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Desperate Demon (Epilogue added 8/20/19)


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Figured I might cross-post this story of mine from omorashi.org. It has more of an omo bent, and is unlikely to move into outright AB/DL, but it has a strong caretaker dynamic, and I think it's one of the best kink stories I've written, so I figured you guys might enjoy it anyway. I'll post chapter 1, and see what you think.

Chapter 1: The Binding

“… Asha-atgaaaah!” Adam yelled the final words. He could feel the sweat dripping down his face. The darkened room had grown unnaturally hot as he worked through the incantation in Dr. Musgrave’s Demonic Dictionary. What had started as a game done out of boredom suddenly seemed much more real. But demons and ghosts didn’t exist, right? Of course not. This was a silly game. This was just a cheap thrill provided by a silly ritual and a dusty old book he’d found in the back of the library… Scratch that. Just as he’d all but convinced himself, the first of the candles set at each point of an imaginary pentagram blew out. There was no draft or breeze. The heat was now unbearable. One by one, each of the candles burned out—one second they were glowing, the next they were not, following some arcane sequence. Fuck me, it really worked. What the hell do I do now?

“What indeed, human?”

Adam looked around him, eyes straining to adjust to the sudden darkness. I didn’t imagine that, did I? That was definitely a female voice.

“You did not.”

Adam got up in a panic, trying to find the door but tripping over the heavy tome from which he’d gotten the bone-headed idea to summon a demon. He fell and just about managed to get his hands in front of him. When he looked up, he was staring at an indistinct silhouette. Slender, toned legs rising up towards curving hips, and above, a set of ample breasts straining against fabric. He pushed himself back from the figure, closed his eyes, opened them, and when he did, the candles were once again burning. And in front of him stood an attractive young woman, dressed as some young women do on a hot summer day: extremely short daisy-dukes and a white top, barefoot. She looked ordinary—well, extraordinarily attractive, as if her curves had been carved to appeal to him, but otherwise human—except for the eyes, which were pure black, no whites. Adam’s mouth fell open. The room had taken on a reddish tinge. Odd shadows danced upon the walls as if alive. And then the illusion fell away, the woman’s eyes faded into black on green irises and mercifully, white around, and the shadows stilled.

“I trust that shall do for a demonstration,” said the woman.

Adam stood up gingerly to face this abomination, and discovered that his thighs were sticky and wet. He looked down and blushed as he realized that in his terror, he’d peed a little in his pants. When he looked back up, the woman smiled.

“Kneel,” commanded the woman. He felt an odd tingling at the back of his mind, but it faded. The woman’s smile faded. “Kneel, peasant,” she said. Again, Adam felt the tingling sensation, but there was something else this time. His mind’s eye conjured up a rope, and he looked down to his hand to confirm that it was indeed free. It felt like there was something there, a kind of rope or leash, and although he couldn’t see it, he could sense the rope looping around his wrist and tracing an arc up towards the woman’s neck. “Kneel, damn it!” Said the woman again, but this time, the sensation at the back of Adam’s skull felt different. It was a violent recoil, like a heavy band being snapped back. The woman fell to her knees.

It’s the binding, he realized. The Demonic Dictionary said this was a binding ritual.

“You bound me?” She was sweating now, and the confident tone was gone. In its stead was exasperation, maybe even desperation. She clutched her abdomen as if in pain, and then she looked down and seemed to notice her attire for the first time. “What in the Nine Circles of Hell is this?”

Adam had regained his feet now and walked over to sit down on his bed. This is crazy, he thought.

Crazy isn’t the half…” The woman groaned. Adam realized he hadn’t spoken a word aloud, but she seemed to respond as if he had. Not so confident now, he thought, testing his theory.

I am a Lady of the Circle of Pride, you’re devil-damned right I’m confident,” she said. But her voice cracked, betraying her true feelings. As did her posture, a face grimaced in pain and clutching her abdomen as if she was about to vomit. Could it be that her pain was caused by defiance of her master? Adam tried to recall the exact words from the book. “And Whosoever shall conducte the Binding, shall command the Respecte of His Servant, and the Servant overcometh not her Master but on the Payne of a Death most payneful and everlasting.” Some old-timey shit like that, but the meaning seemed clear.

As he repeated the words in his mind, her face grew pale, and she doubled over in pain. Then she proceeded to vomit on his floor. Adam shot up. All color was gone from her skin, and the rasping sounds emanating from her chest reminded him of his grandma on her deathbed. Holy shit. Demon or not, she looked human enough now, and he couldn’t in good conscience kill her. What to do, what to do? “Uh, like, you can just chill, if you don’t, like, try to harm me or something,” he tried. Adam had no knowledge of the laws of the occult, and he had no idea if that would do it. But the woman’s breath calmed, and she managed to raise herself from the floor and wipe a trail of puke from her mouth. Her eyes were red, not demonically so, more so the redness of a person crying, and tears were rolling down her face. Adam grabbed a roll of paper towels off his bedside table—he kept it there mostly for the purposes of masturbation, sad single life that he had—and handed it to her. She wiped down her face, then stared up at him with what seemed like a mixture of pleading and hatred.

I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Adam said. “I’m Adam. What’s your name?”

“Asha,” she spat out. Of course. That was what the book had said.

“Well, Asha, I can’t say it was nice meeting you. But maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

“I can’t believe this,” Asha said.

“Frankly, neither can I,” he replied. “Hey, bring me that book. I need to figure out what the fuck just happened.” Her face grimaced again, muscles straining in an unnatural way like some sort of cramp, but she did as she was told, crawling over to retrieve the book and place it in his lap. Adam leafed through it until he found the page he was looking for. Under the description of the ritual was a short part about what to expect on success. He read it aloud. Asha’s eyes opened wider with every sentence:

 

Invocation & Binding of Asha, a Demonesse of the 1st Order, Progeny of Luste and Pride. Attempt not this Binding but with the proper Trayninge and Guidance. Whosoever succeed at the Binding shall be the Master. And Whosoever shall conducte the Binding, shall command the Respecte of His Servant, and the Servant overcometh not her Master but on the Payne of a Death most payneful and everlasting. The Servant shall be Subject to the Laws and Strictures of the Human Forme in this Playne of Existence, and her Body and bodily Needs shall be the Domayne of her Master, but her Mind shall be Free as a Dove. Frighten not at demonic Imagery, for they are but Trickery of the Devil and command no Power in this Realme unless the Master set her Free. The Ritual of Freedom shall not be recorded in these Pages, as the Consequences are dire; But the Ritual of Return, which shall sende the Demoness back whence she came, is recorded on the next Page.

 

The next page had been ripped out of the book. Adam frantically thumbed through the book, seeking a loose page, but there was none. Am I stuck with this… thing now?

“I would prefer,” Asha said, voice straining not to betray what must be an underlying, seething rage, “if you do not refer to me as a ‘thing’.”

“Can you, like, not respond to my thoughts? Like, some privacy, please?”

“I can,” she said. “Is that a… command?” She spat the word out like it was a turd someone had dumped into her mouth.

“It’s… Whatever. Hey, let me get this straight. Are you truly, uh, harmless?”

“I am a scion of Hell, human. I am never harmless to my enemies.”

Hmm. Can she lie to me? Let’s find out. “Tell me a lie. I command you. Tell me, uh, tell me the sky is red.”

The sky is red in Hell.”

“Whatever. Tell me the sky on Earth is green.”

“The sky is green.”

Well, that was dumb. She obeyed my command, of course she’s not gonna be doubled over in pain. Hmm… “I command you to tell me the sky is green, and I command you to not lie to me. I command you to do both, at the same time.”

Her face, which had regained a little color, drained. “The… sky… is… green.” As soon as the final word was out, she doubled over and clutched her abdomen again. Her breathing grew ragged, and Adam felt compelled to put a hand on her slender shoulder.

Easy now,” he said, and her breathing calmed. “Okay, so now that’s settled. I command you to tell me the truth: can you actually harm me as long as the, uh, binding is in place?”

She grew silent, eyes glazed over. It seemed like she was trying something, straining—her face contorted in a way that seemed literally out of this world, which to be fair it probably was—and then she slumped down on the floor in a heap, breathing heavy as if after a long run. He could see tears forming in her eyes, and she was straining not to let them fall. “No,” she said finally. “Not bodily. But I can still whisper poisonous words in your ear, as long as you do not command me to silence.”

Adam’s body ached. The ritual seemed to have taken something from him. He felt like he’d just returned from a heavy workout, and there were circles of sweat under his arms and down the center of his t-shirt. He’d begun the ritual at midnight, the witching hour, and when he glanced at his phone he realized it was now close to 3 in the morning. And he had classes to attend, people to see, things to do. Adam badly needed some rest.

Well, in that case, I’m gonna sleep. I guess you can share the bed, I feel kind of bad about almost killing you earlier so I wouldn’t have you sleep on the floor. Maybe in the morning it’ll turn out you were just a weird dream.”

“I am your worst nightmare.”

“Whatever. Good night. Put out the candles, will you, and try to get some shut-eye. And no poisonous words in my ear tonight.”

“I do not sleep.”

“Whatever. Also, pretty sure you do up here on Earth. Laws and Strictures of the Human Forme and all that shit, right? Good night.”

He let himself collapse on the bed. Asha laid down beside him, her arm lightly touching his. This was just a weird dream, it must be. The candles burned out again, even though Asha was nowhere near them. His last thought before falling asleep was, It’s kind of nice to share a bed with a girl again, even if she is literal hellspawn.

 

In the morning, she was still there. Adam was reminded of the microfiction story he’d read in his Latin Literature course: When he awoke, the dinosaur was still there.

“There’s no devil-damned dinosaurs here,” Asha said.

Adam sat up. The first thing he noticed was his underwear, which was still damp from his little accident when the demon materialized. He blushed at the thought. He hadn’t pissed himself since kindergarten, not even just a little. But then again, he hadn’t ever seen a demon from literal Hell materialize from thin air either, so he had a damned valid excuse.

The second thing he noticed was that Asha had her legs crossed, and her hand was buried in her crotch. Her white shirt had ridden up, and he could see the contours of a bulging abdomen. She quickly moved her hand away when she noticed him looking, but her legs remained crossed. Did she have to pee? Her abdomen had definitely been much flatter the night before. And her body language screamed desperation. This was something Adam was very familiar with, as his search history would no doubt attest to, not to mention the used paper towels in his paper bin, but he’d never been fortunate enough to witness such obvious urinary desperation up close in real life. Adam tried to work through it in his head without silently verbalizing, hoping Asha’s sixth sense couldn’t pick up what he was thinking about. What had the book said? Oh yeah, her mind was to be free as a dove, blah-blah, but her body and… bodily needs would be his domain. And she was a demon of Pride. No doubt she was not keen on pleading with him to be allowed to do something as demeaning as release her bladder in a toilet. Did they even pee in Hell? Feeling the wetness at his crotch, Adam decided that perhaps it was time for her to taste her own medicine. At least he could allow her to get to the point where she had no choice but to beg. Might do wonders for her attitude. This is just like those stories I read on omorashi.org!

What stories? What is omo-rashidot-awrg?” Asha asked. She’d snaked her hands down to her crotch again, but removed them when he looked over.

It’s nothing,” he said. He got out of bed, rummaged through his closet for clean, dry, urine-free clothes, and began to undress. Asha looked on with curiosity.

“Some privacy, please?”

“Is that a command?”

“Do you not have this thing called rhetorical questions in Hell?”

“We do not.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Yes, turn around, you’re not getting a peek at my ball sack just yet. You gotta buy me dinner first.”

“Buy you dinner? I take what I want. I do not barter or exchange favor for favor.”

Whatever, turn around and no peeking.” She did.

Adam got out of his wet pants and boxers, throwing them in disgust into his laundry bin. He might enjoy the occasional wank at the thought of a girl desperate to relieve herself, unable to contain her liquids as they poured out, but he did not relish the experience of doing so himself. Once he was dressed and dry, he told Asha to turn around and stand up. She did so, raising herself from the bed gingerly and standing up straight as a rod, but her confidence was quickly shattered as she was forced to bend over and cross her legs.

Adam picked up his phone and noted that he’d forgotten to set his alarm and overslept. Oh, well. Morning classes could wait. He needed to figure out what the fuck to do about the hell-spawn now joined at his hip before he could delve into Classic Literature or Feminist Literary Criticism in the 20th Century. Adam’s bladder was full, so he headed to the bathroom. As she crossed the threshold out of his room, he looked over to see Asha still bent over in the same spot, but now her face was white as a sheet and her face was spasming again. “Come here,” he said, and she shuffled over. For each step she took, her face seemed to calm, and by the time she stood right in front of him, she’d regained her color. Curious. “So, am I right that it’s painful for you to be away from me?”

“It would seem so.”

Fan-tastic.” He rolled his eyes. Just one more problem.

I would rather think this, what do you say, ‘sucks balls’,” Asha said.

“We’ll need to work on your sarcasm meter. Come on.”

Adam walked over to the bathroom, looked to the left and to the right to ensure that none of his housemates were around, and then dragged Asha by the arm into the bathroom. Adam unzipped and emptied his bladder into the toilet bowl, sighing in bliss. He’d needed that. Once he’d zipped up and turned around, he saw that Asha was eyeing the toilet bowl, hopping from foot to foot and clutching at herself like a toddler. A delightful little potty dance. But she made no move towards the toilet, nor did she ask for permission. She just stood there in agony and pride, biting her lip and saying nothing. Oh well, her loss. Adam was certainly enjoying himself. She was, he saw now in the harsh fluorescent light, very pretty, nice and curvy, with shapely breasts just the right side of unnaturally large, and her face was cute. If only she wasn’t a demon, he would have definitely dreamed of hitting on her but not actually dared.

Adam grabbed her hand, which forced her to relinquish her iron grip on her privates. Those tight shorts must be digging into her bladder something fierce. As they exited the bathroom together, hand in hand, they almost ran into Ryan, one of Adam’s housemates. “Whoa, get a room you two—Adam? I thought for sure that was Eddie in there with a girl. Would you look what the cat dragged in.” He measured Asha from head to toe with his eyes, and she actually blushed. Probably because she was potty-dancing like a young child, but Ryan seemed not to notice. “Decided to end your dry spell with a bang, eh? Good for you.”

He was not dry this morning,” Asha said. Adam blushed, thinking of his pissy pants, but Ryan got an entirely different idea.

Whoa! I like her. Don’t let this one go, dude,” Ryan said, giving Adam a very bro-ish pat on the shoulder as he squeezed past.

Your friend is odd,” Asha said.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

Adam needed to figure out next steps, and decided that the library where he’d found the cursed book was a good start. But first… He dragged Asha into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of mineral water from the fridge. “Drink this,” he said.

Asha let go of his hand and squeezed between her legs again, blushing as she did so. “I would prefer not to,” she said.

“Are you disobeying my command?”

N-no!” She grabbed the bottle and chugged the contents so quickly some spilled over onto her shirt, wetting her chest. He noted that she was not wearing a bra, a fact more apparent as the material soaked through.

“This tastes funny,” she said.

“What do you even drink in Hell? The blood of your enemies?”

“That, or the seed of a lover.”

“Oh, lord.”

She grimaced and her face seemed to… bubble was the right word for it, as if something was boiling beneath her skin. “Right, demon, you and the Lord aren’t on good terms, I take it?”

He is but a fairy-tale for puny humans and certainly no ‘lord’ of mine.” Her sneer was undercut by the childish dance in place she was doing to contain her bladder.

Okay, potty princess, let’s go to the library and figure shit out,” he said.

“What did you just call me?”

“Well, it’s quite obvious you need to pee.” Adam shrugged.

I do not… urinate.” She spat the word. “I am strong and above such silliness. That is the province of weak humans.”

“Okay, whatever. We’ll see if your clothes are dry by the time we get back.”

Adam was now lacing up his shoes. “What do you mean? Why would they not be?” Asha asked.

“Well, because it looks like you’re about to piss your pants. And we’re about to go out in public, and then everyone will see, and...”

“What?” Asha’s voice cracked.

“So you aren’t feeling a terrible pressure down there? You just enjoy dancing around like a toddler in the toilet queue?”

“I… may feel a certain pressure,” she admitted.

Are you going to beg?

“I do not beg. Ever.”

“Okay then, let’s go and hope you don’t embarrass yourself.” Adam smiled. This was the best thing about this terrible, weird ordeal so far.

“I might be temporarily weakened by the trip across the aether...” Asha admitted. “Maybe it would not be a bad idea to...”

“Are you really begging me for permission to use the bathroom because you can’t hold it like a big girl?”

“I do not beg. But...”

“Well, looks like Ryan’s gonna be in there a while, so you might as well hold it until we get to the library. If you can. Otherwise, well, you’ll just have to wet yourself like a little girl.”

“Like you did last night?” She shot back, staring daggers.

Adam grabbed her hand and yanked her out the door. “You don’t mention that to anyone ever. Hear me?”

“Yes, ‘master.’”

 

The display Asha put on while they walked hand in hand was extraordinary. Adam kept up a steady pace, and held her hand tight, so she couldn’t stop and squeeze herself, but her thighs were shaking and she kept her legs firmly together, biting her lip and straining with all her mind. When Adam stopped to locate the shelf he thought he’d found the book on, she wriggled free of his grasp, crossed her legs and bent over. Asha must be at the end of her tether now. Her eyes were watering, and she couldn’t prevent herself from grabbing at her crotch. Better get her to a bathroom before disaster strikes, Adam thought. Don’t want to draw unnecessary attention when I’m here to do demonic research, but it’d be a shame to cut the show short.

“No… disasters… will… strike,” Asha said.

“Never mind, then,” Adam said, and headed towards the back of the library, where the small collection of purportedly occult books was housed, wedged in between histories of Ancient Greece and Science Fiction. Asha shuffled after him.

As he rounded the corner, he saw that he wasn’t alone. A girl stood with her head bent down inspecting one of the occult books, and when she heard them approach, she turned around. Shit. It was Amy, his platonic friend that he wished was something more. In classic Adam style, he had made no move and she’d found a boyfriend. “Oh, Adam! Who’s your friend?” She said, beaming him a heart-melting smile.

Oh, Amy. This is my, uh, friend, Asha.”

“Nice to meet y—” she began, holding out a hand in greeting, but Asha was doubled over in pain. Asha whimpered, and then she looked down. Adam could see there was a shiny spot of wetness blooming on her daisy-dukes.

May I please use the toilet?” Asha said.

“Oh, restrooms are over there,” Amy said, flustered, pointing around the corner.

Asha looked at Adam with a mixture of fear and humiliation. “Go,” he said, and then, to Amy, “I better check up on her, talk to you later,” and then they were off, Asha shuffling, halfway bent over, Adam keeping close by her side. It was a single-user, unisex bathroom, and Adam looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking in their direction before dragging the desperate demon with him into the restroom.

As soon as Asha saw the toilet, her reserves of strength failed her. Adam stared, mesmerized, as pee began pouring out of her shorts, wetting her butt, pouring out the leg holes, running down her lightly tanned legs, trickling down to her toes, one of which was bleeding. Of course, she hadn’t been wearing any shoes. Adam had been too caught up in arousal to even consider it. Maybe demons didn’t wear shoes in hell, but human bodies weren’t made to walk barefoot on gravel. Asha’s shoulders began to shake as the final drops left her body, dripping into the puddle. Her ample butt had a half-moon of glistening wetness, and trails of shiny urine spattered her legs. She was stood in a puddle that extended from the door all the way to the edge of the porcelain bowl. Then a low, keening noise, and then whimpers. The demon was crying. And Adam felt like a right asshole.

Without thinking, he put his arms around his demoness from behind, then reached over and wiped away a tear.

“Ladies of the Circle of Pride do not cry,” she whimpered.

Sshh,” he said. “I’m sorry.” Why am I apologizing to a demon?

This time, she didn’t respond to his internal monologue as if he’d spoken aloud. Instead, she whispered, “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Because I just realized I’ve been acting like a horny asshole,” he said.

Assholes are certainly erogenous, but they are hardly the primary locus of arousal,” she said.

Oh, my. Good to see your sense of humor is back.” He put his hands back on her shoulders and turned her around. Her eyes were red, her cheeks streaky with wetness, and the front of her shorts was a mess. Adam handed her some paper towels, but then thought better of it, and instead wiped down her legs himself. She stood mute as he cleaned her up, the waft of fresh, accidentally spilled urine doing unspeakable things to his groin but his empathy telling him no, no, this is not the time to get a boner, and the result being a sad semi. There was nothing to do for her shorts; they were soaked beyond saving. And her feet—that must hurt.

“I guess we better get you some dry clothes. And shoes, definitely. But… We’ll have to dip into the occult section and just grab some shit, because we need to figure this thing out.”

