FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The First Summoning

The warning jingle battered the stillness of the store. A young man, bent over some historical novel at the cash register with a citrus wedge in mouth, lifted an eyebrow. He caught a glimpse of leather-brown hair wrapped in a bun from behind the pyramid block of a cardboard box. An eye peeked over, the box caught on the door frame. “Landry, help!" Landry shoved the bookmark on his page to hold his place, banking around the counter to help his boss, a slim lady named Walda, enter the store. The box hissed as a weak corner ripped, a massive hardbound book making its escape and striking the carpeted floor with a thud.

“How'd you make it this far on your own?" Landry strained against his end of the box, fingers going white from the weight. “You'll kill yourself."

“Thigh busters every other morning," his boss wheezed. Probably from the collection of used VHS tapes no one ever bought, one for each region of the body: Steel Buns Routine. Washboard Abs Routine. Toned Arms! Toned Thighs! Routine. Landry silently thanked himself for having no qualms with his average build, although a bit of muscle would've helped right now. The two edged their way to the counter with a couple stifled grunts, the box landing on top. Another thud.

“Got lucky at auction," Walda wheezed, adjusting her glasses. “Practically pennies for each book in here." She brushed dust off her polka-dotted dress, a snowstorm against the navy blue, before smoothing out a few wrinkles. The hoop of a pearl necklace finished off that librarian look she had going. Fitting, considering her business. Shelves and shelves of books, from all genres and publication dates, filled the room. Even more still needing alphabetizing by genre, then author, then title—boss-woman's standards—towered in stacks adjacent to the shelves. With the new delivery on the counter, Landry would have more to sift through. It's okay. His historical novel was a bore.

These books: old as a long-lived bristlecone pine. Landry could tell. He pulled them out from the box by the handful, stacking them in hurried piles onto the counter. Dust whirled up. No illustrated covers, just dirty reds and browns and the stuffy glare of some classic font type from worn spines. The books smelled of grass and a hint of vanilla—the perfume of age.

“Seriously, where'd you get all these? I don't think there's a demand for kindling in novel format this time of year." Landry's body jerked as he excavated the last book, a richly sable leather-bound tome hugged shut by a woven cord. Warmth radiated from the book, probably from the heat during the car ride out in the sun. “This, though! It's got to be worth something."

“Get a number on these," boss-lady said, handing Landry the book that had fallen earlier. She glanced inside the cardboard box for any overlooked merchandise. “Some rich guy from upstate went kaput. No family heirs or beneficiaries, I suppose. While tightwads hunted for a deal on his mansion, luxury cars, and other crap, I dashed for these babies. Get them sorted for me?" She snagged a wedge of blood orange from the napkin on the counter, revealing a red stain. “Need to jet."

“Will do, ma'am." Landry cracked a smile, wiping dust off a book with a hand.

“No, enough with that—you make me sound old!" Walda smiled. She did look young for her age, Landry admitted to himself, perhaps by ten years, although the cracks of crows' feet betrayed her true age on bad make-up-less days.

“You've known me since I was a wee one," Landry joked. “Should respect my elders, yeah?"

“I know my husband was old-fashioned, but you don't have to call me that." Landry thought he caught the woman blinking away a hint of sadness that had softened her eyes.

“I know," he said. “Just messin'."

“And don't be staining my books. These make me nervous!" She snuck another wedge of blood orange. Of course, she had nothing to worry about. During his three years of employment, he had never so much as gotten a sticky fingerprint on a cover. Clean hands made clean sales. “Don't know what I was thinking buying you a bag. Don't see what's wrong with regular ones."

“My favorite fruit for your favorite employee."

“My one," she cooed, “my only."

She left Landry to tend the bookstore, taking the torn cardboard box with her, probably to offer it a new home in the giant green recycling bin next to Charles' Barber Shop, one of the neighboring businesses in their little lot off Main Street. Her motto: Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. Probably why she started a used bookstore business with her late husband—saving finished books from dusty shelves or a lonely grave: the bottom stack of boxes in some junk-stuffed garage or storage unit. Landry knew it was the novel-editing business she operated for small-time and budding authors that supported this place.

Landry's historical novel fell to the wayside as he organized the fresh shipment of books, cross-referencing price listings online on the counter's computer. Most of the books would probably sell for five a piece, he thought. Nothing too valuable. Obscure author's no one cared for had penned their handles on a few. Probably another five for those. As Landry worked, his gaze kept darting to the dark, leather-bound book with its woven cord, easily the biggest in the lot. He'd work that last.

A few customers strolled in here and there, most browsing casually before leaving, as he etched prices onto a first-page corner. He threw a thin-lined smile at each customer. An older lady fingered through the few New Releases tables up front, the only new books they carried. Some high school boys taking a break from longboarding asked Landry if he would unlock the door to the adult section upstairs, a small attic room brimming with erotic novels and books stuffed with explicit illustrations, sometimes sexual, sometimes violent. Sometimes both. Landry was at first surprised his boss would even carry such things, but she always said that minds, like books, were meant to be open. But even Landry had to admit that meant risking having one's brains spill out from so much masturbatory material at the ready….

Their IDs betrayed them. All these high-school kids were under eighteen. Landry shooed them away when they protested. He was barely allowed to work that section himself just a year ago! Another teen with pigtails and small, curious eyes brought a stack of books, mostly young adult novels, to the register, earning the store thirty-five bucks. Pays for half my wage for the day, Landry thought guiltily. When the teen eyed the large, cord-wrapped tome on the busy counter, Landry casually snuck it to a back shelf. Thankfully, the jingle of bells on the door signaled her exit.

“The book," Landry said, placing a palm on the front cover, “it's still warm." Must be the dark leather absorbing all the LED lighting or something. “But that doesn't make any sense." None of the other books held a fever. Landry undid the woven cord, then flipped through a few pages stiff with age. The language inside, all handwritten, was obscure, esoteric. Likely some runic alphabet. Landry scribbled a mental note to look for a book on the subject later, perhaps something to help translate.

The next page gave him pause. Hairs stood on end everywhere. A crude illustration: a cat gutted by the wavy blade of a kris, its blood seeping to the glow of a strange symbol on the ground like a pentagram but circumscribed with strange twisted lines and smaller symbols. Was this a diagram? Illustrated instructions for some sick ritual? Probably something he shouldn't be seeing. He flipped through a few more pages just to double check that this wasn't some joke book. More strange symbols, sigils, and runes. More creepy drawings of animal sacrifices. He didn't understand any of it.

Landry closed the book, the front cover groaning as it closed. The phone almost sent him flying from his shoes, its warble echoing down the bookstore now free of customers. Just the boss-lady checking on his progress. Were the books marked? Almost. Today's sales? Thirty-five bucks. Gotta hurt back—could you close? Shouldn't have lifted the box by yourself like that. Will you get the new releases out before leaving? Yeah, no problem.

Landry glanced at the book, at its dark presence. The beginning of butterflies fluttered in his stomach. “Hey, could I take one of those books from today home?"

“Another one?" Walda chided from the other side of the line. “After you return the other five you've borrowed."

“Sorry, I'll bring them back tomorrow."

The sharp patter of laughter forced Landry to lift the receiver from his ear. “Just close up for me today and you can borrow that book. Thanks, hun!" A distant groan from the other end betrayed her pain before she hung up.

It wasn't long before a shaft of evening light beamed through the glass door, a signal for closing time. After locking up, flipping the sign, counting down the register, doing a quick vacuum, and giving the Monday-assigned shelves a light dusting, Landry blanketed the books in darkness before stepping out into the cool autumn air, locking the backdoor behind him. After testing the door with a turn of the knob, he peered down at the book in his arms. Its warmth radiated through his shirt, onto his skin—felt like hugging a small animal after a siesta in the backyard sun. He held a second book he found on runes, although he suspected it was just some Wiccan nonsense. Didn't hurt to try.

Red-orange leaves trembled to a breeze, tall maples lining the paved walkway that led to his apartment complex called The Woods. To the east, a ragged bedding of mountains overtook the horizon, an arrangement of clouds that looked like some massive white giant skirting the tops of them. His phone read 7:45 pm, but he quickly stuffed his cell into a pocket, moving a hand across the tome's cracked cover. What was it about this book and its odd warmth? What did all these strange runes mean? A jogger he recognized made the rounds of his evening route, a German Shepherd trotting off leash beside him. The dog perforated the quiet evening with the clacks of its claws striking pavement. Landry looked forward, avoiding the jogger's eyes, and the dog's Landry could sense were watching him warily with a dark, stern look. He wasn't sure about the leash laws of the city, but he remembered one news story a year back about a neighbor's German Shepherd attacking a young girl, scarring her young face presumably for life. Made him think their ought to be one if there wasn't. The jogger nodded a hello, which Landry returned. He clutched the books tightly and hurried home.

* * *

The stairwell leading to Landry's apartment appeared. Decorations of smiling pumpkins, bats, skeletons, and other Halloween staples inhabited the windows of his neighbors, although nothing adorned the windows of his own apartment. Landry liked the holiday well enough but had no desire to decorate. He bounded down the community lawn of the complex, dusty with evening light, before a sea of green grass, still brewing with the fresh-cut smell from that morning's mowing, smothered his view. The books in hand sprawled out as Something Big slumped onto his back. Landry spun to his side, the books in his backpack slumping over as a mass of white fur the size of a polar bear sunk its fluff of a head down. A long, pink tongue smothered Landry's face.

“Jaxton, off!" cried the dog's owner, a wavy-haired red-head around Landry's age who wore an oversized t-shirt with a pink cartoon bunny winking on its front. Michelle. Probably the only decent person in the whole complex. Brought over a basket of fruit as a welcome gift when he had first moved in a year ago. She had caught him relaxing in the grass with a book and decided to surprise him the next day with bananas, nectarines, a couple dragon fruits, and tangerines. Since then they regularly exchanged reading material and recommendations. Right now, she bounded over from her corner of the complex barefoot. “Sorry, Landry. You know this dog loves you."

“He's a whole lot of Pyrenees," Landry huffed, pushing off the beast, which left behind a smattering of white fur on his clothes and the flavor of dog breath on his face, inviting a sleeve for clean-up. Jaxton was so big, he wondered if the mountains were named after the dog instead. The owner bent down to pick up the dropped books. “Hey, I'll take those!"

“What kind of books are you reading these days?" she said, flipping through pages of animal sacrifices. “Whoa, that is some risqué stuff, Landry!"

Landry snuck the book back from his neighbor's hands. “Got that right, Michelle. Care to join? Doing my first sacrifice tonight." Michelle glanced over at her dog busy sniffing at Landry's feet. “Don't worry—Jaxton's still on my good side."

“You're so morbid!" Michelle laughed.

Landry grinned devilishly. “The boss brought in weird books today from some auction. Thought I'd check this one out."

“Well, let me know how the animal sacrifice goes. Got a date with Netflix tonight with the ol' college roommate. Feel free to join! I can make us all some sugar-and-spice popcorn."

“Write me a raincheck," Landry countered, glancing down at the books. “Would like to make some headway onto this beefy thing. Besides, I'm still recovering from the flood damage from our trip to the movie theater last week."

“But it was so sad!"

“It was a horror movie."

“You should know me by now! I can't handle a parent losing a child. Poor thing! First, the girl nearly suffocates from a nut allergy, then her idiot brother, instead of calling an ambulance, decides to drive home in the middle of the night. Gets her head ripped off!"

“Shouldn't have stuck her noggin out the window like that. Telephone poles are dubbed the Bane of All Heads."

“The poor girl was trying to suck in air—and when her mother cried after finding her body in the car…oh, my god." Michelle batted at her face, tears coming on. “'I want to die! I want to die!'" A tear snuck across her cheek as she quoted the character's tear-raged line, eliciting an eye roll from Landry. Michelle offered an embarrassed laugh, swiping at the rogue tear. “Don't roll your eyes. It was sad!"

“Not as sad as the ending," Landry said. He liked his horror films, but equivocal endings often killed the whole movie. “I mean, I get it. The brother ultimately gets possessed in the end. But now what? The rest of the family are all dead!"

“Shouldn't think so much, Landry!" Michelle laughed. “Overthinking is the tiger mother of disappointment." The dog had snuck up between Michelle's legs, looking up at her. She rubbed the dog's muzzle playfully with both hands. Looked like she could ride him into battle against a rising tide of baddies. “Right, Jaxton? The book nerd should enjoy the simple things like you do."

Landry guffawed sarcastically. “Well, this nerd is gonna hit this book. Enjoy your little date!"

“Ciao!" Michelle patted her thigh, telling Jaxton to come along. He bounded along playfully. Landry brushed himself off before heading for his little corner of the universe.

The stairwell again. What an obstacle course. Landry stepped over the minefield of pink and baby-blue chalk, a half-deflated ball, a rogue child-sized shoe—all draped beneath the evening darkness, spare outdoor lights offering their silent guidance. As he approached the top floor, Landry stuck his gaze to the apartment across from his. Nobody hanging about. “Coast is clear."

Door locking with a click, Landry's studio apartment consumed him with its stuffiness despite the autumn coolness outside. He tossed his keys on the small folding table in the kitchen with a clatter, the keys striking the glass bowl of fruit—apples, an overripe banana, a few blood oranges from work—with a clang. He sat the books down, threw open some windows. He could crank the a/c, but he didn't have that kind of money. The rent just for a studio obliterated his puny checks. He wondered if it was a good idea striking out on his own when he'd transmogrified into a fully-fledged legal adult last year. Landry resisted the thought of showing up at his parent's place downtown with all his stuff—or worse, soliciting Craigslist for a roommate to split the bills. A draft kicked in, sending cool air across the shelves of books adjacent to the window. The five books his boss had mentioned sat in one stack mid-shelf. Mental note: return them tomorrow.

