Fragments Fiction

RUNE WARRIOR

EMAIL EXCHANGE
To: Gary
How on earth did you get the museum to agree?
To: Andrew
Simple, I created a Bronze Age Warriors Exhibition and arranged overseas museum tour :-P
To: Gary
Heap big Mojo U got. Boomer says second book in 3 weeks, translating by hand. Incantations must be tattooed on warrior's body…
To: Andrew
Tattoos for Runic Warrior, when U here?
To: Gary
I don't get leave for eight months :-(
To: Andrew
Artifacts waited for 3000 years, so can U… Rings on your fingers and bells on my toes ;-)

#####

Eight months later, Andrew stepped out of a taxi in front of a warehouse owned by the local museum. He wore huge, black army boots and green camouflage.

"You're looking good." Gary stood next to a crate filling out shipping papers. Andrew laughed and lifted Gary in a bear hug

"Do you like the new me? It's forty pounds of solid muscle and I love it," Andrew explained.

"You carry it well. Where's Boomer?" Gary squeaked as he ran out of breath. Andrew let his feet touch the floor.

"He'll won't be here until tomorrow." Andrew's sexy voice rumbled through both their chests.

"Tomorrow?" Gary laughed.

"Some top secret shit, you know how it is," Andrew winked.

"You guys and your secrets, I'll bet that if you came across a secret about yourself that you'd kill yourself before you'd admit to yourself it was true," Gary chuckled. Andrew laughed heartily.

"That's cruel, bro. But you're so, so wrong. First I'd admit that it was true and then I'd kill you."

"Bite me bastard, bit me. I never thought I'd see the day that some ancient cipher beat Boomer."

"Good try, very good try. I just can't say anything about Boomer other than that he sent two consolation prizes," Andrew smiled.

"…consolation prizes? He recreated the Rosetta Stone? Found King Tut's tomb? What tell me, tell me?" Gary winked. Andrew opened a wooden and leather case. It contained an ancient knife with a bejeweled handle and runes inscribed on the blade.

"Wow, you found the ceremonial knife. I thought hooligans stole from the museum during the invasion and the knife was lost forever." Gary admired the knife.

"It pays to have contacts," Andrew lied. Gary touched his finger to the point of the knife and pricked himself.

"Hey, it's sharp," whined Gary. Andrew rolled his eyes.

"It wouldn't be a knife if it wasn't sharp, ID-JUT. By the way, Boomer and I are the second surprise," Andrew said. He unbuttoned his shirt pulled it off. Gary could see tattoos of ancient runes covering Andrew's muscular arms. As he pulled his T-shirt over his head, Gary saw the complete runic incantation tattooed on Andrew's over-muscled body.

"Those are the warrior tattoos," Gary said. Andrew flexed his arms made the bulk of his muscles ripple.

"Yeah, I couldn't resist the design. It's so sexy and hot to be buff and powerful. That and there is nothing much you can do above the Arctic Circle but build muscles, drink whisky and scotch or play poker. I'm a living testament to whisky being a great anesthetic for tattooing the delicate parts of any anatomy."

"How did you get away without anyone seeing those tattoos?" Gary snickered.

"Boomer and I managed keep it a secret until General Thompson walked into the shower room one day and the two of us stared at each other naked. I did one of those G-O-OLLY Commander, I don't know where these tattoos came from...," Andrew rolled his eyeballs upwards in mock innocence and put a sickly sweetly and stupid smile on his face. Gary shook his head in disbelief.

"Of course General Thompson didn't buy it. I thought he was going to shit himself right there on the shower room floor. I laughed so hard the bastard had no choice but to honorably discharge both of us. We kept the secret of the muscles and the significance of the runes to ourselves," Andrew answered. He started to shadowbox to show off his muscles. Even in the cool warehouse he started to sweat making his rippling muscles stand out. Gary dodged Andrew's fists. Andrew pulled his punches so he could playfully hit Gary's shoulders. They both laughed.

"Both you AND Boomer are tattoed?" Gary said in astonishment.