This feeling,” Asha said, “is that what you felt last night? When I came and you…” Her face started contorting and her voice broke. Of course, he’d forbidden her from mentioning his own little accident to anyone.

“Yes, I guess,” he said. “But what happened to you was in public, so I guess that must be far more humiliating.”

It feels wrong,” Asha said.

“Yeah, it sucks, doesn’t it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put you through this.”

“I never realized,” Asha said, wiping away the last tears, “that humans could be crueler than the scions of Hell.” Oof.

“Well, I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I? Feel free to punch me for being a dick.”

Smack. Adam was on the floor, a searing pain in his jaw, one hand stuck in the puddle of urine, eyes watering. Slowly, he stumbled to his feet, whimpering. The girl had surprising strength.

I guess I deserved that,” he said, hand to his jaw. That’s gonna bruise. “In the future, if I tell you to punch me, I mean, like, lightly in the shoulder, not a knockout punch to the face.”

“You did deserve it,” Asha said, and something like a smirk played on her lips. It was the first time since she realized he’d successfully bound her that he’d seen her smile.

It was almost enough to make up for the pain, to see her smile again. Almost. What’s gotten into me? Don’t tell me I’m falling for a god-damned demon.

“I heard that, and I have seen no signs of unsteady gait. You do not appear to be falling down very much, unless you happen to tell me to punch you.”

“It’s… Never mind. I’m gonna have to teach you some idioms. Okay, sorry to say, you’re gonna have to walk home in this state, and some people will probably stare. You ready?”

“Yes.”

 

Adam took her hand and brought her round back to the occult section. He wanted to minimize Asha’s exposure to the public, but he also really needed to figure out what the hell was going on and how to fix it. He had no idea what the laws and rules governing interdimensional travel were, but for all he knew he might have opened a gateway for all sorts of terrible hell-spawn to travel through. And he couldn’t live his entire life with a demon joined at the hip. How was he going to explain that to his parents? To future girlfriends? They’d just have to grab some books, yeah, and then Asha could carry them in front of her soiled shorts to hide her accident from the front. Excellent plan.

Except Amy was still there, rummaging through the occult section, desperately looking for something. She turned around and her mouth fell open when she saw the state of Asha’s shorts.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Adam, why didn’t you show her where the toilets were? Where are your manners?”

Asha blushed and squeezed Adam’s hand. Hard enough as to almost be painful. She couldn’t harm him, but she could certainly signal her desire to do so.

“Uh, yeah, I’m terribly sorry. We need to just grab some books and then we’ll get out of here!”

“Your girlfriend is clearly in distress, humiliated in public, and you care about books? I thought you were a gentleman,” Amy said, frowning. Adam blushed.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but yeah, you’re right, we’ll hurry, just really need to grab some stuff real quick...” He was stumbling over his words. Amy raised an eyebrow at him in response. Oh, yeah. They were holding hands. Of course anyone would think they were a couple.

“It’s okay,” Asha said, although her tone did not sound OK at all. “We really need some books.”

“I’m sorry he’s such a dick, better you found out now than later,” Amy said, addressing Asha. “I’ll help you find whatever it is. I can, uh, I can walk you home, behind, and you can, like, hold the books in front, and then you can maybe hide what happened. What is it you’re looking for?”

“I don’t really know, to be honest,” Adam said. “Anything about, like, binding demons and how to return them to Hell, I guess.” He realized as he said it out loud how stupid it sounded.

But Amy perked up. “I didn’t know you were into the occult too,” she said.

“Wait, you’re into the occult?” Adam hadn’t expected that.

I was just looking for this book I thought I saw here, the Demonic Dictionary, but I can’t find it,” Amy said.

No way, Adam thought.

“Yes way,” Asha said.

“Yes way?” Amy looked confused.

I have it,” Adam blurted out. “The book.” Why did I say that?

“You have it? That’s dangerous stuff right there. It’s got a rep for being, like, the only actual manual of demonology in existence, the rest are just bullshit and superstition,” Amy said. “Don’t tell me you’re intending to try a ritual.”

Asha and Adam looked over at each other.

“Don’t tell me you two actually already did one?” Amy said.

Asha, do the thing. The thing with the eyes. You can still do that, right?

Asha’s eyes briefly flashed. One second, green, probing, the next, dark, inky voids of nothingness, darkness swallowing all color, then green again. The whole thing was over in a second, but Amy took a frightened step back.

I did the ritual. She’s the result.”

“Oh my God,” Amy said.

Asha’s face contorted at the invocation of the Lord.

“You actually fucking bound a demon. This is so cool!

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Now that's something you don't see every day. Don't get much of the supernatural side of things on here, although that seems to be changing lately (which I'm rather happy about). Really interested in seeing where you take this! I'm curious if Adam's feelings for Asha has something to do with the binding and not just her being drop dead gorgeous. 

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Chapter 2: Hunted

The three of them were sitting in Adam’s room, which he was trying to air out. He’d forgotten to clean up the vomit from the night before, and by mid-morning it was smelling pretty bad. Asha was freshly showered and sitting in a borrowed set of Amy’s clothes, which were too small for her, but would have to do for the time being. Asha was both taller and curvier, and her new shirt exposed her belly-button in a way the designer had surely not intended. Her jeans were so tight they “rubbed at her pussy,” as she said, and when she noticed Adam’s discomfort when she said that, she began chanting pussy, pussy, rubs at my pussy until he’d ordered her to cut it out, which garnered a devilish giggle from the demon.

Showering had been an awkward affair. They’d gone to Amy’s place, since her parents had set her up with an apartment of her own, so they had privacy. When they entered, he noted that his dashingly average looks had taken a step down in the face apartment: the side of his face was swelling up and turning a sickening shade of greenish yellow where Asha’s haymaker had hit him.

They’d quickly determined that Asha could not shower on her own, since she doubled over in pain the moment she was more than three steps away from him. So he had to go in with her, determined to sit on the toilet lid and respectfully avert his eyes from her. Except when she attempted to remove her soiled clothes, she groaned in pain again. Then she’d reminded him of the book’s words: her bodily needs were the domain of her Master, Adam. Apparently that meant she couldn’t even undress herself. So he had to help her out of her clothes, lowering the wet shorts, then down with the soaking, dripping panties. As he touched the wet fabric, his crotch pitched a tent, and to make matters worse, she picked up on it and began grinding herself into his hand, which he knew she was doing just to wind him up. “Cut it out,” he said, and then he led her to the shower, doused her with cold water just to take the grin off her face, and wet a washcloth.

Quickly, he rubbed the cloth over her skin, trying to get her clean without getting himself worked up. “My crotch feels icky,” she said, when he respectfully declined to touch her between the legs. “It feels like the urine is still there.” Cursing inwardly, he began to wipe her down. “I heard that,” she reminded him. “Keep going.” So he did, rubbing at her lips, her hairless mound, around the inside of her thighs, and she moaned.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he said.

“I am used to slaves.”

“You’re the damn slave, not me.”

She looked hurt at that. Adam regretted bringing it up. So he brought the cloth up again, between her legs, rubbing slowly, and her eyes glazed over. Then he stopped before either he or she could get more worked up. Why the hell am I acting like this? She’s a demon, hell-spawn, a devil, and she hates me, and terrifies me.

“Glad to hear it,” she cooed.

And I am pleasuring her, because I felt bad for her.

Now she was fully dressed, and he tried to forget the way she fluttered her eyelashes and blew him a kiss while he toweled her off.

It turned out that Amy knew a hell of a lot more about demonology than Adam. He’d picked up the Dictionary out of pure boredom. Aside from trying to summon Bloody Mary in the mirror at a sleepover in sixth grade, he had never dabbled in the occult. “Bloody Mary is a myth,” Asha said. “Bloody Angelique, however, is very much real, and you do not want her in your mirror.” Neither of the two humans felt compelled to ask for any details. Amy explained that she’d gotten into the occult as a side effect of a teenage goth phase, but once she got older, she started researching obscure literature on the matter, and then she had “an experience”, which he declined to elaborate on, but which had somehow convinced her that demons were realer than she’d thought. Her research had eventually led her to the idea that the Demonic Dictionary was the real deal, for reasons that seemed fairly flimsy to Adam, but he couldn’t deny the evidence in front of his eyes.

Unfortunately, the book which called itself a dictionary lacked an index and was not organized alphabetically. At least not according to any alphabet he knew. They’d spent an hour flipping through the book, but couldn’t find anything helpful about returning demons to Hell. Nor any elaboration of the mechanics of invocation and summoning.

“Hey, Asha,” Amy said, visibly frustrated. “You want to go home, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then how about you spill the deets on how all this works? Can’t help a gal who won’t help herself.”

“Do you think I know?”

Adam and Amy shared a look. “You mean you have no idea how any of this works?” Adam asked.

“When I was young, the idea of being summoned and bound by a mere mortal was a scary story used to make children behave. As I grew older, I was taught that only lesser demons could possibly be bound, and only by a powerful necromancer, such as has not walked the Earth for hundreds of years, not a mere dilettante with a dusty old book. I am descended from the rulers of two of the Nine Circles of Hell, and no mortal should be able to summon me, much less bind me.”

“So much for that idea,” Amy said.

“Wait,” Adam said. “Spooky bedtime stories for demon babies? We’re just gonna ignore that? What’s it like to grow up in Hell?”

“It is Hell,” Asha said.

“Elaborate.”

“Painful.”

She didn’t seem to enjoy this turn of the conversation, so he took the hint and dropped the subject.

An hour later and no closer to solving the mystery, Amy had to take off for an afternoon class, but promised to dig deeper and see what she could find that night. She also left a couple of changes of clothes for Asha, but sternly told Adam that if they couldn’t solve this within the next few days, he should quit being such a cheap-ass and buy her some clothes in her size. As if he had the money laying around to fashion a brand new wardrobe for a she-devil. Adam decided it was high time for some food, so he set about making his decidedly mediocre spaghetti bolognese.

“Ah, meat,” Asha said as she dug in. “Reminds me of home.”

“Eat a lot of meat, do you?”

“Not yours,” she said.

“I guess veganism isn’t hot in Hell.”

“What’s veganism?” She said among mouthfuls.

“Like, not eating any animal products? No meat, no cheese, milk, eggs, anything like that…”

“Oh. What a silly idea.” She washed the food down with several glasses of water. Once they’d eaten, her mood seemed to improve dramatically. She even attempted to tell him a joke. “Why did the little Negro cross the road?”

“Jesus,” he said, and as before, her skin bubbled at the mention of anything to do with God. “Don’t say ‘Negro,’ it’s offensive. And definitely don’t say ‘nigger.’”

“Okay,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why did the little dark-skinned mortal cross the road?”

“I don’t know.”

“To witness his enemies being driven by the lash across a field of spikes, wailing in pain.”

“That’s supposed to be a punchline?”

“It’s funnier if you expect the punchline to be racist. But you didn’t want me to say the N word.”

Huh. I thought racism was like, par for the course in Hell.

Oh, we definitely regard all mortals as less than the ant you thoughtlessly crush under your shoe. But we don’t distinguish based on skin color, ethnicity, religion, gender or sexual identity,” she said.

Who knew Hell was so progressive,” he said. “But wait—do you really regard me as less than an ant?”

She cocked her head to the side and considered it. “You have the capacity for cruelty, which is a quality I admire in my enemies. But you were also kind to me, which I did not expect. And certain things indicate you might one day become a thoughtful lover, if you grow the balls to flirt with a mortal woman. I am… conflicted.”

Does that mean if I somehow freed you, you wouldn’t torture and kill me in some terrifying manner?”

“Probably… not.”

Adam sighed. “Guess who didn’t score any brownie points with the guy holding the leash.”

“You just said ‘brownie,’” she pointed out.

“So?”

“So, isn’t that racist?”

“Jee—damn it,” he corrected himself. “Brownies are a form of cake. Brownie points is an expression. Don’t take everything so literally.”

Adam retired to his bed to leaf through the book again, and Asha sat down beside him. After a while, she began subtly rocking back and forth. Then she let a silent but deadly fart slip. He looked over at her. “Asha, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“N-no,” she said, biting her lip.

Well, I’m not taking the chance on you ruining Amy’s panties. Let’s go.”

“I don’t need to go.”

“You go when I say you go.”

“Y-yes, ‘master.’” She got up, holding her belly.

When they got to the bathroom, the door was locked and the shower was running. “Damn it,” Adam said. He took her back to his bedroom, and she proceeded to pace back and forth for the next fifteen minutes while insisting she could hold it.

Listen, apparently I’m the one who has to clean you, and I didn’t sign up for this,” he said. Then he dragged her back to the bathroom, which was mercifully empty. He helped her lower her tight jeans, then her panties, and she sat down on the toilet and did her business. She did not pee, however. When he helped her up, he inspected the panties. “Thank go—thankfully there’s no stain,” he said. “You gotta tell me when you need to go.”

“I’m not a baby,” she said.

“Could have fooled me.”

They were back in his bedroom now. “What do you know about Pride?” She asked.

“About pride?”

I am a Demon of the 1st Class, Adam,” she said. “I am a Lady of the Court of Pride, the Seventh Circle of Hell, which sits above and dominates the Sixth Circle, the Circle of Wrath. I am a Devourer, a Flayer, a proud member of the Court of my ancestors.”

Wait, I thought Wrath was the fifth circle.”

“Do you really think Dante actually visited Hell before he wrote his silly poem?”

“Huh, guess not.”

“He didn’t visit alive, anyway.”

Adam shuddered.

Anyway, as I was saying. I am a Scion of Pride, and on my mother’s side, of Lust. I am a standard-bearer of confidence. A crusher of hope, a denier of weakness...”

“So what you’re trying to say, in a very round-about way, is that it’s very hard for you to be seen as vulnerable or admit weakness?”

“Y-yes,” she gulped.

Well,” he said, “like it or not, humans are weak, and your body is human now, at least for the time being. And it is far better to admit a minor weakness sooner, rather than demonstrate a major weakness later, in devastating fashion. Don’t you agree?”

She nodded.

What did you feel when you wet yourself at the library?”

A way I haven’t felt in a long time. Not since I was a mere spawnling.”

Tell me about it.”

I would rather not.” He didn’t want to push her, but at the same time, he was curious. If he could somehow understand her, understand what Hell was truly like, then maybe he could get a grip on how this all worked. Get a grip on how to send her home.

I said, tell me about it.”

“Very well.” The color drained from her face. “I was a mere—a child, as you reckon it. Or maybe a teenager. I… How am I going to tell this story in a way that you can comprehend? Let’s try this: I had to wake my father and inform him that I had wet the bed.”

Wait, wet the bed? Like, urine, sheets...”

“No, not like that. Not at all.” She rolled her eyes. “It did not happen like that. But the metaphysics of Hell are far greater than a tiny mortal mind can comprehend. We do not sleep, we do not urinate, we do not have beds. Even the pits of fire are just a metaphor. I’m telling you an allegory to help you understand. Nothing I’m about to tell you happened quite like that, but you can imagine something analogous, but which you couldn’t possibly wrap your little brain around, okay?”

“Go on.”

Okay. So I woke up, realized I had somehow lost control of myself in my sleep, and that I was now drenched. I felt the smell, the cooling wetness clinging to me, the terrible shame. I cried, and then I had to tell my father what I had done. And he… Do you command me to go on?” Her lower lip trembled. She was clearly reliving a traumatic memory. Suddenly he felt like a jerk for dredging up what lay better buried.

“You can be brief if you like.”

“Suffice it to say, I thought he might punish me corporeally. Perhaps put me to the stake for a fortnight: it is not lethal to our kind, but decidedly unpleasant. But instead he did something far worse: he humiliated me in front of the entire Court at my debutante ball.”

“Your dad sounds like a jerk,” he said.

It is the way of Hell. None of the details are exact, but my transgression was similarly immature, and the punishment equally harsh and humiliating.”

And that’s what you felt like when you wet yourself in the library?”

“Y-yes.”

Her upper body was shaking. “Come here,” he said. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Adam took a deep breath, and then he pulled her close and held her. He could feel her breathing very quickly, sense the way her body tensed as he pulled her into his embrace. But then her muscles loosened, her breathing grew steadier and more regular, and she allowed him to place her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes. Adam lost himself in the moment, but then he had to suppress the urge to subvocalize what the hell am I doing cuddling a demon?

“It turned you on, though, didn’t it?” She said suddenly.

Adam felt his cheeks warm. “You noticed?”

My mother was a Succubus.”

“Oh.”

“Also, you said something about acting like a horny asshole. And I noticed your erection earlier, but I thought it might be the proximity to the female sex organ that did it. I didn’t get it then, but I put two and two together after.”

I guess it’s a kink I have,” he said. “I’ve fantasized about having a bladder slave. But that was just a fantasy—I felt awful when I realized I’d forced it on you.”

“I guess I could have asked you for permission earlier,” she said.

But that would hurt your pride, right?”

Right.” She bit her lip again. Nervous habit?

“Don’t get cocky. I do not get nervous.” She separated herself from his embrace and gave him a glare that said, We may have just had a ‘moment’ but don’t let that fool you: I’d still incinerate you on the spot if I could.

“I’m glad to hear you are still slave to your baser instincts, as are all of mortal kind,” she said, reasserting her old, cocky bravado. “A little bit of breasts and buttocks, a little bit of urine accidentally spilled, and all the blood rushes from your big brain to your little one.”

“Tits and ass,” he corrected her. “Not breasts and buttocks.”

“Same difference.”

“Not if you want to pass for human until we get this sorted. The way you speak is like a pile of anachronisms had an orgy and your vocabulary was the outcome nine months later. And you do want to pass for human, because I want you to pass for human, and you have to do what I say.”

Fine.”

 

Adam put away the book of demonology for the evening, deciding that he wasn’t getting anywhere and he might as well wait to see what Amy turned up. Instead, he booted up a game of CS:GO to take his mind off Hell. Asha stared in fascination at the computer, an invention that seemed to have passed by without notice in her Circle, but soon she was delighting in the virtual violence, and then he allowed her to play a match for herself. It went predictably badly, not so much because she had trouble adjusting to the controls, which she picked up quickly, but more so because she insisted on shooting the bodies of her dead enemies repeatedly, cackling like a maniac, while her team shouted at her over the voice chat and the remaining enemies shot her in the face or in the back. After that, he decided to put on a couple of slasher movies, sensing that violence was a good way to cheer her up. By the time the second movie wrapped up, it was late enough to call it an early night. He scouted the living room to make sure his housemates weren’t there—didn’t want to have to explain how the girl he’d never mentioned before was now suddenly his live-in girlfriend—and led her to the bathroom. He stole a disposable toothbrush from the pack Eddie kept for the benefit of his many one-night stands—made him look like a gentleman, Eddie claimed—and brushed her teeth. Asha submitted to this indignity without a word. Then he peed in the toilet and led her back to the bedroom.

There was a text from Amy waiting for him: “Found something. Tell ya tomorrow!”

Good.

They laid down and he fell asleep almost immediately.

Early in the morning, he woke. The first thing he noticed was that his side was damp. Then he noted the smell of fresh urine in the air. Asha was fast asleep beside him, head turned away from him. He lifted the duvet and stared for a moment transfixed at her black panties, at the glistening wetness, the slow trail of pee leaking out between the wet outline of her lips, slowly making its way between her thighs onto the sheets. The slow, almost inaudible hiss of a bedwetting accident in progress. A front-row seat at one of his fantasies, in the flesh. Wait, the sheets! His sheets! Adam shook off the trance, then shook Asha awake. “You’re wetting the bed!” He whisper-shouted in her ear.

Her eyes shot up wide, then she crossed her legs, placed her hands between them and strained to stop the flow. The hissing abated. He could see in her eyes that she was mortified, but at least she didn’t cry.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed to go?”

“I… I woke up and knew I had to urinate, but you didn’t give me permission to wake you, so I fell asleep again.”

Of course. She hadn’t peed since her accident that morning, and had quite a bit to drink in between. “I didn’t tell you not to wake me if it was an emergency!”

“Well, I didn’t want to look weak.”

“Better to have an accident than to admit you need to go like a big girl?”

“I still need to go.”

He got out of bed and helped her out, but she sank into a crouch, and then she started dripping on the floor, pee leaking out between the hands clutching at her crotch. Thinking quickly, Adam scooped up his paper bin and tried to position it between her legs. As he did, the dam burst in full, and pee began pouring out of her, through Amy’s panties and pitter-pattering into the bin. Asha closed her eyes and whimpered, then sighed, then moaned as her bladder emptied into the makeshift potty. When she was done, he had to help her up on unsteady legs. She looked at him expectantly. What does she expect, exactly?