Landry slumped down on his bed and began flipping through the book on runes, through the bright pages with photographs of stone slabs marked with runic inscriptions. However, he couldn't focus on the text or any of the pictures. Eyes darted back to the tome beside him. The thought of opening it up again sent a chill through his arms. Could a book be bad…evil, maybe? What kind of shit-face guts animals, even in drawings, and drains them over those strange demonic-looking symbols? What if just messing with this thing invited something…unwanted? Like a possession. Make his head spin and vomit split-pea soup?

“That doesn't make any sense." Too many horror movies at Leer's Egyptian Theater downtown, apparently. Regardless, curiosity was a cat that needed either a light hand stroking its furry chin or a swift boot punting it out the door. Right now, Landry lay a hand on the tome, tracing the crevices of age, then curled a finger over and flipped to a random page.

“What?"

Landry flipped through another page. Then another. Another.

“How?"

No more strange runic language. The pages—all of them—now in plain English!

This had to be some sort of novelty joke-book. Landry scoured the book for publisher information, an address, an author's bio, anything. He flipped through the first few pages, the last few, to the back cover. He scrutinized the spine. Nothing. Did he somehow grab the wrong book? But there weren't any others like this. Maybe he wasn't reading it right. Eyes needed to be checked. Impossible. He spent half his workday reading a historical novel just fine!

Reading through some of the passages, he realized the tome was a collection of instructions. “For summoning demons?" He busted a laugh. Ridiculous. Apparently, each demon had its own little bio, a description of their physical appearance, their personalities, and a list of “ingredients" required to summon them. One demon sported the head of a raven but the body of a serpent. Needed a raven's feather and a snake tooth to summon him. Good with omens and predicting the summoner's death. Landry preferred not to know.

Another demon appeared as a large, two-toned wolf with curved horns and a forked tongue. Coincidentally, he spoke in half-truths and offered only half his loyalty to the summoner. He also instigated conflicts and promoted harmony in equal measure. Who'd want such chaos in their lives? Required the summoner to offer two wolf pups. One got butchered, the other devoured once the demon appeared. A heavy feeling tugged at Landry's stomach.

The tome continued to describe more demonic entities, many with animal features, others who looked more human, some a mix of both. Some earned the summoner riches or fame, some promoted a murderous rage, some concocted misfortune for enemies. But the common denominator for a successful summoning? Body parts or blood of an animal sacrifice. Hence the graphic pictures. Each demon also required the summoner to inscribe their unique symbol to make contact—like an interdimensional email address or phone number.

Landry gave points for creativity, but the lack of a plot almost invited a yawn if the whole thing hadn't creeped him the fuck out. He flipped through the rest, stopping at the final demon just to see how the tome ended.

“Interesting."

Something was missing. Details of the last demon inhabited one page, but the page opposite, where the illustrations were usually found—gone. Examining closer, Landry noticed a fine tear, indicating a missing page. Torn out? On purpose? Why? He glanced over the demon's remaining page, reading the instructions on summoning him.

“Interesting," Landry echoed, glancing at the bowl on the kitchen table. A smile slit his face.

* * *

Landry's feet stomped across the paved path, the late-morning sun beating down, forcing a bead of sweat from his brow. He had a late start—he'd spent most of the night reading up on the rest of the demons he'd glossed over, ignoring the constant bed creaking and quiet moaning from the adjacent apartment. Even stayed up until the chatter of the television from the floor below cut silent—a first in the year. The time he saved skipping breakfast was squandered as Jaxton, out of nowhere, pummeled him into the grass again, Michelle calling out with an apology from her tiny porch. Six books also bulged in his backpack, making the jog to work difficult, while the tome found a home at his chest.

Only one. Only a single one.

He flung the backdoor to the bookstore open, shirking off his backpack and the tome onto the register counter after flipping the lights on. A customer stood outside, a young teenaged girl in the green collared-shirt and khakis of her school uniform. She peered through the glass door at Landry. A small fist banged at the glass.

Landry flipped the open side of the sign around, then unlocked the door. The girl slipped in.

“You have it?"

“Have what?"

“You're a bookstore! You should know. Where is it?" The teen craned her neck back and forth, eyes darting over the tables for new releases.

Landry thought for a second before his face lit up, Walda's instructions shimmying to the forefront of his memory. “Dang, sorry. Totally forgot." He retrieved a small box from behind the counter, peeling off the tape with an audible tear. With the distraction of the tome, he'd forgotten to set out the new books while closing last night. Today was release day, although few people waited in line here in the mornings. Big-box stores opened an hour or two earlier, some even holding midnight release events for more popular authors.

Landry deposited the book in her hands and took her cash, then dug for change after retrieving the till from the electronic safe.

“Running late for school!" the teen said before scampering out the door, Landry's voice chasing her with an apology. Only about ten minutes late opening the store—but he considered himself reliable! Guilt itched to the point that he debated purchasing a second alarm clock for the next time he planned an all-nighter reading creepy stuff.

Before he could glance through the tome as planned, he organized the new books on one of the tables, arranging the older ones to make room, admiring the colorful illustrations of all the covers: some with green-scaled dragons or mighty wizards, others with simple bold colors and titles in large letters that screamed at potential readers. Over the years, Landry found that the less flashy covers usually meant a better book inside. Gaudy covers attempted to compensate for something.

During the walk to the recycling bin, his thoughts kept straying to that giant tome as the morning commuters rumbled by in their vehicles, the air stinking of exhaust. Should he give it a try? No way any of that stuff was real. But then what explained the book's strange warmth, as if it were a living thing? Perhaps it wasn't leather that bound the book but a new material with some unique property. Technology these days. Same with the change in language—must be a special kind of ink or something, reacting to different light, the oil from his skin. He tossed the empty box into the recycle bin with a clang, the lid thudding shut, as he wondered if all the unique features of the tome meant the book was inert and safe, if not curious and, at worst, macabre. These were features designed by some innovative publisher to give the book an appearance of authenticity and wonder—nothing more.

Landry's ears perked up to the sound of a familiar warble. The ringing phone lassoed him inside. His boss.

“Good morning!" Landry breathed after having barreled for the phone.

“Oh, Landry, hello." Walda groaned from the other side of the phone. “Big mistake. Big, big mistake."

“Is everything all right?"

“You were right. Shouldn't have lifted that box on my own. What was I thinking? Back's killing me!"

“Anything I can do to help? Could run over with a tape on yoga."

“No, that's fine. Hate to ask, but would you mind staying the whole day, open to close? There's overtime pay for you!"

“Yeah," Landry said, glancing at the tome biding its time from the countertop. “No worries."

“Anyone lined up for the new book?"

“We snagged a middle schooler." Landry debated confessing his tardiness but decided against it. No sense getting her to think she needed to come in, with a hurt back no less. “We might get a few coming when school's out. I doubt the book has any glittering vampires that would draw in too large a crowd."

“Glittering vampires or not, still might get busy. Will you be fine?"

“Don't tell me you forgot the release of Death's Shadow? None of the other stores got their shipment, just us." Memories of a roaring crowd swarming the store for this book proffered him the confidence for handling a small release like this on his own.

“Thought we were standing in Death's shadow ourselves with how huge that line was," boss-lady said. “Good thing I followed my instincts and ordered an extra box. You're good?"

“I'll be fine. Take care of yourself."

“I shall reward thee with more fruit."

Landry hung up after saying goodbye and wishing the boss well. Despite the new release, he knew a lull would empty the place of customers around lunchtime. Too busy at all the taco places and buffets in the area. He zipped his backpack open and slipped the six books inside back to their shelves, grimacing at the book on runes (practically useless). He worked a few more books from the stacks hugging the ends of the bookshelves, helping the few stray customers that had wandered in. Slinking back to his spot behind the counter after an hour or so, he retrieved his historical novel, flipping to the bookmarked page from yesterday. He read the first paragraph. Read it again. One more time. None of the words would stick. He failed again halfway through the same paragraph.

Bookmark in. Book down.

Another book called to him. But he attempted to keep his mind occupied, organizing more orphaned novels and a few poetry anthologies to their respective shelves. But the tome was a Siren luring him to some rocky coast, possibly to his doom. When he stopped for too long, when the busy thoughts of work dissolved, he could almost sense the tome's enchanting music, luring him in for a dangerous read.

“What are you afraid of?" Landry countered. “Just a book."

No customers. No fluttering of turned pages. No hushed conversations. No hands jiggling the doorknob for the adult section upstairs despite the red-lettered sign instructing them to summon the cashier first.

He joined the tome at the counter, flipping to the final instructions sans the accompanying illustration. The only one that did not require dead animals or a blood sacrifice. The only one. The description of the demon seemed rather tame, too: purveyor of curiosity and wonder, promoter of hidden desires, often followed by a hound. None of the hellfire and skullduggery of the other demons.

Landry's checklist of supplies:

· blank piece of paper

· black marker

· a few strands of dog hair

· a favorite meal

After glancing at the door to insure the coast was clear, he analyzed the instructions in the book, how the demon's symbol should be shaped, although the lack of a visual reference made imagining it difficult. A circumscription. Check. Inside, though, the instructions led him through different directions for drawing the symbol. Straight lines. Curved lines. Long or short. Some crossed here, angled a certain way there. Landry gripped the marker. Kindergarten art class don't fail me now, he thought.

He doodled on the blank piece of paper between bites of another blood orange he had peeled, lifting the sheet up for a closer inspection every now and again. The red juice of another wedge burst in his mouth after he finished. A face of some kind? Hard to tell. He spun the paper upside down. Landry lifted an eyebrow. “Of course." Inside the circle: a rough outline of a canine's muzzle, head, and ears embellished with twirling lines and shapes. Check. Made sense considering the required strands of dog hair—some kind of canine theme going on here. But the symbol looked sloppy. He'd say it looked like some kindergarten kid did it, but he didn't want to insult kids a third his age. Landry produced another blank sheet of paper, redoing the drawing from the instructions, which made sense now that he understood what it was supposed to be. A moment spun by before he tossed the marker down. Much better. Truly a sigil now and not just some random half-baked symbol.

Next, place a few strands of dog hair inside the sigil, according to the instructions. Landry snuck into his backpack for a small bag containing strands of white hairs he'd plucked off his clothes before bed. That dog Jaxton never failed to topple Landry over, pinning him to the ground. Last night's scuffle proved useful. Landry dropped a few strands onto the drawing.

“Okay, next is a favorite meal." A whole meal, though? The instructions didn't say what to do with it. Do I eat a meal right next to this thing or something? He didn't really eat meals though, just snacked on simple things all day—fruit, nuts, granola bars. Rarely had to do dishes at home. Do sandwiches count? Sometimes the boss would invite him over for a homecooked meal, though. Last time she wanted to touch base with her German roots, so she made some Rouladen dish. Would eating some bacon, pickles, and mustard wrapped in meat help summon this demon? Landry laughed. Doing this was getting ridiculous by the second. Really, he was just bored. He liked the job not only for the easy-going boss he'd known since he could first peel fruit, but the extra time allowed him to sit back and pan through the imaginations of so many authors in search for valuable tales.

“Hmm…fruit," Landry mused. He fiddled with the last wedge of blood orange—his favorite—then glanced at his world-class artwork with a frown. Was it worth a single drop on something like this? But Landry wondered…the book and its warmth, its ability to change languages. What if this thing really did have some supernatural quality?

The wedge snapped in his fingers, red droplets spilling onto the white sheet on the counter, obliterating into smaller fragments that scattered across the page, across the symbols and sigils he'd drawn. Landry tossed what was left in his mouth. No sense in wasting the rest. Landry chewed, releasing that deep sweetness he enjoyed. Swallowed. Waited. Nothing.

“Is there supposed to be some incantation?" None of the other instructions mentioned any verbal component to the summoning. What about candles? He recalled a book back in high school where some side character summoned a demon that ended up dividing him equally into two men without the inconvenience of a physical touch. The summoning required some spoken words, a few well-placed candles, a dark and stormy night…. Landry could do without the butchering, though. Call him picky, but a body functioning together as one piece was his preferred method of living.

Landry crumpled up the piece of paper, tossing it into the tiny trash bin beneath the counter. Where did that historical novel go?

A loud crack—like the crackle of wood in a bonfire—forced a full-body jump out of Landry, rare muscles flexing and tensing, reminding the boy that a gym membership may be beneficial. Smoke plumed from the trash bin. Adrenaline surged. Did the summoning actually work? Nothing else could have caused that! With a cautious foot, Landry nudged the bin out from under the counter. He peered over to see what had happened, although the hairs on the back of his neck warned of a possible explosion. He would sure like to keep his eyesight and his face in its default configuration—eyes, ears, nose, all his teeth: the gold standard. He batted at the smoke. As if this simple act fanned a smoldering ember to life, the trash bin ignited into a fury of flames that lapped at the ceiling like a vicious tongue.

Landry fell back with an oomph before scrambling to his feet for the fire extinguisher hanging by the back door, the red tank having gone untouched since he'd first started working here three years ago…until now. His boss was gonna put those VHS tapes to good use and beat him dead with them. Gee, thanks for watching over me as a kid and getting me a job here. As repayment, I burned the place down. Landry unholstered the extinguisher from the wall, arms straining against the weight. Running back with the discharge hose at the ready, Landry stopped as if he'd struck an invisible wall.

In place of the flames stood a man clad in nothing but his birthday suit that was a darker shade of red than the fire extinguisher. The shock and disbelief of this sudden appearance overrode the wave of pink that normally would have rushed to Landry's face by the sight of firm buttocks. The summoning must've truly worked! The extinguisher fell to the floor with a thud. The man…the demon looked over his shoulder from the sound, a pair of cruel horns jutting from his forehead just below his hairline. His short, jet-black hair jostled from the movement. Landry's own hair stood on end again from the back of his neck as dark-yellow eyes flecked with amber rivulets blinking at him, the slits of the demon's pupils like that of a cat's. Everything matched the description in the book.

