High School is Hell - Fury

Rage

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'One would think that a place called the 'Fields of Fury' would be full of totems and artefacts to herald anger but strangely enough, it was a calm, serene, flat plane. This is peace is deceptive, however, as the Fields are littered with local flora that will antagonise you in every way. Even the tiniest brush of a thorn against your skin and you will be irritated beyond normal circumstance. The Anger Demons had made this place their home and they capitalised on the fact that anger separates even the most stalwart of souls and makes one carless.'

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There was certain serenity in the darkness.

Wesley Washington had always carried a lot of anger in him for a very long time. His upper-middle class parents often tried to instil their plebeian lifestyle upon him. But he always liked his uncle more than them. This led him to being more adventurous like his motorcycle riding, cigar smoking uncle who constantly went on cross country trips without a care in the world. A real rebel. That was the life Wesley wanted, not the one where he was stuck in a lame nine-to-five job for the rest of his life. And it infuriated him that everyone was constantly trying to impress that life upon him.

This anger boiled out into his daily life turning him into an emotional powder keg.

He couldn't stand people and everything they did infuriated him. Just the slightest thing was enough to send him on a rant or doing something that he would be scolded for. So Wesley opted to make himself a little less... approachable. Thus he donned the punk lifestyle, dying his hair blonde against its natural black, getting multiple piercings and wearing outrageous shirts that some might call offensive. That got people to avoid him.

The only time Wesley ever found peace was with his uncle Jarrod.

That... and in the darkness.

He wasn't sure he was asleep but it sure felt like it though a little... different. There was a pleasant warmth emanating from his groin and deep within his ass like the buzz after having just jacked off. A sweet fluid drizzled down his throat and directly into his stomach making him feel nourished but not bloated. He was somewhere warm with tight walls enclosed around his body that had a strange, stickiness to them like his bedsheets after he had just covered them with seed.

As awareness began to return, his memories started to reform.

It was that fateful Friday when he had found Dante de Mont at the little kid's locker. They had been assigned to be partners for a stupid class project. He had made it clear to his 'partner' that he didn't intend to do any work whatsoever. It was all on Dante and if they failed, someone was going to suffer a lot.

Then he noticed the box Dante was carrying.

He swiped a few items, laughing and mocking Dante. Seeing the little kid dejected and defeated somewhat soothed the raging inferno in his soul. The misfortune of others was really the only thing that ever calmed Wesley. Then Flash Goldman and Todd Cummings interfered and he was burning and ready to pound the two jocks' heads in. Sadly, that football coach - he couldn't even remember the guy's name anymore - stepped in.

Wesley returned some of the items and that pissed him off.

But he kept two.

The tribal fang necklace and a black scarf. He initially thought the scarf would go well with his attire and it was inconspicuous enough that no one would be able to recognise it. But that changed when he took the bus home that fateful day. Dorian the bus driver working the afternoon shift that day would _not_stop chatting him up. Wesley normally sat at the front of the bus because no one wanted to sit at the front. The jocks sat at the back, everyone else in the middle and they avoided the front like a plague. That was where Wesley liked to sit though that put him in the firing line of chatty bus drivers like Dorian.

Eventually, Wesley had enough of it and offered the guy the scarf if he would just shut up. Dorian took it but after five minutes, struck up conversation again. Wesley could not have gotten off that bus faster. He was irritated, angry and wanted to seriously punch something or someone.

Taking such an attitude back home, however, would only boil his blood more as his mother would be on his case, his father would give him a stern reprimand and he would just end up shouting at them in anger. A leisurely walk seemed the best option and he'd probably return after dark, grab some food from the fridge and then return to his room for the night without disturbing his parents. He did it all the time.

If there was one place in the world apart from his uncle's place that he felt at peace, it was definitely the woods of Angelton. There, nothing could piss him off. It was hard to get pissed at a tree that just stood there or the serene underbrush. He never once noticed that the fang necklace that he had pilfered from Dante had suddenly appeared around his neck. Not even when he sat down deep within the woods against a tree.

Hours passed as he just rested there, letting the time pass by. Strangely, he felt incredibly restless despite his environs normally keeping him calm. He kept flashing back to that asshole Flash Goldman and his knuckle-dragging buddy Todd Cummings. Then there that tubby football coach that gave him a warning and threatened him with suspension. Right, like that ever scared him before. Then there was the bus driver and everything, everyone. He just got royally pissed all over again.

The fury burned within him like an inferno. It roared deep within his belly and pumped through every vein, every muscle and bone until he was physically growing hotter. Wesley tossed aside his long, leather coat with a disgusted snarl.

Why was he suddenly so angry?

Why was he suddenly so hot?

His frustration only grew as the loss of his outer layer only seemed to stimulate the heat within him. He began to sweat profusely and he wiped his head with the back of his hand, panting heavily. Any questions he may have had were drowned in a sea of rage and he tore at his shirt, ripping it off his body. Even the normally cool air of Angelton did nothing to calm the storm raging on inside of him. Without thinking, he shucked his shoes, letting his big, bare feet touch the soil. Steam began rising from the contact of his flesh against the moist soil.

He barely got out a 'what the fuck' before that heat pulsed throughout his body again. A feral snarl ripped from between his teeth and he threw his head back, clutching his temples to unleash a primal roar. Pain erupted from his chest, suddenly cutting through his fury with blinding agony. He glanced down at his bare torso. Any normal man would have been horrified at the sight of those fangs hanging on a simple black tether digging deep into his ebony skin. But he only grew angrier.

Questions flew around in his mind and the lack of answers infuriated him all the more. He seized the necklace in a desperate attempt to tear it from around his neck but it remained firmly bound in place. Strangely, there was no blood. Instead, thick, greenish veins began pushing up against his skin like some sickly venom was being pumped through his system and infecting his body.

He couldn't concentrate as blinding hot rage burned behind his eyes. The ground shook madly, the very earth crumbling around him and massive trees that had stood for centuries buckled beneath the powerful demonic force. Wesley was unable to contain the demonic energies pulsating through his body and threw his arms and head back, letting out a ferocious cry. Scintillating white light erupted from his eyes and lips, shooting into the sky as a brilliant pillar of demonic energies. Others joined his cry of transformation but he couldn't care about them.

His anger... it felt so good to unleash it, to lash out and unleash all the pent up rage and fury that had been stored for years within his weak, mortal shell. He snarled and gnashed his teeth, flinging his arms around wildly, punching the air and kicking madly. He was lifted off the ground through the sheer force of his fury. The earth cracked with every punch he threw, trees snapped in two with each kick. All that power felt so good and he felt a sense of satisfaction unleashing his fury on something and that something actually crumbling beneath his might.

Thus, he embraced his fury.

His body began to take on a more fitting form to reflect his nature. The veins pumping against his chest began to grow thicker, bigger and swirled around his chest in a symmetrical, almost vine-like pattern. They fed his hungry muscles with raw rage, pumping them full of strength and mass. His once flat, unassuming chest puffed out with the suddenness of his explosive anger. It grew from a meagre, almost androgynous iron board chest to sporting two, massive pectorals twice the size of a man's head and rippling with chorded muscles. Just like before, the burst of power, the eruption of his fury felt incredibly_good and he was surprised when he found himself starting to get _aroused.

But Wesley didn't care. He loved the feeling. He didn't question the idea of associating fury with pleasure and seeing its effects on the world. With another otherworldly roar, he fed whatever was happening to him more of his anger. His back muscles quickly surged with new strength, matching his torso and giving him an impressive 'T' shaped silhouette with a back with more contours and hills than a mountain range. His abdominals popped into existence from a flat belly, transforming into a hard, perfectly symmetrical array of hard blocks like a tower of hard, square muscles.

The irregularly green veins over his chest quickly spread across his shoulders. He flung his right arm to the side, unleashing a powerful wave of sizzling light in that direction. A tree bore the brunt of the blast, receiving a vicious series of slashes all across its trunk. Wesley lifted his right arm, watching with teeth bared in a vicious grin as his muscles bulged and undulated beneath his dark skin. His hand seized up, forming a claw as bones and muscles stretched to match his new, immense body. Black claws jutted out from the tips of his fingers.

He turned away from the sight. It had been a whole two seconds since he had unleashed some of his fury and he needed more of that rush. He flung his left hand in some arbitrary direction, not even paying attention to exactly what he was attacking. The effect was instantaneous. His arm began surging with new strength, accepting the transformation as it grew in strength and size. His brain and soul quickly realised that the more fury he unleashed, the greater his capacity to generate such rage became. And he wanted more.

"Yeeeeeees!" he roared, lifting both his arms into the air, hands clawed like he was trying to drag the sky down onto his level, to make the very heavens kneel towards him. He loved the power, loved the rage burning within him and loved the fact that he was getting hard on it. Using his newly acquired claws, he tore at his pants, discarding the shards to the ground beside him and let his already massive thirteen inch black cock rise to its full glory. It was bigger than he remembered and with a lick of his lips, he reached for his dick.

But he froze.

White hairs were starting to spring from the back of his hand, sweeping over his fingers and spreading rapidly up his huge, meaty arm. He twisted his palm towards himself, watching as thick, leathery pads grew on his palms and fingertips, surrounded by a sea of white. For some reason, that angered him all the more.

"What is this shit?" he snarled, his mind irrationally drawing connections just to fuel his rage. "You trying to turn me white, you racist fuck!? Hell no!"

His body seemed to respond to the accusation. Even though the white fur spread all over his arms, covering it but leaving his muscles perfectly defined, it turned a stark black the moment it touched his chest. Everything from his pectorals down to his abdominals were covered in thick, black fur. The same fur spread down his thighs as they surged with new strength and became as thick as the tree trunks that he was cleaving. His inner thighs were covered in the same black fur but the rest was concealed by white. His already long legs became even longer and his feet touched the ground from where he was hovering, standing at an incredible 10 feet tall, brimming with muscles and unending rage.

Wesley threw his head back one last time, letting out a powerful roar. That burning rage within him suddenly surged in two directions, his head and his cock. It pushed his cry out from his chest, up his throat and sent it exploding out between his lips. There, it pushed at the inside of his skull, shoving the wan, human features into a big, broad, square muzzle full of strength and power. His ears were pulled back to become tall, pointed towers. Every inch of his face was covered in the same white fur save for the underside of his muzzle. The stark, blonde hair that he maintained suddenly grew much longer and curled themselves into long dreadlocks, twisting behind his head and stopping just at the base of his neck.

At the same time, the rest of his inferno shot through his cock. The meaty flesh erupted with growth, the human shape twisting and writhing into a big, black canine shape, two feet in length and thicker than any normal mortal man could possibly handle. His balls desperately tried to contain the rage, growing bigger and bigger to store the liquid fire that his emotions were being turned into but even they could not contain years of fury that Wesley had contained. All his cum had to go somewhere and as his roar reached its highest note, he reached his climax.

Brilliant, white seed shot out of the tip of his canine dick, shooting wildly into the air in gallons. His hips bucked madly, each movement causing a momentary break in his triumphant roar for a lusty grunt. Wesley became encased in a moment of bliss caused by fury and release forever cementing the moment in his psyche as the best experience in his life. Some instinct drove him to pivot in place, spraying his seed in all directions around him and only after he made his third revolution, on his thirtieth spurt of seed, did the seemingly endless supply of seed come to an end.

Sadly, he was left with a distinct sense of emptiness and need. But he was too tired to do anything about it. All the rage within him had been extinguished and he collapsed to his knees, his strength fading. Wesley toppled onto his side, his eyes glowing a brilliant red before closing in exhaustion.

"More..." he whispered. "More... rage..."

But he couldn't muster any more. Not yet.

He had expended too much in his own transformation and wasted too much by spraying it in liquid form around him. But it was not for naught.

His corruptive seed began seeping into the soil, funnelling into the plant life around him. Trees got a taste and began drinking the offering greedily. They began to mutate, twist and bend themselves to Wesley's subconscious will. Their master needed protection from the elements as surely someone would eventually come to investigate what was going on.

The nearest tree quickly developed a large cocoon made of its own flesh, a thick, oaken orb with a comforting layer of sap inside that would suspend its master without injury while he rested and regained his strength. The other trees and plants began winding long tentacle-like vines around Wesley, gently picking him up and easing him into the cocoon. As he sunk into the little bed, tentacles began growing within the cocoon, these ones with almost phallic tips. One pushed itself between Wesley's lips to provide him with nourishment. Another gently squeezed itself between his ass cheeks and into his ass - making Wesley moan - to take care of any waste. The last gently encased Wesley's still erect dick in itself not only to draw more of the amazing corruptive seed but to also provide its master with pleasure while he dreamt and recovered.

Over the past two weeks, Wesley slept, regaining his strength.

Then, he began to awaken. He would have loved to stay in the peaceful dream forever but something disturbed him. Something... no... someone was trying to cut down his forest.

Wesley snapped his eyes open and let out a soft growl. Slowly, the cocoon opened for him respectfully, the sap pouring out of the opening and onto the ground. He stepped out into his forest, bare human feet touching the beautiful, snow-white grass. Wesley gripped the vine shoved down his throat and pulled it out. The tree got his message and retreated from his ass and cock.

He regarded himself in the reflection of the sap.

He was not the scrawny punk that had bullied his way through high school anymore. He was a ripped, ebony Adonis with natural blonde dreadlocks, a chiselled jaw and a cock that would split any person in half.

And this was his forest.

Whoever was chopping it down was making him angry.

And he loved being angry.

******

Flash hadn't quite been himself since their encounter with the Sloth Demons and Buck Goldman, his father. Normally, he would be bouncing off the walls eager to face the next demon or hitting the weights hard in an attempt to make himself a better hellhound but while Dante heard the high-energy music coming from the gym, he never saw his mate working out. Flash usually just sat on the edge of the little backyard patio staring out into the forest. In their exchanges at dinner, he was animated but it was clearly forced.

That worried Dante.

Having never really been in a meaningful relationship before, Dante was at a loss as to what to do about his mate. He was concerned about Flash but what could he say? How many people could rightly say that they dove into their father's cock with had another different dimension in it because the same father hypnotised them into doing it? Though Flash came out of it stronger, he was hiding something and Dante was just not sure how to discovered what that something was.

"Spying on your mate?"

Dante jumped from where he was squatting on his cold, stone bed made of demonic stone. He glanced at the door where Russ stood in full hellhound form, naked and with his arms crossed against his massive chest. Dante quickly waved at the little nimbus of energy in front of him that had an image of flash sitting on the patio.

"No!" he exclaimed. "I'm just trying to practice using Starkravens!"

His mentor and guardian stepped into his bleak, dark room and sat beside him, one arm draped over his shoulder. "Dante, your control over Starkravens and your ability to produce them far outstrips any other demon I've ever seen or known in the millennia that I've lived. You don't need practice." He gave Dante a tight squeeze. "So really, tell me what's eating you. It's Flash, isn't it?"

Dante wrung his big paws nervously. "Yeah... He's been really reserved recently. I mean, I know we just sent his dad to Hell but he hasn't even talked to me about it. I mean, I'm supposed to be his mate, right? Shouldn't he be opening up to me about this?"

Russ laughed softly and gave him a little nudge. "Even the closest of people keep secrets from one another. I know there are a few things that I kept from Virgil even after we were Soul Bound."

He glanced at his big guardian with eyebrows raised. "Really? Like what?"

The big Hellhound grimaced and lay back against the hard demon stone bed. He lifted one massive arm and used it to rest his head against. "Well, you know I always said no one fucks me?"

Dante's ears folded back as he remembered that he had broken that rule. Admittedly it was to save Russ from succumbing to the temptations of succumbing to the Sloth Demons. "Yeah..."

"That's not entirely true. I've been fucked before."

"You have?" Dante asked with surprise. "By whom?"

Russ grunted loudly, a snarl on his face. Dante feared he may have pushed too far. "Hades. The asshole loved to remind me of my place so he constantly fucked me into submission. It's how he kept me leashed." The big Hellhound shook his head furiously. "I never wanted to be fucked like that again. Not even by Virgil. It would just remind me of those centuries I spent under someone else's power. And having my freedom sucked out of me."

The anger in Russ' face suddenly faded and he turned towards Dante with a pleasant, warm smile on his face. "But then you taught me that getting fucked isn't so bad. I always associated getting someone's dick in me as a way of that someone dominating me, taking my soul from me. But yesterday, you showed me that I can save me as well. You... completed me."

Russ leaned down and gently licked Dante's cheek, making the young Hellhound giggle and flick his ears back up.

"Awww, thanks Russ," he laughed. "I guess you must've fucked my grandpa then to get Soul Bound, huh?"

Russ pulled back, ears up and a confused look on his features. "Who told you that?"

Dante returned a frown. "Um... Well if he never shoved his dick in you, then you must've screwed him, right?"

Russ' eyes widened and his lips formed a small 'O'. "Oooooh... Erm..." He turned away and coughed, a blush shining through his dark brown fur. "Well... Uh... We didn't get Soul Bound that way."

"What? What other ways are there to be Soul Bound then?"

His guardian bobbed his head from side to side. "Many ways, really. Most traditional way is, as you might've guessed, to screw one another but that usually means that after you shove your dick into your partner, they need to do the same. But Soul Binding rituals are very powerful and tend to sap a lot of your strength to the point where you drop from exhaustion."

"So you didn't do it that way then..."

"No..." Russ cleared his throat and straightened even though he was clearly flustered by the subject. "Another method of Soul Binding is to perform a sixty-nine. Most common way actually. It ensures that both partners are on even grounds and no one runs off after having taken a portion of a soul."

"People do that!?" Dante exclaimed, horrified.

"Demons do that and we are demons, after all."