“Hug me, you asshole mortal,” she whispered. Right, right. He hugged her, held her tight, and she sank into his embrace. She let him hold her for a minute, and then she composed herself and separated. “Right, this is a disaster,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Get me cleaned up.”

“You don’t give the orders ‘round here,” he reminded her, but he did lower her wet panties to the floor and throw them into the laundry bin, then used a towel to quickly dry her. Adam opened a window and poured the liquid contents of the paper bin out, along with a couple of used tissue papers. The damage to the bed wasn’t too bad, thankfully, so he just laid down the towel for her to sleep on, nude from the waist down. Adam tried and failed to hide his boner, and she smirked.

As he was about to fall asleep, he noticed a sound. It was hard to make out, but clearly there, a sort of wailing somewhere in the distance. Then the intensity grew, less like something approaching you from the distance and more like working the dial on a stereo, until the sound resolved into a mixture of a wolf-pack howling and a woodchipper churning through logs, and loud gnashing of teeth.

He turned to Asha, who had sat up straight in bed. Her face was a study in fear, eyes wide, color drained from her cheeks, mouth contracted to an O-shape.

“Asha, do you know what that is?” He whispered.

“A pack of hell-hounds.”

“Hell-hounds?”

“Imagine a bulldog the size of an ox, with teeth like a shark.”

“Damn.”

“Except each tooth is actually another jaw, filled with more shark’s-teeth that are each somehow larger than the jaw itself.”

“Holy shit.”

“Then imagine a pack of them.”

“Fuck.”

“It was probably sent by my father, the Pridelord of the Seventh Circle, or perhaps by my grandfather on my mother’s side, the Lustlord of the Fifth and Duke of the Spiked Dungeon. Either way, they’re both bound to be exceedingly mad at me for damaging the reputation of the clan. And by extension, mad at you.”

Adam shivered.

“They’re looking for us,” she whispered, as the sound grew more distant, then faded away into the night. “But we should be safe until morning, since they went off to chase a false lead. They only hunt at night.”

“What will they do if they catch us?”

“To me? I don’t know, but it’s going to be painful and terrible. To you? The same, I suspect, except you are mortal and will die from it. Then you might find yourself reliving that nightmare for the rest of your afterlife.”

He shuddered. She crept closer to him, and he crept closer to her, and they fell asleep holding each other.

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3 hours ago, Eagle0769 said:

Wow very interesting story.

I never read a story like this kind of scary.

Will there be more. LOL

Yes, there's more! I already have chapter 3 written, and it's fairly long. But I figured I'd wait a day in between posting, so people actually have a chance to keep up. Also, once that chapter is up, we're all caught up since I'm currently working on chapter 4.

I'm glad you found it interesting and new. I'm trying to write a sort of mashup between supernatural horror and romantic comedy - with a kinky twist! I've written 15k words this week, but I know I can't sustain that kind of writing speed forever, especially not if I want to keep the quality up. I anticipate this thing will wrap up in 5 or possibly 6 chapters, but that's still quite a bit of writing to do. Thankfully it's fun to write. My biggest problem right now is I don't want to disappoint those readers who want to read the smutty parts, but I keep having more fun writing the non-smut character dynamics and plot!

  • Like 1
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Chapter 3: Date Night

They woke up to the sun peeking in through the curtains, partially obscured by a cloud. Adam closed the window and noted that the late spring weather had cooled—good thing Asha had something other than those ridiculous short-shorts to wear.

“Morning, mortal,” she said, stretching herself. “You stink.”

Adam smelled his shirt. Indeed. He’d only had time to splash a little bit of water under his arms and onto his face since the evening of the ritual, which was now a day and a half ago. Which presented a problem: how was he going to use the bathroom for anything—toilet business or showering or doing laundry—if he had to have Asha with him at all times? He couldn’t explain this sudden and extreme co-dependence to his housemates, or anyone else for that matter. Except Amy. Didn’t she say she’d found something?

“She did,” Asha said. “Are you going to stink all day?”

Clearly teaching manners is not a top priority when raising a demon.

What were his priorities, anyway? Now he remembered the terrifying howls of the night before. Right. He definitely needed to solve this today, before dark. So, shower, then hardcore research. He picked up the phone and dialed Amy. “Morning,” she said.

“Morning. Did you say you had something for us?”

“I did, but it’s not a quick-fix, unfortunately. I have a morning class but we can discuss it over lunch. Listen, I need to go get ready...”

“Wait! I need to shower and do some laundry, and I can’t explain to my housemates why I have to bring my ‘girlfriend’ that they’d never seen until yesterday with me wherever I go. Do you think…?”

“Put me on speaker,” Amy said. Adam did.

“Okay, I’m going to leave a spare key in the flower pot outside the front door. You can shower and do laundry, but bring your own towels. Asha, I’m trusting you to make sure Adam doesn’t sneak a peek in my panty drawer or does anything else remotely creepy, okay?”

“With pleasure,” Asha said.

“Thanks, I owe you one,” Adam said, then they exchanged see you laters and he hung up.

Unbelievable. She trusts a demon straight outta Hell more than she does her friend.

“You have a lot to learn about the female gender,” Asha said. She was standing beside the bed, and Adam blushed at the sight of her nude from the waist down.

“Put on some clothes, will you?”

“I can’t, remember?” Right. He walked over, picked up a new, dry pair of Amy’s panties—these ones were pink, with a Hello Kitty print, which extracted a raised eyebrow from the both of them and made Adam wonder what else he didn’t know about his friend—and raised them up to her hips. Then it was on with the jeans from the previous day, which had not miraculously grown any wider or longer over night. Asha swayed her hips as Adam tried his best to shimmy the pants up her thighs. Downside of being thicc, I suppose.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means these pants weren’t made to fit someone as sexy as you. Now shut up and help me get them on you.” She looked pleased at the compliment. Too pleased. “You can carry the laundry bin for me since you’re the one who keeps pissing in your pants,” he added. Asha frowned, but picked up the laundry as she’d been told.

As before, Adam tried to scout ahead to avoid his housemates, but this time, he failed. At the door, they ran into Eddie, the resident womanizer. He was taller than Adam, fitter, with a muscular chest and biceps that always strained at the fabric of his shirts—no doubt intentionally—and Adam hated the fact that he actually wasn’t a complete douchebag. He may look like a jock, and he may sleep with a lot of women, but he never lied to them about his casual intentions, never made himself out to be better by slagging off others.

“Oh, hey Adam,” he said, almost colliding into Asha as he entered the door.

“Out late again?” Adam asked.

“You know how it is,” Eddie said with a smile. “Dude, what happened to your face?”

“Got hit by an elbow playing basketball,” Adam lied. It was the best lie he could come up with: although he didn’t play in any organized fashion, every once in a while he’d play a casual pickup game with some friends.

Eddie didn’t seem to buy this, but he could sense that Adam wasn’t comfortable sharing, so he plowed on gamely, “Who’s your friend?”

“This is, uh, Asha,” he said.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie said, extending a hand. Asha shot a look at Adam, and he nodded. They shook hands.

“You didn’t tell me your friend was such a prime specimen,” Asha said.

Eddie laughed. “You have a funny way of speaking, but thanks, I guess?”

“We gotta get going, talk to you later,” Adam said.

“Good for you, bro!” Eddie responded as they walked out the door.

“Your friend is hot,” Asha said once the door closed.

“Glad to hear it,” Adam said, surprised to hear the disappointed edge to his voice. “Sadly for you, you’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“I never said you weren’t hot,” Asha replied.

Huh. Adam felt his cheeks warm. “Let’s get to Amy’s place,” he said. “I’m dying for a shower and lucky for you, you’re getting in with me.”

Looking forward to it,” she said and giggled.

The key was in the flower pot, just as Amy had said. He unlocked the door, tossed the key on the kitchen counter, and led Asha by the hand to the bathroom. “No staring when I undress,” he said.

I seem to recall you staring quite a bit when you undressed me.”

Well, I’m the one calling the shots.” He accepted the laundry bin from Asha and tossed it into the machine, then began undressing. Once he was fully nude, he began undressing Asha. Off with the tortuously tight jeans, off with the Hello Kitty panties, off with the t-shirt. She was stunning, as usual. Adam led her by the hand to the shower—her eyes averted from his nude form, as he’d requested—but then he stopped. “Hey, do you need to go?”

I do not,” she said.

Oh, right. You peed yourself just a few hours ago.”

Asha blushed. “I would prefer,” she said, carefully looking into his eyes but not straying down to his nude crotch, “if you didn’t mention that.”

Why, because it’s embarrassing?”

Yes!” She shouted. “Is this how you treat your girlfriends? Always reminding them of their most humiliating experiences? No wonder your friends are so surprised to see you with a girl!” Oof.

Sorry,” he said. “If it makes you feel any better, you know I enjoyed it.”

It does not,” she said. “Now please shut off and wash me.”

Adam carefully lathered her with soap, kneading it in, then directed the stream of the shower to clean it off. Then he picked up the bar of soap himself.

Would you like me to do that?” Asha asked. What?

I said...”

I heard you. You sure you want to do that?”

I want to.”

He let her soap him up. Adam found himself closing his eyes and fantasizing that she was actually his girlfriend, not the demon he’d accidentally bound. When she strayed to his crotch, he tensed up.

You don’t like that?” She purred.

I do, but are you sure you’re comfortable...”

You mortals have some strange hang-ups about sex,” Asha said, and continued soaping him up. Adam couldn’t suppress an erection, but at this point, what was the point? She knew he was aroused, he had seen her at her most vulnerable. What did they really have to hide from one another?

He kneaded some shampoo into her hair, which fell to her shoulders, and let her to do the same to his. Then they cleaned it off, and it was time to towel themselves dry. Which is to say, Adam had to do it for the both of them, as Asha purred and moaned. “Is it really that good for you?” He asked.

I have not been touched like that for a long time,” she admitted.

You said your mother was a Succubus. I would’ve assumed you got it on all the time...”

It’s not easy to find someone of proper breeding to satisfy my father,” she admitted.

You let your father decide who you’re allowed to fuck? I thought you take what you want, when you want it?

I knew you wouldn’t understand,” Asha said. “Oooh, more like that,” as he rubbed her crotch.

I presume I’m not of proper breeding, being a mortal and all,” Adam said.

Shut up and continue!”

He rubbed at her, rhythmically, massaging her until he could hear her breath speeding up; her cheeks flushed, and then, finally, her entire body shook. Asha’s eyes were closed, her mouth partially open, and a little trail of liquid he didn’t think was pee ran down her thigh. She swayed on her feet and let him catch and hold her upright as the orgasm receded. “Did you just, uh...”

Yes,” she mumbled. “I needed that.” Adam finished toweling her off and then dressed her, then himself. What the hell?

Now clean and dry, he led her by the hand to Amy’s couch. “Ok, Asha,” he said. “I need you to tell me anything, and I mean absolutely anything, that could potentially be relevant to bringing you back home. Anything at all.”

I told you, I don’t know! I thought binding was a fairy tale!”

Adam poured himself a glass of water and another for Asha. She drank it down eagerly, then requested another. He handed it to her warily, reminding her to tell him the moment she needed to pee. She huffed and gulped down the water in one go.

Think! You don’t want the hell-hounds to catch you, do you?”

Of course not.”

If this was a fairy tale or legend when you were growing up, maybe other stories that you thought were child’s tales were actually real. Tell me something we can use.”

Asha thought about it. “There was one story,” she said finally. “But it was so ridiculous I never believed it even as a spawnling.”

Tell me.”

The story says that time is a great cycle, turning around and around, on the scale of thousands of years. And at one point in each great turning of the wheel—

The Wheel of Time?” Adam asked.

The wheel, the cycle, the great revolution, whatever you want to call it!”

Never mind, that was a joke.”

Anyway,” Asha said, frowning, “a powerful necromancer shall be born completely unaware. He shall not have any idea of his powers until the time when he first attempts to use them...”

Go on.”

And once he uses his powers, he shall summon and bind a powerful demon, and the demon shall try and fail to kill him, and be ever at his mercy. And the powers that be in Hell shall send their Legions to retrieve the bound demon, but the power of… Okay, the ending is just so ridiculous I can’t even...”

Tell me,” he said.

And just as the Legions of Hell close in, the power of True Love shall save the couple from the Wrath of Heaven and Hell alike.”

Wow.”

I told you it was ridiculous,” Asha said, but Adam could see her cheeks redden.

Could that apply to us?” He asked. Why did I say that? I barely know her, and she’s a demon.

Don’t be silly. I don’t ‘love’ you. You’re mortal, barely average in the looks department and you don’t exactly treat me like a princess. Don’t tell me you’ve, ugh, how do you say, ‘become in love with me?’”

Fallen in love,” he corrected her. “And, um, of course not. You are literal hellspawn. And you’re not exactly nice to me all the time.”

And you are not exactly a powerful necromancer.”

Maybe I am? I did manage to bind...”

Raise any Lich-Kings lately?” Asha shot in.

Uh, no...”

Glad we cleared that up, mortal,” Asha said, but her cheeks were still red. Did the fairy tale hit closer to home than she wanted to give away?

Do demons ever fall in love?” He asked.

Demons regard love as a mortal weakness,” Asha replied.

What about your mother and father?”

My mother and father were in lust,” she replied.

They never, like, sacrificed anything for each other, just because they couldn’t stand to be without each other?”

Asha squirmed, not like her previous pee-squirming, more like someone put on the spot to answer a question they had never considered seriously because they feared the answer would be too painful to bear. “Do you command me to answer truthfully?”

Yes.”

Asha shuddered. “My mother,” she said, “was set to become the ruler of the Circle of Lust after her father. But the other Circles did not wish for a single family to control two Circles, fearing it would upset the balance of power in Hell, and threatened war if this union came to be. So she renounced her claim to the throne in order to marry my father.”

Sounds like love to me,” Adam said.

Shut up!”

What happened to her? Your mother, I mean?”

I do not know. She has been gone for hundreds of years now, as mortals reckon time—since I was very young. My father says she is gone forever, but I know he’s still looking for her.”

They sat silently for a while, pondering this.

This will not do!” Asha said. “Get on with it, mortal. Figure out a solution!”

Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.

I would not ask you if I had any other choice!” Asha said, exasperated.

Adam thought about it. Finally he fished out his phone and started typing into his browser.

This is not the time to be fiddling with that shiny little game!” Asha said.

It’s not a game, Asha,” he explained. “It’s like a big library, except bigger and more comprehensive than any physical library in the world.”

Asha peered over his shoulder to watch him type in “how to return a summoned demon to Hell” in Safari. Asha made various displeased noises as she read over his shoulder, Adam scanning through the first ten hits and finding nothing but various obviously fake rituals and ghostbuster websites.

Give me that, dumb mortal,” Asha said. He showed her how to navigate the smartphone display with her fingers, and after a few false starts, she was scrolling away. They spent the next hour scrolling through occult and Satanic websites, all of which were hopelessly misguided as to the nature of Hell, according to the demon.

Am I right that anyone can put a book into this ‘library’ of yours?” Asha finally asked.

Uh, yeah, that’s kind of how the internet works.”

This is useless!” Asha said, and made to throw his iPhone on the floor, but Adam stayed her with a stern hand on her wrist.

That’s expensive and I can’t afford to replace it.” Asha reluctantly let him have the phone back.

Adam’s stomach chose that moment to make its discomfort known. He was hungry, but there was something else… Well, shit. Steeling himself, he took Asha’s hand and pulled her towards the bathroom. “I don’t need to go!” She complained.

Well, I do,” he snapped back. Better get this done and over with. Why was he so embarrassed? After all, it was only natural, and he’d seen her in far more compromising positions. Adam was forced to admit to himself that maybe, just maybe, it was because against all good instincts, he was starting to like Asha quite a lot and didn’t want to disgust her. He directed her to avert her eyes, then pulled down his pants and sat down to do the dirty but necessary business. Asha said nothing, but wrinkled her nose and waved a hand in front of her face to signal her displeasure. Once he was done, he noticed that the laundry cycle was done, so he proceeded to pull out all the garments Asha had peed in—the daisy-dukes, the two pairs of panties—slowly and deliberately, giving her a good look at them before he hung them to dry. She had the decency to blush.

I’m hungry,” Asha said, after the toilet and laundry business was done.

As am I. Good thing it’s almost lunch-time. We can go eat at the cafeteria and I’ll text Amy to meet us there after her class.”

You’re going to buy me lunch? How nice of you,” she said. Adam couldn’t tell if it was genuine or sarcastic, but then again, Asha rarely betrayed any understanding of non-literal speech. Perhaps she honestly wanted him to know she appreciated it. Odd thought.

On the way to the cafeteria, he noted that Asha’s steps steadily grew shorter, and her face contorted in pain. Did she have to pee? But she wasn’t displaying any of the jitteriness he’d come to expect. Adam stopped and let his eyes trace down her thighs to her feet. Of course, the shoes. He’d had trouble getting them on her—Amy’s feet must be at least one size smaller than Asha’s.

Do your feet hurt?” He asked.

N-no,” she said, biting her lip.

You don’t have to be strong for me. Tell me honestly: is it painful for you to walk in those shoes?”

Asha seemed to fight an internal battle between maintaining her pride and the desire to relieve her pain. Finally, her shoulders slumped, and she said, very quietly, “Yes.”

Well, fuck. I’m going to have to buy her proper shoes. Asha’s eyes lit up—of course, she’d listened in on his internal monologue, the sneak—as he grabbed her hand and steered her off campus, towards the nearest shopping street. They dipped into a small shoe store and Asha quickly led him over to a shelf filled with tall leather boots, most of which wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Dominatrix’s BDSM dungeon.

This is more like it!” She said, eyes momentarily flashing to darkness, as if she’d found something that reminded her of home and couldn’t quite contain her demonic nature. Adam glanced over his shoulder to make sure the proprietor wasn’t looking to closely at them. She was busy helping the sole other customer in the little shop. Tall boots were not season-appropriate, but more importantly, the prices were not appropriate for his wallet, so he dragged her away, Asha pouting like a child. “You never let me have any fun,” she said.

I think you had fun in the shower earlier.

Oh, yeah,” she whispered, and smiled. He found her a pair of running shoes for $49.99 on sale, and bought them for her (in spite of her protests) as soon as he confirmed that they fit. She winced when he helped her off with Amy’s shoes, and he noted that some blood had soaked through her socks. Stupid, stubborn demon. The shopkeeper gave the pair an odd glance as he helped her on with the new shoes as if she were a young child, but said nothing. As soon as they were on, Asha’s pained expression disappeared and became a huge smile. “I can actually wiggle my toes now!” She said out loud, a statement that surely didn’t help dissuade the juvenile impression she was giving off, but Asha appeared oblivious.

Well, there goes my weed budget for the foreseeable future, Adam thought as they exited the shop.

You buy garden pests?” Asha asked.

It’s a drug,” he explained, and added when he saw a dangerous gleam in Asha’s eyes, “I’m not getting high with a demon. Out of the question.”

You’re no fun,” she said.

 

They were just about done with their sandwiches and sparkling water when Amy caught up with them in the cafeteria. “That class was utterly boring,” she declared. “Speaking of, aren’t you also in that class, Adam?”

I’ve kinda got bigger fish to fry right now than, what was it, Intro to Greek Philosophy?”

Intro was last year, this is advanced boring philosophy,” she said. “I’d rather be studying the occult.”

What did you find?” Asha asked. She’d devoured her sandwich like an animal, dousing it with ketchup—reminded her of her blood-based diet in Hell, he assumed—and now her face was a mess. Adam absentmindedly picked up a napkin and wiped her face. Amy raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.

So, like I said, I didn’t find a quick-fix, silver bullet kind of solution,” Amy said. “But I did find something that we might be able to work with. It’s something called the Rite of Transference. I found it in a book by one of Dr. Musgrave’s students, one Anna Mire, so it’s got at least a chance of not being complete bullshit.”

I’m starting to think this Musgrave fellow didn’t really know what he was doing,” Adam said.

Well, the ritual you did worked perfectly, you absolute bonehead,” she shot back.

What does the ritual do?” Asha asked.

It’s supposed to ‘transfer an Infernal soul to the place where its heart resides,’ whatever that means. I’m assuming that means back to Hell?”

Asha bit her lip, then nodded. “Let’s do it!”

It’s not that simple,” Amy said. “I did say it wasn’t a quick fix. First of all it requires some arcane ingredients that we’re unlikely to be able to get our hands on, so we’ll have to improvise substitutes and hope that doesn’t ruin the whole thing. And secondly, it can only be done at midnight under a full moon.”

When’s the next full moon?”

Day after tomorrow. Looks like you two are stuck with each other until then.”

We should tell her about the hell-hounds.

Asha shook her head and gave him a look that he hoped meant, “we’ll talk about it after.” Adam held his tongue, but he felt a drop of sweat slide down his neck. Could they really hide from the K-9 police units from Hell until then?