Landry took a few steps back. “You're a…a…"

The demon flashed teeth. “You must be the young master."

Landry's eyes widened at the full-frontal offering as the demon approached, showing off his human-like build—arms, legs, torso: the standard—with a few notable differences. For starters, dark claws ended the digits of his hands and feet. The demon smiled, halting a breath away from Landry who wondered at the damage those claws could administer. The demon's tail, which, at the base, was as thick as Landry's forearm, tapered slightly into a stretch of skin shaped like a spade. It reached over to coil around Landry's hand, tightening with a firm tug.

“That is how one greets each other up here, yes?" the demon asked, still grinning, softening his tail-grip. “A handshake."

“W-well…" Landry stammered as his eyes roamed the outlines of muscle, “yes, but hand to hand." Eyes sinking south, he couldn't tear from what hung between those legs. The demon's smile widened. He had a human-like appearance in many ways, yes, but his genitals—a plump sheath and large furry balls the size of the oranges Landry enjoyed so much—were just like a dog's.

“Plenty of time to enjoy that later," the demon laughed, finally releasing Landry's hand. His voice carried a pleasant, amicable tone, all things considered. “I must admit, I have been curious about this world for centuries. I am afraid that its contents are somewhat foreign to me. A virgin, yes, so to speak? My first summoning, so that is to be expected."

“First summoning?" Landry finally offered something legible from his mouth. “You mean, from that strange book?"

“Yes, yes, of course—the book!" The demon fetched the tome from the counter like a child who had just discovered the joys of reading. “Ah, yes, I see. Many of my brothers and sisters have paid many visits to this world, but here is my predicament." The demon traced a clawed finger along the remnants of the torn page. “This has prevented my summoning for many years. Who would do such a thing?" The demon flipped through a few pages, head nodding away at a few illustrations, a smile or a frown betraying his feelings as he browsed. The demon closed the book. “But you, the clever master, followed the instructions without the use of illustrations. I am excited to be of service to you."

“Of service?"

“Well, considering the dozens of siblings you bypassed, there must be a reason you have chosen me? Why, Bahandi is good for earning you riches if you value such a fleeting earthly commodity. Tiglimbong is quite the trickster—can speak manipulations that confound the logic of even the wisest men. My, even Mamumuno," the demon laughed, “quite the dramatic fellow, old Mamu—and the eldest, of course…don't the eldest always have a flair for the dramatic?" Landry wouldn't know, being the only child. “Well, he enjoys the slice and dice of a master's…unwanted contacts."

“You mean murder?"

“My, yes. Such a strong word, that."

“And what do you do? Your specialty wasn't too specific in your LinkedIn bio."

“Linked in?" A puzzled look scarred his face. “A thousand apologies. Linked to what? We demons speak all languages, but sometimes the…intricacies escape me."

Landry had to laugh. This was all too much. Was this an elaborate joke? Was his boss pulling off some epic Halloween prank again, faking a sore back this whole time? This wouldn't be the first stunt she'd pulled on him. Once he'd walked into his boss's office to find her spread eagle on the desk, eviscerated, her guts hanging out like macabre festoons. She had a tough time explaining that little prank to the police.

The demon still looked puzzled, staying in character. “You're good," Landry said before aiming a finger at the demon's crotch. “Jeez, they even did a good job on the dog junk you have there! This must be getting filmed somewhere." Landry glanced around the room, arms spread challenge-wide. “Hello, the jig's up! Where are the cameras?"

The demon sighed. “My siblings warned that dismissal is a common initial response. That, or madness. I fear that I am quite the neophyte at this. Please forgive any ineptitudes." The demon looked the young man up and down. His feline eyes gave him a sharp, predatory look. “Since you doubt the veracity of my existence, how may I prove myself to you?"

The insistence by the 'demon' made him unsure as to what to believe at this point. This couldn't be real, could it? “Perhaps we should start with a proper introduction," Landry offered, still on guard. He'd play along—for now. Extending his hand: “Please forgo that master stuff, mister…?"

This seemed to please the demon greatly as he sent another flash of teeth. “I'm afraid the demon language would twist your tongue into a Mobius strip." Those crazy eyes glanced down at Landry's hand, still waiting for a handshake. Finally figuring out what was expected, the demon pressed his hand against Landry's. “Valen will do."

“Valen?" Landry released his grip, the demon's warmth lingering in his palm. “Like Valentine? Wrong holiday, guy."

“Simply the name of the author of the book you have been reading." The demon pointed at Landry's historical novel on the counter. Must've seen it while browsing the family album earlier. “Would you prefer a different name, young master?"

“No, Valen is fine. Nice to meet you." Landry half-meant it, but this seemed to put the demon at ease. The front door opened, a customer entering the store and sending a spark through Landry's nerves. The demon (or whatever he was) would certainly cause some sort of indecent exposure complaint. Buttocks and doggy genitals for all to see were terrible methods for promoting customer loyalty. Landry formed a blockade between the demon and customer—some high school chick with bad acne balanced by a perfect set of pearly teeth as she smiled. She was a regular.

“Hi, I'm here for the new book!"

“Uh…" Landry started.

“Right over there, young human," the demon who called himself Valen said, gesturing to the new release tables.

“Uh, thanks," she said with a puzzled grin, “older human."

Landry swore that if his brow furrowed any more his face would form a permanent scowl. She in on it too? He moseyed over to the register to swipe her debit card. No way they could get some underaged teenager in on this. The girl waved goodbye after taking the receipt the credit card machine rolled out. He turned to face the demon, still in the buff—all naked for the whole damn world to see.

“Okay, give it up, guy," Landry said. “My boss pay you to do this?"

“Ah, you still disbelieve your own eyes? It was a simple glamour spell to deceive the senses. To the young lady that had walked in for her purchase, I looked as normal as any human male."

“What? But you're naked with all that red skin…and that tail of yours…"

“Again, she saw nothing but a normal, clothed man."

“This is all far from normal." Landry's eyes darted around as a plausible explanation for this whole crazy situation materialized in his mind. “So why do I see your, uh, true form?"

“Can the servant cozen the master into releasing him from bondage?"

Landry wondered what this guy was getting at. “Perhaps if the master were a greater fool than the servant for trying."

“And I presume this young master is no such fool," Valen stated matter-of-factly.

“I'd like to think so, but then I'm still technically a teenager. We're all young and dumb and full of…uh, other stuff, right?"

“Well, certainly smart enough that no spell could upend the rules of our contract, for I cannot fool you into seeing me as any more than the truth of what I am."

“Of what you are?"

“Yes, a demon. At your service."

“And what do you mean by contract? I don't remember agreeing to anything." Was there some user agreement in the tome he'd overlooked? Was his life doomed now? His soul, if such a thing existed, now bound to eternal misery once his life here ended?

“Not to worry, young mas—"

“Please, enough with the 'young master' stuff. You make me sound old." Yesterday's conversation with his boss came to mind. Now he knew how she felt! “My name is fine. Just Landry."

“Not to worry, Justlandry." The demon grinned.

Landry battered the air between them with a sarcastic laugh. “I don't think you're as naïve as you're leading me to think. Landry, not Justlandry."

“A thousand—"

“And forgo the thousand apologies—you've fulfilled the apology quota for this city's entire population for a year. Now about that contract…"

“Not to worry. No soul is required here as many are prone to believe. Think of it as more of an agreement rather than a contract. I remain here to serve you until one of three conditions are met: you release me, although I hope the pleasure of my company prevents that—I really do wish to remain here for some time—or if someone else were to perform the summoning ritual, in which case that person will now become the new master."

“And the third condition?"

“Well, at the event of your death, of course."

Landry gulped. His death? “And what's stopping you from insuring this happens yourself once you become bored of your servitude? A servant doesn't need a foolish master to win freedom when cutting his throat while he sleeps would do the trick."

“In that case, I suppose you will have to place your trust in me." Valen flashed teeth as Landry's eyes exploded with worry. The demon chuckled. “I must offer one tiny additional apology, Master Landry. Demons aren't typically permitted to kill their human masters."

“'Typically'? That doesn't make me feel any better!"

Valen's face softened, his eyes shutting as if he needed to collect his thoughts. After a few seconds, he opened them—a flash of yellow. “Well, a few of my brothers and sisters—even though you're the only child, you must know how siblings can be—not all of them obey the 'rules.'"

“And I am to trust that you do?"

“I am not of that sort to disobey."

“And how'd you know I'm the only child? I don't remember making that information privy." Must've been the boss, informing the actor about Landry's familial circumstances. He could see through this whole façade now, although he'd need to have a frank discussion with the boss about the value of his privacy and personal information.

“All demons have the ability to taste thoughts. As this is the first time meeting a human, my ability for thought-tastes are rather, how would you say—unrefined? But I gleaned that much from you."

“Okay…you also said you're not the sort to disobey the rules. Of what sort are you then?"

Valen smiled suggestively. Landry raised an eyebrow. The door's bell jingled, signaling the entrance of another couple customers. No way more could be in on the prank. More high school kids looking for the new book. Neither of them seemed to notice that a red-skinned demon with feline eyes, canine genitalia, and a long prehensile spade-tipped tail occupied the room.

“You two in on the prank?" Landry asked, his tone an octave away from a demand, as he rung up both so-called customers.

“Sorry, in on what?" The girls exchanged looks.

Landry glanced at the demon, who only smiled. Landry felt like an idiot. Apologizing, he told the two customers it was nothing, took their cash, and gave the best customer-service smile he could muster as they left. Landry glanced at the clock on the computer. Since he was also closing, his day here wasn't ending anytime soon. What was he supposed to do with this guy the whole day?

The phone startled him again, although this time he managed to avoid jumping out of his shoes. However, any more jump scares like these today and he'd be dead at nineteen from a heart attack. The boss again.

“Landry, Landry. I took some ibuprofen and relaxed a bit and the back's feeling better. Feel terrible about making you work till close again. I can come in if you want. You're still young. Should be enjoying your evenings doing whatever it is you kids do and not just slave away for the mean old boss."

“I—I know about the prank," Landry said, glancing at the demon who had wandered into the labyrinth of book shelves, fingering through a few books. “You just want to come and see me squirm, don't you?"

The line went quiet and Landry almost wondered if the boss had hung up, caught in the act. But then: “Landry?"

“Yes, ma'am?"

“What in the world are you talking about?"

“The demon guy, right?" No way she was getting off playing dumb. “Quite the elaborate costume you had made. Was the whole auction thing and the hurt back all an elaborate ruse? This definitely tops last year's Halloween prank."

“Landry, I have no idea what you're on about. I almost got cited for that little prank I did, so I'm keeping a low profile this year. What do you mean by demon guy? Who's over there?"

“Give it up. I caught you."

“Uh, no Landry. There's nothing to give up." A brief pause. “Are you mad at me for having you close?" Landry's nerves seized. “Like I said, I'm sorry. I'll come in to close tonight. You don't have to stay."

Landry turned his back, coughing up a forced laugh. “Sorry! I had to give you a hard time for that prank last year. Still not over it—you made me cry, you know! Everything's fine over here. No need to come over."

Walda let out a sigh. “Dang it, Landry. Don't do that to me—I really thought something weird was going on for a moment—thought you were communicating in some hostage-situation code. Guess I deserved it. All my guts hanging from me like that must have scarred you for life, poor thing!" Landry couldn't tell if she was mocking him or not. “Learned that trick from Papa. Before I got into books, I always wanted to be a professional make-up artist thanks to him—although that eventually evolved to…unladylike practices as you had witnessed." She giggled. “You sure you don't want me to relieve you of duty for the evening?"

“No, no, no. Best give your back another day of rest. Don't want to reinjure yourself. Bad idea coming in."

“You're probably right. I'm glad you look after me."

“It's no problem, really. Just fetch me more oranges or something. We're out." Landry laughed, a genuine one this time.

“It's a deal. Call me if you change your mind."

Landry looked back after saying goodbye, then slammed the phone down. No sign of the demon. But he caught something fluttering up high before disappearing behind a bookcase. Did a bird get inside? He bounded for the aisle, stopping with a gasp.

The demon stood in the middle of an aisle, hands lifted as if he were juggling. But instead of balls, bowling pins, or chainsaws, a flock of books bobbed and weaved in the air, arranging themselves onto different shelves, the books there sliding on their own to allow room for their new neighbors. Landry half-expected the demon to start singing hockety pockety wockety wack like some musically-inclined wizard. More books levitated from the unorganized stacks that ended each bookshelf, finding their way, he presumed—he hoped—to their correct positions: boss's standards.

“What's going on here?" Landry asked, dumbfounded by all the floating books. Excitement surged through him at witnessing such a thing, but also dread: what if someone were to walk in and see this? As if on cue, the front door's bells jingled, signaling a customer. “Shit, Valen! Stop whatever it is you're doing!"

“But the young master needed proof that I am, indeed, a demon. And here lay a perfect opportunity to prove my claim while also being of service."

“Okay, okay! I'm convinced! Just stop with the magic tricks before someone sees."

“As you wish."

The books pelted the floor like grouse caught in the hunt. Landry shielded his head with both lanky arms just in case a rogue book had been floating above his head.

“Is everything okay over here? What happened?"

Landry spun around, a boy he recognized from his old high school peeking over, clad in a letterman jacket that hugged his broad shoulders. His height would make him a better employee than Landry, offering him access to the top shelves without the use of a stepladder.

“A little shelving accident is all," Landry managed quickly. “How may I help you?"

“Just here for the new book," he said, offering a handsome smile. “Should probably order on Amazon for the anonymity, but I like to support the local businesses when I can."

“You have a heart of gold and the purest of souls for supporting our little shop," Landry quipped, leading the way to the new release tables up front.

The customer offered a friendly laugh. “Never been complimented like that before. I'll take it. So, how's life been since graduation?"