Dante kept forgetting that they really were Hellhounds now. So far, the other demons he had encountered were just humans turned into demons and having fallen for the power that offered. No real demons as he had envisioned it. He kept forgetting that there were real demons out there. "So is that how you two..."

"No..." Russ murmured, ducking his head.

"Then how?"

"Well, another way to perform a Soul Bond is simply to lock lips your partner and exchange souls that way."

Dante was getting the impression that Russ really was avoiding the topic. "Russ, come on. How'd you two bind your souls together?"

The big Hellhound rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh. "Alright... Alright. Virgil and I... bound our souls together in a very unorthodox manner. I mean, other demons have done it before and it isn't anything new but..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "We fucked each other's dicks."

Dante inclined his head to the side. He was having trouble picturing that. "Erm... what...?"

"It's kind of like sounding," Russ explained. "Our dicks are well-shaped to penetrate most orifices and your grandpa loved new things. So... I pushed my dick into his and..." Russ quivered, a soft rumble emerging from his throat. Dante watched with curiosity as Russ' sheath began to plump up and his dicks began emerging. He couldn't help but get a little aroused himself. The image of his big, burly, guardian fucking his grandpa's dick set off something...primal in him and his curiosity wanted to know how that felt.

Russ abruptly got up and shook himself. "Anyway, that's how we got Soul Bound to one another. We were on Flash. Just go talk to him if you're concerned. Don't just spy on him. If you're really concerned, talk to him."

Dante didn't get to ask any further questions and Russ abruptly left the room, shutting the door behind him. He was left a little puzzled at Russ' reaction to the topic of Soul Binding but his own curiosity had already been sparked. Now he was really curious about the ritual and needed to know more.

He waited a few minutes to make Russ wasn't going to come back and then bolted out of his room, heading straight for the library. The 'forbidden' section was his goal and he threw aside the black sheet, undoing the magic spell that kept any normal person from accessing the tomes and began scanning the dark, thick, dark volumes for something on Soul Binding. Sadly, there wasn't any sort of decimal system for the books and most of the titles were in some demonic language that he didn't quite understand. There were some in English which narrowed his search down but it wasn't like they had appendices or tables of contents. He had to skim the volumes one by one for something on the topic.

It took an hour or so but his persistence was rewarded when he found a large chapter on Soul Binding in a book about demonic rituals.

"Soul Binding," he read aloud. "In ages past, the process of binding a soul to another demon was means to ensure complete and utter obedience of a mortal that had fallen into Hell. Demons would bind the souls of the victim to themselves ensuring that the strength of that individual was constantly fed into said demon, empowering the demon.

"However, during the Great Demon War that coincided with the rise of Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and other modern day major religions and the loss of many pagan religions, demons found a second and third use for Soul Binding. No one is sure how it happened or who first invented the technique but demons began implanting parts of their own souls into mortals after taking some of the mortal's soul into themselves as a replacement. The ratios naturally favoured the demon meaning that the mortals sacrificed most of their soul to the demon while the demon only replaced the loss with a fragment of their own. This allowed the demon to have unprecedented control over the mortal, acting like a general that could control the mortals as an army telepathically."

Dante had always been under the impression that Soul Binding was purely a romantic thing between demons but it seemed to have military applications as well. He kept on reading, his curiosity only burning. As he flicked the pages, a bit of dust blew into his face and he coughed. There was a distinct metallic smell in it mixed with some of the muskiness from aged pages.

"It was quickly discovered that while mortals did make for excellent cannon fodder, they were far too easily dispatched against fully-grown and developed demons. They also lacked the ability to drain energy from other demons thus precious resources went to waste whereas opposing demons could easily drain them of their remaining soul and the portion of the soul given by the demon controlling them.

"To this end, demons discovered that imparting equal portions of their souls into one another benefitted both parties. Skills and strengths from both demons were exchanged, though not always to the same level as the originator, it allowed, for example, a Pride Demon to devour jealousy if they Soul Bound with a Jealousy Demon and vice versa. This allowed for a far broader range of skills for the demons and the telepathic link between them allowed for excellent coordination.

"The emotional bonds were quickly discovered during the course of the war. Over time, the discovery that the exchange of souls entailed emotional connections as well, caused demons to reassess the use of the Soul Bond. While it offered incredible strength and power, it also opened a vulnerability as a demon became tied to another and, by their nature, demons are solitary, selfish creatures.

"This evolved with the introduction of Soul Bonds and the demons quickly found ways to connect on an emotional level with one another to create these Bonds. Naturally, various techniques for Soul Binding were developed. At its most basic, demons could infuse part of their souls into everyday items like a ring or a piece of jewellery and exchange that much in the same method of mortal marriage. However, the risk of losing this item quickly put this style out of fashion. More carnal means of Soul Bonding quickly came into fashion and demons found means of channelling their souls into others through intercourse of various means and styles. In the following pages, you'll find examples of this."

Dante shrugged and flipped the page. His eyes went wide as graphic visualisations of the various methods of Soul Bonds flashed before his eyes. Each one was sorted based entirely on the demon that they most applied to sorted by alphabetical order.

The first section was reserved for Anger Demons and the first illustration was entitled the 'All Rounder'. It depicted two Anger Demons who appeared to look mostly like Hellhounds save for the fact that they both had thick tentacles sprouting from their backs just between their shoulder blades, four each. Each demon had one tentacle stuffed into the muzzle of their partner, another wrapped around each other to keep them close, one stuffed into their partner's ass and the last was buried deep inside their canine cocks.

Then there was the 'Reseeding' where the Anger Demons used three of their four tentacles to wrap one another in a tight cocoon of flesh and the fourth was used to penetrate one another. They held each other tightly within the cocoon, muzzles locked and cocks pressed up against one another.

Perhaps the most descriptive was the 'Blooming Flower'. One Anger Demon served as the 'root' of the flower, lying on his back while using his tentacles to penetrate another above him, all four tentacles piercing the partner's ass. The partner would then use his own tentacles to penetrate the first from where he was suspended, their tentacles wrapped around one another to form a very stable pillar.

It was like a demonic Kamasutra.

Dante was getting hard just looking at it.

There were other examples such as the 'Ouroboros' for Pride Demons which was basically the Pride Demon equivalent of a sixty-nine. Deception Demons benefitted from the 'Will you be Mine' where one demon would become the dick of another and their bond would be shared through that. Sloth Demons got the '6d' where they wound their extending, prehensile dicks around one another and the proceeded to shove them into one another's muzzle, constantly feeding one another while sitting across from each other.

Dante was finding it extremely hard not to rub his own massive dick as he flicked through the pages. He bit his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from moaning too loudly even as he dripped dollops of precum all over the floor. He tried to keep his dripping dick from the book as much as possible.

It was only a few flicks before he found a section for general demon rituals and for demons who were binding outside of their own species.

The method that Russ mentioned was called the 'Golden Gate Bridge' and seeing it unfold before his very eyes made him moan. He gripped the base of his cock, knot bulging between his fights as he imagined Russ and his grandpa pushing their dicks against one another until one of Russ' massive puppy makers slipped into Virgil's member and began squirting hot seed into his mate...

Dante leafed through the pages, wondering which one he would prefer. His throat went try at the 'Mother Hen' which involved each demon magically extracting some of their soul, covering it in some of their seed and moulding it all into a sphere based on size and then proceeding to shove it into their partner's ass slowly and sensually. Just thinking about it got his cock starting to spew thick precum and his balls churning.

"Oh fuck..." he groaned. He wasn't sure why but he needed to fuck badly.

He shut the book and dropped it in his own precum, too consumed with lust to put it back in its place. Dante charged straight out of the library and staggered against the wall, panting heavily with his cock so painfully hard that it was sapping all the blood from his head. All he could think of was sex. Some part of him remembered that he couldn't approach Flash, at least not yet, so he hurried straight towards the next source of relief he could find.

He burst into Russ' room.

The big Hellhound was already perched and primed in his circular bed, cocks erect and his paws around his cocks. Russ bolted halfway out of his bed before Dante threw himself at him, ploughing straight into the larger Hellhound with their lips colliding. Dante's inhibitions were thrown right out the window as he shoved his tongue deep into Russ' stunned muzzle and madly grinding his crotch against Russ' rippling abdominals.

"Dante! What the hell!?" Russ exclaimed, pushing him away. "What's gotten into you?"

"Fuck..." Dante moaned. "Got to... Fuck!"

"Got to...?" Russ repeated then his eyes widened in realisation. "Wait! Did you read a book in the library? One with pictures of - mmmrf!" He didn't get to finish as Dante hoisted himself up onto Russ' shoulders, wrapping his legs around the bigger Hellhound's neck and shoving his cock right into Russ' face.

"Lick it!" Dante begged. "Suck it! Now!"

Russ couldn't help but laugh as he nuzzled Dante's crotch. Virgil fell for exactly the same trap the day he had read the Daemonum Libro Rituale. Though Virgil had unleashed three dark entities first before he got to the part about Soul Bonds and the graphic illustrations that turned him into a sex-crazed beast until satisfied.

He wondered if he should find Flash and let him take care of Dante but the thick demon dick bouncing between his eyes was just too tempting. He did owe Dante for saving him, after all. He needed to return the favour.

Flash wouldn't mind.

******

It was amazing just how much had changed in two weeks. The forests to the western side of Angelton had become Wesley's domain. The grass closest to the heart of his little empire had turned completely white. The trees that had been shattered and twisted in his transformation had recovered somewhat. The trunks had healed any cracks and breaks, large thick vines growing all across their blackened bark like veins. The leaves had become start white with each branch ending in a pointed, phallic-shaped end.

Various vines and pods hung from each of the trees, currently empty and waiting to be filled and Wesley knew exactly what he needed to fill them with. The forest was his domain and there were people invading it, chopping the thick brambles and vines that marked his borders. He could hear his trees wailing as these men trampled on his grass, cut down his trees and littered on his soil.

It angered him and his anger filled his forest. He watched them through the trees, listening to and observing as they carved through his plants only to return an hour later after lunch to find the very same plants had regrown. They were big, dumb ox of men who couldn't get more out of life than to be shitty public servants. He had seen them before maintaining the trees in the public areas, cutting grass in public parks, blowing away loose leaves from streets and clipping branches.

But from what he heard, they were hired en masse by the major because the forests had grown wild and were starting to encroach upon public property. Wesley sensed that his forest had indeed started to cut through people's backyards. He had to stop them.

And he found his first two targets.

Wesley opened his eyes. The tentacle buried deep inside his ass squirmed. He gently stroked the large, white throne made entirely out of vines, big enough to support his new size and weight both as a human and as a demon. He still felt more comfortable as a human, however, at least while he kept his anger barely in check.

"I'll be back," he whispered gently. "I need to deal with them before they hurt us more."

He got up from his throne and the vine respectfully pulled out of his ass with a loud, wet slurping sound. He had to admit that he did feel somewhat empty without it and he could feel his rage starting to burn through his veins again. It was like a plug that kept him from bursting. But this was one instance where he wanted to get angry and he had a lot of anger to give. He gripped the second tentacle that was wrapped around his massive foot long cock like a condom, constantly drinking from him. Slowly, he pulled it off, grunting with relief as his member shot out one last blast of his fury-laced cum.

With the only outlets that kept his anger in check, he could feel his fury burning up inside of him. It was building rapidly and it felt so good to have that rush of power again. His muscles drank up the energy happily already starting to grow and vibrate. Through sheer force of will alone, he kept it down and strode through of his Forest of Fury.

The thirty minute walk to the edge of his forest was an exercise of true self-control. He tried to think happy thoughts and the serenity and beauty of his forest helped somewhat. But as he drew closer and close to the brutish men cutting down his forest, he only grew angrier.

His targets were two slackers of men lounging about deeper in his forest than the others. He hid within the shadows of several large bushes, just observing the two as they took their fourth 'smoke break' of the day. They were both smokers and Wesley could smell their awful breath from where he stood. All they were doing was sitting beneath the shade of an uninfected tree, just chatting and lounging about.

Wesley closed his eyes and reached into his forest's very essence. Through the trees, he could hear their conversation. It took some refining like tuning a radio before he could hear them clearly.

"This job sucks," said one of them.

He was a big, burly guy with a strong upper body; powerful pectorals and thick arms but with a rather pronounced belly. A thick beard wrapped around his facial features, dark and black just like his full head of short-cut thick curly hair. As he spoke, Wesley could see a rather pronounced gap between his two front teeth. Nothing too big but it was enough that it was noticeable. He wore a fluorescent vest over his dirty white shirt and a pair of denim shorts. There was a distinct tattoo on his left arm but Wesley couldn't quite see what it was.

His view on the men was like he was gazing through an oversaturation filter. Everything was bathed in white and the human part of his mind could barely make it out but the demonic side understood it perfectly.

"You said it, Col," grunted the other man.

He was a smaller guy but still physically fit. Where 'Col' had olive skin from being outside often, the other man, 'Wallace' based on his nametag, was quite pale but still rather hairy just like Col. He had a set of dirty blonde hair that stuck up in rather wild spikes like he was trying to look youthful or was electrified. He had a light brown chinstrap beard that highlighted his face and blue eyes. He was smaller than his friend but still had rather hairy forearms and a tuft of chest hair protruding from his short, blue collared shirt and fluorescent vest.

"We ain't makin' no progress," growled Col with a thick, southern accent. "Fuckin' weeds jus' keep on growin' whatever we do. It ain't natural."

"You're being superstitious," Wallace said, waving his hand absently at his friend. "It's just the fucking woods. Nothing strange about it. Just thick as hell."

'Hell' was right. Even without any guidance, something in Wesley told him exactly what he was. He could feel the fires of Hell burning within him just like his anger and as the two men continued to befoul his woods, they grew. A soft growl rolled from his throat as those very fires began to push out into his human form. Fur was starting sprout all over his body and the pinpricks at the tips of his fingers told him that his claws were emerging.

"Fuck 'ou talkin' 'bout, Wal?" grunted Col. "Dinja see wha' happen' ta Roberts! He cut down a fuckin' bush, moved in ta cut 'nother an' when he turned 'round, the bush was back!"

"He was just careless. Didn't cut it down fully. He's always been a lazy fuck." Wallace got up and grunted. "Fuck, I need to piss."

Wesley's eyes widened in anger as he saw the man unzip his fly and turn towards the tree. When he heard the steady stream of piss splattering against _his_tree, that was the last straw. Somehow, he managed to pull back from unleashing a deafening roar and just came storming out of the bushes straight at the two.

"Dude," Col growled, pulling away from his friend. "Do that somewhere else. Yer getting yer piss all over me." As he turned away, however, he caught sight of Wesley charging straight towards him. His first thought was of an enormous, muscular, naked jungle man coming to rip him to shreds. The guy was hugged, ripped and looked incredibly pissed.

Collin Matten never got a chance to cry out in warning before the huge man suddenly collided with him and lifted him off the ground with a single hand. Col weighed in at about 230 pounds so for this man to hoist him up with a single hand was simply inhuman. Whatever shout he may have had was interrupted by a thick vine suddenly snapped around his lips and pinning him against the very tree that his friend was pissing on. Several more vines immediately pinned him against the tree, leaving him completely helpless.

"Holy shit!" Wallace cried and he spun. The gesture splashed some of his urine on Wesley's leg. Fury exploded behind Wesley's eyes and he let out a feral rumble. He angrily tore his hand away from Collin and charged straight at Wallace. It only took a second before the big, black skinned man exploded into the tremendous Anger Demon complete with four tentacles lashing out wildly.

Wallace would've just shit himself there but he was too scared even to scream. His brain was still trying to catch up with what he had witnessed when two Wesley's tentacles seized his arms and lifted him up into the air. A third wrapped around his lips, preventing him from screaming. Instincts took over entirely and he kicked and flailed in desperation, trying to free himself. His squirming only proceeded to anger Wesley further and the fourth and final tentacle seized both of his limbs, keeping them in place.

"You fuckers piss in my forest," Wesley growled, fangs bared. "You cut down my trees and tear up my bushes. You're going to pay."

Wallace whimpered, trying to murmur pleas but his cries were muffled and kept down by the thick tentacle around his lips. Tears of fear formed in his eyes and those quickly turned to tears of pain as the tentacles began pulling at his arms, threatening to yank them right out of their sockets.

Across from him, Col desperately tried to struggle against the vines but despite being just plants, they kept him firmly in place. The more the burly worker tried to struggle, the harder the vines held him back and soon, he was completely incapable of moving and the vines were threatening to crush him against trunk of the tree.

"Your blood is going to feed my forest," Wesley snarled. "I'll grind your bones into a paste. Stick your skulls up on the trees as a warning. And then I'm going to hunt any one of your fuckers that dares to come into my forest!"

Wallace screamed as much as he could as the pressure against his shoulders intensified. He could almost feel the muscles tearing and being shredded by the force of the tentacles' tugging. His vision became blurred with tears. Just before his life began flashing before his eyes, a voice interrupted his agony.

"Blood? Wouldn't that ruin the whole beauty of your forest?"

Wesley spun, fangs bared. As he spun, he unwittingly swung Wallace through the air as well. Before him stood a strange man with white hair and dressed in a red coat. He wasn't anyone that Wesley had ever seen before but he was far from intimidating.

"Who the fuck are you!?" he bellowed. "It doesn't matter! You trying to tell me what to do!? Fuck you!"

Vines immediately came shooting out from the trees above the newcomer at high speeds. Plants they may be but they came hurtling at the man with the force of a bullet. Wesley imagined the man being impaled on his vines, becoming a bloody warning to all those that would cross him. He grinned at the image and licked his lips, anxious for that first drop of blood. But his anticipation was thwarted as the vines abruptly stopped in mid-air well away from the stranger. He felt all control over them suddenly drop and any confidence he may have had developed instantly shattered.