"Yeah, for the muscles, dude, for the muscles" Andrew lied.

"You aren't thinking of…" Gary started to say in a slow and deliberate voice.

"…Becoming warriors?" Andrew finished Gary's question. He didn't pull his next punch to Gary's jaw. Gary fell to the floor unconscious.

"What a silly question, of course we thought about becoming warriors," Andrew said as he picked up Gary's limp body and carried him to the limousine.

#####

Gary woke chained to a stone table. Fresh, raw tattoos of runic inscriptions covered his naked body.

"What the hell have you done to me?"

"Calm down Gary," Boomer answered. Gary looked around and could a naked Boomer chained to a table on his right and Andrew chained just as naked to his left. Gary pulled at the chains holding his wrists and ankles as hard as he could. The hasps were welded shut.

"Get these fucking chains off of me."

"Only a mystic warrior can break these chains. You know the legend," Andrew jangled the chains on his arms and legs.

"Fuck If I do, get these things off me."

"Don't struggle young man, we don't want you to damage yourself," a voice said from behind his head.

"Who the fuck are you, asshole?" Gary twisted around.

"I'm General Thompson and I'm taking over the Mongolian cluster fuck that you and your two friends started.

"Let me go. I didn't volunteer to be a warrior," Gary yelled.

"But you already know too much, young man. You're too dangerous to trust with these secrets. You either join us or die. Besides, the incantations only work if three men become warriors." General Thompson pinched Gary's cheek.

"Don't touch me, Bastard," Gary growled. General Thompson laughed. He pushed a button on a remote control. The chains retracted into the tables, stretching their bodies and holding their arms and legs tight against the stone. He pushed another button and the electric lights faded to black. Pools of candlelight illuminated the altars.

"Think of the glory of being a mystic warrior, stronger than any living man, invincible, possibly even immortal, fighting for your creator and the glory of his cause," General Thompson said in reverent tones.

"You don't know what you're talking about. That's not what a runic warrior was about."

"Buck up, crybaby, you won't care about any of this once you're transformed," Boomer added. Andrew woofed his approval. General Thompson removed his fatigues and stood naked at the foot of the three altars. The tattoos on his body marked him as high priest of the sacrifice. He lit torches next to the altars and fires beneath each stone table. If the demons didn't accept their sacrifice, they would slowly burn them to death.

Thompson began the chant, an invocation to a Dark Lord of ancient times. He summoned a demon older than the word demon itself, older than the churches that named Satan and enumerated the demons alog with the angels. He called upon a Dark Lord who had witnessed creation itself, the betrayer, the demon of death, ruler of the fire-lake, the malefactor, the forsaken one, the abandoned one, the despised and cast off one. The list of names and titles went on for nearly an hour. Thompson relished every word. He chanted old appellations – ruler of the underworld, the lord of chaos, lord of the darkness, lord of the forsaken, light of the damned, judicarae fine, keeper of eternal death, keeper of despair, final refuge of the misbegotten, champion of the betrayed, lord of the flies and master of demons and jinn.

Gary recognized the incantation as a mistranslated version of the summoning spell conflated with the runic warrior spell. It was all wrong. They all were doomed to die a slow and painful death.

#####

Half a world away on the island of Kilauea, waves gently broke against the beach as two men, one in his early twenties and the other in his mid-thirties lay sleeping off the effects of a drinking binge. They had won the drinking contest at the advertising executive's convention the night before by drinking several men into oblivion. An ancient chant echoed into the room like a hellish alarm clock. Meat, the older man, rolled over onto his back and scratched his ample balls.. He listened to the chanting as it reverberated softly in the room. He shook Jason awake.

"Not tonight snuggums, I have a headache," he mumbled and hugged Meat's body against his own. Meat let him hear the chanting.

"…no rest for the damned, Jason, get up, get up. Some fool is summoning a demon and you know what that means," Meat sighed.

"Felicitations and damnation for the fucking moron. I thought drinking three men to death was work enough work for one night.