“Since graduation?"

“I remember you. You graduated last year. I've seen you down the halls. Usually had a book blocking your face as you waited for class. Don't see you anymore, so I assumed you graduated?"

“Y-yeah, that's right. Been keeping things low-key, I guess. Don't know if college is right for me, at least not right now. Figured I can learn anything that interests me from all the books while working here sans the student loans, college debt, and exam stress. You still on the football team? I came to a game once."

“Yeah, guess the jacket gives that away. I'm a senior now, so this is my last year. Hoping for an athletic scholarship for the university upstate. Anyway, don't tell my teammates I'm here. I know it's the current year and all, but the unspoken code says we football players aren't allowed to humor our inner bookworm." He forked a hand through scruffy, sandy-brown hair.

“Your secret's safe with me," Landry said, producing the total charge with the sales tax. “We need repeat customers to stay in business."

“That's true." He handed Landry a twenty. “Keep the change. Thanks for the book!"

“No, thank you!" Landry said, watching how the guy's jeans hugged him just right as he made for the exit. “See you later."

The customer smiled, opening the door with that jingle again. “Perhaps!" He left, Landry's gaze tracing his path until he disappeared into a silver minivan, probably borrowed from parents, before speeding off. Landry pocketed the leftover change. Not often he received a tip.

“Well, well, well," the demon said, making himself visible from the confines of the aisle. “I see what the young master likes."

“What I like?"

Valen grinned, his tail whipping about playfully behind him.

“What are you talking about?" Landry countered. “We recognized each other from school. Cashiers need to be friendly."

“Ah, but your smile was genuine when you spoke. The boy was rather handsome, no?"

Landry shook his head. He could feel a little heat coming on. “Forget about that. We can't have your little floating parlor tricks happening again, not while the store is open at least. Anyone can just walk in and see that. Would draw unwanted attention."

“As you wish. I only desire that my presence here be of some benefit to you."

“Right," Landry said. “Damn, so this is all real. Hard to believe." A few nods tugged Landry's head up and down. The real McCoy, this demon. Landry felt surprised he wasn't more scared. Cautious, perhaps, but not scared. The demon seemed genuine, although he'd fallen for false niceness from a few bullies before he graduated. A couple guys, one with a greasy pizza-face and the other who never smiled due to his braces, had offered a friendly comment on his book as he sat in the busy hallway, wanting to see it. Handing the book over, the two took off with it, disappearing into the crowd of students. Landry had to pay back the store as he was just borrowing the book at the time. But the demon certainly wasn't a high-school bully. But, just in case: “And I can dismiss you anytime I want?"

Worry broke Valen's grin. “If the master wishes to—but how cruel! Please, let me be of service in any way that I can. I want to experience the wonders of this world. The demon home is quite…monotonous. After a few centuries, that would be a reasonable expectation, no?"

“What's preventing you from walking out the door and experiencing everything yourself? Not like I can stop you or anything."

“Not quite so simple, young mast—Landry." The demon fidgeted, perhaps worried about making the boy upset. “As you are the summoner, I am bound to you. Think of it as an invisible leash. I must always remain near you."

“Near me? How is that supposed to work? My boss will start to notice you hanging around here day by day. Can I just stuff you someplace where no one can see you, like a pokémon?"

“Poh-kay-mon?" The demon seemed to savor the taste of each syllable. “That is unknown to me. But you can tether me to your place of inhabitance. I assume the master has claimed a residence for himself?"

“I rent a little studio apartment a mile away from here. I can just leave you there?" Like leaving a dog home while I work, Landry thought.

“Yes, that will be an appropriate compromise."

“Wouldn't you get bored?"

“I am adept at entertaining myself, although these past few centuries may draw scrutiny to that claim."

“Can you read?"

“I am a demon, not a fool. You summoned me from a book, no?"

“Good point. Well, I have a miniature library at home, some books with pictures if you're interested in learning about good ol' planet Earth while I'm gone. Don't have a computer or nothing as I just browse here—would be tons better than a book. Will you behave?"

“Promise."

Much to Landry's surprise, the demon did behave. Instead of using his magic or psychokinetic powers or whatever it was that allowed the books to float about, the demon organized everything the old-fashioned way: elbow grease and honest labor. Even the thick tail curled around books, lifting them to Valen's clawed hands as he strode up and down the aisles. Landry would act as supervisor occasionally, checking to see if the books were alphabetized correctly. Valen seemed to understand the logic of the place without need of explanation. In other words, he was an excellent coworker. But Landry wondered…the whole lot of them, the demons—weren't they mischief makers in the lore? No. Imps, he was thinking. Demons were masters of deception, subterfuge, and manipulations. Was Valen stringing him along for his own personal gain? Was anything he said the whole day true? He seemed nice enough…and that's what Landry found most distressing. If the demon's friendly and open banter was all for show, then a dire ending was certainly afoot for him. Maybe a little fear served a purpose.

Landry glanced up at the demon reaching for the top shelf to put a book away at the end of an aisle. Landry should probably be careful with his thoughts if what the demon had said about his ability to “taste" them were true. But what if the demon's oddly charming personality was sincere? Now that Landry grew used to all that red skin, the prehensile tail, the claws—heck, even the doggy-styled junk didn't bother him—what did that mean in the future? As his master, how would he have the demon serve him? He could certainly do more than organize books.

Closing time arrived faster than usual thanks to the demon's company and the constant foot traffic of customers seeking the new release, although a few thumbed through some of the used books while here. Even the demon helped direct many of the customers, although he said little to them, much like a butler in a household addressing the master's guests. It amazed Landry that no one could see the demon's physicality—for what he truly was. Embarrassing to admit, but this was no prank at all—why was it so difficult to believe from the start? Landry guessed any person would have denied the possibility of demons except, perhaps, occultists and Bible thumpers. Landry never considered himself a religious person, probably why he hardly spoke to his folks, both staunch church-goers who often chided him for not tagging along on Sundays. He'd have to rethink his position on the church.

The lock clicked before Landry spun the sign over, OPEN glaring back at him. As if this were some sort of signal, the unorganized stacks of books came to life again like a startled flock. The demon shot a look of self-satisfaction as Landry bounded over, novels and self-help books featuring the smiling faces of doctors and quacks alike flying overhead. “The store is closed, and the door is locked. This is acceptable, yes?"

“And efficient. How long do you think it will take to organize everything?"

“An hour."

What would Landry do with all the time that would free up? More time reading and less time working. It was hard to resist.

“Okay, you keep doing that while I focus on getting the place closed." Landry paused. Shouldn't take pure advantage of him. Best keep on his good side. “As a reward, I'll take you around town this weekend. I'll have the day off. I can show you the highlights of this city."

“Magnificent!"

Landry went about the same routine as yesterday, except he dusted off the Tuesday-assigned shelves, keeping a close eye on the demon and all the floating books. Even with the door locked, worry warned Landry that the boss could still walk in at any time, although the hurt-back issue and his impending departure made that unlikely. Even with that in mind, it was unbelievable and awesome to see all this. Books levitating on their own? A demon at his service? Magical glamour spells that can deceive the senses? Exciting, crazy, and nerve-wracking all at once!

At the end of the hour, the stacks of books had evanesced into order, revealing more floorspace. Valen's ability to stow away multiple books simultaneously allowed him to tackle weeks of work within a fraction of the time. “Is the master pleased?" Valen asked as he shut off the lights and prepared to lock up.

“Yes, although I'll be more pleased if you called me Landry."

The demon chuckled as they strode along the paved walking path. Again, the same jogger from last night made his rounds with his German Shepherd. The dog's tail smacked back and forth like an exultant firehose as he bounded for Valen, lifting himself onto his hindlegs as his tongue lapped towards Valen's face.

“Get off, Schultz!" the jogger commanded breathily. “Down!"

“What a friendly pup you have," Valen said, stroking the dog's head and ears, the dog's tongue lapping wildly, exploding with affection.

“He's usually cautious around strangers."

Landry caught the demon's eyes checking out the dog's crotch as the owner grabbed Schultz by the scruff.

“Oh, dear. Your dog seems to be missing his testicles."

A surge of embarrassment rose deep from Landry's stomach. He resisted the urge to snag Valen by the ear like a pissed mother, dragging him back to his place.

“Yeah," the owner said, pulling his German Shepherd up the path so they could continue their jog, “that's called being a responsible owner." The dog whined, pulling at his owner to get to the demon for more licking. The dog's owner bit back with a few commands—all ignored.

Landry could tell Valen had more he wanted to say on the wonders of doggie testicles, but he intervened with a tug on his arms, yelling under his breath, “You're embarrassing me! I see him almost every day that I close."

“Poor thing! How did he lose them?"

“Just a thing we do here," Landry said once the jogger was safely out of hearing distance. He released the demon's arm. “Prevents unwanted puppies."

“Seems cruel," Valen said. “You want your own puppies some day?"

“You mean kids?" Landry gave a thoughtful look, his embarrassment quickly dissipating. “No, I don't think I do. Don't tell my parents that. They'd freak knowing they'll never have grandkids. Kinda sucks bearing the weight of that…expectation."

“But you still have your testicles, no?"

“Well, yes," Landry said, knowing full well what Valen was getting at. “But that's different, although they do have less…invasive procedures for preventing a new generation of unwanteds. Not that I would consider it."

“No need for it," the demon quipped. “The young master has other methods for preventing such an outcome."

Before Landry could demand an explanation for what he meant by that comment, Valen had wandered off to the closest maple tree, moving on to the next as his master continued down the path. Most days Landry would walk with some pep, taking only thirty or so minutes to get home. But the demon's curiosity slowed the cadence of his usual stride to a leisurely pace. Valen continued stopping by each maple tree lining the pavement, twirling a bright-red leaf he'd picked up, tracing the veins of the leaf with a claw. He then traced a hand along the crags of bark at one tree, looking up as the leaves shimmied in a brisk autumn wind that pulled a shiver from Landry (time to bust out the Grandma sweaters). Being a demon and all, Landry assumed Valen wouldn't know how trees functioned in this world and their symbiotic relationship with all animal life, exchanging carbon dioxide for life-giving oxygen. Surprisingly, Valen knew the gist of that already, but never had the joys of seeing a tree up close and personal. Landry wondered how he would know such a thing, assuming there weren't any trees from where he's from—perhaps they taught botany classes in the demon world? The thought invited a smirk. He mentioned the availability of a national forest nearby that they could visit. It had all sorts of different trees and plant species. Animals, too—most, if not all, of the males with genitals intact. Valen seemed excited by the idea, his spade-tipped tail whipping about behind him.

An opening between two buildings provided a better view of the mountains, still visible with evening light. Valen stopped to admire them, his mouth agape, the mountains awash with greens fading into oranges, browns, and reds: the habiliments of autumn. Landry rarely took the time to admire the great mountain range that sliced through their state. The mountains were a daily backdrop, its everyday presence inviting a habituation, the way clothes become unfelt as the day progresses.

“You don't have mountains where you're from?"

“Not exactly," Valen said. “At least, not like this. But divulging too much information about the demon world is forbidden."

“Oh?" Landry said accusingly. “You want me to show you my world, but then you can't tell me about yours?"

“Apologies, young master." Valen looked over with a half-grin, half-somber look. “The rules again. We demons are bound by them."

“Yes, but you said that even some of your, uh, siblings or whatever have broken the rules—such as the one on not killing humans, if I recall."

“Not without consequence."

“How does one punish a demon?"

Another somber smile. “The details of that would haunt your dreams for many nights, young master—apologies: Landry." Valen closed his eyes briefly, as if recalling something that required his full attention, but he soon opened them, all smiles again. “Come. I am curious as to your abode."

“I've been wondering," Landry eventually said as they continued down the path, sneaking a quick glance at the demon's canine-like sheath and large, fuzzy balls swinging about with his gait before he glanced back up, “aren't you shy about…you know?"

“About?"

“Being exposed for the whole world to see?" Landry shook his head suddenly. “I mean, I guess for me to see since I'm immune to that glamour spell."

“Ah, the young master means shame—do I feel shame over my nakedness?" Valen gave a nod, although not as an affirmation, but one of curiosity. “Such an interesting learned feeling with which your kind curses each human generation. Is a child born from the womb swaddled?"

“Well, no…but what about fully grown adults? Certainly, we wouldn't want everyone showing off their junk, especially when the young are around."

“And the jogger's dog from earlier? Did the world suffer collapse when you witnessed the dog without the censorship of clothes?"

Landry kicked at a stray stone to a rocky shoulder. “Dogs are not the same as people."

“My point exactly, young master! Shame is learned. Dogs, nor other animals, do not feel embarrassed over others observing their various body parts. Curious why humans hold such aversions."

“Quite the observation considering you've only been on this planet for less than a day."

“Many of us demons have observed this place from a distance for many years. Silences the boredom, I suppose. But, as with language, many of the intricacies of this place eludes me. But you seem an excellent guide, if not an argumentative one."

“What was the first condition for releasing you again?"

“Excuse my observation, young master!"

“L—"

“Landry, I mean!"

The apartment complex appeared, the path of pavement splitting, leading a small stretch of asphalt to the grass. Landry glanced around for Jaxton and Michelle, wanting to avoid another awkward conversation about dog balls. It didn't help that Jaxton was intact, inviting worry as to how Valen would respond. The demon may not feel shame over the topic of reproductive organs, but he certainly should understand the value of restraint!

With neither the dog nor its owner in sight, Landry hurried the demon along. Halfway through the grass, though, a heavy bark signaled the approaching mountain. Jaxton bounded forward. Landry's muscles tensed, preparing for impact. Michelle soon followed, calling after Jaxton, who simply ignored her. Landry debated coughing up the dough for obedience classes, although maybe he could use his ten-percent discount and find some dog-training book back at the store. Would that be an insult?

