by Scraps

Read this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.

Rickardt burned the final sacrifice and threw its ashes into the summoning circle.

“Great One, I call on thou,” he said. He spread his arms wide and recited the words from the book. “My gifts for thou have been kissed with hellfire. I call in the name of the old contract. I demand power. I demand glory. I summon thou!”

The remains of rich food and fancy coffee were strewn across the floor. The book he’d taken had much to say about how beings of the Pit delighted in seeing expensive things ruined. He had taken great pains to choose brands that didn’t bother with petty acts of virtue signaling. A strong man didn’t care about those who toiled for him. Demons respected the strong.

“It’s ‘I summon thee,'” said an unfamiliar voice in his ear. “If you’re going to use outdated language, you ought to do it right.”

Rickardt jumped back in surprise. When he turned his head, there was no one there. The voice had come from somewhere that wasn’t inside the circle.

“Great One, are thou with me?”

A breeze blew through the windowless room and made the candles gutter and the pages of Rickardt’s tome ruffle. There might have been soft laughter. The room was otherwise empty of anything Rickardt hadn’t brought there himself. He turned back to the page he’d marked with a frown.

“In the name of Furfur, in the name of Belphegor, in the name of Astaroth, in the name of all the recorded Dukes of Hell, I call upon thou,” he said with the same authority in his voice he used when ordering underlings at work. Employees always got in line when they heard him invoke the name of his bosses. It only made sense that demons would do the same.

The summoning circle stayed empty.

“Show thouself, Great One!” shouted Rickardt.

“It’s ‘show thyself,'” said the same voice as before. “For as much shit as you stir in the boardroom about other people’s pronouns, you really aren’t very good with them, are you.”

Rickardt’s face went devil-red with anger. The being whose presence he demanded still didn’t show. He slammed his finger against the page and chanted at the top of his lungs.

“Tejas, vayu, apas, prithivi!” he read. The floor vibrated. Inside the circle the wooden parquetry began to warp into different shapes that should have been impossible a dozen times over. It opened like a blooming succulent and a dark, horned shadow rose from a void that was nothing like the actual room downstairs from that part of the penthouse. Those horns quickly scraped the ceiling. It wavered unreally as though the world itself wasn’t all the way in focus. Rickardt smirked. Now they were getting somewhere.

“The door has opened, and I have come through,” said the figure in a booming voice that was different from the one it had used to complain in Rickardt’s ear.

Another fistful of ashes went into the circle. “Great One, I am him who openest the door!” said Rickardt.

“You are he who didst open the door,” said the horned figure in a deep and fearsome bass.

Rickardt scowled. “I’m not calling on thou for a grammar lesson, Great One.”

“Are you sure?” asked the smoother voice from before. “You could use it.”

The book had warned that demons were prone to tricks and deception. Anyone who had ever seen a movie could say the same. Rickardt didn’t let himself be fooled. “In the name of all recorded Dukes of Hell and the contract with Solomon of the Key, I call thou here to grant my wish. Answer me or be punished by cosmic authority!”

Two points of golden light appeared in the blackness of the horned figure. They changed shape and size like an animal’s pupils focusing. “You are ready to pay the cost?”

More ashes tumbled into the void and the shadow that rose from it. “The cost is paid in full, and thrice over! Tejas, vayu, apas, prithivi!” chanted Rickardt.

A shattered cup lifted off the ground and sealed itself back together with smoking black ooze. Hints of spilled coffee flowed up from between the floorboards. The horned figure took the cup and sipped it.

“This is nothing,” said the horned figure.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the unseen speaker. A little smear of ashes floated out from the protective circle and hovered in the air like someone was rubbing them between their fingers. “There’s the start of something here. Enough to get my attention, at least.”

The horned figure spat a glowing, sparking gobbet that couldn’t escape the barrier that held it. “That’s because your tastes are low and basic,” it rumbled.

Something about the walls shifted as another breeze from nowhere caressed the candle flames. “Is it such a sin that I know what I want and can take steps to get it?” said the smooth-voiced stranger. “How dare I permit myself to be satisfied.”

“Others might say ‘easy’ instead.”