Lighten up!” Amy playfully shoved her elbow into Adam’s side. “I know you pretend to hate each other, but the way you look at each other tells me it’s getting complicated.” Both of them, human and demon, blushed at that. “Let’s do something fun tonight. Peter wanted to come over last night, but I was too busy researching arcane rituals.” Peter was a mutual acquaintance who’d had the courage to make a move on Amy while Adam pined away in solitude, and they’d been dating for a couple of months now. “I couldn’t exactly tell him that, so I improvised some story about helping you two out with a class project. He insisted on meeting the woman who could put up with your dorkiness, Adam, so he suggested we grab dinner together tonight, the four of us.”

I’m not going on a double-date with a demon.

I’m not going on a ‘date’ with a mortal,” Asha said.

Relax, it’s all in good fun,” Amy said. “You’d be doing me a favor, and yourselves, as well. If I’m gonna be busy helping you set up this ritual for the next couple days, I won’t get to see Peter much, and he’s gonna get suspicious if you refuse to meet him. He’s gonna think there’s something else going on between you and me, Adam, and you don’t get to come between us,” she said sternly, staring him down until he had to admit she made a fair point. He gave in. Adam was going on a dinner date with a demon.

 

They whiled away the early afternoon playing video games in his room, then met up with Amy at her apartment. He’d brought a backpack to bring back the laundry, which should at least not be soaking wet anymore, and Amy had agreed to lend Asha a dress appropriate for the occasion. By the time they got there, Asha was squirming visibly. She hadn’t peed all day: no wonder she was getting antsy. “Come on, I have to take you to pee before dinner,” he said.

I-I don’t need to go,” she tried, her crossed legs betraying the lie.

I think you do,” he said.

I can hold it. You can take me at the restaurant if it gets bad.”

No, I can’t, because I can’t be seen entering the same restroom with you in public, unless you want to pretend you’re disabled and I’m your caretaker.”

You want me to pretend to be retarded?” She was almost yelling.

Well, I wouldn’t use that word, but you got the gist. Or you can come with me now like a big girl.”

Don’t you dare pee in my dress!” Amy yelled from her bedroom. “Demon or not, I will rip you apart.”

Fine,” Asha said.

Once they were inside and Asha spotted the toilet, it seemed her urgency increased exponentially, and she was potty-dancing like mad while he tried to get open the buttons on her borrowed jeans, which were very tight. “Hurry!” She said.

Stand still, then, silly.” Finally he got the buttons off, then he hiked down the Hello Kitty panties and guided her butt down to the seat just in time for a stream of pee to erupt out of her, splattering merrily into the bowl. Asha blushed, then closed her eyes and moaned as she emptied herself. It went on for almost a minute.

Adam put a finger into the panties. There was no visible wetness, and although they were slightly damp, he thought it was likely just sweat. She was after all wearing an outfit at least one size too small, and the temperature had risen once the clouds broke in the early afternoon. He was feeling a little hot himself—entirely coincidentally, nothing to do with the fact that he had a hand in a pretty girl’s underwear while her nude crotch was on display, he told himself—and resolved to splash some water under his arms before they went to dinner. “Good girl,” he said. “That’s the first time you actually made it without a leak since you, uh, arrived here.”

She opened her eyes, frowned, stared at him. If looks could kill…

This underwear is quite childish,” Asha remarked as he lowered her jeans and prepared to help her into the dress Amy had picked out for her. It was a long, slim, black thing that probably was supposed to go down below the knees rather than mid-thigh, but it did look very nice.

Yes,” he agreed. “Don’t tell that to Amy, though, you might embarrass her.”

So strange,” Asha said. “My kind wears their kinks with pride.”

You think it’s a kink?” Oh god, don’t picture Amy dressed up as a little girl… The thought had the potential to do unspeakable things to him. And curiously, the idea of being visibly aroused at a different girl in Asha’s presence bothered him more than the idea of her seeing him aroused did on its own.

The two of them emerged from the bathroom and Amy rushed in to do her makeup, then insisted on applying some to Asha as well. When the two women were fully dolled up, Adam noted something: his eyes were not drawn to Amy at all. She was wearing a frilly black skirt over tan pantyhose, a white collared shirt, and tasteful makeup, a look he would have drooled over less than a week ago. Amy had that perfect girl next door look that made Adam weak in the knees. But this time, he only had eyes for Asha: for her more mature curves, the tantalizing hints of her bare upper thighs where the hem of the dress couldn’t quite reach, the confident posture she carried herself with, the playful gleam in her green eyes. Even the incongruous running shoes in place of more tasteful high heels couldn’t mar the impression. She was stunning, and next to her, Amy looked positively ordinary. It was like a spell that had held Adam tight for the past year had been removed, but only because a more powerful spell had taken hold. He was in deep trouble. This was so wrong. She was a demon. She wanted to eat his entrails, or whatever it was demons did to their enemies. Then why does it feel so right? He thought as he held out his arm for her to grab onto.

Dinner began as an awkward affair, but once the initial introductions were done away with, it grew into a pleasant moment of domesticity that put his mind off the otherworldly mess he was in for an hour. Asha behaved herself, laughing at all of Peter’s jokes—which would have made her charming if she had a better grasp of the difference between a joke and a serious statement—and occasionally touching her hand to Adam’s thigh under the table. He knew she was doing it just to tease him, wind him up, watch him suffer a bit, but it had the effect of making them seem like a perfectly ordinary young couple in love. Adam didn’t even try to dissuade Peter from the notion that they were a couple. What was even the point? The fact that the two were never seen more than a few feet apart would give anyone the wrong idea, and it wasn’t like he could explain the truth.

They settled the bill, and of course, Adam had to be a gentleman and pay for Asha since she had no money of her own, while Amy and Peter split their bill. Definitely not paying for my own weed for the rest of all eternity, he thought. Maybe if I turn up the charm I can convince someone to give me a hit at a party of something.

The illusion of pleasant domesticity was shattered when they were on their way home. It was now almost fully dark out, and Adam’s ears picked up a low, keening sound in the distance. It quickly grew into a cacophonous roar of grinding metal, gnashing teeth, and howls. The hell-hounds are here. Amy’s face had turned white as a sheet, while Peter stood there with a quizzical expression, apparently oblivious to the noise.

“Run, mortals,” Asha whispered, and grabbed Adam’s hand. A terrified and confused Amy ran after them, leaving her boyfriend behind, standing rooted to the spot like a study in confusion.

Adam looked over his shoulder to see Peter make up his mind and began sprinting after them, yelling, “Wait! What the hell’s gotten into you?!” but then they rounded a corner and he was gone. The three of them ran as fast as they could, panting, following Asha’s lead through the campus until she led them into a back alley between two buildings and crouched down in the shadow of a trash container, putting up a finger to her lips in the interdimensionally recognized sign for silence, be silent dammit!

The three of them huddled together on the ground, squeezed between a brick wall and the trash container, hoping the shadow would somehow hide them. If not that, then the stink of the container’s contents. Adam stole a look at Amy, but her eyes were frozen in fear, and he followed her gaze towards the entrance to the blind alley, halfway illuminated by a street lamp around the corner. Something very large—like an ox, as Asha had said the night before—lumbered into view, but the darkness of the form and the poor illumination made it hard to make out just what the hell it was. The sound of metal grinding on metal was deafening, but it seemed to emanate from around the corner, not from the creature. The silhouette raised a lump at its front—he could see now that it had four legs, but its size and quadrupedal gait was about the only thing he could make out clearly—and what must be the head seemed to sniff in the air. Adam held his breath as the thing tried to sniff them out, but then it lowered its head and let out a blood-curling howl, seemed to shake its head and lumbered around the corner. The metallic noise receded into the distance. In its place was only cold, hard silence—broken by a steady hiss coming from Adam’s left. He looked over at Amy: her face was pale, but even in this dark corner, he could see her cheeks color when she noticed him looking. Adam’s eyes strayed towards her lap. The hissing continued for half a minute, and there was no doubt about what was happening. It wasn’t until the flow tapered off, however, that he noticed some shiny wetness on her pantyhose catching the light from the other end of the alley. Amy said nothing, but he could see her eyes were wet.

Asha let out a sigh at his right.

“What the hell was that?” Amy asked.

“Hell-hounds,” Asha whispered.

“And you two didn’t think to warn me those things might be after me?”

“I did not think they were after you,” Asha said. “But they must have figured out you were helping us. And I did not think they would be out so early—usually they only hunt after midnight.” And then, uncharacteristically, she added, “I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Wait, what about Peter?” Amy said, voice cracking, panic rising again as she suddenly seemed to remember she’d left her boyfriend out to dry when they fled.

“If he could not hear them, they were not after him,” Asha said. “They are not visible or audible to mortals except those whom they hunt.”

“Are they gone? Are we in the clear?” Adam asked.

“For now. I gambled that the smell of this garbage would put them off our trail, that they would think it was rotten meat and not mortal fear they smelled. It worked. They’ve moved on tonight, but they know our general location now. They’ll come after us again tomorrow night.”

Adam tried to lend Amy a hand to help her stand up, but she pushed him away. “This is not okay,” she said. She hurriedly tugged at her skirt to lower it, apparently to hide a curious lump that seemed to have swelled between her legs. Weird. Her thighs were still shiny from her accident, however. Adam was reminded of his own little mishap when Asha had first materialized, and decided it was best to pretend like he hadn’t noticed. If nothing else, to ensure the future good health of his balls. Amy looked furious.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, but don’t think you’re getting away with this. I’m super mad at you right now, Adam,” she said. They separated and headed to their respective homes, each of them looking over their shoulders all the way.

“Did you notice she peed?” Asha asked when they were out of earshot.

“Yes. Don’t ever mention it in front of her. She’s ready to rip me to pieces already, best not anger a charging bull further.”

I didn’t pee,” she said proudly.

“Well, good for you, not pissing yourself for an entire day,” he said sourly.

She clung to his arm the entire way home.

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Second-to-last chapter. Pieces starting to move into position for the endgame!

Chapter 4: Den of Sin

Asha was already awake and stretching when he woke the next morning. Adam let his unfocused eyes linger on the curve of her spine where it met her butt. A pleasant way to start the day if ever there was one.

“I think I had a dream,” she said. “You were in it.”

“You think you had a dream?”

“My kind does not sleep. This is all very new to me.”

Right. “What was I doing? Hanging on a spear above a bonfire, slow-roast style?” He asked.

“N-no,” she said and blushed. “I feel strange.”

“Are you sick?” He put a hand to her forehead to feel for a fever, but her skin was cool enough to the touch.

“I try to imagine torturing you, punishing you for what you did to me,” Asha said, “but when I do, it hurts here.” She put a hand to her chest, near her heart. “I do not like it.”

Could it be the binding? Or is it some kind of Stockholm Syndrome thing?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Asha said. “But I would not feel this way about just anyone that came along and put me on a leash.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Adam picked up his phone from the night stand and dialed Amy. Time to see if we can mend some broken trust. He didn’t look forward to this conversation, but he didn’t want to put it off either.

“Hello,” said a groggy voice on the other end. “It’s still early.”

“Are you okay? Are we okay?” Adam asked.

“I talked to Peter,” Amy said, and by the tone of her voice, he could already tell it hadn’t gone over well. “He was furious that we’d just ran away from him like that with no explanation. He begged me to explain what was going on.”

“What’d you tell him? The truth?”

Of course not!” She spat. “Nobody would believe that. I told him he wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh.”

“And you know what he said? He told me I’d make him understand, if I truly cared about him. And now he won’t respond to my texts or return my calls.”

“I’m so sorry,” Adam said, feeling like a complete asshole.

“I told you that this thing wasn’t to come between me and him! This is all your fault!”

“Amy, I’m sorry...”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What? You won’t help us with the ritual?” He asked.

“Don’t call or text me. I’ll contact you when I’m ready to be friends again, if I ever am. Just leave me alone.” Amy hung up. The last thing he heard before the beep was a choked sob from the other end.

Adam threw his phone on a pillow, then punched the duvet in frustration. Fuck! Now he’d really gone and done it. Ruined his relationship with one of his closest friends, and burned all bridges to the one person who could get him—get them—out of this mess. Adam turned to Asha.

“You!” He said, suddenly furious and desperate to find an external target to take it out on. He pointed a finger at her chest. “You were the one who told me not to tell Amy about the hell-hounds. This is all your fault!”

We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t bound me like a slave!” She yelled, fists balled at her sides, arms shaking with anger. Gone was the pleasant demeanor, and in its place was a snarl that reminded him of her true nature. It felt like the temperature in the room had increased several degrees in the space of one sentence.

There was a hesitant knock at the door. Adam wiped his eyes, which were for some reason wet, and went over to crack the door open. “Trouble in paradise?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, uh, sorry, we’ll keep it down...”

“Hey, you okay, man?” Ryan asked. “I’ve barely seen you these past few days.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk soon, for sure,” Adam said. “Just been busy, is all,” and he began closing the door.

“You can always talk to me, bro,” Ryan said.

He’s worried for me. Of course. Adam wasn’t the most outgoing person in their little household, but he was far from a recluse. He’d spend most evenings that he wasn’t studying in the common room of their apartment, watching TV and shooting the shit with the guys. He’d spent the past few days virtually only in the presence of what they must assume was his new girlfriend, and he had a huge bruise on his face, and now Ryan had caught them arguing loudly in his room. He must suspect I’ve gotten myself snared in an abusive relationship.

Your friend is worried about you,” Asha said. Her anger had deflated, and the temperature in the room had cooled to its previous level. “And you are worried about your other friend, Amy.”

Yes,” he said, letting himself fall down onto the bed, which creaked alarmingly under the sudden strain. He couldn’t stay mad at her: she was right, he’d started this whole mess in the first place. And more importantly, being mad at her was like being mad at himself, since he couldn’t leave her and go somewhere to be alone, a strategy he’d usually employ to clear his head on those rare occasions when he argued with his friends.

She put out a hand, offering to him. “Are you still mad at me?” She asked, concern in her voice.

“No. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Can we be friends?” He took her hand and shook it. If you’d told me one week ago that I’d be shaking hands and making friends with a demon…

“Good,” she said, then released her hand and clutched it to her abdomen. “I have to go.”

“Did we just make up so I’d take you to the bathroom?”

“No. Please,” she pleaded.

“Okay. But we’re going to find a public restroom. I can’t deal with my housemates right now. They already suspect you’re beating me.”

Asha bent over, clutching her abdomen, crossing her legs. Adam picked up his backpack and stuffed the final change of clothes he’d gotten from Amy in. “What’s that for?” Asha demanded.

“In case you have another accident.”

“I won’t if you stop dragging out the time!” She whined.

Adam tried to help her on with her jeans. Asha winced when he began buttoning up the crotch. “Does that hurt?”

Yes!” She bit her lip.

“I have a sweater you can wear, it’ll be a little long so we can leave the uppermost button open,” he suggested. Adam retrieved an old hoodie with the brand ASICS in faded print on the chest.

“This is really what you wear?” Asha asked, eyeing the worn-out sweater with disgust. “No doubt nobody wants to sleep with you.”

“No,” Adam said, “this is the sort of shit I keep in the back of my closet because it’s too worn out to wear day-to-day, but I can’t afford to throw it out yet because unlike a certain someone, I’m not a fucking princess of Hell and I can’t ask daddy to buy me a new one. Now are you going to wear it, or should I button you up?”

“I—I’ll wear it,” she said, and he helped her put it on.

“I don’t, you know,” she said while he helped her lace up her shoes. “Ask my father to just get me something new if I wear something out, that is.”

“Do you ever do something he wouldn’t like?” He asked.

“Uh, sometimes,” she said, squirming on the spot. “Nothing major, though.”

“Aw, Daddy’s girl,” Adam said and offered her his hand. “Too bad, right now I’m your daddy,” he added with a chuckle.

Asha didn’t laugh. She frowned, stomped her foot on the floor, and spat out, “You’re nothing like my father. If you were, I’d hate you.”

“So you don’t hate me anymore? Glad to hear it.”

“Shut up!” She said, blushing. “And don’t think I’m ever calling you ‘daddy,’ mister.” Her eyes flashed into a vision of the void, then flickered back into the bright green he felt like he could lose himself in forever.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, squirt,” he said.

“I did not leak,” she said.

“Relax, it’s just a cute nickname.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t invent any more cute nicknames,” she said. “I’d hate to break your heart when I leave forever.”

The comment stung more than it should have. Adam realized that he didn’t really want her to leave. He’d grown complacent in the idea that she was always there, by his side. It couldn’t go on forever, but he found himself wishing it could last just a little longer, that it wouldn’t be forever cut short by the full moon. What’s gotten into me?

“You are mortal, and weak,” she said, as they walked hand in hand down the gravel path towards the nearest public restroom he knew of, in the college cafeteria. It should still be open even though it was a Saturday morning. Plenty of students studied in the nearby library over the weekend.

“So you’re not going to shed a tear when you leave me forever,” Adam said, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. “Well, I’ll be glad to be rid of you too.” Except he wouldn’t. He was only saying that in a feeble attempt to hide his true feelings.

“I didn’t… say that,” she said, stopping for a moment to hold herself.

“Okay, remember what we talked about yesterday,” he whispered as they entered the cafeteria, glad to shift focus to practical matters. “Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if we can’t sneak into a restroom and someone sees us together, you have to pretend to be disabled and that I’m your handler, okay? Otherwise they’ll think we’re up to no good and kick us out.”

“I hate this,” she said, but followed his lead into the cafeteria. Only a few people were there. It was still relatively early, before 9 AM on a Saturday, just half an hour after the cafeteria and library opened. Adam tried to surreptitiously lead them towards the handicap bathroom in the back of the cafeteria. Asha was now constantly clutching her abdomen and trying to suppress moans—clearly, she was in a bad way. Adam regretted not insisting she go before bed. But she’d managed not to have an accident all day yesterday—he’d almost started to think this wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Just as he put his hand on the door handle, he heard someone deliberately clear their throat behind him. Adam whirled around to see a male janitor standing at the corner near the bathrooms, frowning and gesturing at the two of them.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” The janitor said. He was middle-aged, overweight, and sported a mean mug.

“She’s disabled and I’m her companion for the day. I need to accompany her...” He spit out the lie too quickly, as if he’d been waiting to spring it—which he had—but no matter. Surely this grump bastard couldn’t deny them now? As if on cue, Asha let her mouth hang open and allowed a little trail of drool escape her lips, slipping down her cheek in a way that he almost couldn’t resist wiping away, in what he assumed was a generic impersonation of a non-specific disability. It looked incredibly stupid. Oh, well, he had no time to worry about political correctness now.

“I’m going to need to see some ID,” said the janitor, leaning on his washing brush.

“Dammit, can’t you see it’s an emergency?” Adam said, raising his voice. Asha, squirming and clutching her crotch, did nothing if not support his assertion. “Are you really going to let a disabled girl disgrace herself in public over some stupid power trip?” He made sure everyone in the cafeteria could hear him—although he’d rather not attract attention, he didn’t think Asha could make it to another restroom. People were starting to stare now. Good.

“Uh, relax, you can go in, just don’t make it a habit,” said the janitor, blushing. Adam dragged Asha into the restroom without looking back. She bent over as soon as he locked the door, and he had to help her stagger to the toilet. Asha bit her lip and crossed her legs as he tried to open the buttons on her jeans.

“Hurry!” She said.

Trying!” As he got the jeans down to her knees, he noted that the front of the Hello Kitty panties was already dark red rather than pink, soaked. As he lowered her pants fully, her entire abdomen shook, and she spurted violently, splashing urine onto his hands and a bit onto the front of his pants.

“Sorry!” She said. Adam decided that the panties were a lost cause and helped Asha sit down on the toilet, panties still on. Asha immediately sighed and a steady trickle emerged from the front of her panties, soaking them further and giving Adam a peek at the contour of her lips. She closed her eyes as the pee began leaking out the legholes of her underwear, sputtering into the toilet bowl. Then she opened her eyes wide. “Get them off, get them off quickly!” She said, leaning forward, closing his view of her crotch, clutching her abdomen.

Thinking quickly, Adam put his hands under her armpits and hoisted her up, quickly using one arm to slip the soaking panties down her legs. Then he let her down, and Asha’s cheeks turned scarlet as the stream became a waterfall between her legs and she erupted from the other end. Adam respectfully averted his eyes while she finished up, heart pounding hard enough to threaten escape from his rib cage. “I’m done,” she said. She attempted to wipe herself down, but doubled over in pain when she tried, so Adam put a hand over hers and held it here, trying to guide her to wipe herself without having to touch her with his own skin.