The dog stopped on a dime, sliding on the grass. Jaxton glanced up at Valen, eyes wary. He sniffed at the space between them, a soft grumble brewing inside—the most aggressive Landry had ever seen the dog. Michelle stumbled in, the ridiculously long sleeves of her pajama-shirt flopping about, reprimanding Jaxton for his warning grumble.

“Sorry about that," Michelle huffed, looking Valen up and down. Landry worried that she could sense that something was awry. “I usually have the opposite problem with him being too friendly."

“Not to worry, young human," Valen said, kneeling, inviting a confused look from Michelle. He reached a hand towards the dog's muzzle, prompting Landry to wonder how the demon would respond if the dog were to bite. Would his personality change as quick as the dog had stopped, some truly evil side erupting to the surface the moment he was offended or injured? What was he thinking bringing the demon here?

Jaxton continued sniffing, edging closer. No sooner than that did his tail start wagging as he pounced on Valen, smothering him with a giant pink tongue. Valen laughed, pushing the dog back playfully.

“So, who's your friend here?" Michelle asked. Landry hoped to avoid an interrogation. Landry lied as well as Michelle could control her dog. “He seems…friendly."

Valen had found his way on his feet, Jaxton presenting his underside for the coveted belly rub.

“Yeah, just a new friend I made at the shop. Decided to help me organize all the books for free. Thought it would only be fair to invite him over to hang or something." More or less true. Left out critical details, but that would have to do. Landry introduced them by name to each other, prompting an exchange of pleasantries.

“Oh, you two want to come over and watch some shows? I think the roommate and I need more, uh," she looked at the man petting her dog, “stimulating company than each other. Jaxton only says so much."

“Lovely canine," Valen said, inviting a warm bit of gratitude from Michelle. Valen then pointed at the dog's genitals, which floundered about as the dog arched back and forth on the ground within the throes of ecstasy—the belly getting that glorious rubdown. “See, Landry? Your friend let her dog keep his—"

“Okay, how about we head up now, yeah? Sorry, Michelle. I'll take another raincheck—add it to the stack of others." Landry and Michelle exchanged looks. He'd have a tough time explaining Valen's…personality later. He'd have to prepare for a more proper interrogation once Michelle had the chance. Great. “Sorry to bother you."

“No, my fault," Michelle said, patting her thigh. Jaxton flipped to his feet, preparing to heel. “This dog only listens at his convenience."

Tell me about it, Landry thought, passing a quick glance at the naked demon. Crazy how no one sees his true form. If only he wouldn't betray himself with the eccentric things that tumble from his mouth!

“Have fun hanging out," Michelle said with a smile and a wink before turning for home. But then she spun right back around. “How was the summoning, by the by? Did it work?"

“The young master was brilliant!" Valen chipped in. “A perfect summoning!"

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Landry thought.

“Oh, you're some master now, Landry?" Michelle cocked her head sideways with a grin. “You have some servant laboring for you now?"

“My pleasure, really," Valen replied. “Why, the generous young master even offered to take me around the city."

“Oh, so a date, huh?" Michelle grinned so hard her face might break. “My, my. Now I see why you keep begging for rainchecks with little old me. Should I be jealous?"

“Feel free to take him," Landry offered, shoving a thumb his way. “He's yours."

“Remember, master. I must remain close by—"

“Okay, it's getting late," Landry cut in. “Good night, Michelle."

“Night, night, Landry. Nice meeting you, Valen." Michelle winked before turning to leave. As if reminding Landry that he wasn't forgotten, Jaxton nudged his hand with a wet nose before giving it a couple licks, then bounded after his owner. Landry had some explaining to do.

“Nice girl…and dog," Valen offered as they headed towards Landry's corner of The Woods. “But you don't like her."

Landry's face scrunched up. “Don't like her? Of course, I do! One of the few people I do like."

Valen grinned, shaking his head. Tauntingly: “Not. Like. That."

“Whatever."

The obstacle course remained in the same configuration as yesterday. Half-inflated ball? Check. Baby-blue and pink chalk? Check. A child's shoe? Check. Perhaps the neighbors were collecting things to summon the demon of laziness. The additional stink of cigarettes drifting from the top floor reminded Landry that it was dumb to think he would get lucky for a second night in a row.

“Interesting smell," Valen commented.

“Not the smell you should be interested in." Landry crept up the stairs, the demon following closely. Landry peeked over as he reached the top. The neighbor across from him had his door wide open, allowing the sound of the evening news to escape. A fold-out lawn chair served as evidence of his neighbor's activity, the outdoor light emitting its ugly-yellow glow. Must've stepped inside right quick for something.

Landry sunk his key into the lock of his door. “Oh, Laundry. Long time no see."

And here comes the icing on today's malformed cake.

“Do I look like a pile of linens to you?" Landry turned to face his beloved neighbor, some construction worker with grimy clothes and a five o' clock shadow begging for a shave. A moist can of beer cracked open in his calloused fingers. He took a sip before lighting up a fresh cigarette.

“Now, now, Laundry. Is that how you greet your neighbors?"

“I believe the young master prefers his real name, hence his annoyance," Valen said. “Here, I will aid you in its pronunciation: Lan-dree."

“Who the fuck is this guy?" The neighbor took a step towards Valen, sizing him up. “You finally got yourself a boyfriend, Lan-dree?" He took a drag of his cigarette, blowing the dirty plume into Valen's face. “Into older dudes, huh?"

“Come on, Valen." Landry cracked his door open. “Let's just get inside."

“Now, now. I just met this guy. Would be rude not to properly introduce him." He gripped Valen by the shoulder, giving him a firm jostle. “Valen, right?"

“Pleasure to meet you."

“Ah, yes! 'Pleasure to meet you.' People still say that shit?" He gulped down more beer. “No one ever means that. The things in life that give pleasure—actual fucking pleasure—no need to point that shit out."

“What gives you pleasure, then?" Valen asked.

“This shit," he said, gesturing at the merchandise in both hands. “A smoke, a can of Bud. Hell, even the neighbor before Laundry over here moved in."

“Landry," Landry corrected.

“Had a nice rack, booty was thick. Nothing that Laundry here would appreciate."

“Landry," Landry repeated.

“She was definitely something you'd say that stupid phrase to." He chuckled. “Sure as hell pleasured me every night." He jerked off an invisible hard-on before laughing between a drag of his cigarette.

“Too bad her tastes in men didn't include pervs wearing sweat-stained wifebeaters a couple months shy of their annual wash. Tell me, does your reading level allow you to pick out your favorite smokes at the gas station, or do you settle for pointing at everything you need?"

“Oh, Laundry," his neighbor grinned, teeth yellowed from that longtime habit. “You learn these insults from your books?" He turned to Valen. “So, let me guess, barely legals like him get you off?"

“The young master's generosity and patience offers me great pleasure, yes."

His neighbor nearly spat out his beer. “Master? Never took you for the BDSM type, Laundry! Guess you shouldn't judge a book by its cover!"

“Exactly," Valen said. Landry watched as Valen's tail snuck up, batting the cigarette out of the drunkard's hand, drawing a gasp as the man drew his stunned look to where the cigarette flew. Valen leaned in, drawing his neighbor's gaze.

“What the fuck?"

Valen smiled, Landry's neighbor stumbling back, dropping his beer, which lobbed its golden liquid onto the cement flooring. Landry's neighbor stumbled inside and slammed the door, the deadbolt locking tight.

“What did you do?" Landry asked.

“Lifted the veil of the glamour spell momentarily. You must have the patience of the great saints of the past to withstand such an incessant disrespect of your name."

“You could probably learn a thing or two yourself," Landry said with a laugh, swinging his apartment door open and gesturing for the demon to follow. “You really need to stop referring to me as your master. It's drawing all sorts of unwanted attention. Besides, I'm practically a kid!"

As usual, the demon offered a thousand apologies as he strode into Landry's home, glancing around. He drew in a deep breath, commenting on how the apartment had Landry's smell. As Landry finally locked the door, the immensity of his hunger finally hit him. He hadn't had much to eat all day, having missed breakfast. The blood orange at work: his only form of sustenance. He wondered if demons needed to eat, although the thought of the two-toned demon's ritual consumption of a wolf pup not only provided the answer, it nearly cost him his appetite. Wouldn't hurt to double-check, though.

“You hungry?" Landry asked. “Do demons eat?"

“My presence here unfortunately requires that I follow some of the same biological…restrictions as humans."

“I'll take that as a yes."

As his so-called master, Landry guessed it was his responsibility to feed the demon. Landry flew the door to his fridge open. Not much inside: a half-drained bottle of OJ, various condiments, a brick of cheese that needed eating before it sprouted new wildlife. The freezer had a couple frozen chicken pot pies he never cooked. When did he even buy this thing? Never bothered to heat them up. But he had a guest today—a good a time as any for some pot pies. The frozen bricks clunked on the counter before Landry cranked up the oven. Definitely need something in the meantime, Landry thought, glancing at the table's centerpiece.

Valen wandered to the collection of books by the window, cocking his head to read the titles. Most of the books, although used, bore few creases, blemishes, and stains (Landry liked his books in good working order). While Landry borrowed many from the store, he often used his modest employee discount to purchase books he particularly liked or thought seemed interesting. Valen snuck out a mass market paperback, flipping to the first page. Landry caught a glimpse of the cover, a t-rex caught in the gaping jaws of some giant prehistoric shark. But the book took place near the present, some marine biologist discovering a deep-sea white-glowing megalodon, which surfaced to terrorize surfers and some cheating news-reporter wife. Landry gulped, wondering if he was swimming across some ocean where he didn't belong, a benthic monster racing to the surface to swallow him whole. Landry glanced at the demon, who just flipped to the next page, his tail, which usually whipped about playfully, now a limp appendage as he stood, deep in concentration; soon the sound of turned pages perforated the quiet of the apartment that was—he'd soon realize—no longer just Landry's.

Justlandry.

The thought made him smile.

* * *

The demon fanned at his open mouth as he blew on the scalding scoop of pot pie he'd shoved inside. “Hot, hot, hot." He gulped it down with a sigh.

“Careful, there. These are fresh from the oven." Landry took a bite of his pie after a couple precautionary blows, his mouth bursting with the savory flavors of chicken, carrots, peas, and a buttery crust. Not bad for a frozen dish. Shame they take an hour to prepare. “Didn't you live in a place full of fire and brimstone? Should be used to the heat."

“A stereotype, young master, but I shouldn't say more." He blew on the second spoonful, mimicking Landry. His face lit up as he savored the bite without the sting of heat. Valen's tail whipped the wall with a loud smack. “This is delightful! What comprises this dish?" He shoved another steaming spoonful into his mouth, blowing at the heat with several frantic breaths.

Rattling off the main ingredients, Landry wondered inwardly how the demon felt about one specific ingredient. However, the demon only responded with a series of nods, insisting that they eat this again tomorrow. Landry busted out a laugh, drawing a quizzical look.

“Have I done something amusing?"

“Sorta," Landry said, although he didn't feel up to explaining it. Since graduation, not once had he contacted any of his high school acquaintances. That's all they were really—classmates he'd laugh with over a few memes or sit by at lunch chowing on pizza and slurping chocolate milk. Didn't know what revolved around their lives since the walk: college, some desk job, a new family. Perhaps a couple lay buried in the cemetery south of town. Michelle had been up in his apartment a few times before, sure, but usually for a quick exchange of books. And now here he sat, enjoying a pot pie with a demon no less, already making plans for future pot pie days as if they were a—

Another laugh came. Such is life. All he wanted was his own place, so he could read and ponder the meaning of life without the distractions of small talk and day-by-day drudgery. Now a demon had fallen into his lap….

When the two finally reduced the pies to a few crumbs and streaks of sauce, Landry collected the palm-sized aluminum pie pans to be washed then recycled back at the store later. The demon offered to help clean, to “be of service," but there was little to clean, so Landry sent him off to read. Landry would soon finish the night as Valen's personal reflection, taking a seat next to him on the bed with his own book, although the occurrences of the day kept spinning through his mind. He survived two neighbors, two dogs, the jogger, and customers, but sooner or later his boss would come into the picture…his folks—and maybe even worse than that. He felt drained from the few encounters of day one. Could he manage day two, day seven, day thirty—a whole year? Longer? It can't be all fun and games and pot pies. Sooner or later things would get serious. He'd have to deal with more than attention, but everyday scrutiny and constantly hiding the fact that Valen was a demon. Perhaps it was best to dismiss him after all, send him back to whatever dimension he came from, and just treat this day as some strange, fucked-up dream.

The demon looked up from his book, giving Landry a flash of yellow, as if he tasted what he'd been thinking. Landry had forgotten about that ability, tossing Valen a smile like a smokescreen. Perhaps it worked as the demon smiled back, returning to the book on megalodons as Landry attempted doing the same, forcing his thoughts to stay focused on the words he read and read but failed to understand.

* * *

“When you first saw me today, did you think of me as evil?" Valen closed his book, setting it down on the bed. The question had jarred him from his own novel. He closed the book in his hand, a thumb acting as a temporary bookmark.

“Do you demons have feelings?"

“You mean, do we manage the same human emotions of happiness, melancholy, fear, reproach…lust?" Landry nodded. “Most of us, yes."

“Then I'd feel bad giving you an honest answer," Landry said, recalling the flash of Valen's yellow eyes earlier. “But, then again, couldn't you just taste my thoughts?"

“Yes, but sometimes it is more interesting to see how one answers, to hear the sounds of the river before crossing it."

“Well, evil wasn't the first thing that popped up," Landry offered. “Initially, I thought this was all a big prank. But I've known you only since lunchtime. What assures me everything you said today is true? That you won't slit my throat in my sleep? I don't have the ability to taste thoughts like you do."

“But an opposing thought has occupied your mind, the reason you summoned me."

“You didn't require that I kill a helpless animal. All the other demons demanded it. Why don't you?"