"My name is Havoc," said the man. "But I go by the title of 'H2 the Harbinger of Havoc'. I am a No One."

"A what?" Wesley growled.

Havoc glanced away briefly as if considered the question. "You know how most religions talk about a creator god and then a sort of anti-god that embodies all evil? Yeah, I'm the third guy that can fuck up everything both of them did. Most of the time, I'm one of the guys that actually put them where they are now. So that's what I am."

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not." Havoc crossed his arms. "I embody the concept of Chaos. Everything you know about the world? I can royally screw it over. For example, see these vines you tries to impale me with? Paper. Just paper."

Wesley didn't barely managed to get out a faint cry of protest when a gentle wind blew through the woods and his vines fluttered, revealing their two dimensional shape like they were just cheap paper cut outs from movie set.

"Want something more? Did you notice that you're actually hanging upside down?"

Wesley blinked and suddenly felt like his centre of gravity had abruptly shifted. That terrible feeling of being suspended in mid-air gripped his chest and formed a lump in his throat. Every strand of fur on his body and his long dreadlocks suddenly lifted as if he really were hanging upside down and even though his feet were firmly placed on the ground, it felt like the entire world had been tipped on its head.

The sensation lasted for a whole minute and it left Wesley madly flailing his arms, trying to balance himself. In a desperate attempt to keep himself from falling into oblivion, he lunged at the ground and sank his claws into the soil. When his sense of orientation returned, he was left breathless and panicking.

"Or perhaps what would you say if you started vomiting up slugs?"

"No!" Wesley cried, fear and panic overtaking his anger. "No please!"

Havoc seemed to consider his pleas, tapping his cheek slightly as he mulled it over. Then he gave Wesley a shrug and a sinister smile. "Just one more."

His next cry was abruptly stopped as he heaved and gagged. A sea of black slugs exploded out from between his lips and fell in wet chunks onto the ground beneath him.

"Don't think this is some sort of magic trick or spell either," Havoc warned. "This is me messing with the very rules of reality. Physics, chemistry, biology, logic are nothing but my playthings. If you say something is one way, I can say the opposite and that's what it will become. Two plus two equals four? Well, I can make it equal to twenty-eight-million, thirty-seven thousand, one hundred and ninety-nine. Of fish_if I wanted. I'll probably cause thousands of mathematicians' brains to explode in the process but hey, more chaos for me. And I _love chaos."

Havoc leaned down slightly. Even bent over, Wesley was still at eyelevel with the man. "But one thing I do not tolerate is Death. We've got a guy for that." He gave Wesley a dark smirk. "After all, if everyone were to die, then that's not chaos. That's just silence. I'd probably bring people to life just to mess with that. There is a _far_greater potential for chaos with people alive than when they're dead. So that said..."

Huge bones suddenly erupted from the ground in the shape of a skeletal hand and seized Wesley, lifting him up into the air. Wesley tried to struggle but the bones kept him firmly rooted in position; unable to move despite all his size and strength.

"Here's a little something you'll need to know about yourself." Havoc began to stroll idly around Wesley, taking big, exaggerated steps and almost skipping. "You are an Anger Demon. That means that at your very core, you feed upon anger. Do you know why it took you two weeks to awaken after your first transformation?"

Havoc danced out of view and Wesley feared what the man might do now that he was behind him. Suddenly, the strange entity's face appeared in front of him, hanging upside down like he had just dropped out from a non-existent ceiling.

"Do you?" asked the No One.

Wesley just shook his head.

"It's because you exhausted all your anger in that fantastic display and had no source of it to recover anywhere nearby. The other demons always had some source at least within a mile or two. You, however, were sadly left starving."

"Other demons...?"

"Why yes. Did you think you were the only one?" Havoc slipped out of view again. "In fact, it was because of this sudden eruption in demonic activity that the Dead Men, a group of demon hunters, have suddenly started taking an interest in Angelton. They'll be searching for guys just like you to kill."

"So I get hunted because a bunch of other assholes did some shit!?"

"The same shit that you're doing right now except what you're doing is _much_worse." Havoc suddenly appeared beside Col, leaning casually against the tree. "You see, the other guys _changed_their victims into demons just like themselves, feeding off the primal negative emotions that they exuded to make themselves stronger. You want to simply kill them. No I'm sure a smart young man like yourself can understand the pros and cons of converting versus killing."

Wesley snarled and realised that he still had Wallace wrapped in his tentacles. He didn't just have his arms now, after all. He had other limbs he could use to strike at this 'No One'. "So what? You telling me I should make an army or something?"

"I'm not telling you to do anything," Havoc answered casually. "The fact of the matter is that if you insist on killing people, I will be forced to put a stop to you. Now you already know that I abhor killing so I won't be taking your life but if you do insist on slaying countless people to protect 'your forest', you'll wish I killed you. You're a demon of anger, after all. Not one of pain. You can't feast off that."

"No..." Wesley growled. "But the more pain I suffer, the angrier I get!" With a roar, he unwound his tentacles from Wallace and shot them straight towards Havoc. He almost had the meddlesome stranger but an intense pain suddenly exploded from the roots of his new limbs. It felt like red hot pokers had been jabbed into his very nerves, rendering them limp and twitching in agony. He let out a pained cry, whatever anger he may have tried to muster just dying in a sea of pain.

"A valiant attempt but one that is ultimately futile," Havoc said with a lazy shake of his head. "You see Wesley, I've dealt with millions, billions,trillions of guys just like you. Countless even. People who put up a brave face, act tough and bully their way through life because they're afraid of getting hurt."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Oh no?"

Red hot pain exploded from the sockets of Wesley's shoulders like someone was pushing a pair of scissors into the very joins and then pulling them open, slicing into his flesh and ripping the tendons apart. He tried to bite down on his lips, trying to stop himself from screaming in agony but he couldn't. Tears welled up in his eyes and he cried out like a weak child.

"You're an angry guy because you know you're weak," Havoc accused. "Without your anger, you're nothing. Your anger is your strength. That's why after you expelled it all two weeks ago, you lay dormant because you had no other way of protecting yourself. You're just lucky the forest you infected was so dedicated to you. Any other corrupted foliage would have sucked you dry and then went hunting for more people to feed its insatiable hunger."

"What do you want!?" Wesley pleaded.

"I already told you. I abhor death. So you need to figure out a way to survive against the Dead Men without killing them. Of course, it's entirely up to you how you do that. If you want to run away, that's fine. If you want to join their side and be the little demon on their leash to hunt other demons, that's fine too. But you're not allowed to kill them."

The situation was starting to finally dawn on Wesley that he was on the losing side. As his intelligence started to cut through his blinding rage, as the pain began to fade and he was at last allowed to make a few rational thoughts, he realised that he had been backed into a corner. "But they can kill me..."

"Most undoubtedly. And you can't rely on me, the Harbinger of Havoc, to bail you out either." Havoc stepped up to Wesley, running a gloved hand down the crest of his pectorals. "You see, the Dead Men have this wonderful little technique where they find a demon and then reach" - Havoc suddenly plunged his hand into Wesley's chest. There was no pain save for a biting chill that ran throughout entire body and the bizarre sensation like someone had gripped his heart. - "... into your very soul and then confront it with their own. The 'purity' of their soul versus the corruption of your own causes a rather interesting reaction. Both get destroyed. In reality, the Dead Men just set their souls to self-destruct once it's merged with your own. So little word of advice..." Havoc pulled his hand free. "Don't let them near you. But they really are still mortal men just like you. They're subject to the same vices that anyone is vulnerable to. Fear. Desire. Anger."

"You say you abhor death and yet you're willing to let me die if those assholes get to me!?" Wesley bellowed.

Havoc danced backwards and shrugged. "If they got their way, the death toll will be minimal. With you, you'll go on a rampage and kill anyone who ventured into your forest. That's already dozens of men working under the mayor's orders as is. You might even go after the mayor if you're feeling particularly vindictive. Just by the numbers alone, backing the Dead Men is the best option." He folded his arms behind his back and shrugged. "But that's the worst case on both ends. There is always another way, after all."

The bizarre man shrugged and turned his back to Wesley. "Whatever your choice, you now know the stakes. Do what you will but always know that I will react. Good luck."

Havoc disappeared behind a tree never to appear again. The bony hands holding up Wesley suddenly released him and let him drop back to the ground with a loud whump. Wesley watched his restraints disappear into the ground, leaving no trace of their existence. Fear and anger mixed and melded inside of him forming a terrifying feeling of helplessness and frustration.

There was someone out there much stronger than him and there was an army of these 'Dead Men' coming after him all because someone else fucked up. He rested on his paws and knees, running through the possibilities in his mind on what he could possibly do to defend himself. These Dead Men were trained demon hunters and he had just been this 'Anger Demon' for two weeks and most of that time was spent asleep, recuperating from his initial transformation.

There was a loud rustling that caused his ears to perk up. He spun just as Wallace let out a high-pitched girly whimper and disappeared into the bushes. His first instinct was to get up and chase down the cowardly asshole but then a peculiar scent wafted into his nostrils. It was a strong, pungent smell, a little sour but also oddly savoury. It reminded him a lot of a chicken roast but there was a distinct scent of manly musk in there as well. He instinctively followed the smell to its source and found it in Col who was staring after Wallace, eyes wide in anger. Clearly being abandoned had left its mark on him.

An idea suddenly came to him.

The Dead Men were going to bring an army bearing down on him.

Havoc mentioned that the other demons had converted other guys to become demons as well.

Couldn't he do the same? Though he as loathed to admit it, he was new to this demon thing and he needed help. He hated the world but surely there were others that hated it just as much as he did. Maybe they could all band together and fend off the Dead Men.

Curious, he stalked over to Col who quickly forgot his anger at his friend for abandoning him and let his fear bubble back up to the surface. He whimpered and struggled in vain against his restrains. But as Wesley drew closer, he went utterly rigid and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the monster that was just inches away from him.

The smell of Col's fear was repulsive to Wesley. He didn't like how it tasted but he could still sense the anger deep inside of his prey. It was anger born out of a sense of betrayal. He wasn't sure how he knew it came from betrayal but he could just taste it in the thin, wispy flecks of anger that drizzled through the cloud of fear. But that fear was too dense for him to truly get a good handle on the anger. He needed to bring it out a little more to understand it. He had to understand what he fed on and who he was.

"That Wallace," he rumbled. "Fucking asshole. Just abandoned you here. Ran off like a pussy. Left you to me."

Col just whimpered, his fear intensifying.

"Didn't even try to save you. He was your mate, wasn't he? A friend. You shared beers with him and shouted him drinks more than once. And he just left you here to die."

Wesley was reaching. He guessed that was the relationship between these two men. Wallace had no qualms with flashing his dick in front Col even if it was just to piss at the nearby tree. His probing was a success. There was a flash of anger in Col's aura that shone through the thick, blue cloud of fear. Wesley eagerly nibbled at it, slurping it up with his long, wet tongue. He physically leaned down and gently lapped at Col's cheeks as he tasted that anger.

The taste was incredible and filled him with an incredibly rush of energy. It was just like the anger that built within him and fed his body but a better! It made him rumble in delight as the wonderful taste sank down his throat and into his belly where it fed his soul. A strange fullness filled him and the warmth from that sensation bled into his cock and balls. His big, black dick began rising from his sheath, precum already dripping from the barely exposed point.

"He didn't even look back, the selfish prick," Wesley cooed, his lips just at Col's ears. "Just ran off. Didn't promise to come back. Not even a sorry. Asshole."

That brought a bit more of Col's anger to the surface and Wesley quickly capitalised on it, devouring more and more of it. As he did so, he learned. Somehow, he learned why Col was angry at Wallace. It wasn't just because Wallace had left him. It was because they were the best of friends since elementary school and after all that time, after growing up together, it all broke down here. Col had always been Wallace's protector. He was the big guy. The jock that defended the nerd.

"He's suck a fucking leech," Wesley continued. "What did he ever do for you, huh? He never let you copy off his work. Not like all his smarts ever got you anywhere. He got the fucking dead end job just like you. You took punches for the little asshole and this is where you end up? This is what he does in return?"

Col actually let out a loud growl, his teeth bared and his brow furrowed. He was getting pissed and Wesley was winning him over. His anger was overcoming his fear and that was more for Wesley to devour.

He decided to start branching out from just the betrayal. There was only so much anger he could stoke from that one topic, after all. "Thirty-two fucking years of your life and this is how it ends." Wesley chuckled and rested his paws over the tree, looming over Colin until their bodies were practically touching. "Pinned to a fucking tree, abandoned by your best friend and eaten by a demon. You ever fucked a girl?" He laughed as he saw more of Col's life. "Of course you did. But that bitch Marsha just up and left you for that prick with the money, whoring herself out for anyone with the most cash. And you? You try to work out and keep in shape but Wallace just keeps dragging you out to drink bear and all your work goes back to your beer belly. You've gone nowhere in your life."

It was working. Blinding hot, white rage was surrounding Colin Moretti and he was breathing hard. Betrayal was his trigger. It was easy to corrupt his mind into thinking purely of all the times that he was stabbed in the back which in turn triggered all his anger and frustration to come bubbling up from the surface. Wesley devoured it all, enjoying the taste and feeling himself growing harder and harder. The taste was intoxicating. Why hadn't he done this before?

But as he fed his hunger, Col's reserves of anger began to dwindle. It wasn't until it was almost gone did Wesley realise that his victim's anger had been reduced to regret. Anger burned bright and hot but only briefly. Then it left nothing in its wake of weakness. Wesley had felt that himself and like Havoc had told him, he had been lucky that no one had found him in his weakened state. Col whimpered and wept as his anger was lost and the thoughts that once infuriated him now just triggered regret.

Wesley looked down at his massive erect cock dripping thick, white precum all over Col's chest. The labourer was worthless to him now that all his anger was drained. The whimpering was annoying him and he briefly considered just putting him out of his misery. But that would just call down Havoc again and Wesley didn't want to invoke the No One's wrath.

So he thought of something better.

He needed an army.

And an army needed generals.

"I'll tell you what, Col," he rumbled, lowering his lips back down to the woodman's neck. "I'm going to give you the chance to get back at all the assholes that screwed you over."

Colin let out a confused grunt.

Wesley took a step back and began stroking his massive prick. He moaned as waves of pleasure and warmth spread throughout his entire body. An inferno burned in his balls, ready to be released at a moment's notice but he didn't want this to be an explosive blast like his initial transformation. No, he didn't want to be left that vulnerable again nor did he want to draw more attention to himself. He was close to the borders of the forest after all and Wallace had escaped.

He had to make this quick.

He tempered the burning need in his balls focusing it all into the thick orbs sitting in his sac. The flames of anger that he had consumed abated but also concentrated into a single, egg-shaped orb. He could feel it growing in his sack and with his other paw, he rubbed his balls, feeling all _three_orbs there. Licking his lips, he allowed himself a bit of release and the jet of precum that shot from the tip of his dick advanced the orb up his cock a little. Looking down, his massive knot had grown substantially, even bigger than his enormous balls now that his 'seed' sat there. It was the perfect staging area. There, he swirled the egg of anger around over and over again, making sure that its shape was perfect and solid. Feeling it physically twisting in his knot was like having his balls churning for release. Every instinct in his body wanted to send it rocketing out of his two foot long cock but he knew he had to be prudent.

Slowly, he extended one of his tentacles towards the tip of his dick. He didn't even hesitate as he plunged the tapering tip into his cock. The long, squirming length deep inside of him was both unusual and pleasurable at the same time. He was stimulating every nerve along his length from the inside. Every little twitch and inch that the tentacle progressed caused his hips to buck and his balls to produce more and more precum at twice the rate. A fountain of precum was pouring out of his dick by the time his tentacle reached the tight chamber of his knot. Going by feel alone, he wrapped his tentacle around the seed, feeling a sense of pride and elation at his creation.

Wesley began the immensely pleasurable process of pulling the egg back out of his dick. He had to bit his lower lip to prevent himself from roaring in pleasure or letting his seed loose prematurely. His load was just behind the egg which served as a blockade. Every inch he advanced, his hips bucked and his orgasm came barrelling out of his balls only to be stopped by the plug. Some of his seed did manage to pour out but it was minimal.

At the same time, the vines around Col began to twist and loosen. The wrapped around his wrists and legs, holding him up with his hands above his head and his legs apart in front of Wesley. One still kept his lips firmly clamped but another two quickly began undoing his pants deftly. Col's eyes widened and fear began blossoming in his eyes again. His struggles were in vain, however, as the vines quickly relieved him of his pants, lifting his legs into the air so that his ass was side open for Wesley.

The Anger Demon shuddered and with a loud grunt, pulled the egg from his cock. His eyelids fluttered as orgasm finally came and his seed came shooting out and splattering all over Col's exposed rump. Col flinched as the touch of the hot, almost scalding liquid on his sensitive ass.

Wesley smiled as the man began panicking, trying to kick and struggle out of his binds. He regarded the large, white seed in his tentacle. It was the size of a baseball and egg-shaped. Its surface was slick with his cum but was naturally white. However, deep within it, he could sense the concentrated anger that would take root in Col and turn him into a brilliant general for his army.

He wasted no time and shoved the egg deep into Col's ass. The man screamed as the alien sensation pushed his ass wide open and planted the seed within him. Wesley deposited the seed and gave Col's ass a little massage with his tentacle before pulling out. Col was reduced to whimpers and as Wesley left him with the seed.

There was a moment of quiet.