When she was all dry and clean, he first inspected her pants—mostly dry, with just a tiny bit of wetness near the bottom-most button—and then her borrowed panties. The front was soaking with pee, dripping, so he had to use a sheet of toilet paper to dry them enough not to stain the pants. Adam had Asha stand up, and when he did, he saw the full extent of the damage to her underwear. The back portion was badly stained with a dark brown.

“Oh, my, you really made a mess of these,” he whispered.

Adam could see her tearing up, so he pulled her into a hug. Asha leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he pretended not to notice the wetness on his shirt. When she had composed herself, he separated and used some toilet paper to wipe her eyes.

“I would have made it if you took me to the toilet at home,” she sniffled.

“Sure you would, sweetheart.” Sweetheart? And she thinks of my place as home? Fuck, this is bad.

“Please get me cleaned up,” she said. “I smell awful.” That she did. Adam gingerly lowered first the jeans, then the panties, and wet some tissue paper to clean her thighs. Asha closed her eyes and seemed to be meditating—probably wishing she could disappear into a hole, he imagined. Then he brought the soiled underwear to the sink and attempted to wash them out, but the stain in the back wouldn’t come out. “This is useless. We’ll have to throw this away,” he said. “Lucky for you, I brought a change.” He retrieved a new pair of panties from his backpack—these ones were no less juvenile, a yellow bikini-cut thing featuring Spongebob Squarepants across the front and a set of denim overalls with metallic buttons at the shoulders. Asha said nothing as he fussed over her, making sure she got the new outfit on okay.

“Your friend definitely has some sort of weird kink,” she remarked as she regarded herself in the mirror. “Or she raided her baby sister’s closet. Put my hair in pigtails and I’d look about three-hundred and fifty years younger.”

“Would you like me to do that for you?” He asked.

“Of course not, you perv. I know you’d like it,” she said, and despite the rebuke, Adam was glad to hear her in good humor again.

“Are you feeling sick? That was, uh, quite messy,” Adam said.

Asha put a hand tentatively to her abdomen. “I guess I’m not feeling super great,” she admitted. “Next time, you will take me to the nearest toilet or I’ll have you roasted alive.”

“Uh, okay,” he said.

“You hungry?” He asked as they exited together. The janitor was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes,” she said. “But I don’t want to eat here. Everyone stared at me.” Adam glanced around the room and saw a couple of curious eyes. Asha was very obviously not wearing the same outfit she’d had on when they entered the restroom. “Okay, let’s find somewhere else,” he said.

They settled on a café around the corner. Asha ordered a full English breakfast, which pained Adam right in the soul—or rather, his wallet—but his stomach growled, and he ended up getting the same. “Be careful not to upset your stomach with all that fatty stuff,” he said.

“Be careful to take me when I devil-damned ask you to and not, like, twenty minutes later, and you won’t have to deal with it when it comes out the other end,” Asha said, pushing her fork through a piece of bacon demonstratively. Adam held his tongue.

“So Amy won’t help us with the ritual?” Asha asked between mouthfuls. She still ate like a savage, spilling food all over her face, and Adam felt compelled to dab at the edges of her mouth with a napkin. Apparently table etiquette was just another one of those things that worked differently in Hell than up here on terra firma.

“I’m still hoping she’ll come around, but I wouldn’t count on it,” he said.

“And the full moon is tomorrow night. You have to come up with something, a backup plan,” Asha said.

“I guess we could go to the library, try to find out more about this Musgrave dude. He must have gotten his information somewhere.”

They walked hand in hand into the library and steered towards the back, where the occult books were located. Adam rummaged through the shelf until he found a book called Biographies of Notable Alchemists (1397-1884). It looked more promising than anything else he’d found, so he brought the heavy, leather-bound book over to a reading table. This book, unlike the Demonic Dictionary, appeared to actually be organized in alphabetical order. Adam leafed through the book until he found the M’s, passing over Manning, Roger and Mirá, Esteban until he found what he was looking for: Musgrave, Adam.

“His name is the same as yours!” Asha remarked.

“Yeah, funny coincidence. Let’s see what it says.” He read aloud:

 

Adam Musgrave, born outside London in 1404, believed to have died in Plimouth, Massachusetts, 1650-60.

 

“That is a very long life for a mortal,” Asha said.

“Yes, it is. Maybe he discovered the Philosopher’s Stone along the way. Now shush, demon.” He continued reading:

 

The early life of Mr. Musgrave is shrouded in obscurity, but according to legend he attempted unsuccessfully to discover the recipes for the Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life while still in England. Although his exact date and year of birth is only known according to legend, it is certain that he was a very old man when he accompanied the Mayflower to the Americas. How Mr. Musgrave, by all accounts not a particularly religious man, ended up traveling with the Pilgrims to the Colonies is a mystery, but surviving accounts describe a very determined and charismatic fellow. An English Catholic by the name of Rupert Morrow attempted to bring Mr. Musgrave to trial on account of alleged witchcraft in the late 1590’s, but the prevailing social currents in England did not favor any religious charge brought by a Catholic, and the case disintegrated before ever going to trial. This is attested in records from the Old Bailey.

Mr. Musgrave’s later life was largely occupied with an obsession with the occult, and particularly demonology, but inexplicably, he seems to have been able to keep his researches secret and is recorded as a Preacher in the Mayflower’s manifest. Sometime in the years immediately prior to his departure for the Americas, Mr. Musgrave appears to have deposited a manuscript with a publisher in London, but the manuscript languished in obscurity and was only printed in an extremely limited edition after or shortly before his death, in 1657. This manuscript is known, according to legend, as the Daemonic Dictionary, and was reportedly regarded as archaic and obscure even in its own time, but few have ever laid eyes or hands on it. Many regard the book as entirely mythical, and believe it never to have existed. Other, less reputable sources swear it is the only genuine manual of Practical Demonology ever to be printed. Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell reportedly declared the book anathema, but all details regarding its printing and dissemination are vague and uncertain. All extant copies of the book are believed to have been lost in the Great London Fire of 1666.

What is almost certain is that Mr. Musgrave took on students while in the Americas, usually young and impressionable folk not well-versed in the alchemical Arts. Several of them would later, in their old age, be accused of witchcraft in the infamous Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93. One such alleged student of Mr. Musgrave’s, Anna Mire, was burned at the stake in May, 1693. Ms. Mire was an alchemical researcher of some merit in her own right, and she has her own entry in this book.

 

Adam leafed backwards through the book, seeking the biography of Anna Mire—wasn’t she the one who’d written about the ritual Amy had found?—but all he found was the traces of what might have been a page once, ripped out of the book. Or maybe the century-old bookbinding had simply and coincidentally disintegrated in a violent fashion just where the offending biography was supposed to go. This smells fishier than a cannery.

“If all copies of the book were lost in 1666, how come you found it in this library?” Asha asked.

“I don’t know! It’s almost as if someone wanted me to find it. Anyway, this doesn’t help us. Some dude who may have lived to be 250 years old somehow figured out how to conduct actual summonings and bindings of demons from Hell, but we don’t know where or how he found that out, and he recorded it in a book that shouldn’t exist, but is somehow sitting in my bedroom.”

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound promising,” Asha said.

“Did anything happen in, uh, Hell around that time? Anything that might help us connect the dots?”

Asha cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “How old do you think I am?” She asked.

Adam blushed. “I don’t know, but, like, you said something earlier about looking three-hundred and fifty years younger...”

“I wasn’t being literal, dumb mortal,” Asha said.

Great. Now she understands sarcasm.

I heard that.”

They spent another hour combing through the occult section, but found nothing pertaining to a Rite of Transference, a Dr. Adam Musgrave, or a Ms. Anna Mire, alchemist and alleged witch. “I’ll have to beg Amy to at least tell me the details of this thing if she won’t come around, but I figure it’s best to give her a day. In the meantime, how are we going to deal with the hell-hounds tonight?” Adam asked. “Would be a shame to die terribly after all this.”

They are like bloodhounds,” Asha said. “Except they smell emotions and sin. The only way I know of to evade them is to confuse them: immerse yourself in a place that would naturally harbor sin or fear, and hope they don’t look too closely.”

Where are we going to find a place like that? And isn’t that risky, leaving the comfort of home?”

If they find out where we live,” Asha said, and Adam noted that she was now speaking as if they were cohabitating—which, to be fair, they had been for the past couple of days—“then no wall or lock will keep them out. What we need is a den of sin. A place so steeped in sin and strong emotion that no one would think anything of it if we add a little to the mix.”

I don’t know anywhere like that,” Adam said. He did not exactly live an outrageous lifestyle, didn’t dabble in crime or drugs aside from the occasional bud or alcohol. But then it came to him. “Scratch that, I do. But I don’t think it’s a great idea. No, no, no.”

Where?” Asha demanded.

It’s a nightclub called the Last Refuge.” Adam had heard rumors of the outrageous sexual practices that supposedly occurred in their basement, but he did know the ground floor was a regular nightclub, albeit one with a very risque and burlesque theme and reputation. “What if the hell-hounds catch us on the way there or back again? And I won’t be able to take you to the bathroom.”

You’ll find a way.”

I won’t be able to go to the bathroom.”

You will find a way,” Asha insisted.

You don’t have an ID, what if they ask?”

She cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow. “Let me handle that.”

 

You can have one drink,” Adam whispered as they lined up in the queue for the Last Refuge. Of course none of his objections had been heeded. And he had to admit, Asha did look stunning in Amy’s too-short dress, neon lights giving her green gaze an ethereal quality.

Ten,” she responded.

Two,” he said.

Five.”

Three for the whole evening, and that is final.”

They got to the front of the line, and the bouncer asked to see Adam’s ID. He flashed it, nervous as to what would happen when it came to be Asha’s turn. He needn’t have worried. Despite being muzzled and tied to Adam’s leash, Asha was a high-ranking member of Hell’s elite. A demon straight from the netherworld. She directed her eyes at the burly man, and Adam could feel her tug at the mental leash. She held his hand, and he felt it grow hotter than a coal; he dropped the hand and was surprised not to find burn marks. The man’s eyes glazed over, and a hand fell lazily as if to direct them inwards, although up close it looked more like he was momentarily paralyzed. The two of them entered the club, and Adam cast a glance over his shoulder. He could hear some commotion outside, and the last he saw, it seemed the bouncer was now on his knees, coughing and holding his chest.

What did you do?” Adam whisper-shouted.

Asha didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she closed her eyes as they entered a dimly lit dancefloor, pounding house music blaring from a high-powered soundsystem, and took a deep breath. “Ahhhh,” she sighed—no, she moaned. “This is like being home again. I can smell the sin in the air.”

Adam felt a drop of sweat slide down his neck. Was it really a great idea to bring a literal demon to a Den of Sin? Asha seemed to somehow have taken on another dimension, as if she’d been a flat cardboard cut-out outside; now, she was alive. She directed him to a bar on the side of the dancefloor, and confidently ordered them shots of vodka, which Adam had to pay for. She knocked back the shot in a second, and then she fixed her gaze on Adam. He felt as if the leash in his mind was being stretched to its limits. “Now, we dance,” Asha said.

I don’t dance.”

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, her lips lightly brushing his earlobe in an impossibly seductive manner. “You do tonight.”

She pulled him up onto a raised section of the dancefloor, near a metal cage in which a leather-clad young woman was gyrating out of tune with the music. Asha put his hands on her shoulders, and Adam found himself following her lead without question. She leaned in and began grinding herself into him, then somehow made his hands into her puppets, twirling her around, lowering her down backwards almost to the floor, resting only on his hands, then hands on her hips, then arms around her neck. Adam felt drunk, even though he’d only had one drink. He looked down, tracing her breasts, then down her sides to her hips. That’s when he noticed the smoke. Other revelers seemed to think it was coming from a well-hidden smoke machine, but it wasn’t. It was coming from her. Her eyes flashed green, black, green, black, as she drew him closer and closer. He wanted to pull away, could feel the mental leash being stretched to the edge of tearing apart, but she was intoxicating. She wore no perfume—as far as he knew, having taken care of her hygiene for the past few days—but the smell of her was intoxicating nonetheless. It was wrong, it was dangerous, and it was impossibly sexy.

There were more drinks, although to Adam, time seemed to blur and stretch and he couldn’t quite remember how many. Then they were up on the little stage again, and she was grinding on him, and he was holding his hands around the back of her neck… And then she leaned in. He closed his eyes and felt her lips on his; he opened his mouth slightly, and she teased him with the tip of her tongue. It tasted of iron, of blood, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He opened his eyes and saw that she had hers open, and around the green of her iris, the whites of her eyes had been replaced by a bonfire, yellows and reds and black smoke dancing around that irresistible green. Adam closed his eyes again and fell back into the kiss.

At some point, he became vaguely aware of someone speaking next to him, and then he picked up a young man saying, “Look, she’s pissing herself!”

Adam redirected his eyes down Asha’s body, focusing on her bare thighs below the hem of the dress, and saw a trail of urine running down towards her running shoes, intermittently glistening in the strobe lights. Asha held his hand, but turned her fiery eyes at the young man, and said simply, “But you love that, don’t you, honey?” Through his drunkenness, he felt the leash tug, almost tear, then snap back, but it snapped back onto him, forcing him to lean down and steady himself with hands on his hips. That left him roughly level with the crotch of the young man, and Adam could see something strain against the denim, and then, faintly, a small wet spot bloom on the front. Had she just made him come with one sentence? Whatever was going on—and that wasn’t very easy to figure out, as Adam had somehow gotten very drunk despite insisting on only three drinks for the entire evening, and only specifically recalling the first one—Asha was not the cowed servant she had been since he bound her, not in this place. Perhaps she fed on sin. He could see the man stagger around as if he’d been struck, and then Asha’s lips were on his again, and his hand on the wetness at her thighs, and his crotch was bulging.

At some point, she led him by the hand towards a door near the back of the club. A man dressed in all leather, mask on his face and whip in hand, guarded the door. He opened it without question when Asha looked at him, and they descended a series of steps towards a basement. Several levels, it felt like; it must be a sub-basement. He felt the temperature in the air increase; he was sweating, felt feverish. Down there was a corridor filled with doors, moans coming through some of them, cries of pain out of others. Asha led him towards a specific door, as if she knew what was behind it, and opened it. He heard a lock click open, but she held no key.

Inside was what looked like an examination bench at a doctor’s office, except it had a number of braces that could be used to lock the occupant in place. On the wall hung a number of bondage-themed implements: whips, leashes, paddles. Asha confidently strolled over to the table and laid herself down on it. “Tie me up,” she purred. This is wrong, so wrong, Adam’s rational mind said, but he locked the metallic braces in place around her ankles and wrists anyway. “Come closer,” she said, and he did. “Touch me.” He put a hand tentatively to her face, then let it slide down the side of her body, then under the hem of her dress, where he felt that her panties were quite wet.

Feel my bladder,” she whispered. He cupped her lower abdomen. It was hard as a rock.

You’re so full,” he said.

Tell me I should hold it,” she moaned.

You should hold it.” Adam didn’t know quite where the words came from, but it was somewhere deep down. He’d never done anything like this with any previous partner.

But I don’t think you can,” he said, watching her squirm against the loops keeping her locked to the table. Then he pushed down on her bladder. She moaned, then cried out—whether in pain or pleasure, he could not tell. “Ah!”

Adam put a hand between her legs as the stream began: urine, oddly purple under the strange atmospheric lighting in this place, spraying out, pumping out rhythmically as the used one hand to bush on her bladder, felt her muscles contract first to resist, then let go, then push it out, the smell of urine filling the air and sticking to his fingers. She peed for a long time, eyes closed, blushing, breathing heavily, her chest seeming to expand beyond what her chest could handle before deflating. The urine poured out between her legs, soaked into her dress, ran down the length of the table, then spilled over the edges, dripping down onto the floor.

I knew you couldn’t hold it,” he said, despite himself. This is so wrong. But then: This is so hot. “You keep peeing yourself. Just like a little girl. My, my, my.He took hold of one of her breasts.

I want you,” she moaned. “I want you to take me.”

Adam found himself climbing on his knees onto the table, then unbuttoning his pants, not minding her piss soaking into the denim at his knees. He put one hand around her neck—no, this is not my style—but she merely moaned in pleasure.

 

It was already starting to get light out when they finally staggered out of the club, leaning on each other, drunk and spent, the both of them. Asha seemed to deflate as they exited the club, some of the supernatural, intensely compelling charisma and attractiveness fading as it meant daylight and left the confines of the Den of Sin. She leaned on him, shivering as the cool early morning breeze hit her soaked wet thighs. Adam didn’t worry about retribution from Hell as they shambled homewards. No, as he stripped Asha’s thoroughly soaked clothes of, all of them, then his own, falling down into a pile of naked, entangled, spent limbs, his only thought was: What the hell happened tonight? And what does it mean for us?

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  • 2 weeks later...

Wow that was a amazing story so far. I know you had said it didn’t contain any AB/DL content but you can see where it easily could. Not that I would suggest that you should do so. In fact I prefer it as it is. I totally think you have a stellar story going and I am really looking forward to reading more. I was thrilled to give it a like. 

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  • 4 months later...

Chapter 5.1: Demon Inside

Adam woke up to a headache pounding like a jackhammer somewhere around his forehead. He rolled over to see Asha, nude, leaning over the edge of the bed, noisily emptying the contents of her stomach into the paper bin. He sat up, leaned over, held her hair out of the way of her face. His gaze grazed her hairline, then followed along down her neck, down her spine, ending in the crack between her buttocks. He noted that a lazy trickle of urine was making a small wet spot on the sheets. Adam could feel something stirring in his groin, but he chose to ignore it—which was not a tall order given the murderous headache monopolizing his attention—and instead leaned over to the bedside table on his side, retrieving a roll of tissue paper. Once he was reasonably certain she was done, he handed his demon a piece of paper and helped wipe down her mouth.

She turned towards him slowly, displaying reddish eyes with strained tears staining her cheeks. She looked like she hadn’t just vomited, but turned her entire body inside out. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled, then sunk down into the bed, hiding her body beneath the sheets until only the top of her head was visible. This she leaned against his chest, her ear rested against the staccato rhythm of his heartbeat. They lay like that for a minute, each trying to figure out how to start a conversation that needed to be had, but neither wanted to initiate. Adam laid a hand just below her bare breast, feeling her heart work just as hard as his, if not harder. Was she… embarrassed? Nervous?

He tried to properly sit up in bed, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him down again, so that she could lay her head flat on top of his chest. Adam took a deep breath, then finally spoke: “What happened last night?”

Ugh,” she said, turning away from him. He grabbed her face and turned it to look into his eyes. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated, in a mixture of shock and—arousal?

Look at me,” he said. “What happened last night?”

My head hurts,” she said, eyes pleading.

Answer me.” His headache was not doing his mood any favors.

I—I don’t know,” she said.

Adam was not in the mood for bullshit. A long-buried rage rose in him, a culmination of every slight—large and small—that he had ever experienced. His father, drunk, beating eight-year-old Adam with a belt, then sinking down on the floor, crying and offering incoherent apologies. (It was the only time his father ever laid hands on him.) His ninth-grade teacher blaming him for a fight instigated by a gang of tenth-grade bullies. His first girlfriend, in bed with Long John, an acquaintance who was on the short side; her eyes were pleading a forgiveness he was unprepared to give. He felt the muscles in his arms, his chest, his quads and calves contracting, his fingers curling around the damp sheets. There was a whooshing sound in his ears, like an airplane taking off or diving into a wind tunnel. His heart was beating harder than after a line of cocaine. His head was pounding. Adam’s arm reached around, grabbing around her throat and squeezing. “You like that?” He hissed. “Seemed like just the thing last night.”

Adam watched as her eyes watered, a strange keening noise emitting from her throat beneath his fingers, the whites of her eyes bulging out and taking on a red shade. His fingers began to tremble, and then he saw something burst in her eyes, and he let his grip slacken and released her. What the fuck’s gotten into me? I could have killed her. He turned around in shame.

She put her fingers around his neck, and for a moment he thought she was going to strangle him, but she merely redirected his eyes away from the opposite side of the room, toward her eyes.

“I’m sorry I did that,” he whispered. There were red fingerprints imprinted on her delicate neck, and every blood vessel in her eyes was visible. Oh my god, what I have done?

No,” she whispered.

What’s going on?”

Her eyes were searching his, looking for something but he couldn’t tell what. “I had a theory,” she whispered. “That the presence of large concentrations of Sin might free me… from you.”

He said nothing.

But it didn’t work. Not quite like I had hoped. I felt such a rush of freedom, entering that place… I could finally unfold some of the wings that the binding had bound. But it didn’t allow me to fully break free from you. Only manipulate you to loosen the leash a little. It must have persisted.”

“I...” He furrowed his brows, raised his voice from the intimate whisper they’d been employing. “I did things I never would have… You made me almost strangle you!”