"It's a dirty job but someone's got to do it. We can't keep a damned soul waiting to be hauled off to hell, can we?"

"I can't believe how drunk I got last night. My head feels like every brain cell died and turned to shit," Jason mumbled and shook the sleep from the alcohol induced fog remaining in his head. The room spun around like a crazy carnival ride. Jason wandered into the shower and turned the hot water on full. His body ceased being human. Scales, horns, claws and tail emerged as the hot water hissed against his skin and alcohol burned out of his body. A thick prehensile tail slithered out his spine. As the steam filled the shower and the bedroom, Meat opened the sliding doors to the beach and let the cold air blow through the bedroom. Jason's head still thumped from alcohol overload, He stumbled out of the room and listened to the chants as his scaly body dripped dry. Meat sat on the edge of the bed in his demonic form and unconsciously slid his feet into a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers as he listened to the chanting.

"He's using some Pre-Bronze Age incantations to summon a demon. I reached out and touched his mind and he's not alone. he has three victims or volunteers," Meat said. He shook his head from side to side and listened to more of the chant.

"This bat-shit-crazy-moron can't even pronounce the words. How does he expect a simple-minded demon to understand an accent like that?" Meat listened even more intently as the man's voice grew louder and shriller.

"Meat, I recognize that chant. It's one of the forbidden incantations. It involves humans sacrificed to be zombies. Ah shit even Satan, your father, forbid human sacrifice for ultimate power. This asshole is going to carve up three men thinking that he can transform them into warrior slaves," Jason's demonic body shivered at the idea. Meat shook his head affrimatively.

"It's a cheesy translation. He's barely literate. He might summon a tiny demon but no one, not even Satan's stupidest minion will let him create indestructible zombie warriors. This nut-job believes these men will be ennobled by their deaths."

"Are we going to damn them all?" Jason yawned and stretched his reptilian hands and feet. Meat glared at him and Jason snapped his arms back to his sides.

"They've damned themselves by even participating. They're all dead men. I don't know if any of them are worth saving from final damnation. Are you ready?" Meat's voice rumbled out of his broad, scaly chest.

"Yes boss," Jason said.

The two demons stood together, one of them monstrous and reptilian in size and visage with immense, grotesque genitals protruding from his crotch. No one could doubt that this demon spoke for the Lord of all that is dark and unholy. The other, a lesser demon whose fanged smile might even be called attractive and whose body remained almost human. EVen his genitals hung modestly and alluringly human. They began to move through the void towards the chanting just as the chanting began to enter the void and move to hell.

#####

Thompson continued the long incantation letting the fires beneath each stone table become uncomfortably hot for the chained men. He set two ceremonial knives on each altar. One knife had a hooked blade and the other a straight blade like a dagger. Gary pulled at the tight chains, his sweating body glistening red and orange in the torchlight. Thompson laughed at his efforts. The thought of creating warriors and making them mute so they'd be obedient to his every whim made his dick stiffen. He hated wasting the their man-parts, as he thought of genitals, but he secretly wanted to join them, to be free of the sexual urges that gripped his soul. He didn't notice the all-consuming darkness that surrounded the warehouse and the three sacrificial altars.

"Andrew and Boomer agree that warriors should be silent and deadly. Do you know what it takes to make a mute warrior, Gary?" Thompson smiled.

"I'm sure you'll tell me."

"The ancients recommend mute warriors. They said if they couldn't talk, they couldn't revolt. One ancient mediterranean culture even created warriors to impregnate the women of tribes they conquered. Imagine doing nothing but getting slaves pregnant for the rest of your life," Thompson picked up the curved knife from Boomer's altar. Boomer smiled in anticipation. Thompson began a chant and hooked the knife around his tongue. With one deft pull, Thompson cut out his tongue. Boomer's willing body jerked in pain. Thompson wiped the bloody knife on Boomer's trembling chest crosswise and set the severed tongue next to it. He shoved military "quick-clot" into Boomer's mouth to staunch the bleeding. The runic tattoos pulsed in time to with an unearthly red light. His muscles rippled with newfound strength.