Suddenly, adrenaline and demonic energy pumped all throughout Colin Moretti's body and he abruptly convulsed. He jerked and kicked madly, his eyes snapping open, irises bright red. His fade turned red with rage, veins popping all over his body as he struggled and fought against his restrains. The anger had taken root.

Wesley grinned and called one of his pods from deep within the forest. It quickly dropped down from the trees above and his vines rested Colin inside, binding his limbs down, practically mummifying him. The vine around Colin's lips pulled away from the briefest of moments...

"I'll fucking kill you Wally!" Colin roared. "You're dead! DEAD!"

Then another vine from the pod shoved itself in between his lips, pumping nourishing essence down his throat. He would need it for his transformation. An accompanying vine twisted out from the tress and offered itself to Wesley. He gave it a not and it quickly opened, revealing a fleshy tube that wrapped around his cock. A pleasant sucking massaged the Anger Demon's dick, pumping a constant stream of demonic cum from his plump, ever-ready balls and feeding it directly to Colin.

Wesley patted the pod affectionately. "Come on. Let's go where it's safe. You've got a lot of growing to do before you're ready."

******

Dante's eyes fluttered open and he let out a loud groan. He couldn't remember the last time he had actually slept since demons didn't need sleep as long as they had a constant source of demonic energy. After having fought three demons in the past few weeks, he had a reliable stock. So finding himself actually waking up was a surprise.

Finding himself waking up in Russ' bed was an even greater surprise.

Finding himself waking up Russ' bed with his guardian and mentor suckling on his nipples took the cake.

"Russ...?" he murmured softly.

Russ lifted his gaze and gave him a little smile. He finished off with one more heavy slurp before pulling himself away from Dante's nipple. The young dark hellhound moaned as his nipple eagerly deposited a mouthful of demonic milk into Russ' muzzle. He felt sleepy and weak; something that he shouldn't have felt after a good nap but demons were unlike humans. Sleep did not mean a chance to recuperate; not always anyway.

"What happened...?" he rumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "Last thing I remember..."

"You read a cursed book and came charging in here begging to fuck," Russ chuckled softly. He nestled in beside Dante, draping one big, meaty arm over his shoulder and holding him tightly. "Virgil read the same book as you did and he did exactly the same thing. Escape he was on all fours wagging his tail in my face."

Dante suddenly went rigid and curled his tail over his rear.

"Don't worry," Russ laughed, nuzzling him affectionately. "I didn't do anything. You just needed to get off. Multiple times. Happens to anyone demon reads the Daemonum Libro Rituale."

"It does?" Dante responded, slightly more relieved.

"It's a tome built entirely around the study of demonic rituals and several magical wards were put around it the least of which is causing demons to spill their seed continuously until they fall into unconsciousness. You're just lucky you didn't get to the part about demonic weapons or artefact creation. You'd be suck as candlestick or something and I'd have to get some pretty rare materials to get you out."

Dante shuddered at the thought of being turned into some mundane artefact, railing against the barriers of his self-created prison and begging for release. Then he might never Soul Bind with Flash or find his dad.

"I usually detect if there's magic around..." Dante said. "Why didn't I feel one around that book?"

"Ah, because that's human magic," Russ explained. "You're used to demon magic but you've never felt human magic let alone angelic." He shuffled a little and wrapped his other arm around Dante, gently tracing circles around Dante's nipple. The flesh was a little sore from where Russ had suckled on it for however long but it still made Dante's cock stir in his sheath. "Human magic tends to be weaker in comparison to other forms of magic but because of that, they've been able to make do with what little they have.

"For instance, the way Dead Men kill demons. You remember, right?"

He shuddered at the memory. "Yeah... They merge their souls with ours and then destroy it from the inside killing both of us."

"Right. They figured that all out on their own and it doesn't take much power to execute it. Well, to us anyway. For them, it's extremely tiring and most of the time they need to restrain the demon and perform the ritual over a good hour or so. It's not instantaneous. That's why they tend to travel in groups."

"Ethan was all alone."

Russ shook his head. "Most likely not. It's likely that he was a scout or this was his home town. Dead Men need homes as well, you know. He was likely in contact with his colleagues and now that he's officially missing, they're going to come looking for him." He looked gravely off into the distance. "Human magic is very subtle. They won't be throwing around fireballs or lightning bolts like what you see on TV. It'll be little things like making you a little dizzy, forcing you to ignore a certain thing, making you miss a punch or just increasing their speed and strength. Because of that, it's very dangerous with prolonged exposure. As you've seen."

Dante blushed and regarded his dick which was just starting to poke out of his sheath. "How do I tell when there's human magic around?"

"It's kind of hard," Russ admitted. "You only really get good at detecting it with experience but from what I've learned, human magic sort of tastes like metal."

"Metal?"

"Yeah. If you start smelling a sort of metallic scent in the air, chances are, you've got human magic around."

Dante thought back to when he read that accursed book and did recall a distinct metallic smell when when had flipped through the pages. "Is there any other way of telling?"

"If you're facing some sort human spellcaster, they're usually speaking in Latin when casting spells. I have no idea why it's always Latin but for some reason, it is. They just had to pick the hardest language for some reason." The big hellhound shrugged absently. "It's different from angelic magic. Those assholes are usually very blunt when they cast spells. Lots of flashing, lots of lights and most of the time there's a big choir that sings whenever they do set off a spell. You can detect it coming from a mile away if you taste an overabundance of a particular positive emotion like hope or courage."

"I'll keep that in mind." Dante looked up at Russ curiously. "What does a No One's magic taste like?"

Russ groaned loudly and immediately began pulling away from him. Dante knew the effect it would have on him but was still curious. He immediately grabbed the bigger Hellhound and pulled him back into the bed. Though he was significantly weaker, Russ still allowed himself to be dragged back down.

"Come on, Russ. If we're going to defend ourselves we need to know."

The legendary Hellhound groaned and lay back down, sinking back until he was practically on his back and lying beside Dante who was still sat up against the edges of the circular bed.

"Alright..." Russ mumbled. "I guess with the No Ones it's a little harder. You've met H2. What did you get from him?"

Dante tried to recall that day when he had met the No One of Chaos and he had been given the box that now served as a portal to Hell. Sadly, he was in an environment so inundated with pride that he couldn't detect much from the No One. "I don't think I got anything from him..."

"Exactly the problem," Russ said. "They tend to taste of everything and nothing at the same time. They don't belong anywhere. Thus 'No One'. They fit in wherever and whenever they want. Only way you can detect their meddling is if you know them well enough and trust me, even with my experiences with them, I still have trouble tell when they're involved."

"It really sounds like they can do whatever they want..."

Russ rumbled in an affirmative. "They can but I suppose they don't because they have their own 'rules'. They keep saying that what they do is for the good of everyone but sometimes it's hard to believe when you're the one having to do the leg work so that the world turns out into a better place."

Dante gave his mentor a little smile. "That's kind of like superheroes and the protagonists of all those fantasy books, though. Everyone else sort of just mills about but they're the ones having to fight the wars, beat the bad guys and suffer to save everyone."

"What you don't see is what happens after all that is over," Russ muttered. "Once the big quest is over, the heroes lose purpose in life. They're job is done. What's next? Raise a kid? Think someone who's slain thousands of orcs across a bloody battlefield can really raise a healthy kid? Heroes lose loved ones and best friends all the time. They're going to suffer from PTSD just like everyone else. Any story that tells you otherwise is bullshitting you."

That was both a depressing and a humbling thought. It brought into question what he was going to do after his great quest was over. What would happen once he found Virgil? He would still be a Hellhound. Could he start a family with Flash? He wasn't born a Hellhound and he was still getting used to all the nuances of being one. What if his kid got hunted down by a Dead Man or 'went demon' in the middle of a classroom? He _could_always home school him... but kids needed social interaction... And they needed food. None of them would be able to survive on eggs for very long...

"How did your story end?" he asked softly.

"What?" Russ replied.

"Your big adventure ended, didn't it? You and my grandpa came back from Hell and lived happily ever after. How did you cope? How did grandpa cope?"

Russ gazed odd into the distance again. Then he nestled his head lightly against Dante's flank. "I coped because I went through too much to care. We didn't have any kids and all the kids that Virgil ever had were all grown up. We were happy to live in isolation together and I guess neither of us ever had any goals to have more kids because it would simply be too hard to explain. Virgil though..." He shook his head. "I don't know how he did it. He did spend a lot of time with you though..."

That he did. Maybe Virgil filled his life with caring for his grandson and helping t hose around him. He already had an established family before he became a Hellhound so the obligations to start one were not there.

But...

"Russ..." he murmured softly. "I want a kid..."

Russ immediately straightened and gave him a horrified look. "W - w -what!? Now?"

He laughed softly and shook his head. "No. Not now. Just... I want to start a family. I mean, I never gave it much thought now and I'm just eighteen starting on what could potentially be an eternal lifetime but... I want a kid. I want a family." He shook his head sadly. "And I don't think I want to go through life having adopted a kid only to watch them grow old and die while I remain forever young. That might be the reason why grandpa let himself go..."

Russ' eyes widened and he looked mournfully down at his feet. "I guess... I never thought of it that way before." He laughed softly. "I killed my kids and wife in a bout of madness so I never got to think about that but looking at things your way... Yeah, I guess that is something that'd eat you up inside." He turned back to Dante. "So you want a demon kid?"

He gave Russ a lopsided smile. "Only two guys I ever want to bear pups for are demons so..." He did a double-take on what he had just said and began stammering. "I - I mean, theoretically speaking. You're still Soul Bound to my grandpa and -"

The bigger Hellhound laughed softly and gave him a light slap on the chest. "I get what you mean. And I'll admit that the thought has crossed my mind once or twice. I still appreciate your offer to go find Virgil once this is done but I have to also accept the possibility that I may never find him. And..." He turned away, a light blush touching his cheeks through his brown fur. "... I've really grown fond of you two."

"Don't say that, Russ," he said, gently squeezing his mentor's arm. "We'll find him. I know we will. You know he's still alive, right?"

Russ let out a soft, bitter laugh and straightened so that he just sat comfortably beside Dante. "It's very difficult to destroy a soul in its entirety. So he's definitely still out there. I'm concerned that he hasn't come back yet..."

"It's only been a few weeks," Dante said gently. "I'm sure grandpa has his reasons and I'm sure he couldn't resolve all those reasons in two weeks."

There was a gentle smile on Russ' face as he shook his head. "You're so much like him. So cool, logical. Reminds me of the time your grandpa and I fought against Anger"

Dante's tail began wagging excitedly. "Oh yeah? What was that like? Did you want me to get the journal?"

The bigger Hellhound seemed to give it some thought then he pulled Dante towards himself. "You know what? I can tell you just as much about it. I _was_there, you know."

Beaming, Dante snuggled up to his mentor and looked up at him like a puppy eager to be fed.

Russ smiled and began to weave his tale.

"Let's see, Anger... Anger... Okay, well Anger was the sixth Vice that we had to deal with. We defeated Pride, befriended Jealousy, overcame Sloth, triumphed over Despair and silenced Hatred. When we came to Anger, we came to the Fields of Fury. Not what you'd expect a place of Anger to be, really. It was this huge flat plane. The ground was covered with tall, white grass and there were tiny little animals native to the plains that were designed to get you as pissed off as much as possible."

"Like how?" Dante asked curiously.

"Well, ever had a paper cut?"

"Yeah."

"Remember how annoying it can get? Well the grass is sharp enough that it can give you cuts like that."

"Wouldn't that, I dunno... really hurt and more than annoy?"

Russ shook his head in the negative. "Anger Demons..." Then he cut himself off and gave Dante a curious look. "What do you think Anger Demons look like?"

Dante hadn't gotten to the chapter about Anger yet as he tended to bounce around a lot on the journal so he really had no clue what to expect from Anger Demons. He still hazarded a guess. "Um... they're fiery, full of anger and burns anything they touch?"

Russ laughed loudly, his deep voice reverberating throughout his room. "Actually, that's a Hatred Demon. They're whole shtick is that they hate everything and everyone around them that they burn anything they touch. Nothing can get close because of their hatred. Anger Demons are different. They feed on Anger and do everything they can to get everyone and anyone as pissed off as possible. They're actually big canines with an almost Doberman-like build with huge tentacles rising out of their backs. The Anger Demons are really in tune with their surroundings as well and you'll find that if you ever enter an Anger Demon's domain, there's usually a socket for their tentacles to slip in which they use to control nature itself."

"Really?" Dante asked, eyes wide. "So they use nature?"

His mentor nodded grimly. "The grass is controlled by the Anger Demons and they actually coordinate with one another to annoy people that venture into their realm. Unlike most other demons who tend to be selfish and a solo act, Anger Demons actually work together really well. You'll find that they actually have the lowest population in terms of the other Vices but that's because their abilities let them spread really far and their influence can be felt all over whatever they've corrupted. One Anger Demon can control an area miles wide."

Dante gulped loudly. Anger Demons sounded extremely dangerous and powerful if left unchecked.

"So the Fields of Fury...?"

"Was basically us stepping on their toes," Russ confirmed grimly. "Now I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you haven't read that chapter or the one before it yet, right?" Dante nodded, confirming Russ' suspicions. "Well, after we fought Hatred, your grandpa and I were already pretty pissed at one another. I won't spoil why but let's just say that he didn't like the fact that I was being forced to accompany him and wasn't there to be his friend or lover. I thought he was acting like a baby and his belief that everyone he talked to or fucked automatically became his friend or fuck buddy was pretty naïve. So the Anger Demons had a lot to prey upon us.

"H2 led us through the Field to where one of the big wars were taking place. We -"

"Whoa wait," Dante said, holding up a paw. "Wars? There was a war going on? Grandpa never mentioned that before."

Russ let out a soft 'ah' and lifted a finger. "Anger is a funny thing. Just like Hatred, it has the capacity to both divide and unite. I mean after that terrorist attack a few years back, everyone was angry and it united entire nations into joint efforts. The Anger Demons knew this so whenever someone was condemned to their part of Hell, they sorted them off into different 'mini-factions'. Every now and then, they would ignite a war between one faction or another for whatever reason, using the anger felt over something petty like someone pissing on a tree in one guy's territory or taking a fruit off another guy's stock. The factions would go to war even if just a few moments ago they were the best of friends. It wasn't hatred. It was anger and frustration over living in such a harsh, unforgiving land and everyone being permanently put on a hair trigger."

Dante winced. "Wow... That really sounds terrible..."

"For those trapped in that existence, it was. The wars would go on endlessly and that only fed the Anger Demons. Those that 'fell' would eventually be absorbed into the ground, their souls sucked dry before they were reborn as an Anger Demon. Every once in a while, someone would try to rally the factions against the Anger Demons but their anger in turn would transform them into Anger Demons and they would never win. Fighting to what was known as the Roots of Wrath was like fighting against a wall of water. You can push forward but the wall would just close in behind you and you'd eventually run out of air and drown, becoming part of the wall."

Russ shook his head grimly. "H2 gave us an overview of the area before he took us to the heart of the Roots where the biggest Anger Demon sat, Rampage." He grimaced slightly. "Well... 'sat' isn't the right word. More like he was the Roots of Rage. Rampage was the biggest and strongest of the Anger Demons and he had become so powerful that the very root system that ran throughout the entire Fields were connected to him. The other Anger Demons were like parasitic plants clinging on to him for sustenance, winding around his roots and drinking up any nourishment that Rampage would allow them. When we spoke to him, the roots and vines formed his face around us and his voice boomed across the entire plains."

"Wow..." was all Dante could manage.

"Yeah," Russ murmured. "As usual, H2 left us and we were tasked with finding some way to win whatever challenge Rampage gave us." The big Hellhound leaned back, draping his arms around the rims of the bed. "He told us that if we could absorb all the rage in stored within one of his pods, then we would win his challenge." Russ laughed and gave Dante a light nudge. "Your grandfather was cocky as always and willingly accepted the challenge. I told him he was severely underestimating the amount of rage that Rampage held and again, his naïveté infuriated me."

"Let me guess," Dante said with a small laugh. "His confidence got the best of him. You and him turned into Anger Demons and somehow broke out of the spell in the end?"

A rueful smile crossed Russ' lips. "Actually, no. For once, your grandfather's confidence was well placed. I have never met a man who could be so... _calm_and collected before. Not a hint of rage in him. Even when Rampage stuffed him with his tentacles and began pumping him full of rage from one of his pods, your grandfather didn't succumb. It would be years later when he'd tell me how he did it."

Virgil really was an amazing person. To have survived the trials of Hell and come back smiling and unchanged, at least outwardly was truly a tale for the epics. Learning that he had somehow survived the trials of Rampage unscathed only added to his legend.

"How?" Dante asked. "How'd he survive?"

Russ gave him a little smile. "That comes in the next part of the story. See, we both had to survive the ordeal. Your grandfather survived unscathed but me... Well..." He looked miserably at his feet. "I was a very angry person back then. I hated that H2 bound us together. I was frustrated that this human was repeatedly showing up demons of which I had grown to identify with. Further, I was royally pissed that Virgil refused to accept that he was now a demon too. So when Rampage started pumping me full of rage... It just felt so good to unleash it all. You can't imagine how good it feels to let all that anger out. It was a release that no orgasm could compare to, you know? I mean, yeah, I cummed several times but it was better."

Dante had to shake his head. "Sorry, I've never really been that angry... I mean sure, I've been frustrated a couple of times. When Flash sort of gave up and Buck swallowed him, I was furious but I was more focused on saving my mate than anything else."

Russ tapped his nose lightly forcing him to rear back and wiggle it in agitation.