Rickardt had not made all those sacrifices to go ignored. “I demand thou show thouself, Great One! By all the wicked names!”

“He really is like that, isn’t he,” said the dark figure.

“Show thouself!“

The other speaker laughed musically. “Where are my manners? Of course you may see me, summoner,” they said.

Subtle movement pulled Rickardt’s attention away for a fraction of a second and when he looked back there was a man standing there, sharply dressed all in white with his gray hair artfully disheveled just enough to keep from looking shellacked. He gave a little bow. “You may call me Mr. White Keys.”

“Show-off,” muttered the dark figure.

Mr. White Keys was not standing inside the circle.

Rickardt clasped the tome in front of himself like an amulet. “I abjure thou—” he began.

A flash of white fabric preceded Mr. White Keys smacking the book from Rickardt’s hands like it weighed no more than a single folded sheet of paper. “Stop that,” said Mr. White Keys. “It’s embarrassing for all of us.”

“I hast drawnst the symbols of control!”

“You’ve drawn some symbols, but these mean next to nothing,” said the dark figure. It stepped forward with the shadow of a cloven hoof and easily passed through the barrier. The room felt much smaller. “Had you bothered to check, the flaws would be obvious. But that’s not the kind of man you are, is it?”

Mr. White Keys chuckled in a mean-spirited way. “He can’t even get Elizabethan English right even with it written down in front of him.” He plucked a stray hair from Rickardt’s ritual clothes. “Those golden parachutes are no good if you ever expect to fly.”

“I command thou to stay back!” said Rickardt. He thrust the tome forward and its pages shimmered with power. At least something still remembered its role in this whole mess. It had taken a lot of money to get that thing into his hands and he wasn’t going to leave such a valuable asset in its holster.

The horned shadow shook its head. “This is embarrassing for everyone,” it said. It swung its amber gaze to focus on Mr. White Keys. “Keys, would you do the honors?”

Wearing gloves should have made it impossible for Mr. White Keys to click his fingers. He did it anyway. Something tore Rickardt’s book from his hands and shredded it into tiny pieces, and those pieces burned away until the hole still open inside the circle sucked in the ashes. It looked a lot like when it had consumed his sacrifices. Millions of dollars and priceless amounts of other resources vanished in a blink. He was left with nothing between himself and the hellspawn.

“Thank you,” said the shadow.

“We can still bargain,” said Rickardt. He kept his voice calm. He had overseen negotiations that had started worse than this. He could still win. All he had to do was remain strong in the face of his opponents until someone else was over a barrel instead. Good business was all about never letting them see you sweat.

Mr. White Keys put his gloved hand to his face and shook his head. His gloves only covered his fingers and the space right around his knuckles, leaving the back of his hand and most of his palm exposed. It looked like he’d dipped his fingers in white paint. Rickardt had seen that sort of thing in fashion photoshoots before. If Mr. White Keys wore them it meant he could be approached like someone who knew what money was worth. Whatever he wanted, Rickardt would get it.

Another breeze blew past Rickardt as the horned shadow leaned in close. “Nothing you can promise me is worth the breath you’d spend to name it,” it said. With it right up next to him Rickardt could hear how its voice echoed in ways that made him think of the depths of rare-earth mines or how an artist he’d briefly tried dating described to him the nothingness in the heart of space.

“Make me an offer,” he said.

The shadow shook its head. “That’s supposed to be your job.”

“Thy job, if you want to be Shakespearean about it,” said Mr. White Keys.

“Either way, you still meddled in affairs you had no business touching,” said the shadow. “As per the contract made in the days of Solomon, we will now extract our due.” It put its hand on Rickardt’s shoulder and Mr. White Keys put his hand on the other. Rickardt couldn’t struggle. He couldn’t even move. He still refused to let them see him sweat.

The demons pulled in different directions, there was a loud tearing sound as each of them took half of him, and then Rickardt wasn’t in a position to care about anything anymore.

There was blood. There were ashes. There were still the ruined remains of food all over the floorboards. It was a complete shambles in that part of the penthouse, but nothing either being couldn’t fix with a little elbow grease.

“Thank fuck that’s over,” said the horned shadow as it licked its claws clean.