He walked over to Andrew who had his eyes closed and his mouth wide open. Chanting under his breath, Thompson grabbed the tongue, hooked the knife under it and yanked. A sharp pull and he placed Andrew's tongue on his chest never again to speak. Blood streaked from the tongue down onto the stone table. Thompson staunched the bleeding and then wiped his bloody hands on his cock turning it into a lurid red post sticking out from his body. He admired Andrew's increased musculature and smooth appearance and lingered to watch his chest move up and down. He didn't notice Meat and Jason watching from the surrounding blackness.

Thompson walked over to Gary, the unwilling warrior.

"You're going to be my silent partner, Gary. I know you understand more than Boomer or Andrew aobut how essential it is for you to lose your tongue. I know you understand what the incantation means. Those two, they never really understood what they were translating, did they." Gary held his mouth closed as tight as he possibly could. Thompson held a metal gadget against Gary's lips and teeth and plugged his nose. When Gary finally gasped for breath, the gadget caught his teeth and held his mouth wide open. Tears ran down Gary's face as Thompson slid the knife under his tongue.

"Poor little boy is crying, aw. We'll have a pity party," Thompson said as yanked the knife through his tongue. Blood gushed into Gary's mouth and gagged him. He screamed and tried to tear the chains out of the stone. Thompson packed his mouth with "quick-clot and began to chant the next part of the spell. Gary felt his heart race as his body grew stronger and more powerful.

Thompson resumed chanting and went back to Boomer. He pumped the man's erect cock for a moment. Great gouts of white spurted onto Boomer's chest as he twisted and contorted in orgasmic pleasure. Without changin his expression, Thompson slipped the curved edge of the knife under Boomer's unit and yanked. Boomer's body stiffened as he screamed in agony. A lurid scarlet glow filled Boomer's entire body blotting out his pain. The runic tattoos throbbed with fiery life as Thompson set the man's severed genitals on his quaking stomach. He made quick work of staunching the blood flowing from Boomer's crotch. He went over to Andrew who began to struggle against the chains making voiceless noises through his empty mouth.

"Sorry Andrew, I want subservient warriors and not impetuous rogues. Castration won't change your warrior abilities but it will make you subservient to me. Not only that, I read the last part of the translation about warriors siring children with special abilities. Did you think I was stupid?" Thompson said as he pumped Andrew's cock. Andrew resisted. Gary could see blood at Andrew's wrists and ankles as he struggled against Thompson's relentless manipulation of his uncut cock. Finally, unable to resist any longer, Andrew stiffened. Thompson slid the knife under Andrew's manhood and when he spurted, Thompson yanked. He raised the severed genitals high above his head and let the blood drip on his face and chest. He gloried at the metallic taste for amoment and then set the severed flesh onto Andrew's stomach. he staunched the blood spurting from between Andrew's flailing legs. The red fire filled Andrew's body making his muscles grow thicker, larger, steely. The scarlet fire danced over the runes. Thompson wiped his bloody hands on his own unit and turned his attention to Gary.

"It's your turn Gary. You should lay back and enjoy this, you know. You can't stop me. It won't hurt as much as when I rip your beating heart from your chest but it will make you obey me forevermore. Consider your sacrifice food for the demon who I'm summoning," Thompson chanted and wrapped his fist around Gary's cock. Gary felt a the monstrous orgasm that would reshape his body building in his balls. Sharp, cold metal slid beneath the tender skin that held his unit to his body. Meat snapped his clawed fingers and both he and Jason stepped out from the shadows. Their scaly torsos burned with tiny wisps of flame and smoke. A crown of fire blazed about the horns on Meat's head. The only thing that spoiled his fearsome appearance was the smell of smouldering fuzzy pink bunny slippers.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Meat said.

"What the hell are you?" Thompson demanded. He tried to move but his body wouldn't obey his mind. Jason slipped around Thompson's back, took the knife from his hands and set it next to Gary's head.