"And that's how your grandpa got rid of his anger. He knew and understood that there were more important things in life than kicking and screaming, throwing a tantrum and blowing up in people's faces. He told me once that you accomplish less when you are filled with anger." Russ made a claw with his paws. "Anger is simply a fire that just burns the more fuel you give it. Unleashing it on everyone around you will burn them and that just fuels the fire all the more. It's an endless cycle and one that Anger Demons revel in. They have their own anger that they use to sustain themselves but at the same time, they _infect_others with their anger. Their victims burn in the flames of their anger, get turned into Anger Demons and the cycle continues."

Russ let out a soft sigh and continued. "I turned into an Anger Demon and dove straight at him. In my rage, I could've killed him but he was smart and kept his cool. He escaped me and disappeared into the Fields of Fury." Then he gave Dante a lopsided smile. "Now you can believe this or not but the way he_tells it, he went and found one of the factions fuelled with rage and began preaching peace, serenity and meditation. Basically, he became their Ghandi. Passive-aggressive tactics was their bread and butter. He taught people to _apologise, let things go and just be all around peaceful. I think he taught them the ten second rule."

"Ten second rule?"

"If something pisses you off, count to ten. If you're still angry. Then throw a punch. Otherwise, let it go." Russ shook his head. "I was so blinded by rage back then that I lost track of time. Must've been a year before I heard of this 'Guru' that was uniting the factions and planning an assault on the Roots of Rage. It was about that time that a shortage of Anger began and Rampage grew concerned. I got pissed at him for letting things go that far and went out to see what the hell was going on. Imagine my surprise when there was your grandpa, draped in white and teaching peace to the factions. I got angry at him and attacked. He actually let me beat him to a pulp. He was bloody and broken by the time I started yelling at him, trying to get him to fight back. I asked him why he wasn't fighting back and then he asked me one question."

"What question was that?" Dante asked, captivated.

"Will it stop you from being angry?" Russ was silent for a long time as he mused the question and let Dante digest it.

"Kind of a paradox, isn't it?" Dante said.

"Yeah," Russ laughed. "If he fought back, I'd just be angry forever and we'd keep fighting. If he didn't I'd still be angry but then he'd be dead and what would I have to be angry about? I guess something clicked then. Anger is pointless. It's hot air. You puff yourself up over and over again, get angry, trash a place, throw a tantrum and beat up a guy but ultimately, what's it for? Because someone stole your money? Someone killed your mate? Someone took your spot in line? What will that change? Will it be worth it? Will the assault charges be worth the money you get back? Will your vengeance bring back your mate? Will the punches be worth getting your spot back?"

Russ shook his head. "Anger is just a thick coating we put over something miniscule in the long run. Compared to the damage it will cause, the source of whatever started your rampage will be stupid in comparison. So I did what he did. I just let go of my anger. I apologised. I hugged him and he just laughed it off saying that he always had faith in me."

Then a wicked grin crossed his face. "After that, we charged the Roots of Rage. With all the Anger Demons starved, we had a clear shot at Rampage. His roots were shrivelling. The entirety of the Fields of Fury were fading. We didn't attack him though. We just surrounded him and waited it out. I think it was actually a crueller fate as we practically starved him. His roots shrank and his true form was revealed." Russ held up a thumb and forefinger. "He was this tiny, kid. No bigger than a toddler. A petulant child that just got angry at everything around him for whatever reason."

Russ shook his head. "But like I said, anger is both infectious and self-sustaining. Rampage couldn't feed off everyone's anger anymore but he was still plenty strong alone."

"What happened?"

Russ patted Dante's thigh. "That's a tale for another time, pup. Right now, what do you say you whip up some of that Sloth Spaghetti of yours and some of that awesomely deceptive chocolate pie? I'm starved."

Dante gave Russ an exasperated look and rolled his eyes. "Come on. You just fed off me."

"Well then you need to recuperate," Russ replied, giving him a playful hug. "Come on. I'll help."

"You? Cook?" Dante laughed and got up from the bed, flicking his tail in Russ' face. "If we want to fight the rest of the demons, we'll need to be alive. I got this."

"Cheeky ass."

Dante wiggled his shapely butt at Russ. "Yeah. I know."

******

Wrath

_ _

'We came to the heart of the Fields which was known as the Roots of Rage. The best way to describe it is an enormous crater covered in roots and at its centre was the head of the Anger Demons, Rampage. At the time, we thought he was the very roots but you will learn that Anger, with all its bluster and puff, is at its heart small and miniscule. But I am getting ahead of myself once again. Rampage's challenge to us was to survive being infused by raw fury and this was something I was confident I could take. I was not wrong. But at the same time, I was so very wrong.'

---

Wallace Fanon buried his head in his hands.

"I'm not crazy," he said for what must have been the hundredth time to date. He knew what he had seen, what he had experienced. Those tentacles around his arms, wrist and head continued to haunt him like phantom limbs constantly hovering over his shoulder, threatening to attack when he wasn't looking. On top of it all, there was the guilt that he bore for having abandoned Collin to that... that thing.

He shook in his little bland, white room in the local mental asylum. According to the town's history, the town was built around the asylum. The large angelic statue in the yard was apparently the inspiration behind the town's name. Legend had it that if you were to touch the angel, any mental ailment would be cured and you could go back to down a healthy and productive member of society.

That was the first thing he tried when he was interred here.

It did not help.

He still felt those tentacles just inches from his neck and when he slept, he was haunted by Collin's pleading eyes as that monster pinned him to that tree. And now, there was nothing he could do for his childhood friend. He had made the mistake of going to the authorities who immediately considered him_yet another_ crack pot that's come down with what was starting to be colloquially known as the 'Quakes'.

After the recent earthquakes, a lot of people had been sent to the loony bin ranging from high school students to fully grown men. It seemed to only affect men for some reason. When Wallace began shouting about a demon in the woods, his co-workers just told him he was going crazy. After some desperate pleas, the guys in the white jackets were called and he was hauled here.

"I'm not crazy..."

"I know you're not."

Wallace jerked where he sat in the corner of his room which, in reality, was a cell. His eyes were wide as a tall, statuesque man stepped into the room. He didn't look like any of the other shrinks that had dotted Seraph Psychiatric Asylum. His athletic figure exuded both strength and comfort and he wore a simple white, collared shirt with the top two buttons undone to show off his impressive chest. His forearms were quite large to the point where he had to roll up his sleeves not that his upper arms were any smaller in that they were practically popping out of the fabric. There was a woollen sweater wrapped around his waist by the sleeves and he wore a pair of casual, tan pants and sandals.

"W - W - Who are you...?" Wallace stammered.

The man smiled wanly at him and stepped into the room. "My name is Quinton Le'Brawn. I heard that you came across something really interesting in the woods the other day."

"It was a fucking monster!" Wallace bellowed, immediately leaping to his feet. "I swear! It was big, white and had these tentacles coming out of its back! It was... it was... I don't know! It was like half man and half dog or something!"

Quinton leaned casually against the wall in the back and crossed his arms. Despite the pose, he still looked relaxed and not at all like he was constantly analysing Wallace. He didn't have a clipboard on him or a syringe to help calm the poor man down. If Wallace didn't know any better, he could've just been some guy on the street that had decided to walk in and visit for whatever reason.

"And what did this monster do?"

"He... he..." Wallace shook his head and shrank in the corner. "What's it matter? You won't believe me any way."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because no one else in this fucking place believes me!" he bellowed! "They all say I've got the Quakes!"

Quinton was quiet for a second then he tapped the side of his head. "Let me ask you something. Do you think it's a coincidence that people all over town have been experiencing cases of mass hysteria all of the sudden? The cases tend to be rather spread out and inconsistent as well. These little 'outbreaks' can't just be because of trauma experienced from the recent earthquakes right? Some of these people haven't even been anywhere near any of the major sites that the quakes occurred. At least when they were found."

Wallace frowned and looked towards the man with a sense of unease. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there must be some grain of truth in what they are saying. They all seem to have something in common, anyway."

"And what's that?"

There, Wallace got the first hint that there wasn't quite something right about Quinton. There was just a little glint in his eyes that made them seem to glow... red for the briefest of moments. The next word he uttered gripped Wallace's heart in the cold grasp of fear.

"Demons."

Wallace visibly shuddered and the room suddenly felt much colder than it did before. He remembered seeing that monster coming at them, feeling helpless as he was suspended in mid-air and then realising that there was someone else_stronger than even the demon. That guy, Havoc, who called himself a 'No One'; a guy who put _God where he was. And even then, Havoc seemed far from benevolent. He didn't save Wallace or Collin. What hope was there if there was a guy like _that_running around?

"Tell me what you saw," Quinton encouraged.

Wallace recounted everything. Once he started, it was impossible to stop. His words started coming out in a frantic tumble and his voice grew higher and higher. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he began tugging at his hair as if the pain could somehow make him forget the terror he felt that gripping his heart. Quinton was silent throughout the entire one-sided conversation and Wallace started to think that this guy was just some figment of his imagination, an imaginary friend, a coping mechanism to deal with what he had seen.

"And that's it?" Quinton asked.

"That's it," Wallace stammered. "I... I just... I just ran. I didn't know what else to do..." He let out a whimper and shut his eyes. "I'm a coward..."

Again, this man was silent. "No. You're a brave man. It takes a lot for someone to be able to come running to a society that would otherwise deem him insane for what he's experienced. Any man can get pumped with testosterone and die fighting a demon but that is one demon. You're standing up against an entire town, all of society who has snubbed demons into the thing of fantasy and myth. That is true courage."

Wallace lifted his gaze, wiping his eyes. "You think so...?"

"It doesn't matter what I think. All that matters is what you think and what you believe." Quinton moved towards the heavy, metal door that prevented Wallace from escaping and pulled it open. He stood aside letting the first true waft of fresh air hit Wallace.

"What... What are you doing?" Wallace asked softly.

Quinton smiled brightly at him. "You're a brave man, Wallace Fanon. You don't deserve to be here. Go on. Do what you have to do. No one will stop you."

Wallace staggered to his feet, stunned at the offer. He looked from Quinton to the open door thinking that it was some sick joke and that Quinton would slam the door shut on him the moment he got close. As he began to step forward, he wondered what he would do once he was out of this place. All his affects had been taken from him and he had no way getting back to his house. He wasn't even sure what he would do.

But as he approached the door, an idea sprang into mind.

He needed to at least try to save his best friend.

With resolute steps, he stepped out of his cell and started making his way through the asylum. He didn't even question why there was no one in the hallways or why no guards were around to stop him. His mind was set on his goal and nothing would stop him from getting to it. He would avenge Collin and bring that beast low. He would kill that demon for humiliating him and making people think he was crazy.

Then he'd show everyone. Everyone that laughed and said he was insane would know that he had been right all along.

As he left, Quinton grunted loudly and stepped out of the cell, shutting it behind him.

"Good riddance," he muttered. "He stank of anger."

******

School was oddly returning to normalcy even after just a little over two weeks since the first quake. There were no more half days where Dante could just go through the motions of being in class before running off back to Russ' place to be a Hellhound. He actually had to sit through class this time and pay attention. Even being a supernatural creature from Hell, he was still subject to the whimsy of high school.

Answer a question too quickly and you were branded a nerd. Don't answer a question at all and you were considered an idiot. Even with a body like his, he ran the risk of being considered a meathead and he was sure he didn't want that kind of reputation through his senior year.

Reminded that this was last year at high school for a group of kids and with the recent quakes made all the teachers 'career crazy'. His English teacher kept telling them how fulfilling being a teacher was. His biology teacher warned him against it. Every class he attended, there were different opinions and different pieces of advice on what to take once he went to college, where to go and what to do for a career. Some told him that once he invested in a course, he would be stuck with it for the rest of his life and there was no turning back. Others said he could always change his mind and college was a place of self-discovery.

Dante was reminded that he really had no direction in terms of career. 'Find my dad and grandfather' was a goal and not a career. He knew he wanted pups of his own but how would he support them? How would he put a roof on their heads, feed them, clothe them? Strangely, he wasn't as concerned about it as he should have been.

He did have Russ and Flash, after all.

Well... at least he thought he had Flash.

All throughout the day, he noticed that Flash was rather distant and rather broody. Everyone noticed and even some of the other jocks that usually didn't talk to Dante asked him if he knew what was wrong.

Once his chemistry class started, he resolved to find out by lunch time. He sat down in his usual seat and opened his books ready for whatever lecture they were going to get about chemicals and their futures. He was, however, surprised when the big frame of Todd Cummings sat down beside him wearing his billion dollar grin.

"Hey Dante. How's it going?"

"Hey Todd," Dante greeted with a smile. He recalled the chat he had with Todd last week and instantly brightened. Maybe Flash's best friend would have some insight that his mate of two weeks didn't have. "How're you? You're looking better."

Todd beamed. "Yeah well I just hit the weights really hard on the weekend and got some decent gains! Check these out!" He flexed his bicep and nearly tore through his shirt. Dante could actually see it starting to tear at the seams.

"Whoa! You really do look bigger!" Dante said. He couldn't help but reach out and run his fingers over Todd's thick, vascular arms. "Shit! They're huge! You could go pro!"

Todd's features darkened slightly. "I'm not that big. But I will be. Don't you worry."

"Huh?"

The burly man with the movie-star look shook his head and gave Dante a little nudge. "Nothing. So What's up with you and Flash? I noticed he's been kind of growly lately. Did you not put out or something?"

Dante instantly went rigid and hushed him before anyone could hear. "No! Nothing like that just..." What could he say? He had no idea why Flash was being so 'growly' as Todd put it. The only hint he had was their encounter with Buck over the weekend. "Flash sort of had... a fight with his dad... He's staying with me right now until things blow over."

Todd straightened in his seat, the little plastic frame groaning against his massive frame. "Oh. I see. Didn't think he'd actually get into a match with his dad. Did he punch him like he always talked about?"

"No... Why? Do you think he wants to?"

The high school stud shook his head. "Nah. If I know Flash, and trust me, I know Flash, it's probably more that he doesn't have anything to get riled up about anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Their chemistry teacher walked in and hushed them. He began writing a series of chemical equations on the board with the intention for the class to solve them but Dante wasn't really paying much attention. He quickly scribbled a few words on his notebook, tore off the page and nudged Todd with a shoulder.

Todd picked up the note subtly and peered at it. Then he quickly wrote back and slipped it across their desk to Dante.

'Flash hated his dad for a long time. If that suddenly got resolve he's probably feeling a little empty like he doesn't have anything to get angry about anymore.'

Dante thought back to what Russ had told him about Virgil's encounter with the king of Anger Demons, Rampage, and when all that rage was taken away, the king was revealed to be this small, impudent child. The Fields of Fury were probably never the same either. With the Anger Demons uprooted, it probably looked barren and desolate. Empty. Like how Flash must have felt now that he had no direction in his life.

Just like how Dante felt until he met Russ and this whole Hellhound business hit them.

He wrote a reply on the note and handed it back to Todd.

'What would get him riled up again?' he asked.

Todd's reply was simple. 'Find something he's really passionate about. I know he's really superstitious. Get him a black cat.'

It was a joke, Dante knew, but he couldn't help but wonder what the significance of that 'black cat' superstition was in the first place. He made a mental note to ask Russ about it. But Todd did have a point. Maybe he could encourage Flash to get excited about finding Virgil, scouring all the planes both mortal and spiritual for his lost grandpa. That would give him purpose.

'Thanks. I might just do that,' he replied and handed the note back to Todd.

And he thought that would've been the end of the little exchange but then he saw Todd scribble something and hand him the note back.

'TBH, I'm jealous of how much you care about him. Wish I had someone like that.'

The words were oddly personal and he never expected that from the guy that had once thrown a football at his head. He was a little stunned and unsure how to react. Todd had girlfriends - any girl would want him and Dante had to admit, he was hot - but he never had a steady. The popular opinion in school was that he was a playboy.

He subtly tried to read Todd's aura and did find a large amount of jealousy there but amidst the swarm of other emotions around high school, it was difficult to tell exactly what he was feeling. He snorted away the various tastes and scents of anxiety, arousal, boredom, arrogance and frustration that filled the air. Todd caught the gesture and looked hurt so Dante quickly wrote him a note.

'Not at you. Just something in my nose.'

He handed it to Todd and then realised he needed a follow-up.

'I'm sure you'll find someone that really cares for you. Won't be easy but you'll find someone.'

Todd read the note with a smile and wrote back slowly like he was mulling over the words.

'Yeah but I want what Flash has in you. The way you look at him. That undying devotion. Kind of sick of the hussies I hook up with. Only caring for my looks. Moment they figure out I'm dirt poor, they bail. And I know you don't care about Flash because of his money.'

The sincerity in the words was not lost in the fact that it was written. Again, Dante was a little lost for words but he could tell that Todd was eagerly waiting his reply as well.

So he wrote the first thing on his mind.

'If it's any consolation, if I wasn't with Flash and you were this honest with me, I'd probably have hit on you already.'

He never got to hand the note to Todd. As is the case with all such scenarios, the teacher just happened to catch them at that moment and snatched the note from Dante's hand before Todd could grab it.

"Aren't you two a little too old to be passing notes in class?" said their middle-aged teacher. He glanced at the note and grimaced. "And love_notes too?" He glanced at the two and shook his head. "Boys, I know the past few weeks have been awful but that doesn't mean you have to go ploughing one another's brains out in desperation. There are _plenty of girls out there. You don't need to resort to one another just because you sit next to one another."

The class laughed and Dante's cheeks burned with embarrassment. He ducked his head and tried to bury it beneath his book. Just like that, he would be the laughing stock of the school for at least the rest of the day. Though he was a little annoyed that his teacher would automatically think that he was desperate to hit on Todd instead of being sincere.