A sadness passed over her face. “No, no,” she whispered. “No, I only allowed the darkest parts of you to rise above the fray. I can’t make you do something you don’t want to do, deep down—all I can do is bypass the safety mechanisms, the failsafes that are supposed to make you reconsider decisions made by your darkest nature.”

He pushed her away, Asha teetering on the edge of the bed before she re-stabilized.

“The fuck did you do to me? Is it permanent?” He asked.

I imagine not. The fact that you’re so offended right now suggests that your better nature is already reasserting itself,” she said.

Fuck.”

“Yes,” she said, licking her lips, and he couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Not right now,” he whispered. The shame of what he had just done, what he might have done, clung to him like a sheet on a sweaty tropical night.

They lay there for a second, letting it sink in.

It’s not okay,” she said.

What?”

She traced a finger over the red line across her neck, drawing his attention to a yellowish bruise developing. “What you did. It’s not okay, but I understand why you did it. I know you wouldn’t have done it if not for the… influence of last night. I forgive you, mortal.”

Adam felt his cheeks bloom scarlet.

But if you ever do that again, I will fucking end you. Understand?”

He nodded.

They lay there for another while, not speaking, Adam’s head swirling with emotions—shame, relief, confusion—and Asha’s unknowable.

You’d make a good little demon,” Asha whispered. “There’s a darkness inside you. And when you’re not hurting me, that’s kind of… fucking hot.”

He laid there for a minute, considering this. He knew she was attracted to him—for whatever reason. Why would she say that? An olive branch, he concluded. She was signaling what had happened between them was over and dealt with, and she still liked him.

Why did you do that?” He said, finally. “Make me… want you like that, last night?”

Asha rolled her eyes. “I told you, you mortals are way too stuck up about sex.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

A strangeness passed over Asha’s face, a kind of bubbling of the skin like a wave passing over a patch of water—just like when somebody invoked the Lord in her presence. “I...” she began, stuttering. “I wanted you,” she spat out. “I might be a little bit in love with you, okay?”

Adam’s jaw fell open.

“Don’t stare at me like that!” She said, blushing. “It’s not like I wanted this, all right?”

He chuckled.

“Oh, don’t you dare,” she said. “I know you feel the same.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say—”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” she whispered, her lips very close to his, almost touching when she aspirated.

Okay, okay,” he said, leaning back. “Okay. What does it even matter? Today is the day of the ritual. Either we succeed and I never see you again”—he felt a strange tightness in his throat as he said it—“or we don’t, and we both end up with a fate worse than death. Doesn’t sound like the ideal foundation for romance.”

For such ephemeral creatures, you mortals really don’t know the meaning of the phrase live in the moment,” she said, punching him in the shoulder.

YOLO,” he said, giggling in spite of himself.

“Yow-low? Is that one of those stupid… actuality shows on television you mortals love so much?” She asked.

Forget it. Come on, let’s get dressed. It’s...” He glanced at his phone. “Almost noon, which means we got twelve hours to convince Amy not to hate me, or you, and help us or at least instruct us on how to do the ritual. Before we get eaten by hellhounds and tormented until the end of the universe. No biggie.”

She rose, and he couldn’t help but linger on her pale uncovered skin.

“Oh, and I need to wash these sheets,” he said, as he accidentally put the palm of his hand in the puddle she’d deposited in bed as she vomited.

“Why are you worrying about such insignificant...”

Because you pissed the bed again,” he said, and she at least had the decency not to argue as he took the time to strip the bed before he led her, wrapped in a dirty towel, towards the bathroom.

 

Let’s get your teeth brushed, you stink like a sewer,” Adam said as he led her by the hand out of the shower. He had taken care of the urine clinging to her upper thighs with a washcloth, which had strayed further north, and judging by the way her thighs and abdomen quivered, or the way she ground her pelvis into his hand, she had enjoyed it.

You wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t stick your tongue down my throat,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“Shut up.” He’d fed them both more over-the-counter painkillers than was strictly recommended, and she seemed to be recovering from her hangover at a frankly concerning rate.

Wha’s plan?” She asked—he thought—as he dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief.

“I’m going to bug and beg Amy over the phone until she agrees to at least give us the instructions for the ritual,” he said. “If she refuses to take the call, we’re going to bang on her door until the neighbors start calling the cops.”

“I’d like to meet these ‘cops’ of yours,” Asha said, a flicker of flame dancing around her pupils, licking her lips.

No, no, it won’t come to that,” he said, more like a prayer than a statement of fact. The last thing he needed was for his bound demon to protect him from the police in whatever horrifying fashion she deemed necessary. Visions of human bodies wrung inside-out flashed before his inner eye.

I’m hungry,” she announced. “Make me some food.”

You don’t give the orders around here.” The rumbling of his stomach betrayed him. Damn it. “We’ll grab something to go from the campus canteen. We can take a blanket and have a picnic in the park while I phone stalk Amy.”

How romantic,” Asha said. He never could tell when she was mocking him and when she was being uncharacteristically emotional.

Consider it our first solo date.”

I’m thrilled, mortal,” Asha said, rolling her eyes.

They found a spot in the park that formed the rough center of the campus—slightly offset by the university plaza, where the Dean would hold his interminably boring speeches at the beginning of each semester—and he placed down a ragged blanket, handing Asha a ham sandwich. He’d learned by now that she wouldn’t eat anything that didn’t at least have a small element of meat.

Adam laid down on the blanket, tearing a piece off his own sandwich, and Asha did the same. It was a nice spring day, with only a couple of wispy clouds on an otherwise warm, blue sky. “Look at that one,” he said, pointing at one of the clouds. “Looks like a dancing elephant.”

Are you sure you didn’t knock your head on something last night?” Asha asked. “That’s clearly an amorphous blob of cloud.”

“Use your imagination. What does it remind you of?”

He looked over at her. She scrunched up her brow in concentration, then she giggled. “Oh, I see it now! Satan torching four sinners on a spit above a pit of glowing embers!”

Adam shook his head. Once a demon, always a demon. He was just about to dial Amy on his phone when a familiar voice cut through the demon’s giggling.

“What are you two lovebirds up two?”

Adam sat up. There was Amy, piercing him with a stare that said “I don’t believe for a moment this isn’t a date, and you know I don’t.” He blushed.

“Ames, I’m sorry—” he began.

“Yeah, yeah,” Amy said. “You look like shit, by the way. Maybe not her, but definitely you. Have fun last night?”

Oh, fuck off. Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Amy stared him down. Her eyes were dripping venom. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’m still pissed. But Peter and I made up, somehow. He’s at least talking to me. And so I figured, assuming he doesn’t end up dumping me after all, you will eventually work your way back into my good graces. You might have to lick my ass for a while—hey! That was not literal, don’t look so goddamn perverted! And in the meantime, we have a time limit to get this ritual done.”

 
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Chapter 5.2: The Ritual

Get off your asses, we can’t sit around here looking at clouds all day. We have a lot of stuff to acquire.” She took a swig of the water bottle she was carrying, then handed Adam a list. It had twenty-seven items and he only recognized one or two.

Holy shit, Amy, do we really need all of this stuff?”

No, but half of it we’re unlikely to be able to get on short notice. Some of it seems like it would be highly illegal if not physically impossible to get under any kind of time frame. So, I drew up some alternatives that have similar medicinal or symbolic properties.”

Adam shook his head. “We’re just gonna wing it?”

Well, yes,” Amy said, puffing her cheeks out in a way Adam once found adorable, crossing her arms defensively in front of her chest, “but actually, no.”

Adam was confused, and said so.

Look, Adam, we’re going to try an obscure ritual that probably nobody has done in three hundred years, and it might not work. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this kind of shit, it’s that intentions matter. I’ve come across sources that outright say that you should never pay attention to the exact details, but always discern the intention and purpose behind them. Old-timey witches would put traps into their rituals, things that would turn the ritual upside down if done literally—but a trained practitioner would know to look deeper, at the function and intention, and find a suitable substitute. The worst thing we could do, probably, would be to follow the recipe literally.”

She has a point, mortal,” Asha said. She had risen with the grace of a cat and now had her head almost resting on his shoulder, looking over the list. “Perhaps you were able to invoke the binding because you’re such a piss-poor necromancer that you accidentally got all the details wrong in all the right ways.”

Thanks, Asha.” He rolled his eyes.

Yes, so, you guys need to trust me on this,” Amy said, taking another sip of water, “or you’re out. Right now.”

I trust you,” Adam said.

I trust him, and he trusts you,” said Asha.

Good. Now, listen: We’re going to make a witch’s brew, with all sorts of nasty ingredients, which you two will drink, and then we’ll do some stuff with incantations and candles and knives and blood,” here Adam’s eyes widened, “but no more than taking a small blood sample at the doctor’s office, relax. That shit is easy compared to making the brew and finding the right location to perform the ritual at the right time.”

So, the hard part?”

Well, getting all the ingredients and putting them together in the approximate right proportions. I’ve identified all the ingredients as either being medicinal or symbolic. Meaning, everything that has some known use in traditional medicine is probably there primarily for its physiological effect, while anything that was never widely used as medicine is probably there to serve as a symbol for something or other. We’re on a clock, people. Let’s get moving.”

Luckily, there was a little side street that housed no less than four different little herbalist’s shops, traditional apothecaries, the sort of shops that old ladies and young hippies go to, but most people would never know were even there. Even luckier, by some unspoken agreement, all of them were open on an early Sunday afternoon.

The first stop was Zhu Jie’s Apothecary & Herbs. It had one grimy window into a dark interior, but the shop on the door said OPEN and inside was a single, long counter, with a very cluttered set of shelves behind it. Behind the counter was a doorway with little crystals or pearls threaded together hanging as a curtain to shield the store from the back room. A golden cat sat moving its paw back and forth mechanically on the counter, next to an antique till. “Coming, I come,” said a husky voice from the back. A wrinkled old lady poked her head in through the pearls. “What you want, little miss?” She asked, addressing Amy as she were obviously in charge. Curiously, Amy blushed at the form of address.

I came for some Yuan Zhi. Oh, and a rat’s tail.”

The old woman entered her shop and shook her head. “This one,” she said, nodding at Amy but addressing Adam, “she come in all the time, looking for all sorts of odd things. Want to recapture her youth, she say, but she is young enough to make old lady like me blush.” The woman waved her finger in front of Amy. “Very disrespectful, that one.” But there was a warmth in the way she said it, and a glint in her eye—Adam noted that Amy was beet red, and the woman gave him an exaggerated wink as she said it.

Do you have the stuff I need?” Amy asked, trying to deflect.

You think you come here to get nasty old rat tail? You think Chinese like that shit?” She grinned, gauging their reaction to her vulgar speech. “Lucky for you, little bird told me might have use of one, got plenty rats in the basement. Old house, stinks down there, tell you. This cat is good for nothing!” And she slapped the mechanical good-luck cat so hard it almost fell off the counter, then she laughed. “Also, Yuan Zhi, very good root. Got powder.”

Amy paid for a dried rat tail wrapped in paper, as well as a little ziplock bag of a light brown, almost white powder that would look suspicious to any police officer in a mile’s radius. She put both into her purse, along with her almost empty water bottle.

What was that about?” Adam asked. “Recapturing your youth?” Amy shot him a look that said, One day very soon, your curiosity will get your ass kicked, and he quickly asked about the Yuan Zhi instead.

Polygala tenuifolia, known in traditional Chinese medicine as Yuan Zhi. Modern science is just about rediscovering that it might have some actually valid uses. It promotes Nerve Growth Factor and Brain-Derived Neurotrophic Factor, it reduces monoamine oxidase, and it has rapid antidepressant effects possibly mediated by a mechanism similar to ketamine. Basically, it protects your brain, and I have reason to believe this ritual will fuck up your brain.”

How do you know all this shit?” He asked.

She smiled and tapped her forehead. “I read.”

She’s full of surprises. He didn’t ask about the rat tail.

They visited the next herbalist’s shop. This one had self-service shelves, but also more stuff in various jars and Erlenmeyer flasks on shelves behind the counter. Amy pointed to a jar of blackish goo behind the counter. “I’d like to buy some chaga,” she said. The young man behind the counter was far less chatty than the Chinese woman, and they were out quickly. “Inonotus obliquus,” she said. “Also known as chaga. A parasitic fungus that grows on birch trees. In Norway, they call it cancer polypore.”

It causes cancer?” Adam asked.

It kind of looks like a tumor the way it grows on the tree. Also, it supposedly prevents or cures cancer, according to traditional medicine.”

The third shop was a little bit more modern, and styled itself a head shop. “That means it sells drugs, but not like, the good shit,” Asha observed.

How would you know?”

I feel the sweet scent of caged sin in my bones, railing against its restraints,” she answered as if that were a completely natural thing to say.

Oh, okay,” Amy said. “I’ve actually never been here before. I think it opened recently. Let’s see if it has anything useful.”

Aside from a whole wall dedicated to glass cases displaying elaborate and impractical methods of smoking weed, there were some cacti, various semi-legal pills, and a little shelf with essential oil. “Oh,” Amy said. “We might be able to use this.” She picked up a little bottle of sassafras oil and brought it back to the counter. She crossed her legs casually as she leaned towards the cashier. The dude looked like the most stereotypical stoner you ever saw: a skinny white dude in an oversized hiphop t-shirt and dreads and a slightly absent gaze.

Ah, a connoisseur, I see,” he said with no particular enthusiasm as Amy paid.

Did she just…? It might be a trick of light and shadow, but it did seem as if Amy had leaned a bit into the counter and ground herself against it for a moment before she turned around. Don’t get up to any perverted thoughts now, Adam, he thought.

I can hear you, you know,” Asha whispered and gave him a wicked smile.

Shut up.”

She mimed zipping up her lips. Amy looked at them and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

So, what’s that, then?” He asked. “We gonna do an erotic bath before the ritual?”

Amy and Asha both punched him in the shoulder. One after the other, making sure to hit the same spot, just for extra pain. The first punch was humiliating; the second punch, delivered by Amy, actually hurt. It was like they’d planned it that way.

It’s sassafras oil. It contains safrole, a precursor to ecstasy.”

Sounds illegal,” Adam said.

Knowing this sort of shop, it’s probably within 0.1% of the legal limit, but not a drop more,” Amy said and shook her head. “I don’t like this sort of shop because they don’t give a shit. They don’t care about their customers or their safety at all. Look at that dude behind the counter, he’s just hoping we’ll leave so he can go for an extended smoke break. He’d gladly tell you how to skirt the law, but would never tell you about any risks or how to minimize them.

Asha licked her licks. “Sinful, indeed,” she said, and for a moment, yellow flames flickered in her eyes.

The last shop, at the end of the street, was an Indian Ayurveda shop. Amy scanned the shelves and picked up Ashwaganda, Bacopa monnieri, curcumin and piperine. “Half of this stuff is just to make you not lose your mind. Ashwaganda and Bacopa are adaptogens, which theoretically make your body more adaptable to stress. Curcumin is a pigment found in turmeric spice that acts as an anti-inflammatory and promotes antioxidants, and piperine is found in black pepper and makes curcumin more available to your body. Now we’ve got all the medicinal stuff, but we still need some of the more symbolic ingredients.”

Amy crossed her legs. She was wearing a tight pair of light blue jeans that clung to her hips, and now her thighs were shaking. Adam remembered the empty water bottle. Does she have to go?

Drop it,” Asha whispered.

Why?

“Because she is a grown woman and will say something of her own accord. And because you like to watch and I like to watch you watching her.”

“What are you whispering about, lover-boy?” Amy had straightened herself up and seemed to be back in control.

“None of ya business,” he said, favoring her with his most winning smile. “So, about that other stuff?”

“Well, we got the medicine done, now we need the symbols. The rat’s tail is one, but we need several more things that are probably gonna be disgusting, but go in the brew because they represent an idea, not because of their physical properties. And we’re gonna have to find the proper substitutes. Do you think we’re going to find a lion’s paw anywhere?”

“Courage,” Asha said. She had her eyes closed. “It represents courage, does it not?”

“That is one of the traditional things signified by the lion, yes,” Amy said. “But it could be something else… If we get it wrong, you’re screwed.”

“I know for a fact that we will find a symbol of courage to put in your brew before midnight,” Asha said, and the way she said it—with a small wreath of fire which he let slip out of her mouth, out the side, licking her lips, smiling, then sent up her left nostril, which began smoking—made it clear that this was one of those mystical moments that you do not question.

“Great, Asha,” Amy. “Wanna share some details?”

“She doesn’t,” Adam said. “Not right now. What else?”

“We gotta capture a live frog.” Amy shrugged. “I don’t know how the fuck to do that, but how hard could that be? This is one of the ones where I think we should go with the literal interpretation, because there’s too many possible things a live frog could stand for, and I’ve seen wild frogs around the ponds in the park this past week.”

 

Turns out, capturing a live frog with a net on the end of a long pole is far harder than it sounds. They had been at it in the park for three hours, and although there were many ponds and most of them had frogs or at least tadpoles in them, catching one of the little buggers was proving to be near impossible. Once, Adam almost caught one, but it managed to jump into the water just as he was flipping the net around to bring the frog-fucker out of the pond.

The sun was setting, and although they had a good few hours until midnight, they wouldn’t have many more with enough light to actually catch a frog. By this point, Adam noted that even Asha was squirming subtly, and his own bladder was also sending signals that he really out to go pee soon. Amy, on the other hand, was frantic. Whenever she thought he wasn’t looking, she was desperately clutching herself between the legs. Normally, Adam would have enjoyed the show and let it go on until its natural end—she was an adult and although he wouldn’t prevent her from going to the restrooms, which were located near the other end of the park, she was old enough that he felt no responsibility, indeed like he had no right, to make her go—but now, he was seriously worried that they’d fail the ritual because someone couldn’t catch a damned frog because someone couldn’t stop pee-dancing like a little girl. Adam felt the fury from earlier in the day rise in him, and he very deliberately counted down from ten to zero. He was determined never to lose his temper again the way he’d done earlier in the day.

“Amy, this is ridiculous,” he said. “Anyone can tell you need to pee. I need to pee, Asha needs to pee, we all need a piss. We’re not gonna catch a frog before dark if we can’t keep squeezing our crotches. I’m gonna piss behind a tree, I suggest you do the same.”

“I can hold it until we catch a damn frog!” Amy said, but as soon as he partially turned away from her, she clutched her hands between her legs. Adam walked behind a thick tree, which was shielded from most of the park by a series of bushes, unzipped, and released a long-awaited piss. It was glorious, and lasted a minute. Finally, the dribbling tapered off, he shook his penis and stuck it back into his boxers, then re-buttoned his pants. When he came back around, Asha was leaning against the other side of the tree, quickly removing her hand from the inside of her pants when she saw him looking. She smiled at him. Amy was crouching, both hands between her legs.

“I swear, it’s like you enjoy this,” Adam said. “Just go pee.”

Amy blushed. “Okay, okay, you asshole,” she said. “Help me up, Asha. I don’t think I can stand on my own.” Asha helped her two her feet, and she hobbled, both hands still between her legs, behind the tree. Adam caught her crouching down and heard the rustle of pants and presumably underwear as she undressed.

“Ahh!” Amy moaned. Then he heard the sound of a branch breaking on the path, and turned around to see a worker in a reflective vest adorned with the municipal symbol and a rake slung over his shoulder ambling towards them. Amy stuck her head around the bush, blushing.

“What are you kids getting up to?” The middle-aged park worker asked. “Not getting into trouble, I hope?”

“Catching butterflies,” Adam said, and Asha handed him the pole with the net on it.

“Well, that’s good. Just don’t let me catch you playing hooky behind the bushes, eh?” He laughed, but nobody else did, and the laugh rapidly turned into a cough. “You kids behave. Park closes at ten,” the worker said, then trudged further down the road.

Amy came back from behind the tree, blushing red like a tomato. Adam’s eyes were drawn towards her crotch, which had a softball-sized wet spot, still visible in the fading light. Amy caught his eye. “Stop staring, you perv!”

“Sorry. I’m really sorry, Ames, but if you’d gone earlier...”

“I know! I was just obsessed with getting everything ready for the ritual. I tried to cut off the flow and pull up my pants, but I couldn’t cut it off quite in time.” She was breathing heavy. The park worker was out of sight.

“Better run around the corner and finish it, then,” Adam said. Amy nodded.

She walked behind the tree again, and he heard the same rustle of pants and underwear being lowered, then… Nothing. One minute passed. Two. “You okay behind there, Ames?” He asked, concern in his voice.

“No!” She popped her head back ‘round the tree trunk. Tears of frustration were threatening to overflow as she came back, her pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. “I can’t go! I’m pee shy, okay? It’s like once that guy showed up, somebody cut off the flow and I can’t open it back up again! She put a hand between her legs again as one tear began its trek down her cheek. “But I can’t last much longer! Adam, what am I gonna do?”