"More like ‘who the hell am I,' doofus. You should recognize a demon when you summon one. Aren't we demonic enough? Tell me, Conner Buck Thompson, former general and now would-be master of three zombie warriors, what did you think the demon you summoned would look like?" Meat waved him away from Gary's body and Thompson found he had to comply. Filthy, black mutant abominations jumped onto the sacrificial tables. Boomer and Andrew struggled against the touch of their tiny claws, rotting tongues and pus-oozing bodies. Jason shooed them away from Gary. He laid his grotesque demonic head on Gary's torso and relaxed. He could hear Gary's human heart beating too fast for its own good.

"Relax Gary, relax. The boss likes to take his time with morons and your General Thompson is certainly a moron," Jason said. He let his long, snake-like tongue slither out of his mouth. Wherever it touched GAry, the pain dissappeared. He unconsciously opened his mouth and let the tongue heal his wounds. Grateful for the relief, he tried to thank the lesser demon but without a tongue, he only mouthed the words. Jason put a finger to his lips and nodded towards Meat's overly verbose castigation of Thompson.

"Don't you recognize me? You called me by name, several of my names to be precise," Meat asked. Thompson stammered and sputtered.

"I command you to bow before me, demon. I, Conner Buck Thompson high priest of Malus, follower of Morphus, have summoned you in the name of Lucifer and you must obey me." The demonic minions laughed and giggled hysterically.

"You command me? And in the name of my father, Lucifer. How about Asmodeus? Or Recro-Fanties, does that name work for you, because it doesn't work for me. You summoned me to create your warriors not to obey your every whim. Invoking the name of my father to get me to obey just doesn't cut it. It wouldn't cut it with anyone on Earth. And all those titles you used? They once belonged to some human even stupider and sillier than you. You summoned the reeigning lord of Hell and Hell has risen up to greet you and possibly serve you. You must know my name to have any credibility. I mean all I ask for is a simple, hi-how-are-ya," Meat folded his arms and tapped his foot. His claws ripped through the slippers to tap the floor menacingly.

"You're the lord of darkness," Thompson hesitated. Meat circled his hand for more.

"Not my name."

"The lord of chaos," he stammered. Again, Meat motioned for more.

"Again, not my name."

"The lord of the forsaken," Thompson's voice wavered. The infernal creatures cheered him in mock admiration. Meat's face grinned showing the multitude of reptilian teeth in his mouth.

"You only have one more try asshole, Let's make a deal, huh? You can win what's behind DOOR number three or you can make a deal. You only have one more chance to get the right answer," Meat said in snide mocking tones. Jason chuckled. Meat always had fun mocking the damned before he damned them.

"So now, the question is what would you trade for door number three?" Meat reached down and grabbed Thompson's genitals in his claws. The black minions cheered obscenely. Thompson hesitated.

"Remember, either DOOR NUMBER THREE or I rip your living genitals off of your living body with my bare hands. Quick! Quick! Think before you answer. You might want what's behind door number three. In fact, we all might like to see what's behind door number three, wouldn't we?" Meat demanded. A pair of black curtains parted and showed the real world scene of General Thompson sitting in the Oval Office as president of the United States. With him were the three tattooed warriors enslaved to do his bidding. Ashamed that his secret plan was now revealed to Boomer, Andrew and Gary, Thompson denied the truth.

"That's not true," Thompson sputtered out the lie that damned him forever. Meat squeezed his nuts until they hurt.

"What a pathetic pile of garbage you are. You would deny the truth of what was in your mind and heartt? You were going to use these three men to gain your political ambitions. You willingly sacrificed their lives on the altar of your ambition, didn't you? You don't have to admit the truth of door number 3. I can read it in your black little soul."

"But."