“I find unnecessary killing distasteful. Both animals and humans." Landry caught his breath as Valen, without warning, placed a clawed hand on Landry's chest, pushing him onto his back. Landry's body went stiff. “There are other things that are certainly more pleasurable." Valen brought his face closer until Landry could taste his breath. “You agree, no?"

Landry shot up, battering through Valen's touch. “What are you doing?"

“Forgiveness, young master. I did not intend any discomfort."

Landry managed to shirk the whole thing off, telling the demon it was okay, although he wasn't sure what to make of that touch. He decided to get away for a sec and brush his teeth. Perhaps the taste of peppermint and the burn of mouthwash would calm him. But what did the demon intend by 'other things' exactly? He couldn't possibly mean…

But the final hours of evening commenced without incident, night smudging its black fingerprints all over the windows. The demon made small talk as if the awkwardness of his touch had never occurred. Landry wondered if demons needed to sleep, although he supposed they did, manifesting 'the same biological restrictions as humans.' Valen offered to join Landry in his bed after witnessing a giant yawn snap at a chunk of air. Landry countered that idea. Would be weird. The demon offered to sleep on the floor next to him instead, which Landry conceded was a fair compromise, offering one of his pillows and a spare blanket.

“Not necessary," Valen said, reclining onto the carpeted floor as Landry flipped off the main lights, the orange glow of a bedside salt lamp illuminating the room. Normally he'd turn off the lamp, but the fear of getting offed in his sleep finally took hold as he lay there, his heart thumping its Morse code of caution. A tap on his arm sent a surge through him, eyes locking onto those dark claws. Were they sharp enough to cut flesh? “Calm yourself, young master."

The demon kept tapping his arm, a slow, metronomic gesture. Each tap seemed to draw the blinds over Landry's eyes, lids sliding further shut with each tap, with each tap, with each…

* * *

A deep and penetrating sense of pleasure surged through Landry's body. At first, his eyes attempted to fathom the atmospheric depth of a grand library, ornate cherry and walnut bookshelves looming like statues as he trekked across some cobblestone flooring, glancing at the immaculate leather-bound tomes brimming the shelves. Despite the forbidding appearance of the room, a warmth bloomed inside him that bespoke of longtime comfort. At the end of the hall, a shattering of light scattered along the entryway, a stray shard escaping, sweeping through the air, a monochromatic butterfly, to land on his palm. It penetrated but didn't hurt, leaving behind a hearth of warmth as the light soaked inside him. The light pulsed gently, coursing up his arm like new blood, soon joining his heart and its splayed collection of veins and arteries. He locked the door behind him, joining the crowd balancing themselves on a theater stage. However, the stage overflowed with people who said nothing, made not a sound, a few falling off to the audience seats below. The light in his chest pulsed, surging through his arms and legs. He lifted an arm—the arm the light first penetrated. Another hand took hold, fitting into the curve of his hand so perfectly, like a glove they say, coaxing him backstage through the crowd. The light slipped from his heart as soon as he freed himself from all the people. But they all left. Nothing but an empty stage. Not true. Not entirely. In the distance, a person remained, seated below in the direct center, a buoy in a sea of seats. He held two of his own lights, both an incandescent yellow. His own light inside sunk further south deep into him, surging with a penetrating sense of satisfaction, a yearning fed.

He let out a gasp.

Landry found his legs draping off the bed, feet caressing the floor. Something warm wrapped around a leg. Landry's dick was hard as it was most mornings, but something made his back arch and his toes curl. A moan escaped Landry's mouth as his hands sunk south to the head bobbing along his crotch. The edge of sleep still stung his eyes shut, but he scrunched them even tighter. Somehow his hands curled around two hard, ridged protuberances. Landry pushed his hips up, inviting himself into something warm, wet, and welcoming. Some words murmured their way out: “God, that feels good." A muffled moan penetrated the quiet of the room. At first Landry thought the moan was his, but he blinked sleep from his eyes. Peering down, he realized he'd been clutching Valen's horns, the demon's face stuffed between the crevice of his unzipped pants. Soft sucking noises and the pleasure of Valen's tongue sent a thrill up his spine. The demon moaned again. Landry tossed his head back, letting out another pleasurable moan to match the demon's.

“Oh, keep going," he whispered, sliding a hand through the demon's black hair. Valen tightened his tail's grip on Landry's leg as he forced himself down Landry's aching hardness. Valen slipped his hands over Landry's thighs, his claws trailing lightly on the bare skin of Landry's midriff as the demon worked his way up from inside Landry's shirt. The tip of his dick rubbing against the back of the demon's throat sent a charge of pleasure that invited a throb. Landry caught himself breathing hard—now he knew why it was so hard for his neighbors to keep quiet when they banged. One of his hands clutched a horn, the other Valen's hair, warning the demon of his impending climax. The demon pulled his mouth back, keeping his lips wrapped around the thick glans at the tip, sucking playfully.

Landry tried to pull the demon in close, trying to stuff the entirety of his dick down Valen's throat, the instinct of wanting to cum deep inside taking over. Landry's hips thrust forward as he let out a lustful groan, muscles tensing. But then something stung the back of his mind. What was he doing? His body was tipping at the point of no return, his dick hard, ready to spurt. But this wasn't right.

“Stop, stop, stop," Landry said, pulling himself up, his dick flopping in the air wet with saliva, free from the demon's mouth. The demon looked up at him from his position at the side of the bed, his yellow feline eyes blinking at him.

“The young master grew hard with want as he slept."

“Yeah, it's called morning wood," Landry exclaimed, pulling his briefs over his softening dick. He slid off the bed, pulling his pants up.

“The young master is upset?"

“I…I just don't know how I feel about this." But what worried him was that he knew exactly how he felt about waking up with his dick being sucked. But like this, with some otherworldly being he'd known for less than a day? “I need some time to think, Valen. Just…hang around here 'til I get back."

“As you wish."

“Stop that formality talk! Just make yourself comfortable. Read a book. Eat something. Just promise me one thing."

“Anything!"

“Behave."

Valen answered back with that equivocal smile of his as Landry tapped on his shoes without bothering to undo both ties first. Locking the door behind him, Landry let out a deep, cathartic breath while birds bombarded the air with their songs. The morning glow cast long, cold shadows across the grass as Landry trampled towards the path that led to his work and beyond. A shiver came. Normally he wasn't out this early (even Jaxton wasn't out yet for his routine pouncing), but he decided against making an awkward return to the apartment for a jacket. He settled for jamming his hands into his pockets for warmth—both physically, and, he must admit, psychologically.

I can't believe what just happened, Landry thought. I've never been with any—

A jogger in a pair of white-striped capri pants overtook him, acting as a startling wake-up call. He let out a sigh and walked the rest of the distance to his work, his mind in an awkward silence as he distracted himself by memorizing each maple tree and the outline of the eastern mountain from what bits he could see over the buildings.

Landry eventually stopped a few yards from the backdoor of the bookstore. A couple hours early to consider starting his shift. His eyes followed the path forward as it curved and disappeared behind a row of maple trees. Where would he go if he kept walking? Plus, he'd been holding the urge to urinate for half his walk, having bypassed that morning ritual due to his quick exit.

He unlocked the door and made his way to the single-occupancy restroom just a few steps in. Emptying his bladder, Landry lolled his head back, eyes closed. Probably shouldn't have left his house like that. What would Valen do all day while he worked? What if he stepped out to make awkward conversation with the neighbors? He'd said Landry could just 'tether' him to his place of inhabitance, but what did that entail exactly? Could he leave the apartment if he stayed in the complex? What if the police got called on him? So many unknown variables to consider!

Landry let out an exasperated growl, giving his dick that post-drip jiggle. He stopped, lifting the heft of his dick in a cupped hand. He was cut, but damn it looked like he had a little foreskin action going on—the demon must've been sucking him off hard as he slept, stretching his skin. A hand dropped down to cup his balls, which were hanging nice and loose. They appeared bigger—not swollen or anything that would require an embarrassing trip to the doctor's office, but they felt plump. Blue balls, right? Valen didn't get him to cum from that surprise blowjob, and Landry still wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing. He had to admit, having his dick inside someone's mouth felt great…but a demon's? And for his first time, no less? He never got the benefit of trying out a regular guy first.

A sigh escaped as Landry flushed the toilet and zipped up. He took a moment to give his face a quick wash at the sink, his reflection revealing a bad case of bed-hair. He wore the same clothes from yesterday too—a bit grody, he knew. Still time to head back home, grab a quick breakfast, shower, then head back for his shift. Probably a good idea. He wasn't sure what to say to the demon, though—or what Valen would say to him. Landry questioned his readiness for that conversation.

As the door flung open, Landry nearly jumped from his skin. Walda screamed, her hand snapping back from the restroom doorknob.

“Oh, Landry," she breathed, clutching at the heart of her flower-print blouse, “you're going to be the death of me!"

“A thousand apologies!" Landry offered before inwardly cursing the demon. “I mean, sorry."

“What are you doing in so early? I found that backdoor open and thought you'd forgotten to lock up again."

“That only happened once the very first time I closed on my own!"

Walda's brow furrowed. “So, then what, pray tell, are you doing here? Your shift's not for another couple hours."

Fishing through the bucket of excuses in his mind, he said, “Well, I felt bad about your hurt back and all, so I came in early to get some extra work done in the place. All the orphaned books have been organized."

“Oh?" Walda said, her face brightening. They strode across the aisles, Walda's eyes glancing to the ends of each bookcase where piles of books used to be, now all stowed away in their proper places on the shelves. “Landry, this would have taken ages to do. All in order, too?"

“Yep!"

“And you did this all on your own?"

The thought of lying and taking all the credit didn't seem right, although he was sure the demon wouldn't mind. He decided on a safe response. “A bit slower than expected yesterday."

“Oh, you spoil me," she beamed. She dug into the floral handbag that matched her blouse for a crisp twenty. “Here, go next door and buy us coffee—you know what I like. You must be exhausted, so make sure you get a good dose of caffeine yourself. Get me a scone, too? One with blueberries. I just need to get caught up on my editing. I'll be in my office."

The aroma of fresh-brewed roasts flooded his senses after Landry made his way to the locally-owned coffee shop just a couple businesses over in the same lot. Donuts frosted in assorted colors, pastries brimming with jellies and custards, and other tempting bakery items filled the display case. Two well-dressed men stood in line before him, probably stopping by for the routine morning joe before hitting the office. A couple employees donning nutmeg-brown aprons worked quickly behind the counter, steaming some espresso, bagging a maple bar, swiping credit cards.

As his turn came, the cute boy around Landry's age smiled up at him. Landry didn't typically stop for coffee, but he'd seen him a few times before. The nametag he wore said Try. “Hey, good morning neighbor."

“Uh, hi," Landry offered. Apparently Try recognized him. Must've stopped by the bookstore some time ago, or perhaps he was more observant of the other business lot employees. Landry ordered a medium cup of a light roast and a blueberry scone for the boss, and a small pumpkin-spice latte (tis the season) and a slice of lemon pound cake for himself. After Landry paid, Try turned around to prepare the order, offering a view of his well-rounded backside uncovered by the apron, his tight jeans doing that rump some justice. Landry imagined hopping the counter, slipping those pants down, and shoving his tongue up that ass.

Landry spun around. “Holy shit," he muttered. What the hell was he just thinking? A tent formed in his pants, the mental image sending its sparks of arousal. The pleasure of his erection forcing itself against the fabric of his briefs only made him all the more hard. Landry bit at his lower lip, wishing away his excitement. Perhaps he should have let the demon finish him off this morning after all. How was he supposed to deal with this lingering horniness?

Try called for him. “Order's ready."

Scalding coffee nearly sloshed out as Landy grabbed both cups and the bags of baked goods before hurrying for the exit, a customer on the verge of entering doubling back to open the door for him. Landry kept his head low, walking slowly as his erection raged in his pants, the movement of fabric as he walked nearly sending him over the edge….

He leaned against the wall of his store, catching his breath. He glanced back down at the hard-on that wouldn't go away. Impressive, but seriously awful timing. How was he supposed to get Walda's coffee and scone without her noticing his…predicament? He stood there for a moment, focusing on the feeling of both cups of coffee in his hands, their warmth radiating through. He picked up the spicy scents of pumpkin flavoring. He listened to cars zipping past, one vehicle rumbling by with some deep hip hop bass line, the volume threatening to wake anyone still in bed. Glancing down again, he nodded. Softened to a half-chub only, but it'll have to do. He shouldered into the store for Walda's office after first dropping off his latte on the front counter next to the demon tome Landry had nearly forgotten about.

“Thanks," his boss said, not bothering to look up from her computer as Landry sat her coffee and scone down on the paper-cluttered desk. Probably busy perusing through a novel's fourth or fifth draft. He turned to leave, but then: “Landry, what's that?"

Landry froze. Damn, was half an erection still so noticeable? He resisted the turn of shame, embarrassment scalding his face as if he'd dumped Walda's coffee over himself. “What's what?" he managed, his back still facing her.

“In the bag. What did you get?"

“Oh," he said, regarding the contents clutched in his hand. Nearly forgot about that. “Just a slice of lemon pound cake. Been a while."

“Lemon? That is the worst flavor for any cake to have. Don't tell me you're one of those who thinks pineapple is a valid pizza topping too? Get outta my sight!" Walda laughed, prompting Landry's safe exit from her office, the door shutting behind him with a relieving click.

Definitely no time to head back home now, so he resigned himself to rereading Valen's passage in the demon tome—in case he had overlooked important details. Meanwhile, he sipped on his latte—sweet, frothy, with a warm pumpkin spice flavor he knew he'd enjoy—and nibbled on the pound cake. Moist with a delicate aroma of lemon. The tome uncovered nothing new about the demon who kept referring to Landry as his young master. He shut the book only to look up with a start as Walda stood a shelf's width away.