“Would you like us to leave you alone? What can I do to help?”

“There!” Asha shouted. Adam swung around to see her depositing a live frog into the glass jar of water they’d brought, then pop on the lid into which they’d nailed a few air holes. He turned back around towards Amy, who’d clearly lost control for a moment when Asha surprised her. The wet spot now extended another inch down her left thigh.

“No, it’s...” Amy said.

Adam stepped up and took hold of her shoulders. “If you don’t want to, I won’t. But if you don’t say anything, I’m going to lead you behind that tree and help you finish your business, okay?”

Amy nodded. He held one arm on her shoulder, the other squeezing her hand, as she waddled behind the tree. “Okay,” Adam said, rubbing her back, “now you just lower your clothes and then...”

Amy ripped down her jeans, but before she could touch her panties—light blue, with a teddy bear adorning her backside—she exploded. A stream of urine shot through her panties, arcing so far Adam had to jump aside, pattering loudly onto the leaves and soaking into the dirt. Feeling more than a little guilty, Adam hooked a finger on the inside of her panty leg and yanked the whole thing down, but it was too late. The pastel blue was already see-through, although it was now sitting at her knees, and Adam continued to rub her back as she peed.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Amy said, as she pulled her soaked panties up. There was a large puddle between her legs, and a little bit had splashed up onto her white socks. Adam tried not to look between her legs, where the contours of his friend’s sex were clearly visible. “I really couldn’t hold it anymore. I just… I thought I could hold it.”

“It’s okay,” Adam said. “It was a little silly, but we’re all a little silly, aren’t we, Asha?”

Asha poked her head ‘round the tree trunk, holding the trapped frog in her right hand. “Oh, my,” she said, looking at Amy’s soaked backside.

Amy turned around, blushing, but her eyes were dry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This was so dumb.”

“Well, you already saw me piss myself,” Asha said, shrugging. “More importantly, you just gave us our final ingredient.”

“What the hell?” Amy looked confused.

“The panties,” Asha said. “They represent your courage. Standing before us, like that, and not breaking into tears.”

“I don’t understand,” Adam said.

Amy blushed. “No!” She said. “You’re not saying what it sounds like you’re saying.”

Asha nodded.

“You want to drink my piss? You dirty slut demon, get away from me, you ugly bitch...” And Adam had to grab her arms and hold her tight, now standing with her dripping genitals on full display and her wet panties around her ankles, to prevent her from punching Asha.

“They’ll dry out before the ritual. Do you think we’ll get a better reflection of true courage tonight than this? Standing disgraced in front of your best friend, looking him in the eye and not being ashamed?”

Amy fixed her gaze on him, her lip trembling, but she held. “Okay,” she said. “You saw me disgrace myself. Still wanna be my friend?”

“It’s not the first time,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry...”

What do you mean?” She yelled.

“I mean… I know you wet yourself when the hell-hounds showed up.”

She blushed. “I… Yeah.”

“I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Well, now I know.” She sighed. Looked down at her wet underwear, shook her head. “Okay. What now?”

“Now,” Asha said, and in one swift motion, before anyone could react, she had taken hold of Amy’s wet panties and ripped both sides off, leaving her fully exposed, “we prepare for the ritual.”

Amy scrambled to cover herself between her legs, blushing, too embarrassed to say anything. Adam chose this moment to respectfully walk around the other side of the tree and let her pull up her damp jeans in peace.

“What about you, Asha? Don’t you need to piss?” He asked.

“I do,” she said. “But I can wait a while longer. Let’s go!”

 

As it turns out, they would find a better symbol of courage, but they couldn’t have known that. They spent some time wandering around the park, carrying our herbs, the live frog in a glass—looking miserable, the little fella did, and he felt a pang of sympathy for him, or her—and their cookpot and portable Primus stove.

“So,” Adam said, as his phone buzzed to remind him the park was closing, “where are we going to do this?”

Asha was right behind him, squirming and holding herself. He didn’t comment. He’d learned she’d just as soon bite my hand off as kiss me with tongue, and didn’t know which one would be more embarrassing in front of Amy.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Amy. “We’re trying to literally pierce the veil separating this plane of existence and the next, right?” She looked over at Asha.

“Something like that, mortal.”

“What better place than a cemetery?”

“Oh, no,” Adam said. “We’re not going to a fucking cemetery to do black magic. No, ma’am.”

“Hear me out, Adam. I know cemeteries freak you out...”

“They don’t! But the combination of cemeteries, midnight, full moon, black magic and creatures straight out of hell chasing us? Who’s to say the dead themselves won’t rise from their graves and eat us alive?”

“They will not, mortal,” Asha said, spitting something on the ground. A leaf formerly attached to the stick she now had between her teeth, it appeared.

“How do you know?”

“Because I come from a land of death, mortal, and if they could rise of their own accord, right out of their graves, do you truly believe I would not know?”

He shook his head. “Okay, so, like, the nearest cemetery...”

“Just past this block. Saint Joan’s Cemetery.”

“Wait, like, Joan d’ fucking Arc?”

“No,” Amy said. “Blessed Joanna of Portugal.”

“Good,” Asha said. “She’s not one of the real ones.”

“Real what?” Adam asked.

“One of the real saints, dear,” Asha said, patting him on the head. “Otherwise, we might have a problem.” I’ll ask you later, demon.

“You will not,” she murmured.

It was almost eleven when they arrived at the cemetery. It looked like any graveyard Adam had ever seen. A few sturdy oak trees, lots of grass bisected by gravel paths and dotted with gravestones. He saw a couple of small buildings that might be family mausoleums in the distance, and further still, a small chapel. They made their way towards the center of the cemetery. Adam sat down on the gravestone of a woman named Eleanor Santorini. She’d been dead these past seventy years and he doubted she’d mind. It was now fully dark, and a cloud was slowly receding from the full moon, allowing some meager natural light to illuminate their surroundings. “So, now we wait,” he said, grateful for the reprieve. Asha stood, legs crossed, by his side, her head twitching to and fro as if listening to something that was beyond his hearing, but aside from her obvious need to relieve herself, she seemed calm.

That is, until they all heard a heartrending cry that could only signify one thing: hell-hounds. Many hell-hounds. They had forty-five minutes left until midnight. Squinting his eyes, Adam could see the silhouette of one of the lumbering beasts, like a monstrous ox with a canine head, about a hundred yards out, near the entrance to the cemetery. The hell-hound raised its black head and howled. Its fellows would be converging on their location. The singular hell-hound took a few tentative steps towards them. It was now at a distance where, if it chose to charge, it would all be over in less than twenty seconds. Still, it stood there, its shape now less diffuse, stomping its foot into the ground and howling for its pack-mates to come join the hunt.

Adam looked at Asha. Her eyes locked with his. “What do we do?” He mouthed.

“Do you know, Adam,” she asked, “why necromancers in the old stories bind demons?”

He shook his head.

She rose, and now yellow and blue and green flames were playing around the contours of her hands, her face, her feet, her knees and elbows. “Power!” She said. Except it wasn’t a word. It was like the sound of a rock slide, coming down a mountainside to devour an army. He realized she wasn’t speaking English, either. She was speaking hell-tongue. The language of the incantation that had started it all. “Uhagarrukh!” She thundered. Power. “Power over life and death.” Adam could see Amy in his peripheral vision. She was cowering behind a gravestone, clearly unsure whether to flee the hellspawn in front of her best friend or the one blocking the exit to the cemetery.

“A necromancer commands life and death,” Asha intoned, in that strange language of hers. It was a sequence of clicks, of hisses and pharyngeals and ejectives. And something deeper: the sound of magma, deep down below the earth’s crust, waiting to escape, eager to devour the living. But he found himself, strangely, calmer than he had been a moment before. He felt her pull at the mental leash, and he felt it hold.

“Power over the living, and power over the dead,” Asha intoned.

“I don’t know anything about death magic!” He said. “I’m not a necromancer!”

“This isn’t death magic,” Asha said. “That’s where you’re wrong. A necromancer does not draw on death. A necromancer is alive, gloriously alive. It is the union of life and death that brings such incredible power. A power which a creature purely of death and decay could never touch.”

Adam began to understand. He rose, only now realizing that he had sunk down onto one knee.

“Do you want to live?” Asha demanded. Her body was now a dark silhouette, much like the hell-hound’s, but hers was alight with fire, green and yellow and red and blue.

“Yes!” He yelled.

“Then you must give me your life,” she said, “and I will give you command over death.”

Adam’s hands were shaking.

“Remember this morning,” Asha said, taking his hands, very gently. “Remember the rage. What did it feel like?”

“Like death.”

“No!” She said, squeezing his hands harder. “It was life.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and felt for that rage, that anger, that fury. It was white-hot, smoldering, and in his mind’s eye, the heat took hold and roared like a bonfire. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yessss.”

“Will you give me your life, that you may command death?” She whispered.

“Yes.”

Before he could regret it, she had bit him. She took a bite out of his throat, and a searing hot pain threatened to take hold of his consciousness and put it out like a glass over a candle, blocking the air out. He took an unsteady step, feeling viscous hot liquid sliding down his Adam’s apple, down his shirt onto his chest.

He opened his eyes. Asha was in front of him, hovering in the air, a wreath of fire around her scorching his eyebrows. The hell-hound charged.

It was over in three seconds. One moment, the monstrous shadow-ox with the head of a bulldog was running towards them. The next, Adam was splattered with black and red goo as the thing met its end at the point of a blade made of fire, extending out of Asha’s hand like she’d been carrying it all along. She hung in the air for a moment, hands both pointed downwards, trembling, the two halves of the deceased hell-hound falling to each side of the flaming sword, smoldering in the grass. Adam found himself worrying, absurdly, that the dry grass might catch fire and burn them all.

Asha collapsed to the ground. He stumbled over to her, managed to put an arm under each of her armpits and lever her up. “What do we do now?” He asked.

Run!” Asha said.

He looked for Amy. She was gone. Oh, no!

Over here!” Amy yelled. She was standing by the door to one of the mausoleums, holding the iron door ajar. “It’s open!” Half walking, half stumbling, leaning on each other for support, the two of them made their way inside the mausoleum, passing under a peer of laughing stone-cut gargoyles. Amy closed the door and locked the heavy wooden bar on the inside in place.

If you could do that, why didn’t you do it before?” Adam demanded.

I wasn’t sure if you would survive it,” Asha said. “And you did command me not to hurt you.” The pain from the wound in his neck pulsed, reminding him his mortal body would have its reckoning. Flush with adrenaline, it would have to wait.

Begin the ritual,” Adam said to Amy. “There’s no time left. Either it works or we’re all headed towards whatever’s worse than death.” They could hear the pack of hell-hounds howling outside.

Amy poured some water into the cook pot and began hastily mixing her disparate ingredients while Asha got the portable stove going. The air inside was stifling, and Adam wasn’t sure how long they could last even if the hell-hounds didn’t break through the door. After all, who the hell thinks of ventilation for the dead?

Amy poured and mixed powders and roots and oils into the pot, then, finally, threw the rat’s tail, her soiled panties, and the live frog inside. “You’re going to cook it alive?” He asked.

Amy raised both her eyebrows. “You got a problem with that? Wanna go outside and have a diplomatic chat with those monsters from hell instead?”

He shook his head.

Amy took the handle of the hunting knife she was holding and whacked the frog on the head when it attempted to jump out of the boiling water. Turns out, frogs don’t like to boil alive, whatever your biology teacher told you. The frog sank down into the disgusting stew. Amy wrapped her hands in the sleeves of her sweater, then lifted the pot off the stove, losing hold with a curse before she could properly set it down on the stone floor and spilling a good quarter of it. “Fuck! Should have brought a cooking glove.”

It was now ten minutes before midnight. The door shook violently, presumably as one of the hell-hounds tried to bash it in, but it held. For now.

Amy lit some candles, placing them at the points of some geometric figure to complex for him to understand. He put a hand on his neck, feeling the slow flow of blood leaving his body. He was light-headed. “Stay with me,” Amy said. “Five more minutes, then the brew will be cool enough to drink.”

Adam lay down. Asha took his head in her hands. “Bide,” she said. “Do not leave the land of the waking just yet. Bide.”

He heard Amy unsheathe the knife, heard a little snip, tried to move to prevent her from cutting Asha, but it was no use. He felt a hot bowl touch his lips. “Drink,” Amy said. “Try not to throw up.” A foul liquid, the consistency more like porridge than soup, dripping down his throat. It threatened to rise, but he closed his mouth and swallowed, counted, one, two, three, then accepted another gulp. It went down, and stayed down. Asha presumably did the same. He heard her coughing, but he couldn’t even open his eyes, let alone move to assist her. He felt a finger touch his lips. It had a sticky substance the taste of copper.

“Blood of mine,” Asha intoned. Amy stuck a finger to his neck, then she prompted him, and he managed to croak, “blood of mine.”

“Say with me,” Amy said, far away.

The howling of the hell-hounds was a constant backing track. He heard something heavy collide with the door again, but since nothing tore into his throat, he assumed the door held still.

“Say with me,” Amy repeated. “Ah-ushukh diniyahhah...”

“Ah-ushukh… Dini… yahhahh...”

There were more words. His lips formed them, but his ears were no longer capable of hearing them.

Finally, silence.

Adam felt the leash between him and Asha stretch, grow taut. She was pulling away from him. And then… it fell off. It didn’t snap in the middle from the force exerted on it. It simply unknotted itself on both ends, by mutual agreement, and then it was gone. She’s free, he thought. Free and gone forever. I’ll never see her again.

Then she was on his throat, tearing at him. For a terrifying moment, Adam thought he was going to die. He opened his eyes, looking into the red eyes of his demon, the demon he’d bound against her will, the demon who was now going to murder him for what he’d done to her. The demon he just might love.

Then she planted a big, sloppy kiss on his lips.

The howling of the hell-hounds was gone. He heard nothing but his breath, ragged; and hers, and somewhere in the distance, Amy’s.

“Oh, Adam!” Asha said. “I’m still here.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

I’m still here, but the hell-hounds are gone. I’m here, with you.”

That was the moment his body decided to have its hour of reckoning, and promptly, Adam lost consciousness.

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Epilogue: Going to Church

“Hey, asshole.”

Adam opened his eyes. He was in a hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around his neck, with an IV drip going into his right arm. Judging by the light streaming in through the blinds, it was somewhere between late morning and early afternoon.

“I was afraid you were going to die on me. That just wouldn’t do.” Amy was sitting on a chair next to his bed, her face red and puffy around the eyes.

“Thanks.” Adam said, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t think just because you saw me naked one time it’s okay for you to flirt or think dirty thoughts about me,” Amy said.

“Amy, you know I love you, but you’re like a sister to me,” Adam said.

She clenched her fists together and for a moment she looked like she might punch him, but seeing his condition, she unclenched. “Don’t lie to me, Adam. You never saw me like a sister.”

He tried to rise, but quickly found his limbs had no strength, so he simply sank back into bed. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’m going to admit something you probably already know. I used to have a big crush on you. But nothing happened between us, so I was happy just being your friend. Sometimes you’d do something irresistibly cute and I’d feel it tug at my heartstrings, but overall I was happy being your friend. That was before I met her. Now, I wouldn’t care if you flashed me, even if you offered.”

Amy crossed her arms. “Thanks, dude. Just what a girl wants to hear from her best friend: I used to masturbate to fantasies of you naked, but now I got a girlfriend, so I’m not gonna do that anymore until I become single again.”

“Hey,” Adam said, coughing, “that’s not what I said at all. And also, if I did say that, between the herbs and the blood loss and whatever the good doctor put in me, I think I could be excused.”

Amy stuck her tongue out at him and winked. He began to laugh, but it hurt his chest, and he doubled over in pain. Amy was there immediately, by his side. “Don’t make me laugh,” he croaked.

“We told them you got bit by a mad dog,” Amy said, more serious now. “It was really sketchy there for a while, but they said if you wake up, you’re not in any big danger anymore. I’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for you to open up your eyes.”

“Good call,” he said.

“Hey, guess whose mausoleum we ended up in?” Amy said.

“Who?”

“Why, the illustrious Musgrave-Lloyd family.”

Adam wracked his brain, trying to make connections through what felt like four layers of cotton and haze. “Lloyd, like that opera?” He didn’t get it.

“No, you doofus, not Andrew Lloyd Webber. He’s totally unrelated to them, as far as I can tell. Musgrave. As in, the author of the Daemonic Dictionary.”

“Huh. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“I’m going to try and find out,” Amy said. “But my research will be strictly limited to books. Any, ah, hands-on experiments, I’ll wisely leave to others.”

“He died with no descendants, didn’t he?”

“The biography we read only said where and when he was presumed to have died. Said nothing about him having or not having descendants. Or even if there’s any concrete proof that he isn’t still alive.”

“You think someone could be still alive after, what, six hundred years?”

“Stranger things have happened. I’ve seen stranger things with my own eyes,” Amy said, and Adam couldn’t argue with that. Amy turned to leave.

“Hey, Amy, am I really your best friend?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Where are you going? Where’s Asha? Amy! Amy, wait!”

Amy walked around the corner and left. A terrible realization hit him. Asha might be gone. Contemplating the idea felt like dunking his heart in an ice bath. Of course, she might stay on Earth, but with the binding broken, there would be nothing tethering her to him. Why would she stay with me? I bound her, I hurt her… Then he heard a flush, and a familiar face, a familiar pair of green eyes appeared in the doorway to the adjacent bathroom. “Adam,” she said, a rare look of uncertainty on her face. Her face was freshly cleaned, but there was still some snot dripping from her nose, which she dabbed at with a paper towel, and the whites of her eyes were red. Amy’s eyes might have been red with exhaustion, but there was no doubt Asha had been crying.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, at the same time he said, “I thought you were gone.”

She took the chair Amy had vacated. “I do not like hospitals,” she announced. There was a strain in her voice he’d never heard before. “Don’t listen to silly doctors. You have to forgive me.”

“Forgive you? For what?”

She hid her head in her hands, but then she thought better of it. Her tears were all out. She looked him in the eyes. “It was a mercy,” she said at last.

“What? What’s going on?”

“I thought I killed you,” she said. “Look, it’s like I said: in order to defeat even one hell-hound in this state, bound to you, I needed to take from you so much life, you needed to freely give me so much life, that you ought to be dead. It was a mercy: I know that if the ritual had failed, or if it had sent me back to Hell, I couldn’t have returned that gift of life to you, and you’d be dead long before the hounds or the blood loss got you.”

“How could you do that?” Adam asked. “I mean, literally how could you do that. I thought you couldn’t harm me, not seriously?”

Asha shook her head. “A loophole. The alternative would have been much worse than death. It was a gamble. I didn’t know if it would work. It’s the sort of stupidity hellknights do in the dumb romances my father never let me read.”

“You did read them, though,” Adam said, a smile creeping up on him.

“I did. And I didn’t kill you.”

“You’re my knight in flaming armor, then.”

“Yes,” she said, with not a trace of sarcasm.

Adam closed his eyes. Seeing her had revived his spirits, but he was still weak from blood loss and medication and whatever life-draining operation Asha had performed on him. He needed to ask the two most important questions now, before he slipped out of consciousness.

“What happened last night? Why are you here, and not where you… belong?” Question one.

Asha put her hand over his. “The Rite of Return forced me to make a decision. Or rather, it acknowledged a decision I had already made, perhaps. It sent me to the place where my heart was. Which turned out to be the same place I already was, right there in the graveyard, only free.”

Adam opened his eyes. “And will you stay?” Question two.

“I don’t think I can ever go back to Hell,” she said.

“No, will you stay with me?”

“Amy’s offered me to stay at her place for a while.”

“Oh,” Adam said, and he couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. It made sense. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance and they had not spent a moment apart since the affair began. She would want to distance herself from him for a while. Maybe the bond between them had been entirely magical and never emotional..

She squeezed his hand. “Oh, you meant, will I stay together with you, not literally, will I live in your dirty little room in your ugly house,” Asha said. “Of course.”

Adam opened his eyes, tried to blink away a tear.

“I’m going to go, visiting hours are almost over,” Asha said. “I will be back later. Don’t go anywhere.” As if he could. It was odd, seeing her leave the room while he stayed in it. She didn’t bend over clutching her stomach in agony, she didn’t vomit all over the floor, and there was no tug on that invisible rope that had once connected them. Asha simply strode out of the room and, blowing him a kiss, walked out of sight.

Adam closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless slumber.

