary, never talked it to himself at night, never confided it, never searched for it on the internet.

See, he secretly had a thing for big male wolves.

So when Bach pushed into him the first time, he twists his fingers all up in his necklace and let loose this mewl that about melted our demon's heart. He stopped, and he told me, and I believe him, that he seriously considered not going through with it, and leaving the kid to discover the joys of sex on his own. Would have saved his soul, kept him pure. Morningstar be blessed. I don't know how long he sat there, with his dick half in this ex-virgin's arse, but he almost let him go. Which would have been all sorts of bad, because if He had found out, well, Bach would have been His bitch for eternity, and not in the good way.

But then, little Asil let out a sobbing plea, and that reminded Bach of what he loves to do, which is fuck the innocence right out of the living. So he did, and I think he was mad enough that he went on for a good six hours, almost until the parents got back. By the time they did, Asil had cleaned himself up and was lying awake in his bed. I don't think he can touch anyone else to this day, and whenever he sees a wolf, he curls into a little ball and starts drooling and muttering.

See what I mean? Bach's a mean, sadistic, brilliant fucker. You should meet him. You'd like him.

Hey, grab that ifrit. Have him top me off.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. So, you want another one? Okay. No, I have another one. I've got one Heaven of a doozy, actually. In fact, I've got one that's so good and scary, I bet you a round--all of you--that you're gonna want to buy me a drink after this. Get me nice and fucked up. Come on. That's the ticket.

A while ago, I took this sparrow for a full night. You all know my style, I like to tell stories. So, while I sawed away at his throat, my cock basically choking him for a good hour and a half, I told him about us. See, he was born into a family that practiced the occult, which meant that even though he didn't really believe in us, there was still a small part of him that acknowledged the possibility. That part of his life wound up in a fatal car accident, so he went to his aunt and uncle, who praised the undead god every Sunday. So when I showed up, threw him around a bit, then told him what he would be doing for the rest of the night, he was scared because he knew it was true. That's my strength: playing on truth. I told him about our Code, and how we Change people from innocent to sinful with just one act. Oh, don't look at me like that. Like you've never told anybody stuff before. It's an honored, completely illegal tradition. I just happen to be better at it than everyone else.

He wanted to cry, because he was a good Christian and didn't want to be sinful, but his body knew what he wanted and had half convinced his mind that he was gay already. With my cock down his throat, I assured him that he was, and then turned him over and proved it. I made him come nearly once for every time I did. It was damaging, and sweet, and--

No, that's not my story. That's the preamble. Be patient. Ifrit! Another drink!

The story of Ajax starts later, but that bit was important. Where it actually starts is with Ajaxilfrantil, who I called Ajax because it pissed him off. Ajax was another of my favorites, because he just played his part up. I mean, the demon drew pentagrams and used black candles and shit, for fuck's sake. And then, on top of that, he tried to convince them that it's what they wanted, even though he and they all knew it wasn't, and it just fucked with their heads something unbelievable. It was godblessed unbelievable. It was also hilarious.

Thing is, he'd also decided, some centuries ago or something, that all people were basically the same, and worked basically the same way. He jumped out of airplanes without parachutes. If, you know, that mattered for us. I mean, that's the kind of guy he is. Was. Which in this case was not such a good thing.

So, where it starts is, Ajax had had his eye on this little okapi for some time. I say little because he was a small thing, not that young. Think twenty-three. About on Ajax's median age, which is about seven years too old for my tastes.

He had his eye on this okapi called Tyson. He was good-looking, but had somehow managed to avoid the advances of girls and boys throughout high school and college, and was now working as a shift manager at a local fast food chain. He spent a lot of his time reading fantasy and devil worship books, though I don't think he actually worshipped Him or anything. If he had, one of us would have found him sooner, Changed him before he was nearly that old. Probably me. As it was, he woke up in the mornings, worked his shift, hung out with his friends, and went to bed. As far as Ajax saw.

Ajax was a little sloppy though, sometimes. This time, like usual, he didn't look in the okapi's drawers, or through his diary, or computer history, or anything like that. He didn't look through the okapi's past, didn't realize he was friends with a certain sparrow who had confided in him his darkest secret, about demons and the damned. Ajax was so captivated by the okapi's looks that he just didn't really care.

I could hardly blame him, when I saw him. Even after Ajax was done with him, his coat shined, and his green, green eyes and brown fur gave him a regal appearance that was only accentuated by the way he carried himself, which I will describe to you now as "princely." He walked tall, and always had a small smile on his face.

Ajax likes the pretty ones the most. Tyson was a pretty one, and more besides.

He had picked his night carefully, which was not abnormal, even for him. Tyson would be, like always, at home by himself. He also had few friends with whom he regularly cavorted--again, ideal for our purposes.