"But my ass, honey buns, I'm here to grant you your ambition. I will give you power over the world if you freely give me your genitals. What's your answer? You have ten seconds," Meat watched him carefully. Thompson stammered unable to answer. All of the while that this was happening, Jason chuckled and stroked Gary's head as if he was petting a dog. He gently slid his arm under Gary's head so he could watch comfortably. Tired, hungry and aching from the alcohol, Jason closed his eyes for only a moment. The heat from the fire underneath the table made him drowsy. He dozed off as Thompson stuttered, unable to answer Meat's question.

"Time's up… As the lord of final justice, one of my lesser known titles, I damn you to hell forever," Meat roared. His hand burst into flames and incinerated Thompson's crotch. Thompson screamed in agony and fell backwards clutching at the flames and then the burnt skin. There was nothing left of his manhood, not even a stump. He groveled at Meat's lizard-like feet crying and begging on the pieces of the bunny slippers. Meat drove the claws on his fingers deep into Thompson's skull and lifted him up off the ground. Thompson screamed as the claws crushed his skull and mangled his brain. His body jerked and convulsed.

"Don't ever beg, Howard Victor Thompson, big mistake. Don't ever beg mercy in hell. Hell has no mercy for the damned, only pain and suffering. You are condemned to eternal punishment in hell for using other men's lives to advance your arrogant schemes for power and feeding your lust to rule over earth." Meat threw Thompson's body to the demons waiting in the shadows and shook the blood off his hands. Then he turned his attention to Boomer. The creatures of hell yanked Boomer's mouth into a wide grin.

"Boomer, ah Boomer, will wonders never cease. Will humans ever stop finding reasons for betraying their friends?" Meat waited for an answer. A dozen of the vilest and most verminous creatures known in hell lined up around Boomer's body and began to petted his body with their repulsive claws. They left shitty, loathsome paw prints on his marble-like white skin. AS they did, they lined up and saluted Meat. In turn, Meat pointed to each and they farted and belched a cacophany of what sounded like the words "damned to hell."

"Ah, music to my ears, your jury has reached its decision … let's see now, you wanted to be a mystic warrior just because you like to oppress people. You wanted to be stronger just so you could beat the puny, weak humans who had to serve you. You knew that your body would be mutilated in the process and yet you were willing to go through with it. You were willing to have your tongue ripped out, your beating heart ripped from your living body and your genitals cut off," Meat said. Boomer's eyes darted sideways with fear and then he broke into tears. He lost control of his body and puddles of urine and liquid shit oozed from him.

"You're just another chicken-shit bastard who can't take even the mere touch of my creatures. Well, I'll grant you the powerful body you always wanted. I grant you the ability to heal in seconds. And, I enslave you to these, the vermin of hell, the spawn that rises from the suffering of the damned as my demons rip their bodies limb from limb. These poor little creatures are the forsaken of hell, the cast off, the abandoned. They will be your masters for all eternity. You can be their plaything for eternity. You'll have your indestructible body. Every day when the creatures rip you apart, your body will heal each night. This is your fate, day after day, year after year for all eternity. You'll never truly die but then, you'll never truly live again," Meat clapped his hands and the creatures descended on Boomer. As the creatures ripped at Boomer's body with their tiny claws, crooked teeth and sharp talons. Boomer howled a long low despairing moan of never-ending pain. Meat stepped back from the bloody festival of ripping and tearing that was once Boomer's body. Tiny bits of Boomer piled up around his body and the table filled with ruddy gore. Meat clapped his hands and dozens of the creatures pushed the stone altar into the depths of hell.

The clap woke Jason. He raised his head up off Gary's chest, moved the severed tongue and scratched at the middle of Gary's chest. He licked at the drops of blood. The demon's tongue both aroused and revolted Gary.

"Your blood tastes good, Gary Hohenheim. Too bad, though, chances are that Meat won't let me consume your flesh. Human flesh tastes so good," Jason chuckled and tickled the underside of Gary's chin. He rested his head on Jason's chest again, closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep for a second time. Meat, absorbed by his favorite pastime -- passing judgment on the wicked -- continued without even noticing.