“Get a price on that yet?" she asked.

Landry swallowed a clump of pound cake he'd only half-chewed. “No barcode, no ISBN, no copyright information…not even a title. I don't know if there are any more books like this in circulation. May be worth the price of an author-signed copy of The Bible, or as much as one of the dozens of Twilight books we have stashed in the corner."

“Anything people may be interested in buying?" Walda asked, sneaking over for a closer look at the tome. “What's it about?"

Landry wasn't sure how to answer, but Walda, without pause, flipped through the pages, taking note of the violent illustrations found therein. “I can't read any of this. Some runic language?"

But the words still appeared in English to Landry. Caught a look at Mamumuno's pages and the brutal illustration for his summoning: the severed head of a black stallion.

“Landry," Walda said, her voice etched with disbelief at what she was seeing, “this may be too inappropriate for us to carry. You were borrowing this?"

“No, no," Landry replied, although a bit too quickly, as his boss bore a look of suspicion. “It's still at home, the book I have. Should have this book appraised. Could be worth something."

“Could be. Or could be a waste of time and money—too many unlucrative appraisals in my day, Landry." She flipped through the pages. “You had your coffee on this?"

“No?"

“Feels warm."

Landry couldn't come up with any legible response to that, so he offered the safest answer possible: silence. Flipping to the end of the book, she noticed the torn-out page of Valen's section. “Not even all in one piece," she said. “Probably some personal project by the old owner. Unfortunately, aside from his estate, he held no clout whatsoever in the community, both local and global. This thing would probably go for ten bucks at most." She snagged a pencil, etching the price on the first-page corner as with all the books here. She handed the book to Landry. “You know where to put this. Make sure you're clocked in. Might as well open the store now since you're here."

“Okay, once I put this away I'll open up."

Walda slipped back into her office. Alone with his privacy again, Landry flipped back to the first page where Walda had marked the sale price of ten dollars. Would someone want this? Purchasing this thing would be the simplest solution to prevent such an occurrence…but he was broke right now, hanging in there until the next paycheck. He should probably just hide the book at the counter and bring it home after his shift, borrowing it for later safekeeping, but the boss might see it and mess with it some more. The thought of her flipping through the book again made Landry nervous. What if she saw the change in language as he did? Started wondering about the book's odd warmth? He'd hide it somewhere else for now and take it with him as soon as a free moment shouted carpe diem! But, just to be safe, he needed to make sure no one would be willing to donate a couple appendages for this thing. He added three more zeroes after the ten: $10,000. Seeing the zeroes, an uneasy feeling swelled up deep in his stomach as if he were inflating a bowling ball inside.

Securing the key to the adult section, he flew up the creaky set of stairs, lights flickering to life, after he managed to free open the door—always jammed up, like a secondary lock system against those that didn't know the specific angle to move the door knob. During the summers, the attic space typically smelled of hot wood: no real ventilation up there. Thanks to a moderate autumn, the place only gave off that musty, dusty smell when a place never got fresh air. Landry wasn't sure this was the best environment for books although having a secret stash of masturbatory material was better than nothing.

Only two sets of bookshelves inhabited the small attic space. He snuck to the back shelf, embedding the tome into the bottom-most corner where no one was sure to look. Even if by happenstance someone were to spot the book, the new price tag should scare off any potential buyers. The age restriction reduced the likelihood that someone would buy this that much more.

The uneasy feeling returned, forcing Landry to grasp a shelf as it overcame him. But it wasn't guilt or worry for which he mistook the feeling earlier. It was something more physiological, a strange tingling sensation now, concentrated in the bottom of his stomach, near his crotch. It was…a lust, a yearning. He thought he got over these feelings during puberty, although granted he was still nineteen. Young, dumb, and horny as fuck. Landry glanced down the stairs to make sure the boss wasn't peeking in.

Second bookshelf back.

Third section down.

Fourth shelf from the top.

Fifth book from the right.

The book was not in order, but it was easier to memorize this 2-3-4-5 pattern instead of hunting for the book in its correct spot. Walda had never noticed. She was rarely up here anyway.

The book's front cover touted a bank of instructions for over 50 sex positions that would benefit both new and experienced lovers alike—detailed illustrations included. Landry was there for the illustrations, not the instructions. He wondered how the artist managed to draw so many positions without going mad with desire. The men were always lean but pleasantly muscled and sported an extra-long boner to match. Of course, Landry always told himself he was here for the ladies, who were drawn pleasantly enough, he admitted, but he found himself roving over all the males and the various positions they took with their female partners. One illustration he liked entailed a bird's-eye shot of the man about to penetrate his partner who was down on all fours in the Basset Hound position, legs tucked tight between the man's. But it was the clear illustration of that dick just before coitus that got him riled up. “It's huge," Landry whispered. He slammed the book shut, realizing what he was admitting as his crotch tingled to life, an erection pressing uncomfortably against his pants. Should tug a quick one out in the restroom. Landry slid the book into its spot before exiting: lights off, lock secure.

No Walda around, so Landry slipped back into the single-occupant restroom and pulled down his pants. His heart nearly stopped.

The extra foreskin-looking excess from earlier had only gotten worse, fully enveloping the meat of his malehood. Peering closer, a sandy-blonde fuzz seemed to be growing all around his dick. He pulled this 'foreskin' back, revealing a deeply pink protuberance, the ridge that separated the glans from the shaft almost flush with the rest of his dick, almost indistinct. A surge bore through him. What was happening? His dick…it was slowly transforming into something else entirely. Landry's eyes shot back and forth. What was the game plan? An embarrassing trip to the hospital? This was no disease he'd ever known. He gave himself a firm tug, feeling the extra skin glide across his newfound malehood.

“Oh my god," Landry moaned. This single stroke felt so good, coaxing a strong erection. He continued stroking, beating himself off nice and quick as wave after wave of pleasure bore through him. His balls jangled back and forth. Still plump and hanging nice and loose from earlier. Landry glanced at the reflection for a better look. No—perhaps bigger than it was before. Palm-filling nuts. Landry's knees buckled from how good this all felt, and he caught himself on the sink with the free hand. But after several more strokes, he stopped, his working hand bumping into a spherical mass that seemed to be growing from the base of his dick. Landry half-expected to become freaked out, but he remembered Jaxton's sheath swelling up like this during a blissful belly-rub session he had offered. For once, Jaxton was being a good boy and hadn't knocked him over.

Looking at it again, the excess skin looked more like a canine sheath. Before the knot could balloon to its full size, Landry pulled the skin back and around that mass, watching the sheath strain. Successfully pulling past that knot, he allowed the skin to pool again behind the growing bulb. “What the hell is happening to me?" His dick had become flushed with deeper reds, especially around the tip. “I'm not…I'm not me anymore." He stood there momentarily, dumbfounded, feeling a mix of worry and arousal.

The door jarred back and forth, someone trying to enter. “Hurry up, Landry. I've been standing here for a few minutes. The coffee wants out already!" For a few minutes? Did she hear him beating off? Regardless, how was he supposed to stuff himself back into his pants with a dick like this?

“Just a second," Landry called. “Almost done." He tried focusing on unsexual thoughts. Mostly books. Having to ring up customers. Eating a blood orange. His boss. He peered down again. Still hard. Dammit. Landry pulled his pants up from his feet, then angled his changing dick down a leg before pulling his pants up around everything. He hissed as the fabric rubbed against the sensitive flesh, but he managed to zip up. His dick bulged down his leg, but he planned on darting for the counter before the boss could witness anything. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands before stepping out the door.

“Sorry, boss," Landry said, keeping his eyes low.

She gave him a quick look over with a small laugh before locking the door behind her. Landry walked with a stiff leg towards the front counter, before resting a hand there. Perhaps he should just tell the boss he was feeling sick—the milk in the latte was bad or something. Probably wouldn't go well, not the day after a book release when sales were up. Plus, she had catching up to do with the editing business. Landry settled for an extended lunch request during the midday lull in sales. He could use that time to get some answers from Valen and figure out what was wrong with him.

Wait…wrong? Landry wondered.

The sound of both the toilet flushing and the sink running warned that the boss was afoot. Landry hid the lower half of his body behind the counter, ruffling through his historical novel to the current page and pretending to read.

Walda strolled out, looking content. “Sorry, Landry. Didn't mean to usurp your throne there. Ladies don't have it any better than men when it comes to resisting nature's call."

“It's no problem, really."

“Did you clock in and get the store opened?"

“Oh, sorry," Landry offered, feigning sheepishness. He could feel his erection slowly reversing as they spoke. “Forgot."

“Might as well get paid while you're here."

“Yes, ma'am."

A glare. “Stop that."

Returning to her office, the door clicked its code that told Landry it was safe again. Landry let out a sigh. He was relieved to feel his arousal die down. He clocked himself in on the computer before preparing the store for the customers of the day. For the third day in a row he could not focus on the novel. Sensations of growth, change, and arousal brewed inside him. He had to concentrate whenever a boner popped up for another visit. A couple customers walked in early, before their usual opening time, making it worth having Landry clock in early after all. Just two middle schoolers walking to school; one of them wanted to stop by for the new book and was ecstatic to see the store open so early.

However, their leaving seemed to prompt a wave of customers to come by, one or two at a time. Some for the new book, some just browsing, such as one man with dark clothes and an even darker countenance who seemed to give the store a once-over before leaving. Even a few stopped in from the coffee shop next door, drinks in hand, diffusing a rich aroma through the store that brought some comfort to Landry. However, during one of his erection spells, a middle-aged man with a thick, veiny neck and a beer gut dumped a large stack of books onto the counter. As he totaled up the prices and recorded the titles for each book, Landry grasped at the counter, biting his lower lip to seal away an oncoming moan. An erection poked pleasurably at his pants, telling Landry he needed to either beat off or to slip into something warm, tight, and moist. Ejaculate everything he had. The man cocked an eyebrow. Landry offered an apology, blaming a sudden muscle cramp.

“Please let this day end," Landry groaned when he caught a break between customers. As if answering his call, Walda arrived to check on business, to see if he needed a break, offering him a cold bottle of water from her office mini-fridge. “Can I take an hour lunch today instead? Want to head home for a good meal. I need it."

“Oh, please do, then. You were here so early. I'll relieve you in an hour when it gets slow."

That hour crawled.

The store was plenty busy during that time frame, yes, but the pesky erection in Landry's pants wouldn't behave. He handled a middle-aged woman buying a few romance novels, hunky guys with long hair and perfect abs adorning their covers. Landry ignored the covers as best he could, although a throb from down below betrayed his observations. But then came the real McCoy, a handsome man in his twenties asking if the store carried a few specific horror novels he needed for affordable Halloween presents. At first, Landry gave the directions to the horror section, but the man returned, saying he couldn't find the books, forcing Landry out of the censorship of the counter to help. As he followed him back, Landry's eyes wandered to the man's firm behind. Man, the things he would do to just grope that butt. Perhaps he'd ask the man how he felt about a quickie in the rest—

“I looked all over these shelves and couldn't find anything," the man said, snapping Landry out of his stupor. Landry pointed around the corner to the next set of shelves of horror books. The man laughed with an apology, glancing at the overlooked shelves, yanking books out that he needed. Landry watched as the man reached for the top shelf, extending a strong forearm and revealing a taut belly. The man looked down at the employee watching him; a quick shift of his eyes told Landry the man noticed his arousal, that Landry liked what he saw. Landry excused himself, dashing for the restroom.

“Fuck, I need to cum," Landry told the mirror, unzipping his pants and letting everything fall to the floor. He couldn't explain why he was so horny. What did the demon do to him? Did he cast some strange spell as he slept? Perhaps Valen's saliva had some sort of dick-changing, aphrodisiac property. He glimpsed down. Landry was ready for it, for the big reveal. The dick he had grown to love as soon as he hit fourteen years of age: no more. Replacing it? A furry sheath pulled back to reveal a veiny, red canine dick with a bulging knot to match. His cockhead had disappeared; instead, his dick ended with a pointed tip. His balls seemed enormous, covered in a thin coat of…fur?

It didn't matter right now. He clutched that meaty dick, beating off. He just needed to blow his load, get all that horniness out of his system. His thoughts darted back and forth to everything that had turned him on. The customer he'd just been helping, the sexy romance-novel covers, his secret 2-3-4-5 book in the attic room and its illustrations of handsome, hung men. God, he wanted to fuck someone, wanted a guy to fuck him. He beat off harder, clutching the sink for leverage.

A knock rattled his concentration. Fuck!

“Landry, you okay? A customer here said you just took off."

“Oh, uh. Yeah, sorry. Not feeling so well." Still had his hard dick in hand. “I think the coffee shop used bad milk for the latte or something."

“Oh, dear…you wanna just go home for the day? I can take care of everything."

Yes, he wanted to go home for the day, but he needed to come back for the demon tome. He couldn't grab it now, not when he'd just lied about a sickness. “No, I'll just go home and slurp down some of that tasty pink goop. That always seems to help." Walda acknowledged what he said, telling him to call her if he changed his mind, too sick to finish his shift. However, once he got home, he'd demand answers from the demon instead—and jack off until all this built up tension was released. Aside from having a dog cock, he'd be back to normal. He hoped.

After stuffing himself back into his pants, he slipped outside and hurried home. The sound of Landry's feet pounding against pavement interrupted the noontime lull. A jolt of pleasure tore through his body, sending it clutching and gasping at a maple tree. Landry felt he no longer had control. His body run amok with horniness and lust—a sexual aggression Landry had never known. He stood there and beat off his dick over his pants, panting heavily, until his briefs splattered with warmth and wetness. Landry let out a huge sigh, although he was still hard as fuck. Stumbling forward, his dick (or whatever it had become) threatened to puncture a new hole through his pants, the swollen mass wet and sticky with cum. He thought he would find relief jerking off out in the open like that, but the feeling of ejaculate and wetness seemed to only make him harder, hornier.