That was just insulting.

Enduring the rest of the class was utter torture but at the very least, it was lunch time straight after. He headed out with Todd and bid his friend a good lunch while he headed off to find Flash; Todd would naturally hang out with the rest of the jocks. Dante lifted his nose to the air and took a big, long whiff. He caught Flash's scent very easily and followed it straight to the back of the school, in the big field where they usually hung out.

Flash was sitting against the back wall where they usually sat eating the sandwich infused with negative energies that Dante had made this morning. He was trying to hide the boner he was sporting and taking breaks between bites to keep himself from going all Hellhound in the middle of the school day. Dante approached and sat down without a word.

He retrieved his own sandwich from his bag and began to mull about how he could possibly start off a conversation with Flash regarding their future together. Should he start of casually? Maybe comment on how all the teachers were pestering them about careers in the future? Start with a joke? Comment on the weather?

Despite being Flash's mate for two weeks, he felt like he was just about to ask out the quarterback on a date. As the seconds ticked by, he grew more and more concerned and more and more of his sandwich vanished down his throat. Only when he was almost finished with his meal did he realise he was running out of time.

Then he realised it was utterly pointless to beat around the bush especially to a Hellhound.

"You've been really distant the past couple of days."

Flash looked up as if waking from a dream. "I have...? Oh... Sorry. I guess I've been a little... preoccupied..."

"I know..." Dante chomped on the last piece of his sandwich and dusted off his hands. "I've been worried about that too."

His mate's eyes widened and his features brightened. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, who wouldn't? We've got less than a year before high school finishes, right? What are we going to do from here on out? We're _more_than just Hellhounds."

Flash frowned at him. "Well... yeah but..."

"Look, I was thinking that as a long term goal that I wanted to look for my grandpa," Dante said firmly. "I know Russ misses him like crazy and I hate seeing him hung up over him. He's moving on but he'll never get closure without seeing my grandpa again. I want to help him."

"Okay but -"

"I don't know how I'm going to do that yet," Dante interrupted. "Also, I want pups." Flash flinched but Dante held up his hands. "I know, I know. Totally weird from a human's perspective but I've grown up thinking that having and raising a family will be the single greatest accomplishment of my life and I still think that's true. I can't bear the thought of adopting a kid and watching them grow old and die so I want to have my own Hellhound pup. I'm more than happy to carry him to term. I love you, Flash, and I'd happily carry our pups."

Flash was dumbstruck and before he could recover, Dante continued.

"And that brings to mind a lot of questions. Things like how we're going to support them where we're going to live, their education, how we're going to feed them, how we're going to control_them and all that stuff." He reached out and gripped Flash's big hands tightly. "But I _know we can figure it out. I know we can do it together. You and me. Together, we can do anything. I guess it's just a matter of time."

Flash lifted his eyebrows. "I've already got it figured out."

Dante's face fell. "You... do...?"

"Well... yeah." His mate shrugged absently. "After high school I was going to go into law enforcement."

"You want to be a cop!?"

Realistically speaking, it was actually a very good choice of profession for a Hellhound. With his immeasurable strength and abilities, it would be easy to deal with any criminals he came across and mortal weapons were unlikely to hurt him. Plus with his sensitivity to negative emotions, he could actually sense when people were lying to him or detect danger before it arrived.

"No. I want to learn about the law and what I can and cannot do," Flash answered. "Get an understanding of the criminal justice system and the law. Probably get a Bachelor of Science in chemistry or physics. Work as a cop for a year or so to get my finances up. Then, I want to open my own private investigation agency somewhere far from here. Maybe New York or California."

It was Flash's turn to lift his eyebrows. "You do know that the private eye thing kind of died out in the 90's right?"

"Not that kind of private eye," Flash said. "A paranormal one."

"And that died out after the 'found footage' genre got old and stale. Besides, isn't the whole 'travelling paranormal investigator' thing kind of... erm..."

"Done?" Flash finished. Suddenly, the days of gloom and doom seemed to vanish as he suddenly broke out into a bright grin. "I know but this is real life. We can pick up normal jobs but do the paranormal stuff as our main gig. I mean we got the assets for it and we know there's a whole world out there of stuff we don't know about so why not? We can help people outside of being just Hellhounds."

"Oh yeah? And what am I supposed to be doing while you're out playing cop?"

"How about eternal student? Colleges are a good place for paranormal stuff, right? You study whatever you want. I'll support you and then when we're ready, we go out into the world and help people."

Dante mulled it over then he couldn't help but laugh. It seemed such a... _childish_notion to go around as a duo of paranormal investigators, helping those preyed upon by the supernatural, meeting new people, making love along the way. But when he thought about it, seeing as they were basically ageless, they could start a family whenever they pleased once they had a stable home, enough savings and probably a large number of friends both supernatural or otherwise who had their back should something bad happen.

"You know how ridiculous that sounds?" he said. "It's the plot of one of those paranormal dramas you see every now and then. What? Are we going to avert the Apocalypse and fight the Devil?"

Flash didn't seem perturbed about it. "There's a whole new world out there, Dante. Don't you want to find out more about it? And if you wanted to start a family, don't you think we should it somewhere we're aware of all the dangers and risks?" He reached out and gripped Dante's hand. "I mean, I want to make sure that we're well off for our pups but I don't want to be a crazy workaholic like my dad that never has time for them."

Those words struck home with Dante and he realised exactly what Flash intended. While the paranormal adventures was a way to help them stay aware of the world around them, it was also a means to build up their savings for when they eventually settled down. When that time came, Flash wanted to spend every waking moment with his pups unlike his neglectful father.

"You'll make a great dad," Dante said affectionately. The plan that was set before him was more than acceptable. In fact, it got him excited just thinking about all the different kinds of people they would meet around the world. From what he had heard from Russ, it was a very big world and while it would be dangerous and there would be people out for his Hellhound hide, with Flash beside him, he had no doubt they could overcome any obstacle.

But thinking of the future reminded him of why he had begun spilling his plans for the future with Flash in the first place. "Wait. If you've got the whole future planned out, why have you been so distant lately? What's really eating you up?"

Flash gave him a soft smile and pulled him closer, gently letting Dante rest his head on the bigger boy's muscular chest. "If you had let me get a word in you'd know..." Flash took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You'd know that it's because I'm feeling a little... incompetent compared to you and Russ."

"What? Incompetent? You?"

"Think about it," Flash murmured softly with his eyes filled with sadness. "When we went up against Edward, it was you who came up with the idea on how to defeat him and his dad. Up against the Deception Demons, you turned the tide when you crippled the pipsqueak that was their leader. Then recently against my dad, you were the one that saved me and Russ." Flash averted his gaze. "You're freakin' awesome with magic and are a Generator. You make kickass food and probably know more about the real supernatural world than I do. And what can I do? I just pump out black fire and work out... Not that it actually_does_ anything... I mean, I saw Todd this morning and he was huge! I know I've grown since we changed but he's _still_growing. Me..."

Dante let out a soft whine and nuzzled Flash's chest lightly. "Come on, man. You can't believe that. You've done a lot! I mean back with Edward, you're the one that broke us free out of Zander's little barbershop of horrors. You burned down an entire desert when we fought Deception and you held out against all odd in your dad's... erm... sack. That's nothing to laugh about."

Flash still set out a long sigh. "Maybe but you've been growing stronger. Russ is already amazingly powerful but me... I'm sort of just staying the same..."

It was one of the failings of being a demon. Obtaining power and keeping it was very difficult. A demon could consume a lot of their preferred negative energy and grow stronger but the need to cum and spread their corruption was too great. Once that happened, they just expelled the energy that they would have otherwise tried to use to use to develop themselves. While the three Hellhounds had been consuming the corruption left over from the other demons time and time again, they hardly kept most of it to themselves and usually spilled their seed back in Russ' house to be cleaned up later. For Dante, he expelled it as milk from his nipples as liquid sustenance for later use. He knew Flash constantly coated the gym with his cum whenever he was home and Russ' magic spells kept the corruption from spreading. That meant that they really hadn't grown that much since their adventure started. Maybe their stores were a little bigger than before but not by much.

Based on that, Dante could see where Flash was coming from. Knowledge was something that wasn't measured in bicep size, height or weight but was invaluable. Dante continued to study the paranormal and practiced with magic while Flash just worked out... which ultimately would see no gains for a Hellhound.

Dante sat up suddenly and gave Flash's chest a hearty slap. "Okay then. We'll just have to catch you up."

"How exactly?" Flash grumbled. "It's not like I have any skill with magic. I keep trying but I just can't get it. Some occult enthusiast I am..." he mumbled.

"We'll find a way," Dante responded brightly, gripping his mate's paw tightly. "Hell if you want, we'll go down to the Red Light District, find you an extra-large cock ring that'll fit around that puppy maker and then get you to drink some milk." For emphasis, Dante reached down and squeezed Flash's ample package. His mate let out a faint squeak. "You won't cum so you get to keep your strength."

Flash gave him a shaky smile. "You think that'll work."

"Won't know unless we try, right?" He leaned down, his lips hovering inches away from Flash's. "But we need to try together, okay? No more of this sulking and quietly stewing in your own frustration. Got it?"

Flash returned a smile and gently gripped the back of Dante's head. "Okay. You got me."

Their lips met and Dante just melted at the contact.

It was strange but while they had kissed many times before, this felt like the first time they had kissed out of love and affection instead of just lust or obligation.

It felt... nice.

******

The forests of Angelton had always been shrouded in mystery and legend. There were tales of monsters lurking in the woods and of witches that would steel away naughty children if they disobeyed their parents and went out into the woods at night. In reality, there had never been any supernatural dangers; not when there had been a guardian hellhound that lived in the very same city.

That no longer held true.

The forests had become dangerous and thick with growth. Even kids no longer dared to brave the woods and the bravest men in Angelton avoided them all together. There was just something about it that warned them off.

Leopold McKenzie was no ordinary man, however. He was a Dead Man; a devoted demon hunter. It was he who had convinced the mayor of Angelton to commission some local woodcutters and foresters to cut down the suddenly wild and unruly woods. He felt something sinister within the underbrush and though he was unsure exactly what it was, he knew it was not human.

Unfortunately, for the past few days, the men that had been hired were making little progress. They came up with stories about how any weeds or trees they felled just miraculously sprouted back up overnight. The massive maples and oaks that they had toppled all had a strange, white sap that oozed out of them and anyone that so much as touched began rather irritable and abusive. Men who dared to venture deeper into the woods mentioned that there were strange vines that had grown all over the trees and each of them had sickly pustules that contained the very same sap.

Then, a few days ago a man went missing and his friend came rushing out of the forest yelling about some monster with tentacles sprouting from his back that had assaulted them both. The man was sent to the local mental asylum but nothing was heard of from the other guy. The other woodcutters and labourers began to have their doubts and were seriously considering boycotting the project. And who could blame them? The disasters that had struck Angelton mixed with this sudden frustration that lacked progress would drain any man of their wit and senses.

But Leopold knew better.

This was not some people breaking down from stress.

This was a demon's work.

What kind of demon, however, he still had to determine.

He reached the tree line wrapped in his black cloak and his hands shoved into its pockets. Beside him was the burly and hairy Desmond Hall. The man could only be described as a lumberjack. He was big, hairy and wore a red plaid shirt that showed off his thick mat of chest hair. A thick beard clung to his features and he hid his curly, brown hair beneath a red, woollen cap. Desmond had a bit of a belly as Angelton only had sporadic use of his talents and he tended to waste the days when he didn't have a commission just drinking beer with his buddies. But the days that he did have work, it paid well and gave him a strong upper chest.

"Well, ready to go in?" Desmond asked with carefully articulated words that surprised the demon hunter.

"After you," answered Leopold.

Desmond shrugged and began wading through the thick underbrush of the forest. His superior bulk helped carve the way for Leopold but even though the demon hunter was just a step or two behind him, the underbrush was already starting to bar his path again. It was like trying to part thick, dense liquid.

"So tell me Desmond," Leopold began. "Have you lived in Angelton your entire life?"

"Yessir," answered the lumberjack. "Born and raised here. Born and bred angel."

"I'll bet." Leopold cast his gaze across his surroundings. The forest had grown oddly still with the only noise coming from them as they drudged through the tall grass and thick shrubbery. There were no birds singing, no wind rustling the leaves and even the distant noises of the town could not breach the wall of trees. "Where did you learn your craft?"

"From my Poppa," answered Desmond. "He taught me everything I know."

"Your father taught you how to cut trees?"

"Yessir. He was a labourer just like me. He didn't have the money to send me off to some fancy college but I'm happy to have grown up just like him."

That was certainly an admirable effort and one that would have been rather heart-warming if it wasn't exactly the kind of situation that Leopold could capitalise on. Based on what he had seen, all the victims of the demonic incursion were male. That narrowed down his search to at least one half of the kinds of demons the order was aware of. Knowing such demons, repressed homosexual tendencies between a father and son were prime candidates for corruption. He had sensed Desmond was a daddy's boy the moment they had met and that was why he paid the man a whopping thousand dollars to lead him through the woods.

The lumberjack was the bait.

Leopold had arrived in town a few weeks ago after the first earthquakes after his partner, Ethan, had reported sensing some demonic activity. Ethan was a sort of part-time Dead Man. He was called a 'Scry' as while he was trained to engage demons, he had more value in his ability to track and detect them. Leopold was more of the offensive type, an 'Exorcist' as he was called. There was a third member of their group, their 'Purist' who was the dedicated member to destroy the demon they were hunting but he was currently chasing a lead on another odd demonic sighting which involved some sort of horse-like demon travelling through the streets of the suburbs at night.

However, Ethan had dropped off the map and they feared the worst. Leopold had not yet called in for reinforcements on the grounds that Ethan had just been missing for a few days and Dead Men were trained to resist all demonic corruption. There was still hope. Seeing as Ethan lived in the woods and there were recent stories of a 'monster' in forest, Leopold thought there was no better place to start his investigation.

Really he should've called for reinforcements but Leopold was not about to let anyone get away with hurting his teammates or tarnishing the purity of this beautiful town. So much damage had already been done. These demons deserved to die and he was willing to sacrifice his soul if that was what it meant to purify this town.

"Where is your father now?" Leopold asked.

"He works management these days. Still fit as an ox. Just got too experienced to be out here with the rest of the grunts."

"And what of your mother?"

"She works dispatch alongside him."

Perhaps he was wrong about Desmond. Male demons tended to prey only on those men with minimal connections. A female presence especially one with a strong bond would be undesirable towards them. Their female counterparts would prey on the females. Something else that repulsed him about demons. They were sexist, vile, horny monsters. Just_thinking_ about them boiled Leopold's blood. The mere thought that they were within a ten mile radius of him made his skin itch with the desire to burn every inch of this forest to the ground or douse it in cleansing holy water. But there were innocent lives at stake.

So what if Desmond was bait? One life was worth the thousands more that would go untouched by the dark corruption of the demons.

"Anyone significant in your life?" Leopold continued.

"No sir," replied Desmond. "Poppa always said there's no point in chasing love because it just happens. You can't force it. When it happens, it happens. Chasing booty is for those who have all their blood in their members and not their heads."

"Wise man."

Perhaps Desmond could survive this ordeal after all. Such a strong will might actually make him a good candidate for a Dead Man. Perhaps he could be Leopold's replacement once he destroyed the foul corruption within these woods.

"Yep, my Poppa taught me everything." Desmond turned his soft, brown eyes towards Leopold. "What about you, if you don't mind me asking? What bring you to our little town?"

Leopold had rehearsed this story so many times before that he recited the words perfectly. "A friend of mine had recently gone missing. He moved here several years back for work. I was concerned. I managed to catch up with him before he left but he told me stories of some sort of monster somewhere deep within these woods. My curiosity got the better of me so here I am."

Desmond laughed softly, his head chortle reverberating through the forest. "Well you just came back in time. A guy I work with recently went insane after seeing what he calls a 'monster'."

"Really now? Who is this person? Did he give a description of the monster?"

"Name is Wallace Fanon. He was sent to Seraph so the doctors there could get a look at him. Described the monster to be this black and white wolf-man thing that had tentacles sprouting from his back. Said the whole forest went crazy and vines and shit started trying to trap him." Desmond's eyes widened and he quickly made a sign of the cross. "Sorry, sir. My Poppa always told me not to cuss."

Definitely a daddy's boy but one with strong religious ties and background. He would indeed make an ideal Dead Man. However, his words disturbed Leopold. What Desmond had described was an Anger Demon; a creature equally capable of infusing people with rage as he was in feeding off it. From all accounts, their preferred domain really was a forest. Now the strange behaviour of the forest made much more sense.

Leopold realised he had walked right into the lion's den.

"I think I've seen enough," he said. "There are no monsters here. Why don't we go back to town and I'll buy you a drink."

The big lumberjack-like-man gave him a smile and shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I don't touch the Devil's Nectar. I'd happily sit down with you for a cup of coffee though."

A good basis for a Dead Man indeed. Perhaps a little too pious but he would make a fine recruit.

"It would be an honour," Leopold replied.

He turned to leave but just as he did so, the entire forest just seemed to come alive. Leaves suddenly began rustling. The thick underbrush closed in around them obscuring most of the ground and making it harder to tell where it was safe to walk. Branches choked the sunlight from the air visibly dimming their surroundings.

"You think you can just walk in to my place and leave!?" came a deep, bellowing voice. "What kind of fucker walked into another man's home and just up and leaves!? Who the fuck do you think you are!?"