"As for you, Andrew James Smith, not quite as ambitions as General Thompson, nor as deceitful as Boomer, but none the less, still a rotten human being for betraying your friend. So you tell me, what do I do with a mute, castrated warrior wannabee?" Meat motioned for his minions to move away from Andrew's body. Meat raised his hand, plunged his claws deep into Andrew's chest and yanked the man's still beating heart out in one motion. Andrew screamed in pain. Blood sprayed everywhere as Meat threw the bloody heart into the shadows. They could hear scampering, growling and ripping noises as the infernal creatures fought for the prize. Meat touched a clawed finger to Andrew's head and turned his heartless body to stone. He gestured upward and Andrew's immobile body levitated into a niche where it could watch over the daily torments of the damned in hell. Meat blasted a piece of the wall leaving a sign that said—Mystic Warrior Wannabee. One of the ugly vermin peed on Andrew. Others threw dung. Still a third flew over and shat on his face. Everything slid off the slick surface.

"Teflon is a wonderful discovery. Now Andrew, until I think of a really suitable punishment, you can stand there in all of your muscular glory. Don't get your hopes up, by the way, I can be really forgetful and maybe you really don't want to find out just how wrathful the prince of darkness and heir to the underworld can be," Meat turned his back on the statue and walked to the final table where Gary lay.

Jason snored softly. His demon drool forming a puddle on Gary's chest.

"Ah youth, they really don't know how to handle their booze." Meat pretended to wind a towel up and flicked it at Jason's ass. A loud crack exploded on Jason's ass. He jumped awake. Meat laughed. His red eyes sparkled and twinkled. Jason's normally green scales blushed a salmon pink.

"I'm sorry boss," he mumbled rubbing his eyes.

"Too much party, Jason?" Meat asked.

"I guess so. By the way, do you know you forgot to take off your slippers again," Jason winked. Meat looked down at his green, clawed, lizard like feet. The burnt remains of his fuzzy pink bunny slippers hung over them. The creatures of the underworld giggled and twittered. Gary didn't want to laugh but the strangeness of two demons snapping towels and joking about half-burnt fuzzy pink bunny slippers made him smile. Meat caught the look before he had a chance to wipe it from his face.

"I'm glad you find this humorous young man." He wagged his finger at Gary's face. "You're in a precarious position, you know. Jason wants to eat your living flesh off of your living bones. He has such good taste in men and you've already been tenderized for the barbeque," Meat joked. The fire beneath the stone table grew uncomfortably hot. Dread crossed Gary's face. He wasn't sure if this demon meant exactly what it said. Meat picked up Gary's severed tongue and held it in the flames, scorching and blackening it. He handed it to Jason who obediently gobbled it down. Gary felt sick but Meat touched his forehead and drove the nausea from Gary's body.

"And now Gary, damned to hell for all eternity, what should I do with you? I can't just return you to Earth and let you go," Meat paused. Gary stared at the demon's face.

"I am yours to do with as you please. I surrender my body and soul to your judgment," Gary mouthed.

"You're a perceptive soul, aren't you. I think you learned a lesson in dying. I know that you aren't entirely blameless in this affair. I can't ignore the fact that you enabled a human sacrifice. In your favor, you tried to stop it. However, since you never faced the absolute decision, we'll never know for sure what you would have done. You knew early on that Andrew was obsessed with becoming a mystic warrior, didn't you," Meat said. Gary shook his head affirmatively too afraid to lie.

"Maybe I should just wait until the flames consume your body." Meat stroked his chin with his rough-skinned hand. The fire roared up around them burning the hair off Gary's body. The chains around his wrists and ankles grew hot and his buttocks sizzled on the hot stone. Gary felt the pain from the fire. In mere seconds parts of his body would begin to burn.

"Maybe, I can give you to Jason as a servant. You'll have to become a demon by his hand."

"Can I have him, Meat? Please? I can use an assistant when I visit drug dealers and pimps. You know how difficult it can be to corral all those guys. I know he'll always be a mute, but I can teach him the trade. He can sleep in the garage at the beach house. It's not the same since you sent James back to the mainland," Jason smiled revealing rows and rows of sparkling white, crocodile-like teeth.