Thankfully, Jaxton was nowhere around as he arrived within earshot of home. As Landry approached his stairs, he swatted away the same obstacles from yesterday and the day before with a foot. Cigarette smoke drifting from above warned Landry that his favorite neighbor was about. He flew up the stairs anyway, his neighbor leaning over the edge, taking a casual drag as he peered out to the parking lot below. Landry fumbled with his keys to unlock the door, but his neighbor seemed to ignore Landry. Good dog, he thought.

Landry slammed the door shut just as fast as he'd opened it. The demon was up to no good—at least, nothing he wished to supply his neighbor for an awkward future conversation. “Ah, the young master is back," Valen said, his lean, muscular body relaxing in the comfort of Landry's bed. Legs splayed out, the demon had one hand wrapped along the extension of his dick just under a huge canine knot, his other hand stroking the thick, red shaft jutting out impressively. “Come join me! I have just commenced."

“Why are doing this on my bed of all places?" While the room wasn't stuffy thanks to the open windows, an under-scent of musk meant the demon had been at this for some time.

“The master doesn't seem to mind," Valen said, his yellow eyes gesturing south.

“What did you do to me? I'm…transforming…."

“How do you mean?" Valen didn't even bother to look up, his gaze affixed to Landry's crotch.

Landry hesitated, although the raging boner in his pants that Valen nearly salivated over offered little reason to be embarrassed at this point. The demon was here, stroking himself off without shame! Landry undid his pants, letting them fall to his feet. A fresh wet spot slowly grew from the summit that bulged from his briefs. Valen's grin grew wide; he licked his teeth. Jeez…the demon was salivating.

“More, young master."

What is this, a strip tease? Landry thought. The base of his red dick and the beginnings of a knot peeked into view as he strained against the fabric. What he saw in the restroom earlier was no illusion, no hallucination, nor a blip in his mental faculties. Landry carefully worked off his briefs, the veiny cock springing up as the fabric dropped to join the jeans pooled around his feet. Still, a light surface coat of fur surrounded his nuts, which hung heavy and loose.

“This is what I mean, Valen!" he gestured at the canine junk his dick and balls had transformed into. He was tempted to grab Valen by the horns to shove the never-ending erection down his throat, just so he understood his predicament. “I could be related to Jaxton for all I know now."

Valen used the hand jerking off his dog-cock to gesture with a finger, coaxing Landry to mosey on over. Worry slipped its mask over Landry's face, although brimming underneath its surface was another emotion entirely, one Landry wasn't sure he wanted to wear openly.

Landry stepped from the ring of briefs and jeans, taking a few cautious steps until he stood in front of the demon whose legs dangled off the side. His large, furry nuts pooled casually on Landry's bed, malehood pointing straight up at the ceiling, a fat knot the size of his fist bulging at the base. He pressed his free hand down on his cock, angling it towards Landry, the tip beading with a clear fluid. Landry licked his lips before his face grew pink; he nearly turned around to hide his embarrassment.

“No need for such modesty, young master," Valen said with a lustful grin. “You wish to touch me, yes?"

Yes, yes, I do, Landry thought, which pulled a wider grin from Valen. Damn—tasted my thoughts. But there was no sense in denying it. Landry's heart thudded in his chest, and that big piece of canine cock the demon sported—it sent a dizzy spell of desire through his mind, the thought sending that spark that all boys get to know down to his aching crotch. Valen's eyes widened approvingly as the knot of Landry's own canine member ballooned fully, betraying his arousal and his thoughts, no demon mind-tasting ability required.

Landry fell to his knees, replacing Valen's hand behind that huge knot with his own, allowing him full control. Landry's mind seemed to go blank as the walls of his apartment: no thinking, just action. Tasting the muskiness of his cock, Landry sunk his mouth in until Valen's dick forced out a gag.

Valen sucked in a breath. “Easy, young master."

Landry had difficulty controlling his excitement, but he managed to slow things down and savor the moment, enjoying the thrill of how his lips wrapped perfectly around the demon's malehood, his tongue playing with the protruding tip that leaked its strange but exotic-tasting fluid. Valen let out an encouraging moan, sending a clawed hand through the rough of Landry's hair. Landry fell into a rhythm as he beat himself off nice and quick, his dick pleasurably sensitive throughout its length. He pulled his mouth to the business end of the shaft, flitting a tongue over the tip.

“Like that, young master," Valen whispered, sucking in another breath through his teeth. “Keep going…" The demon's tail snaked up and down Landry's back encouragingly before hooking behind his head, pulling him in. Pulling him closer. Savoring the warm, moist mouth of his master.

Feelings of bemusement and a lascivious want spiraled in Landry's mind. Valen's openness, the way he dealt with his neighbor without breaking a sweat, how he always called him 'young master,' it stirred within Landry a continued lust for something…more. He stroked off that monstrous canine dick as he sucked, saliva dripping everywhere, eliciting hot moans and little growls of pleasure that warned the demon was getting close. Landry wanted more of the demon inside him, from the other end, but the wet sucking sounds and Valen's taste lured him to stay and finish. The demon dropped his body back onto the bed, no longer leaning up to watch, both of his clawed hands pulling Landry's head in, the pressure of his tail no longer enough. Valen's chest rose and fell. “M-master…" he panted. Valen's foot claws dug at the floor as he lurched his hips forward, surprising Landry and forcing out a soft gag. Valen's moans grew into lustful growls and the thought of the neighbors sitting on the receiving end of all the sex noises made Landry that much more excited. Let them hear. Right now, this demon's mine.

“L-Landry…" the demon growled, pulling his arms in to cover his face. Then, between clenched teeth, he growled his name again, clawed hands slamming down onto the bed to grip the smooth fabric as he thrust his hips forward. A succession of immense throbs flung hot streaks of demon seed in deep, his tail holding in Landry's head firmly, refusing to let go until he was fully spent. Landry's eyes blew wide at the sudden release of warmth and musk, the demon growling loudly, enraptured in the moment, his first release, Landry imagined, in the human world, into his first master. He gulped at the demon's seed coming in heavy streaks, Valen sneaking a hand back to Landry's head to make sure the deed was finished. Valen let out a deep groan, satisfied, before pulling free, releasing trails of fluid. Landry beat off faster, hurrying to the finish line, but ground to a halt when the demon's tail clutched his arm. “Slow yourself, young master. You should savor such pleasures."

Unraveling his tail, it wound its way down to Landry's cock, coiling once around it. A gentle tug encouraged Landry to his feet. “How are you enjoying your new toy?"

“Why…why did you do this to me?"

Valen cocked his head to the side, eyes wandering to the ceiling as he contemplated. He then said, “A thousand—I mean—sorry. You are my first human contact. I had no idea I had such power to—"

“Transform me into some pet?"

“Not my intention." Valen then grinned. “Unless the young master desires other appropriate… additions."

Glancing down at his canine genitalia and the tail coiled around it prompted a smile. He peered at Valen, crawling over him, feeling his smooth skin glide over the demon's warmth, over his firm body. The tail released, his erection plopping onto the demon's midriff, Landry straddling the demon, watching those yellow eyes looking back at him, soft and curious. Landry leaned his head in, until their foreheads almost touched, until he could taste their breaths intermingling and cavorting like lovers themselves. “What do you have in mind?"

A sudden spin nearly disoriented the boy who found himself pinned beneath the grinning demon, the bed against his back shedding a residual warmth. Valen leaned into an ear. “I have something in mind."

Landry soon found himself with his legs tucked back, his ass spread in the air as if performing some explicit yoga pose. The warmth of Valen's hands spreading him open made him whimper with longing, for the feeling of the demon against him, a mutual pleasuring despite the vulnerability of the position. Valen nodded, having tasted his thoughts, before driving his tongue into the tight hole. A noise Landry could not describe escaped his chest as one hand clawed at the bed. The pleasure of that warm, slick tongue burying itself inside him made one thing clear: he needed to get off to this. He was long as ever and very erect, and his free hand went through the motions again over this new landscape. It all ends the same way, whether it be a human cock or a canine one.

Valen's tongue grew more adventurous, exploring the crevices of Landry's backside while Landry beat himself off. One of the demon's hands groped at a cheek before sliding to the small of Landry's back, a finger slipping to the bump of his coccyx, massaging there for a bit, sending a thrill up his spine from having someone touch him somewhere so unusual, so private.

“Not quite an erogenous zone," Landry said, his laugh cut short by a moan. But a dull sort of pain formed at the bone—perhaps the demon was rubbing too hard, although Landry still felt good. The intimacy of the demon's touch coaxed the boy to offer access to any part of his body the demon desired—his master would allow this. The dull sensation grew into an ache, like the type he felt after lifting boxes of books up the stairs when he'd first moved in here, as the demon continued to massage that bone. Landry couldn't explain the sensation that occurred next—like a second erection elongating from behind, which seemed to only harden the first one he kept stroking impatiently.

A tongue slipped into his backside again, teasing his hole to the point that Landry could feel it stretching wide, an invitation for more—for something hard, big, and rigid. But the demon kept rimming that hole as his master squirmed and breathed—whispered his name. The feeling inside Landry was so strange, this sort of intimacy, of having someone so enthusiastic to pleasure his body. Landry felt safe to the point that the whip of his spade-tipped tail neither surprised nor frightened him when it snaked into view. The new tail almost seemed to act of its own accord, coiling gently over Valen's neck as he worked the young master's ass. Landry's breaths came hot and quick until his body jerked, splattering himself with streams of warmth in quick, rapid bursts. Circumscribing a hand behind the thick knot, Landry tugged, milking his new canine dick for everything it had. Landry nearly saw stars. He couldn't believe how good this felt, how hard he came onto his chest as he watched the demon's head rock back and forth between his legs. The feeling…it was how a good book made him feel, the hours turning pages nonstop concentrated in this moment, that rush of imagination and longing for the characters to overcome their obstacles boiling into that climactic moment of success; the feeling was that of discovery—the joys of masturbation for the first time, back when he was fifteen, the novelty, the new sensations so overwhelming and deep such as now; it was like taking the plunge to move out on his own, into the deep, penetrating darkness of the unknown and the excitement of a new future there, buried deep within its shell. Landry glanced down with a breath, stroking one of Valen's horns as he glanced up with a devilish smile. He admitted, the feeling was also like none of those things…not really. An approximation. Some benchmark of comparison to make sense of this moment, as his new tail lifted upward, the excitement failing to warn him of the beginnings of his corruption—unaware that this didn't stop here.

* * *

The walk back to work proved burdensome. After making quick work of the afterglow that followed their first sexual experience, which entailed an exchange of grins, a bewilderment of that new appendage Landry now kept stuffed down a pantleg, and the demon's protest as he left for the bookstore—much to Landry's surprise and, he admitted guiltily to himself, delight—Landry was left wondering how to keep his changes a secret. A curious glance from a neighbor at the urinals would invite unwanted intrigue, disgust, or worse—a conversation. Forget about wearing shorts during the sweltering summers here when the bookstore's inadequate air conditioning system evacuated the sweat from every sudoriferous gland. How would he hide this tail that he couldn't stop from nervously twitching along his leg like a snake jacked up on coffee?

Landry slipped through the backdoor cautiously, but as soon as it creaked like a warning cry, Walda called for him. As he crept to the front of the store, he eyed the back length of his leg to make sure the lump of his tail wasn't noticeable—not too bad. Just don't draw any attention to it.

Walda's eyes blew wide as a jack-o-lantern's sawed top, locking her gaze onto Landry, who felt exposed, as if she knew what he was now hiding. “Was about to call you. Did you mark that book for $10,000 instead of the hundred like I told you?"

Landry's heart seemed to have transported elsewhere for a few beats, leaving a quiet, motionless hole in his chest before returning to commence its blood-pulsing function. He could handle the trouble for disobeying his boss about the amount, but he suspected something bigger than that had happened.

“Yeah, I did," Landry said. “I admit, I was trying to prevent the book's sale until I got paid and could buy it myself. Thought it would be smart to hike up the price to ten thousand until then. No one would buy it for that much."

“No, Landry, you're wrong," Walda said, a smile creeping up on her face. “It happened just a few minutes ago—some guy who wore dark clothes and a face that wouldn't smile came in and asked about that book. He was very specific. Knew the details of it…the scary drawings. How it was cord-wrapped. Took ages to find it, all stuffed in a corner in the room upstairs. At first, I laughed aloud when I told him the price you put…but then he pulled out a wad of Benjamins and paid for it without another word. Look, Landry!" Walda flipped through a minty stack, the 100s waving at him enticingly…but there was something else that spun in his mind, dizzying his thoughts. A deep part of him had now gone missing—a part he should have guarded more carefully. How stupid of him! Why didn't he just hide the book better?

“Landry? Landry?" Walda said, forcing her employee to shake his head clear. She clutched half the bills in one hand, offering it to him. “It's only fair you get half. I would have only gotten a lousy ten if it wasn't for you. Should have listened and gotten that book appraised as you had suggested. Honestly, what would I do without you?"

Landry hurried and plastered a smile on his face, some quick patch job to prevent the boss from asking how the motor ran. Sure, a stack of hundred-dollar bills felt great. He could do things now. Pay a few bills. Hit downtown and watch more movies with Michelle—heck, even buy the ten-dollar bucket of popcorn and the five-dollar drink. Maybe take the train north to the capital to check out the sights, the ornate temples, the convention center and the events, the cons, the celebrations that occurred there. But he didn't know what the future held, sacrificing the book like that, replacing it with money that was as ephemeral as the autumn leaves that burned red outside, drifting a few at a time to the ground below. Come winter they would expose a bare tree—as bare as he felt right now as he wondered how on earth he would get that book back, his tail tightening around his leg, betraying his anxiety. Somehow, he had to get it back. Somehow, he had to try.