To his credit, Desmond didn't flinch and actually braced himself for a fight, his corded muscles tensing and falling into a crouch. "Watch your language! Whoever you are, you have no right to speak to us like that!"

"This is my home!"

"We had no idea."

"That's no fucking excuse!"

"Language!"

Leopold's senses suddenly screamed at him and he immediately grabbed Desmond by his big, meaty arm and gave him a powerful tug. Several vines came shooting from the trees and just barely seized the lumberjack's other arm. Had Leopold not moved him, he would have been completely entangled.

Lightning fast, Leopold reached into his coat and pulled out a machete engraved with blessed scripture and spells designed to ward off demons and their kind. He lashed out at the vines fully expecting the blade to slice through the thick, greenish mass like butter and even leave a sizzling effect. His confidence instantly died in his chest, however, when the blade just got embedded in the vine. At the very least there was a brief moment of surprise from the demon and the vines loosened enough for Leopold to yank Desmond free.

"Where have you been keeping that!?" Desmond exclaimed.

"I am a Dead Man," Leopold answered calmly, reaching into his coat and retrieving a second machete as well as a long piece of paper almost like a scroll. "A demon hunter. And what we have here is an Anger Demon. My order has protected mankind from these foul beasts of Hell for centuries. My friend that went missing likely encountered this beast. I will not let such a wretched creature tarnish his immortal soul!"

The vines suddenly darted towards him, flicking his other machete away with an idle flick. He immediately flung the scroll onto the ground and stabbed his machete into it, pinning it to the ground.

"In the name of God Almighty!" he bellowed. "Back foul demon!"

The scroll would have kept the Devil himself back but there was a flicker of doubt in his mind that made him leap back as the vines launched at him. It was a good thing that he did. The vines struck the barrier he had erected, the shield becoming visible as a six inch thick semi-transparent blue wall almost like a glass plane. But no sooner had they struck the barrier did they shatter it.

"What in the God's name...?" he began and instantly scrambled backwards, reaching into his coat for several vials of holy water blessed by the pope himself. He immediately tossed it at the vines, watching them shatter and spill their sacred fluids.

Any normal demon would have writhed and wailed in agony as the water burned their flesh and charred it black. But the vines barely even registered the assault and kept charging forward. An animalistic cry erupted from beside the stunned Demon Hunter and Desmond came charging forward, swinging his mighty axe. Somehow, the vines fell easily against the might of the mortal blade.

Perhaps there was something more about Desmond than Leopold first thought.

His moment of wonder was interrupted, however, when he felt thick vines seize his wrists and ankles. He barely managed a shout before another vine wrapped around his lips and dragged him off his feet. Desmond caught sight of him being pulled away and shouted his name. Then the lumberjack pointed behind him and Leopold glanced over his shoulder.

His eyes went wide like saucers. A gaping maw of a plant came curling out of the treetops. Like some mutated, Venus flytrap on steroids, the enormous maw closed around him, the tentacles restraining him originating from deep within its bowels. Leopold struggled with all his might but the tentacles were too strong. But the walls of the plant quickly closed in around him, squeezing the last traces of light from his vision until he was plunged completely into darkness. A sickening squishing noise filled his ears and the air grew hot and heavy. Some sort of liquid began dripping all over him and he instantly came to the conclusion that the plant was going to digest him!

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to solidify his soul in preparation for what was to come. The demon would no doubt try to devour it and even though his body would be nothing more than nutrients for this bizarre plant, his soul would go straight to the demon. And when that happened, when the demon tried to devour him, he would launch his final assault and destroy it.

He began closing all the doors into his soul, a technique that all Dead Men were taught. Every entryway shut one by one, powerful barriers erected around his precious essence. The sensations of his body faded into nothingness as he detached himself from his mortal frame. His limbs grew slack, almost relaxed and he closed his eyes -

Only for a hand to suddenly seize his wrist, jarring him out of his trance-like state. Brilliant light sprayed in from a hole in the plant's walls partially obscured by a thick, hairy arm. Another hand suddenly tore through the walls of the plant to reveal Desmond's snarling features. With a shout, the big lumberjack ripped the plant's walls down and seized Leopold's arms. With his bare hands, he tore the tentacles binding Leopold down and yanked the demon hunter out of the confines of the pod.

Leopold was just stunned at this man's brute strength and didn't get a word in as the lumberjack led him by the hand away from a swarm of lashing tentacles and thrashing vines. Desmond briefly lunged to the ground to pick up his axe but otherwise kept on running.

His training quickly kicked back in and Leopold bolted into a run on his own.

"How in the world did you do that?" he demanded. "My scared blades couldn't even cut those vines and yet you tore through that plant with your bare hands!"

"It's just a plant," Desmond answered simply.

Were it only that simple. The entire forest was now teaming with demonic energy. How this demon had managed to hide its presence for so long was beyond Leopold but now the stink of it was practically choking. It took all his effort not to gag and vomit; it was that repulsive. And to think it almost had him. It made him furious that he had let himself get caught off guard again. But never again.

He began to analyse the situation quickly.

This was an Anger Demon so he couldn't let his fury get the better of him. As he ran, he focused on his breathing and the assaults vines all around him. More of those enormous flytraps came curling out of the trees from wherever they were hiding and unleashing their tentacles to trap them. He let Desmond take the lead as he easily ripped any attackers to shreds with ease. He watched closely as the man's muscles bunched and flexed with every movement.

Then it came to him.

"You're a Deva!"

"A what?" growled Desmond, gripping a series of vines and tearing it to shreds.

"Were you adopted?" Leopold asked quickly. He suddenly pressed his back against Desmond and drew a vile of corrosive liquid. He tossed it at the approaching vines and, much to his satisfaction, that one did give a sizzling noise that caused the vines to retreat. At least there was something in his arsenal he could use.

"I was but... how did you know?"

Leopold reached into his coat and pulled out a bright, silver handgun. He squeezed the trigger causing a rippling_boom_ to echo across the forest. The thrice-blessed bullet hit a nearby flytrap and while it didn't explode into a burst of holy fire as it should have, Leopold did hit its roots. The creature began squiring out white sap, losing strength rapidly.

"Orphanage? Never knew your mother or father. No records of them either?"

"Stop playing mind tricks. How do you know this?"

"Last question, I swear," Leopold said, pushing Desmond to hurry away while the vines were stunned by his gun's presence. "Whenever you go to church, doesn't matter which one, you always feel warm, loved and like someone is really watching over you?"

"That's God. Who else?"

"Those are your parents," Leopold answered. "Your parents are angels but angels who coupled outside of their own ranks."

"Now you're just making things up."

The demon hunter shot Desmond a piercing stare, his sharp blue eyes all devoid of all humour and all serious. "I'm serious. Angels have a strict_hierarchy and rarely mate outside of their ranks. While they can ascend or descend the ranks based on their deeds, they stay within their own communities. However, angels never get in the way of love and if two angels fall in love and produce a child, that child is sent to Earth to be a guiding light for mankind._That is a Deva."

Desmond suddenly stopped and swung his axe, slicing through several vines overhead. "Are you telling me I'm some sort of angel?" The vines and plants suddenly seemed to retreat and as they continued to flee, they seemed to call off their chase.

"No. Devas can never be angels. At least not automatically. Devas have the capacity for both great good and great evil. Your fate is in your hands and if you choose to be righteous and just, when you die, you will join the ranks of your parents. But should you be evil, you will be endlessly reincarnated without memories of who you are until you find your way back to your parents."

The lumberjack shook his head. "You sound just as crazy as Wallace."

"How else do you explain the fact that you can tear through demonic matter where my tools designed specifically to destroy demons can't?"

"Maybe because you think they're demons while I think they're just plants?"

A vine suddenly seized Leopold's wrist and Desmond quickly swung his axe at the long, green length, slicing it off. Even severed from its host, the vine continued to writhe and squirm around Leopold's wrist like the severed half of a worm.

"Do mere plants do that?" he countered, holding up his wrist. "Believe me or not, it doesn't matter. I do know we need to get you out of here. So follow me and -"

Suddenly they heard a loud rustling coming from their left and both men jerked towards that direction. A figure in white came charging through the underbrush and, for a moment, Leopold thought it was the demon. He had his gun up and was about to pull the trigger when Desmond seized his wrist and yanked the gun away. The newcomer wasn't a demon. He was a human. A scrawny little man with dirty blonde hair dressed in what appeared to be a hospital gown.

"Wally?" Desmond asked.

"Des?" Wallace Fanon replied. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back at Seraph?"

Wallace's features darkened and a snarl rose from between his lips. "I'm going to go after the asshole that took Collin! I'm going to get revenge for what he did! Then everyone will see! I'm not lying about that monster!"

Leopold realised that this man had been touched by the Anger Demon and his fury was only feeding the creature, likely acting as a beacon. "Sir, I don't know who you are, but you need to calm down," he said. "Think this through. You've seen what that demon can do. It would not be at all wise to be angry right now."

"I am angry!" Wallace shouted loudly. "Whatever that thing was ruined my life! He made all my friends turn on me! It got them to throw me into the loony bin! It took my best friend away from me! I am not letting that thing get away!"

A shadow suddenly blocked what little light there was in the forest and all three men looked upwards. An enormous flytrap suddenly lunged at Wallace, tentacles lashing and thrashing wildly. Leopold immediately though of escape and dodged away but he forgot that he had a Deva in his company and Devas were almost always inclined towards self-sacrifice. He cursed loudly as Desmond threw himself at Wallace, pushing the scrawnier man away. The tentacles seized the Deva, practically mummifying him in their coils before dragging him into the maw of the plant. The jaws of the monstrous, corrupted flower shut tight with the force of iron gates closing before quickly disappearing into the forest.

"No!" Leopold shouted. He spun angrily towards Wallace. "Look what you did! He was a Deva! Do you have any idea how precious they are!?"

The frightened man didn't even get a 'what' out before tentacles seized him by his ankles and yanked him away. Wallace screamed, clawing at the ground as he was pulled unto the underbrush, disappearing into the darkness.

Leopold swore loudly and immediately bolted. Several vines and plants tried to impede him but the further he ran, the slower the vines became. It seemed that this demon didn't have the whole forest under his control. When he breached the tree line, he was hit by fresh air like he had just surfaced from having been nearly drowned in the ocean. It was a sweet, relieving scent and the touch of the wind against his skin was heavenly.

The frustrated demon hunter spun towards the trees. He could _swear_there were a pair of red eyes somewhere buried within the dense forest that were staring back at him with fury equal to his own.

He would be back.

But first, he would need to regroup.

And this time, he would be ready.

******

After their little heart to heart, Dante didn't feel like taking the school bus back home and wanted to just have a leisurely stroll with his mate back home. Flash didn't mind at all and they took a roundabout route through the woods back to Russ' place. While they didn't go full Hellhound, they still used their supernatural speed to get there before the school bus even got _close_to town.

When they arrived, however, Dante was met with a sight he was completely not expecting.

There was a man in a blue uniform that reminded him a lot of a postman with the sole exception that there were a pair of transparent fairy wings strapped to his back. Not growing from his back, strapped. The wings were attached to a harness that crossed his entire torso. Russ was at the front door greeting the man and signing off on what looked like a bunch of magazines and a newspaper.

"Uh... Hey Russ," Dante greeted.

"Ohmygod!" Flash exclaimed, bounding over to the postman. "Are you a fairy!?"

The man regarded him and then looked to Russ.

"They're new to the supernatural thing," Russ answered. He turned to Flash. "And yes, pup, he's a fairy. And before you ask, it's a profession, not a species."

Dante inclined his head to the side as he regarded the man. "You choose to become a fairy and aren't born as one...?"

"Anyone can be a fairy, kiddo," answered the postman. "We're basically the supernatural world's courier service. We pick up and deliver things for everyone and anyone. In this case, your dad here just got his first subscription to Werewolf Weekly, Daily Divination and Supernatural Magazine."

Russ had never struck Dante as the magazine sort of guy so he was a little surprised at the news. Flash, however, was practically drooling over the newcomer and not in a sexual way. He was bouncing all around the fairy, poking and prodding at his wings and firing off rapid-fire questions about what it meant to be one. It was actually a little like watching a dog harass the postman.

"He certainly seems happy," Russ said as Flash asked their courier how he came a fairy.

"Turns out he was hung up over feeling a little weak compared to you and I," Dante explained. "I said we'd help him get stronger."

"Ah, he's come to a plateau in his development, huh?" The older Hellhound nodded. "Happens to all demons. Eventually, you reach a point in your life where your intake of new energy matches your expulsion of energy and your development stalls. Getting over it is a sheer force of will usually involving not jacking off for a good long while. Most demons don't get over it and stay static. But I know a few tricks that'll help him."

"Will it happen to me?" Dante asked curiously.

Russ let out a thoughtful noise. "No offense, kiddo, but when I look at you, you're still more human than Hellhound. Not physically or even spiritually. More... mentally. You're still curious, you're still mentally growing and you have a lot of self-control. Flash... well... He's more demonic than you are. He gives in to his demonic urges a little easier than you do. Some might even say you're a demon prude."

Dante frowned at him. "Hey..."

Russ grinned and gave him a gently nudge before turning to Flash. "Come on Flash, stop pestering the fairy. He's got more deliveries to make."

"Thank you, sir," said their courier, tipping his hat to them. Then he turned, flapped his wings and was off flying into the air.

"Huh... I honestly thought fairies would be smaller," Flash said, bouncing over with his tail wagging.

"Fairies are masters of illusion," said Russ. "You'll actually find that most of your everyday couriers are fairies in disguise. They just hide their wings with magic. In the olden days, they used their magic to keep themselves small or invisible because there wasn't really a decent postal service back then. Delivering things from one supernatural creature to another would be highly suspicious especially when the only people who could afford to get things delivered where kings, queens or really important people. These days, it's much easier."

Russ beckoned for the boys to enter as he gave one of the magazines to Flash. "Here, I got you Werewolf Weekly. Thought you might like it."

"Sweet!" Flash exclaimed, flipping through the pages. His eyes suddenly bulged. "Whoa! Harvard is full of werewolves?"

The older of the Hellhounds made a bitter noise as he shut the door. "Yeah... Each of the Ivy League schools is dominated by one type of were-creature. There are other supernaturals there, of course, but they're dominated by that kind of were."

That got Dante's natural curiosity churning as they headed to the kitchen. Russ handed him the issue of Supernatural Magazine but he didn't open it. "So Harvard is werewolves... What's Brown?"

"Werebears."

"Yale?"

"Were_dogs_. Different from Werewolves."

"Princeton?"

"Weretigers."

"Colombia? Cornell? Dartmouth?"

Russ paused a moment and tapped his chin. "Werelions, were_dragons_ and werebulls."

"Whoa, wait," Dante said. "Cornell has were_dragons_? Their mascots are bears."

"Oh right. That goes to this grudge between them and Brown. Cornell decided to snub brown a little and made their official mascot a bear but they're all weredragons over there. And before you ask, Pennsylvania has werehorses." He gave Dante a curious look. "Why the interest? You thinking of going to one of them?"

"Maybe..." Dante admitted, opening the pages of the magazine he was offered. There were a lot of articles there about all the supernatural things happening across the world. Naturally there was a great number of them on Halloween. "Why'd you get these subscriptions anyway?"

Russ shrugged and opened his newspaper, the Daily Divination. "I figured you boys would want to expand your horizons beyond just this town and learn more about the world at large. I'm getting us hooked up to the Etherweb so you can surf around some of the supernatural sites and this weekend, we'll hit up the Bizarre."

"Don't you mean the 'bazaar'?"

The older Hellhound rolled his eyes. "It's sort of the purposeful misspelling. Same idea of a bazaar but just for the supernatural. You'll have fun. Trust me."

"Didn't you do all this with grandpa?"

Russ gave him a small smile as he set down the magazine. "Of course but as the years went by and your grandpa talked more and more about moving on, we sort of stopped. I just saw no point in paying for subscriptions and services we weren't going to use."

That brought up another interesting question. "And how do you pay exactly?"

"Before we used to pay in some of the negative emotions that your grandfather and I collected from the town. We helped people with their problems, collected their negativity, consumed it, cummed it out, bottled our cum and then sent it off to a purification plant so that they could extract the raw emotion without being turned into a demon. Now, since you produce lots of milk anyway and are a generator..."

Somehow that felt a little insulting like he was some sort of cash cow. "Moo..." he murmured. He set down the magazine, unwilling to continue with the topic. "Anyway, you said you had some ideas about helping Flash get over his hump?"

Flash looked up from his magazine at the mention of his name. "What now?" Clearly, he hadn't been paying any attention.

Russ gave him a pleasant little smile. "There's a technique that angels use to help expand their own abilities."

"Angels have trouble with orgasm denial too?" Dante asked.

"Angels are still people but no." Russ set down his newspaper and beckoned them to follow him towards the back of the house to the gym. "For demons, the problem has always been trying to restrain yourself from losing control after you've just eaten. There are tools you can use but I find that the best way to keep control is if you have something you're fighting for, something in your very soul that drives you to be better. Telling a kid not to masturbate will only make him a sex addict when he's older. It's the same with demons. Slap a cock ring around their dick long enough and they'll be a huge demon but the moment you take it off, that fucker is going to fuck and whack off until the Apocalypse."

They stepped into the gym and Russ began pulling out a few large yoga mats from the nearby supply closet. "Angels reach a plateau with complacency. They gain strength from absorbing positive emotions after all and when you have a constant stream of positivity, you never want that to change. They aren't greedy people and will gladly sit and just let all the courage, hope, inspiration and faith flood into them without ever doing anything about it or shooting for something better. After all, they feed on positivity so if they were to take more then that'd leave people with only negative emotions and angels are... well..." Russ set down three mats in a row. "... they're angels."