"It's your show, Jason. Make me proud." Meat folded his arms and waited. Jason snapped his fingers. A verminous creature with several pairs of eyes and two mouths brought the curved ceremonial knife and held it next to Gary's head. A second creature brought a crystalline box and held it with the lid open. Jason grabbed a creature with large, cute, doe-like eyes. He pointed a clawed finger and the creature sat obediently on Gary's cock.

"As my dentist used to say, this won't hurt me a bit, but you're really going to feel it," Jason gestured and Gary's entire body burst into flame. Pain beyond anything Gary believed possible filled his mind. Gary waited in his agony as his skin blackened and vaporized. WIthout warning, Jason sunk his claws into Gary's chest and ripped it open. He quickly pulled out Jason's still beating heart and put it into the crystalline box. Gary lay there gasping breath through ripped lungs and bloody viscera, dying. His blood poured out into the flames temporarily dowsing them and giving him a little respite from the pain. Jason thrust the creature with the doe-like eyes into Gary's chest, closed the hole and began to stitch it together with something Gary never saw. Gary felt his body healing and the creature turning into his new heart; scales formed, horns grew, teeth multiplied, a tail snaked out his back. The chains fell away from his arms and legs as his muscles strengthened and thickened. Gary curled up on the table and let the painful transformation take his body. Jason picked his new demon servant in both arms and held him like a newborn child.

"Good work. Distracting him with the fire was a stroke of genius. I'll have to try that sometime," Meat said to Jason. Gary's eyes fluttered open

"That's how we make a new demon," Jason said to him as he lowered the new demon's feet to the floor. Gary examined his reflection in a convenient full-length mirror. His new body was strong and sturdy. He kept scratching himself with his claws and drawing blood. His genitals were something else – animalistic was a good way to describe them. The hell-spawn—he now knew the proper name for the small, vermin-like creatures that had bedeviled him since he arrived in hell—seemed like adorable cats and cute little puppie dogs and their offal was fragrant like patchouli, lavender, potpourri, jasmine or musk.

"Welcome to hell, tenth-class demon Gary. You must use this body anytime you are physically in hell. If you remain human, the demons will capture you and punish you for all eternity. They're self-starters when it comes to stuff like that and if you think Meat or I will rescue you, you're sadly mistaken. You belong to me since I placed your heart in that crystal box. Remember that box, anytime you decide to disobey, I can turn it over to a demon and leave you to the torments of hell for the rest of eternity," Jason explained. Gary acknowledged his new master. Jason hugged him and the two demons kissed.

"That's enough slobbering all over each other. I have a few things to say," Meat chuckled as both Jason and Gary stopped and stared at him in semi-shock.

"If you haven't figured it out, I am the supreme lord and master of hell. It's hard work damning the truly evil with unique and unusual punishments. Nevertheless, I have a loyal and hardworking staff of demons to help, a nice vacation house in Hawaii and a good dental plan. After all, we can't have tooth decay in hell," Meat said patting Jason's shoulder and flashing several rows of dagger-like teeth. Jason giggled. Gary didn't know if he should laugh or not. The hell-spawn surrounding them twittered, giggled and chuckled obediently at Meat's joke. Gary tried to talk but only incoherent noise came out of his mouth.

"We can't restore your voice. Thompson ripped it out before you died. Consider it part of your punishment. What would hell be without a little punishment? Remember, you're my trainee-assistant so to speak. You'll live with me for a few centuries or so," Jason said. Gary saluted Jason. Both Meat and Jason laughed.

"You have eternity to spend with us, so make it good and make it quality time," Meat laughed hard at his pep talk. Quality time in hell, I have to tell Dad that one, Meat thought. As they walked through the paths of desolation, depravity and damnation, Gary thanked his lucky stars that the sins of his human life merely condemned him to life as a demon and not one of the damned. Some days you just get lucky, he thought.

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