Three days later, he was out of the hospital. At home, he was greeted by Eddie and Ryan. They thrust a pack of aspirin and a beer into his hand. “We weren’t sure if medicine or painkillers were called for,” Eddie said. “So we got you both. If you were expecting flowers, though, go fuck yourself.” Eddie gave him a big, long hug, and Ryan did the same, a little more reserved. Adam put down his coming-home gifts on the table and folded himself down onto the couch.

“Thanks, guys,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

“We haven’t seen a whole lot of you lately,” Ryan said. “And then you get yourself into an accident and land in hospital. What happened?”

“Got bit by a crazy bitch,” Adam said.

“Stray dog?” Eddie asked. “We heard something like that.”

“Something like that, yeah,” Adam agreed.

“So,” Ryan said. “About what’s been going on with you lately...”

Adam had had a good think about what to tell them while he was laid up in his hospital bed. These were his friends, and he’d completely neglected them while all the crazy shit had been going down. He’d settled on telling them a story that was as close to the truth as possible, but also entirely mundane. He didn’t like lying to them, and, he reasoned, if they would never believe the truth, was it not honest enough to give them an allegory that captured everything important but the details?

“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you guys. Usually, when I got shit on my mind, I would share it. I’m not fully operational yet but I’ll give you a summary of what’s been going on.”

Eddie sat down in a chair facing Adam, nodding his encouragement.

“So, I met this girl,” Adam said. “And it turns out she was in a spot of trouble. She didn’t have anywhere to stay and I couldn’t in good conscience throw her out on the street.”

“That’s the one I met, right?” Ryan said.

“Yeah.”

“She’s a looker.”

“Oh, she is, and so much more. Anyways, yeah, we had a bit of a thing and then she’s out on the streets, and I let her stay with me. But it turns out this thing was more complicated than I’d bargained for. There were some… family complications, and people were out to get her and hurt her. I got caught up in that and didn’t really know how to focus on anything but the next crisis coming along. Anyway, that stuff’s resolved now. It’s over.”

“I hope you went to the police,” Eddie said. “If these people, her family members or whoever, were really out to hurt her.”

“It’s been dealt with by the appropriate authorities,” Adam said. “It’s done. No one’s going to hurt her, or me, or you, or anyone else who gets close to her.”

“We heard you guys fighting,” Eddie said.

“Oh, yeah. We’re a match made in Hell. But fuck me, I fell for her. She’s not getting rid of me and I’m not getting rid of her, so you’ll probably be seeing her around. I found her a place to stay with a female friend of mine until she gets sorted.”

“Were you really bitten by a random wild dog?” Ryan asked. “You didn’t fall on some sword or get caught up in some gangsta shit to protect your lady love, did you?” He slapped Adam on the shoulder, a friendly gesture between mates, except Adam was still weak and had to suppress a wince.

“It was a mad bitch, like I said. Crazy fucking coincidence. Although truth be told, being laid up in hospital wasn’t so bad. Let me clear my head. Well, once they stopped giving me painkillers, anyways.”

“Glad to have you back,” Eddie said. “The moment you’re recovered, you and me are popping some cold ones and shooting some hoops, eh?”

“Looking forward to it.”

And that was how Adam got back in with his housemates and friends.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Asha said. It was end of semester, nearly three months after the Rite of Return. They lay curled up together in his bed, staring up at the dirty ceiling. She had her hand on his hip, and he had one arm around her shoulder, and their legs were intertwined. “Your lease is up soon, right?”

“Yeah, but Ryan and Eddie are thinking of renewing and I’m probably just gonna be staying on with them. It’s not much, but it’s been home for two years and I could stand to make it three.”

“I’ve been thinking we should find a place and move in together,” she said. It was honestly what he’d been longing for, but he didn’t feel like he had any right to ask. They’d been dating all this time, and had navigated that odd state of a relationship were circumstances push you to become very intimate, very fast, and once the dust settles, you have to figure out if you actually like each other or if you just got caught up in a whirlwind romance. They’d found they did. But the fact that Adam, although unintentionally, had forced her into that intimacy still weighed on his mind. He’d resolved not to ask her to make any further commitment to him until she was ready for it. He had no right. Now she was asking the question he’d been burning to ask her for the past month.

“Don’t you like living with Amy?”

“Love it. But I’d love to live with you more. Also, I think Amy needs her privacy, but she’s too polite to say anything. There’s a side to her that she can’t bring herself to reveal to anyone—not to me, or to you, or to Peter. She needs privacy to live that side of her life until she finds it in her to reveal it to someone she cares for.”

Adam didn’t ask her to elaborate. He knew better than to ask. Instead, he said, “I’d love that. Moving in together. If it’s what you want.”

“Silly mortal,” she said. It was her pet name for him. Truth be told, they didn’t know if she was mortal or not anymore. She could still make flames dance across her eyes or her fingertips, and Adam suspected there were things she could do still that would terrify him. Asha was still finding her way in this world, and sometimes, she would wake him up, mumbling in distress, and she’d tell him she had a dream of the old country—Hell—and say no more. She’d given up everything she ever knew to be here, with him, and he wasn’t about to forget it.

In many ways, she’d taken to mortal life quicker than he’d expected. Asha was technically an illegal immigrant, with no ID, no passport or citizenship, albeit from another dimension rather than a foreign country. But she could be very, very persuasive. Preternaturally so. Soon after she moved in with Amy, Asha got a job as a waitress, and she brought in a lot of tips. Unreasonably high tips. He didn’t ask and she didn’t offer to elaborate on how she swung that. Nor how she procured a bank account with no legal identity. One day, she showed him her new driver’s license, in the name of Asha Pride, with her picture, and his year and date of birth.

“Do you even know how to drive a car?” He’d asked.

“No,” she’d said, “that’s what’s so fun about it! You get to teach me. On the open road, without a learner’s permit!”

“Yeah, I think we’ll start off on a parking lot somewhere.”

“Good. I’ll start looking for a car.”

“It’s settled, then,” Asha said, pulling him back to the present. “We’re finding a place and moving in together. It’ll be just like old times!” She gave him a peck on his cheek.

“Does that mean I have to clean up your piss all the time?”

She gave him a look. “Only when we feel like getting naughty. I know you enjoy it,” she cooed. Well, he didn’t exactly enjoy the cleanup, but he did enjoy the part that came before.

“Also,” Asha said. “I want you to take me to church on Sunday.”

What? Are you taking up religion? Don’t tell me you’re planning to burn it down.”

“None of the above,” she said. “Look, remember the thing that used to happen to me whenever someone invoked the name of the Lord?”

Adam shuddered. He could see it in his mind’s eye. Her skin warping and bubbling, as if someone had poured boiling water onto the layer between skin and bone.

“That doesn’t happen anymore,” Asha said. “Try it.”

“Jesus Christ. God.” He looked over, and she smiled back, her skin perfectly smooth. “Allah. Buddha. Odin. Shiva. Yahweh.” He struggled to recall any other gods or god-like beings he could invoke, but she cut him off.

“See? Nothing happened.” She licked her lips. “And so I was thinking, what if one of our friends gets married? Or, Satan forbid, you get in a terrible and utterly unpredictable car accident while teaching me how to drive, which I miraculously survive because I’m me and I’m amazing, and then your next of kin decides on a church funeral?” She fixed her eyes on his, and this time, she was serious. “I want to know that I can walk into a house of worship and when the worshiping is done, both I and the house will still be standing. Not because I like churches, but because maybe there will be an occasion where I’ll want to be there because of the other people I care about that will be there. And I want you to go with me and get me out of there if something goes wrong.”

“Okay,” Adam said. It made perfect sense, but it was strange, hearing it from a demon. “You won’t make a scene?”

“Not deliberately. I will sit quietly in the back with my hands folded like a good little Catholic schoolgirl. I need you to be my backup in case something unexpected happens. Nobody’s done what I did, what we did, Adam. Just… Walked away from Hell, never looking back. I don’t know much more about how any of it works than you do. In fact, I’m almost certain Amy knows more than either of us.”

 

So it was that they found themselves walking hand-in-hand to Church that Sunday. It was a warm day in early summer, and flowers and trees were blooming. It was almost too beautiful to be true. There were at least eight churches that held Sunday services they could reach on foot or by bus, but he’d picked one within walking distance from Amy and Asha’s place. Not only was the place close by, but it was also the perfect size for their little experiment. Not too big, not too small. Adam wanted to avoid being some of the only people at the service—he wanted them to sit unnoticed in the back, attracting no attention whatsoever, whether anything out of the ordinary happened or not—but he didn’t want it to be so big that, if something did happen, there was sure to be someone filming them with a phone before they could make a discreet getaway. Asha was wearing a plain white dress that went down to her knees, and he was wearing jeans and a button-down, unsure of Church etiquette. Not exactly his Sunday best, but not so shabby as to attract attention either. Adam knew that attendance for regular services had been trending down in recent years, so he reasoned that they wouldn’t be too prissy. Also, wasn’t that Jesus fellow all about taking in the poor and destitute? Hardly seemed right to turn someone away at the door for being under-dressed.

They took a seat on a pew near the back. He was happy to see there were about forty people scattered about the first few rows of pews. Enough so that they’d blend in, probably not enough to incite a riot before they could make their escape if they needed to.

As the service began, Asha put her hands in her lap, just like she’d promised. But soon, she was squirming, moving about silently but clearly in distress. Adam put a hand on her shoulder and mouthed an “are you okay?” Asha gave him a wicked smile, then spread her legs out and lifted the hem of her dress, giving him a look at her red panties.

“I haven’t peed since last night at five,” she whispered. “Deliberately.”

“Asha, that’s...” He tried to do the math. “Eighteen hours!”

“Forgive me, then,” she said, and grabbed between her legs with both hands. Adam took her hand and removed it.

“You can’t do that in a church,” he said, squeezing her hand tight.

“But Adam, I might have an accident,” she whispered in her sweetest, most innocent voice.

“Do you want me to take you to the bathroom?”

Nooo, I can hold it.”

She kept her legs apart and squeezed his hand, and she let her dress ride up frequently to give him a peek, as the preacher droned on and hymns were sung. Towards the end of the service, she stifled a moan, then lifted her dress to show him a little wet spot on her panties.

“You better not piss yourself in a church,” Adam hissed, suddenly worried now. “You promised not to make a scene.”

“I won’t,” she promised, and gritted her teeth, continuing her hands-off struggle. Finally, the service was over, and Adam caught her hand and dragged her out the door before she could leak any more. She gave an audible moan as he pulled her up, but when he put a hand where she’d sat—still warm—it was dry. The little moan was drowned out by the general din of people rising, dressing, heading down the aisle and out into the sunshine.

“You’ve been very naughty,” he said to her as they walked out of the church yard.

“Do you disapprove?” She favored him with her most seductive, boner-inducing grin.

“What you almost did in there was very disrespectful to those nice little church-goers. I could almost bring myself to be offended on their behalf, almost desecrating their place of holiness like that… If I wasn’t so unbelievably turned on.”

They stopped in the shade of a large oak hanging over the fence from the church yard and kissed. When they broke for air, he asked her if she wanted to find a place to go pee.

“No, I’d like to hold it,” she said.

“But you’re bursting! You already leaked.”

“Nobody will see under the dress. You know you love it when I do this. Don’t deny it.” He couldn’t, at that.

They took a side road lined on both sides by tall cypress trees and reached a dead end. At the end of a little cul-de-sac sat a very small house with a lovely garden. It was flaky red and looked like it was barely larger than an ordinary one bedroom apartment, but it sat on its own lot, almost hidden behind lovingly tended bushes and trees. A sign on a brown picket fence said “Small house for rent, cheap.” An old woman stood on the porch, and she waved at them.

“Oy there! Have you come for the house viewing?” She yelled, favoring them with a gap-toothed smile.

“We didn’t,” Adam began. “We were just out for a walk and ended up here. We do happen to be looking for a place, but we were thinking a small apartment. Don’t think we can afford a house.”

The woman came down to the end of the garden and opened the gate. “You’ve come to the right place, then,” she said. “How fortuitous. I’m looking to rent this out very cheap. Truth be told, all I want is for someone to take care of the house and the garden. Had a couple coming to see it today but they never showed up. Why don’t you have a look? Lovely young couple like yourselves, I’m sure we can work something out.”

He glanced over at Asha. She was squirming, doing a very good job of hiding it, but she was surely on the verge of losing it. She simply nodded. Oh, well. This might be the opportunity of a lifetime, and she could always ask to use the bathroom in the house.

“Well, I suppose having a look is free, can’t hurt, right?”

The old woman smiled and offered him her hand. “Bethany Musgrave,” she said. “Not of the wealthier and more famous branch of the family, I’m afraid. Pleasure to meet you.” Well, isn’t that a crazy coincidence.

“Adam Rogers.” They shook, and then Bethany shook Asha’s hand. She was shaking, no doubt from the effort of keeping herself from overflowing.

“Oh, are you nervous, dear?” Bethany asked.

“It’s just… This would be our first home together,” Asha said. Her improvisational skills continued to impress. “I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

“Ah, young love!” Bethany smiled. “Such a pleasure to see. Don’t worry, dear, before you know it you’ll have a child and a dog and you’re wondering where the years went.” She chuckled. “Come, come. This is the garden. There’s an apple tree, and cherries, and I grow carrots and potatoes in the back, and then there’s a variety of bushes and flowers. I dare say we can work out a deal that will be more than affordable, but there’s one non-negotiable clause. You must keep the garden well maintained. I care little for cutting the grass to a specified height, but the flowers and fruit and berries and vegetables are my pride and joy. I will leave you well alone, but I will be coming by to check up on the garden.”

Adam knew nothing of gardening, but if he could rent a house for the price of a tiny apartment, with such a pleasant landlady, and learning to turn his fingers green was the price to pay, he’d pay it. He shot a glance at Asha, and she was doing her very best not to curtsy or cross her legs or betray her desperation. It was adorable and hot and not what he needed to be thinking about now.

“Here’s the hall,” Bethany continued. It was small, and by unspoken accord they all removed their shoes, but when they came into the living room, it was larger than he’d have guessed from the outside. “It’s bigger inside than it looks, isn’t it?” Bethany said. The space was entirely empty of non-fixed furniture, but surprisingly spacious, with a large living area and a kitchen nook that had all the necessities, aside from a fridge.

“My husband and I lived here for forty years,” Bethany said. “Sadly, these days he’s not so well, so we’re moving to an apartment that’s closer to the hospital and the home nursing unit. That’s why I’m renting this out for cheap. Like I said, I really just want someone to take care of the house and the garden. I don’t see myself ever moving back here, but I can’t just part with it, you know? In a few years, if you take good care of it, I might be ready to part with it for a song and a dance. But for now, I want dependable, young, healthy people to take care of it for me. I want to know it’s still there, still being looked after, which is why I don’t want to sell and give away all my rights to come and slap a backside if the new owner’s lazy with the gardening.” She chuckled. “My husband and I moved out two weeks ago. It’s the first time I’ve been back, and being back almost makes me want to back out, but I’m getting on in years myself. I know between my own age and caring for my husband, I can’t maintain a second home to my liking.”

Adam spotted Asha out of the corner of his eye, crossing her legs and bending over. He quickly redirected Bethany’s attention to the back hall, asking about the bedroom and bathroom. The two left Asha behind as Bethany showed him the bedroom, which was more than large enough for two wardrobes and a double bed, and she pointed out a large adjacent storage room which, she said with a wink, might come in handy if they ever found themselves in need of a second bedroom. The bathroom was small, but had all the necessities. Bethany showed him the small basement, which had a few shelves for storage and plumbing set up for a washing machine. All the while, she gently pried him for details of his life. He told her about his studies, about Asha’s job as a waitress.

“Any experience gardening?” She asked.

“None,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to learn.” She nodded and smiled, as if he’d passed a test he didn’t know he was taking.

When they emerged back upstairs, Asha had composed herself. Adam could see her wiping something on the floor with the sole of her sock. Was that a little wet spot? We better wrap this up, because it doesn’t look like she’s going to ask to use the bathroom, and she can’t keep holding it much longer.

Bethany walked over to the counter top and picked up a sheaf of papers. “This is a contract,” she said. “I’m willing to sign it right now and hand over the key right now if you are.”

“We haven’t spoken about rent,” Adam said.

Bethany offered a figure. It was barely more than he currently paid to live with two housemates, and they’d be splitting it between the two of them. “Asha?”

“I like it,” Asha said, straining to put on a pleasant smile. “I really like it. What do you say, Adam?”

“I’d say we take a good thing when it comes to us. I’m in.” Asha nodded. “We’re in. But are you really sure this is okay? You just met us and you’re handing over the keys, we haven’t even exchanged any money?”

Bethany nodded. “This contract is for three months, with an option to extend to three years if both parties are pleased with the arrangement at the end of the summer. Sign here and here, and I’ll expect the money no later than next Friday.”

They signed. Bethany dropped a key on the counter top. “It’s all yours. You’ll have to have it copied so you get a key each, and a spare wouldn’t be amiss. I’ll come by next weekend and we can get started on teaching you two how to care for the garden. Do feel free to pick and use anything that’s ripe for the picking. It wouldn’t do to let it rot on the branch or in the ground, now would it?”

Adam began to thank her, but she simply shook her head. “The house is yours,” she said. “Make yourselves at home.” And she was gone.

“Oh my devil,” Asha said. “I can’t believe it. We just rented a house together.”

“I know,” Adam said.

Asha crossed her legs and grabbed herself through her dress. “I’m about to lose it! Having to stand there and smile and be pleasant and pretend I’m not about to piss myself was so...”

“Terrifying?” Adam offered.

“Fucking. Hot.”

“Can you walk? There’s a bathroom down the hall...”

Asha moaned, and then he could see a trickle emerge beneath the hem of her dress. It spattered on the floor, transparent urine soaking into her sock, but she cut it off. “Oooh,” she moaned. “I needed that, but I still have so much left!”

“Do you want to go here, or in the toilet, or…?”

“Let’s go outside and see this garden I’ve heard so much about!” She bent down and began removing her socks. As she did so, she turned around and her dress rode up, giving him a good look at her red panties, which had a peach-sized wet spot extending up the contour of her butt crack. As she worked on the socks, her body shook, and another little leak emerged, teasing him as it ran down her thigh, but she managed to regain control.

“Nineteen hours,” she said. “It’s gonna be a new record!”

Barefoot, she ran out into the garden, and Adam scrambled to follow her. Asha stood beneath a tall tree, shielded from the road. She held her dress up, giving him a good look at her wet underwear. Her lips teasing him through the semitransparent fabric. “I can’t move,” she said, and laughed. Adam walked up, put a hand on her panties, another in her hair, bent her back towards the tree and kissed her deeply. He heard, and felt, the hiss as her dam released. Warm pee trickled over his hand as they kissed in the garden of their new home. It was a fairy tale ending if he’d ever seen one. She shuddered as he began to work her between the legs, still peeing, and before they knew it, his underwear and hers were both off.

Leaning on the tree, after, he said, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“We should get married,” Asha said.

“Really? Isn’t that a bit soon?”

“We just spontaneously rented a house,” she pointed out. “Seems like good things happen to us when we live in the moment.”

“Are you proposing to me?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well, traditionally, the man would get down on his knee and offer a ring...”

“We aren’t a traditional couple, are we, mortal?”

“Guess not.” He shrugged.

“Will you marry me?”

He looked her in the eyes. “Yes.”

“Great. We’ll do the civil ceremony, and then a private ceremony on All Hallow’s Eve in the woods. It’s the way of my kind. Amy can officiate.”

“Whoa, there,” Adam said. “Amy’s sworn off anything to do with rituals. And you really want to get married in the woods on Halloween, like some spook?”

“It’s not a magic ritual. Entirely symbolic. We can even skip the traditional blood-drinking ceremony.”

“I think we’ll leave the details for later. And I’m going to insist on a ring, because that’s the way of my kind.”

She leaned on his shoulder. “Love you, mortal.”

“Love you, my little demon.”

 

The old lady knew the way of the woods behind the house, and she had little trouble making her way unseen and unheard to a spot where she could listen and watch how the young couple would dispose of their new home. She did not avert her eyes at their perverse sexual games, but simply nodded to herself and stored it away in her vast memory for possible future application. Their declarations of love brought a tear to her eye, and the spontaneous engagement was the cherry on top. She popped a homegrown apple into her mouth. Seeing the young couple reminded her of her current husband, now senile and in need of care, but so vital, so lovely and so horny in earlier years. No. It reminded her more of her first husband, before he grew old and died, and before her second, who was crueler but also, like most people, eventually found his way to the eternal sleep with no illicit help from his wife. Yes, she decided. I will let them have their happiness. It pleases me to do one more good thing before I sod off this Earth. Bethany Musgrave threw the core of the apple into her garden—Asha and Adam’s garden, now—and walked off into the woods, humming a nursery rhyme that went out of style a hundred years ago.

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