One thing about Tyson, which Ajax knew but decided was not important: the okapi was not only interested in Devil worship, but actively practiced it, to the point of outlining the pentagram under his bed with his own blood, by now dried brown and crusted. He drank strange concoctions and chanted with his eyes rolled into his head. Melted black candle wax into his fur in thin lines shaped like the Beast, the Goat, the Unholy Trinity. Used a rosary to hang a pet, then made a mess of its entrails to read the future. Every night, he chanted some cockamamie spell that he had apparently invented, then waited for a while before going to bed, but nothing ever happened. Every night, he drank a concoction that he made with herbs and a mortar and pestle, then jerked off two or three times and went to sleep. Dark kid. I could like him. Though my particular talents would have gone to waste on him.

I'd tell you why, but that would spoil the ending.

Ajax, he saw this, but he didn't really care. For him, it was all for show. Ajax, you see, had fallen for the populist feeling about Satanism, which holds that teenagers do that kind of thing solely to piss off their parents. For the most part, that assessment is correct. I imagine all the botched rituals simply fueled our demon's fires for the kid, if you see what I mean. Corrective truths. Oh, you want to summon demons? Well, how about now?

Actually--

No. Ha.

Oh, ha ha ha! Oh, this is too rich. I really should have guessed.

So, ha, you can see how this would have been enticing to our mutual friend. It obviously was. He paid the kid a visit one night. Tyson had finished his nightly chanting ritual and had just slipped beneath the covers when Ajax appeared, wreathed in flame and speaking in tongues, in the form of a leopard. The little okapi almost had a heart attack right there, which would have been funny. But that's not our department.

So, Ajax gets into his spiel about hellfire and damnation, and then pulls the kid from the covers and rips his pajamas off. From that point on he goes through pretty much the standard motions: first the mouth, then the tail. Our differences in technique really come through--no pun intended, right?--during the act itself. Me, for instance, I love to talk. That's my thing. There's nothing enhances a good fucking like a liberal dose of fear, so I whisper my sweet nothings into their ears and feel them quiver. Ajax, he likes to keep things mobile, and a little violent. So while he fucks this kid, he's flipping him all over the bed, upside down, smashed against the wall, on the ceiling. Basically showing off his style. Pretty standard stuff.

See, now, listen. This is where it gets good.

Ifrit, fill this. Thanks.

He's been at it for about two hours when the tables turn. The okapi is on his back, Ajax pounding away, finally about to come--he makes his hot, too, so it burns. He's pressed deep inside, and makes his magical fire spread out through the room and go all majestic, and then this little okapi looks up at him, smiles, and says No. Just like that. No pleading, or begging, or fear. Just No.

And I'll be Godblessed if Ajax doesn't just stop right there.

So then the kid, Tyson, says Get out of me, and Ajax does. Then Tyson says Get on top of me and sit, and Ajax does. The look on the kid's face says volumes about what I already know of how hot that demon is inside. Then he tells Ajax Move like you made me do earlier, and Ajax does.

I know, right? I couldn't make this shit up!

For the next hour or so, it's like watching the universe implode on itself; black becomes white, up is down, the little okapi says jump and the evil demon says how high. He finishes in Ajax like that, on his back, his dick inside Ajax. It's the first time he's ever come inside of something that wasn't his own hand, and it feels glorious! It's so good that, despite how sore he is, he has Ajax pin him to the ceiling again, only this time they both go down on each other. From there, they go through every position the kid had ever discovered on the internet or in books. When he ran out of ideas, they used Ajax's.

When he found out Ajax could turn into different things, well, I told you the kid was dark. I told you I like him.

But see, this is the best part. When they're done and all covered in each other's spunk, Tyson, he tells Ajax to cuddle. So Ajax--are you picturing this? He's changed, by this point, into a capybara--he pulls Tyson in and they fall asleep, Ajax as the big spoon and Tyson as the little one.

They stay like that until Tyson wakes in the morning. Then he has Ajax do some other stuff. Then he tells Ajax to come back the next night. So Ajax leaves, and then goes back the next night, even though he's already Changed this kid. Normally our Changing opens them up to more corrupting demons. That's the point. But to this day, no other demon has touched Tyson, and every night, Ajax returns to his bed, to suck, to fuck, and to lie beside the same creature until his death.

So there's my story. Fuckin' unbelievable, isn't it? I don't know what exactly happened with them; I stopped watching some time ago. But I do know that he still goes back to Tyson, even now.

See, it was the okapi's secrets that did in our Ajax. Just like the coyote's almost did in Bach.

By the way, I was laughing earlier at my memory. Strange how memory plays tricks on you, you know. It's such an inconsistent tool, yet it's one of the most important that we possess. I was remembering my time learning from Him, being instructed in the forms and uses of the Satanic symbols. I never was good at summoning symbols. But you know, I think I recognize that symbol Tyson had under his bed, with the dried blood. I definitely know the stamina drink he makes every night. It's available on the internet, as is the symbol, for any interested party to find.

Just think about that.

Now, about those drinks. Ifrit!