He sat on the farthest one cross-legged. "But angels have this technique where two or more of their colleagues dive into their very souls and look around for something that will motivate that angel to strive for something greater. They don't actually touch the soul, just look around. It's called a Soul Dive." Russ told Flash to sit in the middle mat and that left Dante to sit in the farthest from him. "A few demons have attempted this as well and more often than not, the affected demon grows to be a pretty powerful one as well if, that is, the invading demons don't nibble on the guy's soul."

Flash, who was still holding the magazine in his hands, began twisting it nervously. "Erm... so you guys are going to go into my soul? What are you going to look for? I thought we were just going to train me to become stronger?"

Russ reached out gave Flash a light slap behind his head. "I told you. With demons, it's about finding the motivation to become stronger. Doesn't matter how much you work out, how much you eat or how little you cum. Without that motivation, you're just going to slip up and lose all your progress the moment you make any."

His mate was making a few nervous noises so Dante reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "Come on, Flash. We're not going to eat your soul. We'd never do that to you."

Flash sighed and closed his eyes. "Alright... so what do I have to do?"

"Just relax and leave your mind blank," Russ advised. "Though apparently that doesn't really work. Just try focusing on one thing over and over again to the exclusion of all else."

"Wait, how many times have you done this before?"

"Including this one?"

"No."

"Then none."

Flash let out a distinctly canine whine.

Dante gave him a quick hug before sitting back on his own mat. "What do I need to do, Russ?"

"Just follow my lead," answered Cerberus.

To an ordinary man, that wouldn't have meant anything but Dante began to sense the fluctuations of demonic energy in Russ as the large Hellhound closed his eyes. Dante could sense Russ' very essence sliding out of his body and reaching out to touch Flash. He never knew Russ had such incredible control over the very power of his soul. But it did not stop there. Russ' soul reached out past Russ and touched Dante as well. The contact was warm, comforting, relaxing.

Dante didn't resist as he felt Russ' soul touch his own and closed his eyes. The arm of energy acted like a gentle river. He could feel part of his essence being drawn along the path and straight into Flash's spirit. It was a short trip but one that left him feeling warm like he was basking in the rays of a summer sun after having just taken a dip through the crystal clear waters of a river.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself somewhere familiar.

"Huh?"

He was back at Russ' house only somehow standing outside. There didn't seem like anything odd or different based on appearance alone though he did note that everything was unusually quiet. He did notice that he was back to being in his Hellhound form, however, and was just wearing a plain, white shirt and shorts.

"This is Flash's soul?" he asked aloud.

"Nah, it's just my interpretation of it," Russ replied, clapping his shoulder. Like him, Russ was back in his Hellhound form and wearing the same, bland, white outfit.

"What?"

Russ rolled his tongue in his mouth as he tried to come up with an analogy. "You ever saw that movie Inception?"

"Once. Why?"

"You remember how there were different people for different roles? Like one was tasked with creating the dream, another to extract information, someone to do the actual job and someone to impersonate someone else?"

Dante tried to recall the movie but it had been so long that he had forgotten. "I guess..."

"Well one of the roles is the Architect and they're meant to build the overall dream. Ultimately, the dream still belongs to the guy they're invading but the Architect is the one that makes it look like the way it does. That's what I'm doing with Flash's soul. I've organised it in such a fashion that's familiar to us both so we don't get lost in it. If it weren't for that, we'd be lost in a sea of emotions and we'd never get out."

That was a small cause for concern but Dante decided not to mention it. "Scary..."

"Little bit." Russ huffed and placed his paws on his hips. "Okay, let's go."

The burly and someone excited Hellhound led the way to the house, his tail wagging from side to side. Dante was a little confused as to why Russ was so enthusiastic about this but he guessed since it was a new experience, anyone would be excited. Russ pulled open the door to his own house and it looked just like the same home on the inside with a few exceptions.

Every room now had a door barring it. The kitchen which was usually just an open shot straight from the front door now had a pair of French doors barring it with the windows tinted to be completely black. Even the lounge room and the den had large doors that barred any entrance. There were signs hanging in front of each door. Strangely though, there was a series of black vines that grew over everything. They didn't bar entrance but it was still rather unsettling.

Dante approached the door to the kitchen and flicked his ears forward as he read the sign.

"Flash's Greatest Desire?" he read.

"I've had parts of his soul compartmentalised into the rooms of our house to make it easier for us to find out what's holding him back," answered Russ. "Though if I were to guess, it's whatever is making these black vines." He poked one of the vines with a claw. "Come on, let's follow it. Looks to be coming from the back of the house."

Dante glanced back at the 'Greatest Desire' door. He wrestled with himself over taking a peak or not. On the one paw, he should respect Flash's privacy but on the other, he should know so that he could make Flash happy. Though Flash should really just tell him when he was ready. But then again, what if he didn't? When would he get an opportunity like this again.

"Just give me a sec," he said.

"Dante -"

But curious Hellhound had already pushed open the door and poked his head in.

"Daddy! Yes! Give it to me hard, daddy!!"

Dante's eyes widened and his jaw went slack. At the same time, he found his cock starting to fill with blood. He heard Russ wince behind him and sneak a peak as well.

"Oh shit..." Russ rumbled and he quickly shut the door, nearly cleaving Dante's muzzle clear off. "Uh..."

"Flash's greatest desire..." Dante began, turning towards Russ. "... is for _you_to pound his ass while he called you 'daddy'?"

"I... guess so..." Russ murmured, his ears folding back. "Dante -"

"I..." He pursed his lips, unsure how to feel. "Let's just keep moving." He hurried to the next door with Russ right behind him.

The door to the den read 'Flash's Greatest Shame'. He peered inside.

"I can't believe that I ever raised a fucking fag!"

Inside, was Buck Goldman, still human, shouting at a scrawny redhead no older than fourteen years of age. At first, Dante thought it was Flash being yelled at but then he saw the other young man, facially the same structure but looking bigger, broader and more muscular than his twin brother. Flash, a younger version, just stood in the corner watching his brother, Flint, get reamed out by his father, not saying a word.

"You bring shame to this family! You aren't worth my legacy! The only reason I keep you around is because I'd lose thousands in stocks if anyone ever found out I raised a gay son_. If you tell_ anyone_, I swear you'll find yourself in one of those fucking anti-gay camps! In fact! You're going to that co-ed school! Effective immediately!"_

Dante shut the door with a frown. "I never knew Mr. Goldman was such an ass..."

"I don't think he was," answered Russ. "This isn't the mind. Memories and emotions aren't preserved perfectly. Things get exaggerated here. Like -"

"Just... stop," Dante said, quickly cutting him off. "If that's what gets Flash off, fine. I'm not going to say anything else about it."

"Dante, Flash still has severe daddy issue. I just talked to him a few days ago and told him it could never be like that between us. He still needs time to let it go."

"It'd be hard for him to let it go when you've got all three of your dicks buried in his ass!" Dante snapped viciously. He immediately hated himself for saying it but didn't feel like taking it back. He spun and stormed over to the lounge room, pushing it open.

The door read 'Flash's Greatest Fear'.

A scene similar to the one where they had fought Buck Goldman unfolded before them only this time, there were three Sloth Demon lounging around in smelly, orangey pools. Dante recognised Buck and Ethan. The third he could only guess was Flash. And serving all three a big, burly Russ. He shut the door and scowled.

"Dante..." Russ began.

"None of these involve me!" he bellowed. "I'm supposed to be his mate and none of these involve me!" He growled loudly, fangs bared and stomped over to where he room would be. Some faint hope told him that possibly behind that door was something that would tell him Flash truly cared for him.

But the words on the door were far from encouraging.

'The Thing that Flash Hates Most'

His heart sunk.

His paw shook as he gripped the doorknob and pushed it open.

"And who can tell me what 'X' is?"

"Math..." Dante growled. "The thing that Flash hates most is math." He slammed the door shut and crossed his arms furiously. "This is stupid!"

Russ sighed softly. "Dante... Come here." He gently gripped Dante's shoulder and led him towards the far end of the house towards the gym. The doors were marked with the words 'Flash's Dream' but oddly enough there was a dial just above the doorknob. Russ twisted the dial to point at the word 'old' and opened the door.

Inside he saw a big, hot red sports car pulling up next to a haunted mansion. The doors slid open and Flash, looking amazingly handsome in a cool brown leather jacket and jeans while sporting a neat stubble stepped out. He was older, sexier and bore a bright smile on his face.

"Well, this is the place. What do you think, hun? Ghost? Poltergeist? Prankster?"

The passenger side door slid open and Dante braced himself for Russ to emerge and comment. Instead, he found himself, looking a little older with a few grey flecks against the temples of his otherwise black hair rising. He wore a casual shirt that showed off his meaty, hairy arms. Unlike Flash, he was cleanly shaven but wore a pair of cool sunglasses while chewing on some gum like a badass.

"Don't really care. So long as it's better than the last bastard we dealt with." He slammed the door shut and made his way around the car. The older Dante gripped Flash's ass tightly and gave a predatory growl. "As much as I like seeing you get fucked, I like to be the one doing the fucking."

Dante was dumbstruck. It was him and Flash side by side travelling the country in a smoking sports car, looking so amazing solving paranormal mysteries and helping the supernatural. Admittedly he was a little offended that Flash imagined him looking much older especially since he was sure he was a few months younger but it was still sweet. Plus, he imagined many, many, many hours spent in the bedroom with Flash calling him 'daddy'. Or 'dad'. He much preferred 'dad'.

"See, desire is built out of base instinct," Russ explained with a smile. "It's built based on what gets your blood pumping, what your body is telling you to like or what your cock gets hard on. But dreams, that's built out of hope. It's a conscious decision. Something you tell yourself you want and what you strive for. Flash may want me to fuck him in bed while he calls me 'daddy' but in the end, it's you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with."

Touched by those words, Dante now felt a little silly for losing his temper so quickly. He even laughed a little as his older self placed a big, meaty hand in the older Flash's back pocket and his partner did the same. Such a couple thing to do and yet they both looks so manly as they swaggered up to the dilapidated home.

"Flash sure has some cheesy dreams," he admitted. He closed the door and was just about to turn away when he remembered that was Flash's _old_dream. Encouraged and now eager to see what Flash's hopes were, he switched the dial to 'new' and opened the door once more.

He was met with the sight of a farm. His first thought was that it was yet another place where the supernatural would happen and he and his mate would find a way to resolve it but there was something peaceful and serene about the rolling yellow plains of wheat, the cows grazing in the paddock and the big, red farmhouse that sat amidst it all. That same sizzling sports car came up the driveway but instead of two people, there were three.

Dante's brow furrowed as it parked in the driveway and the doors to both the house and the car sprang open. His heart leapt to his throat as he saw a different version of his older self step out of the farmhouse. There weren't any grey hairs this time but just like the other version, he had rather hairy arms and a healthy growth of chest hair showing from his vest. There was a child piggybacking on his shoulders with short curly, brown hair and light brown, almost yellowish eyes.

"Yay! Daddy's home!" cried the child, waving excitedly at those emerging from the car.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah!" came a loud, deep bellow.

Dante immediately spun towards the car where two, big, burly men stepped out wearing letterman jackets and looking almost identical. They both had the same red-brown hair and same green eyes that Flash and Dante shared. Both had healthy, tanned skin covering their brimming muscles. They were twins. Both even had two necklaces hanging from their necks with a big, metal 'T' hanging from it.

"We fucking rule!" shouted one of the twins, pumping a fist into the air.

"Timberwolves for the win!" exclaimed the other. They turned towards one another, bumping chests in a show of bravado. "You were fucking awesome out there bro!"

"Naw, man! You scored the winning touchdown!" The first twin grinned and gripped his brother's ass, pulling them close to one another so that their groins were pressed against each other. Both were sporting rather prominent boners. "And that dance you did at the end... Fucking hot." He let out a feral growl and his brother replied by gnashing his teeth a few times.

Then they kissed.

Dante - the younger present-day Dante - dropped his jaw in shock while blood began pumping into his cock.

"Timothy. Tomas," the fatherly Dante chastised. "Not in front of your brother." Though he was smaller than the two by just a few inches, the twins clearly obeyed him.

The boys pulled away, their cheeks burning with a blush.

"Sorry dad," they chimed in unison.

Russ let out a loud laugh. "It seems incest runs in the family."

Dante nudged him with an elbow. "Sh - Shut up..." Though he was still fighting a grin at the scene.

Then Flash emerged from the car looking very much the same as he did in the older dream. "Come on, Dan. Let them have some fun. They did just win the big game. And no special tricks either. They're kind of pent up."

Dan - the older Dante - rolled his eyes. "You and your stupid 'no sex in the car' rule. When we were travelling across the country -"

"This car is expensive!" Flash laughed, beckoning at the sports car.

Suddenly, the window to the top floor sprang open and another young man with slightly brighter red-brown hair, wearing glasses emerged. Like the others, he had some decent definition on him but not as brawny as the twins or big as either Flash or Dan. He was athletic and clearly looked a little bookish.

"Guys! I'm trying to work here!" he bellowed.

The twins turned to him with big grins on their faces.

"You're not fooling anyone Derek!" shouted one that Dante somehow knew was named 'Tim'. "You're just up there beating your foot long tool!"

"I can smell your spunk from down here, bro!" laughed Tom.

Derek frowned, his freckled cheeks burning with shame. "Daaaaaaaaad!" he whined. "Make them stop."

"No shame in getting off, son," Flash said with a shrug. "You're a Hellhound. It's only natural."

"But daaaaaddy!" Derek complained. "I really am trying to work on my book here!"

The twins exchanged glances. "You mean that book of demons..." began Tom.

"... and angels..." continued Tim.

"... and smut..."

"... and sex..."

"... that had its first volume..."

"... sell millions of copies..."

"... and got boys all around the world..."

"... to cum in their pants?"

Derek, his cheeks burning, shut the window angrily and disappeared into the house.

Dan shook his head and nodded in the direction of the upper floor. "Boys, go apologise to your brother. And I mean apologise not 'apologise'."

"Aww, but dad, you know how much he loves being spit roasted between these two studs!" Tom laughed, hugging his brother affectionately.

"Yeah! It's where he gets his 'inspiration'," added Tim.

"Just get up there!" Dan mockingly growled and the twins bounded up the farmhouse porch. Dante could already see fur starting to sprout all over their bodies and their tight-fitting clothes straining as their demonic side began to emerge.

Dan let the kid hanging on his shoulders down. "Go on inside, Connor. Make yourself a sandwich."

The child beamed at him. "Can I use your special jam, dad?"

"Sure. But only a little! You don't want to spoil your dinner."

"Yay!"

The kid bounced happily into the house making Dante, both incarnations, smile.

That left Flash and Dan alone on the porch of their idyllic farmland property. Flash wrapped his arms around his mate and the two shared a long, loving kiss. Dante actually felt a little abashed watching the two make out but he couldn't tear his eyes away. His heart melted at the thought. Four kids of their own. Might have been a bit much but from what he could see, they all turned out quite well and handsome. Hellhounds too!

Then they broke the kiss and Flash beamed at Dan.

"So they won their big game, huh?" Dan asked.

"Sure did," Flash said smugly. "And no demonic shenanigans. I saw to that. Sucked them dry just before they went out there. Doesn't mean they didn't get horny from all the rivalry in the stadium but I had enough time during halftime to make sure they went back out there without any unfair advantages."

Dan sniggered and reached down to Flash's cock, giving the hard piece of meat a tight squeeze. "Then you must be quite pent up yourself."

Flash grinned and shrugged. "Well seeing as the twins are going to be keeping Derek busy..." He leaned in and licked Dan's neck, causing the latter to moan softly.

"What about little Connor?"

Flash paused for a moment to give it some thought. Then he lifted his head. "Hey Russ!"

Dante's ears perked.

Russ - the present day Russ - went rigid.

A nearby window on the ground floor flew open and Russ poked his head out, now sporting the grey hairs at his temples that the previous incarnation of Flash's Dream-Dante had. "Hey, Flash. Welcome back. What's up?"

"Mind taking care of Connor for a bit?" Flash asked, a wicked grin on his face. "I think I want to make Hellhound number six."

"Six...?" Dante repeated. He quickly counted the number of kids. There were the twins, Derek and Connor... That was four. Where was number five...?

Suddenly, a lupine head poked out of the window just beneath Russ. He was probably a preteen and had a smear of cum on his muzzle. He had a darker shade of red fur than Flash did and the same yellowish-brown eyes as the child that Dan had been carrying. He looked towards the two Hellhounds on the porch and grinned. "Hey daddy! Hi Uncle Dan!"

"Uncle Dan...?" Dante repeated. "What's going on here...?"

Russ from the dream rolled his eyes and sighed, flashing them both a big grin. "Fine. I'll take care of our son, Dan, while you two pork and make another pup. Seriously boys, you're going to be the fathers of all Hellhounds on Earth at this rate!" He ruffled the hair of the young Hellhound beside him. "Come on Chase. Let's find your brother. I've got another two cocks that need draining."

Chase saluted and with a loud, 'Yessir' started calling out for his brother.

"What's going on here!?" Dante exclaimed. "Why am I 'Uncle Dan' to that kid? And why...?"

Then it hit him.

Flash's dream was to have a peaceful farmhouse with plenty of kids. But they weren't all kids with Dante. No... Derek, Tim and Tom had the same eyes and mixture of hair colour as Dan and Flash. But Connor and Chase... They had darker hair and brown eyes... which could only come from...

Dante turned his gaze, full of fury, towards...

Russ.

The big Hellhound's ears dropped.

"Uh-oh..."