Keys shook his head. “It’s nothing but amateur hour these days,” he said. He wiped his own mouth with a silvery satin handkerchief. “He didn’t even notice he was calling up more than one name during his invocation.”

“He never even asked for mine.”

“Amateur hour, I tell you!” repeated Keys. He shook his silver-haired head. “Come along, Surax, I think I saw an espresso machine in that fancy kitchen back there. Let a colleague make a friend a proper drink.”

Speaking Surax’s name pulled its silhouette into sharp detail. It was a classic demon-beast with heavy hooves and a head like a carnivorous goat’s. Fiery spit drooled from its fangs. Heavy piercings pulled at its nipples and the forearm-sized cock that hung between its muscular thighs. Its skin was an impossible shade of purple. Its fur was still blacker than black and seemed to smoke. Even in focus a lot of it looked like a hole punched in the light.

Surax stretched. The summoning circle could do even less to keep it in place now. “I could go for an affogato,” it said.

“A dessert? I suppose we did just eat,” said Keys. He reached down and took the largest ring piercing Surax’s erect penis and pulled it along to the giant chrome and white kitchen that Rickardt had never used.

Keys was used to working very fancy machines. Across history he had been summoned by the rich and powerful, which meant knowing how to work for them in the ways that made them feel richer and more powerful. He had known how to make a perfect cup of coffee as long as men had been drinking it.

He even knew where to find the ice cream in the AI-enhanced refrigerator that Rickardt used to pay other people to deal with.

For being a huge monster of a devil Surax could drink politely. It didn’t spill a drop even as lava-like rivers of glowing slobber dripped down its lips and onto the tiles. When it was done it washed its cup and saucer in the sink.

“That’s polite of you,” said Keys. He sipped at a flat white of his own. He’d drawn a powerful mystical symbol in the foam before drinking.

Surax nodded. It managed not to hit any hanging can-lights with its horns. “I assume you’re going to steal his skin and cause mayhem in his name until you get sent back,” it said.

“Of course.”

“No reason to make a mess until you need one, then.”

The steam off of the flat white kept making mysterious patterns as Keys drank his cup little by little. He chuckled. “And if I wanted a mess?”

“Why ruin a serviceable kitchen? I’d rather fuck you until I got bored.”

Keys chuckled again. “You’ll have to do that anyway,” he said.

“Contract bullshit?” asked Surax. It didn’t sound upset.

“That’s right,” said Keys. “When he summoned us, the terms were that we could not leave this place until we both brought pleasure to the lord of this household. We both have claim to his soul, which effectively gives us squatters’ rights. By what few terms of the agreement that binds us remain, we won’t be able to leave to do some proper work until we’ve driven one another to the height of ecstasy.”

Every reflective surface in the kitchen reflected Surax’s rising cock as it leaned against the granite counter top. “You did make me coffee. I suppose that’s a good enough excuse to pump you full of hot hellseed.”

“How direct. Usually I have to layer on the innuendo to get a summoner to agree to me fucking them.”

Surax showed lots of fangs when it smiled. “I’m not a subtle person,” it said.

“This is why we get along,” said Keys.

Rickardt’s bedroom was the kind of too-big and too-sparse space that men with too much money and too little personal style naturally built around themselves. There was a wardrobe full of sex toys he had once used as tools of humiliation and control on others. Surax did not feel shame and had already broken out of what feeble control Rickardt had attempted. It dug through the collection with glee.

“I’m going to find the biggest one in here and shove it right up my cunt,” said Surax. Just beneath its studded cock was a set of ring-lined pussy lips that dribbled glowing fluids the same way its mouth did.

Keys leaned against a bureau. The front of his pristine white pants strained against his own member. “No room for me this time?” he asked, playfully.

“I can taste something big hiding away in here. You’re better off as a cock warmer, Keys,” said Surax.

Light shone off of the jewelry that bounced and flexed with Surax’s every move. It was too big for a normal human without a lot of work. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Keys. He’d never had trouble making Surax’s cock fit.

Soon Surax unearthed a dildo on such an enormous scale it looked more like a punishment than a toy. There were shampoo bottles in the bathroom that were thinner. The shape resembled an animal. It was as clean as anything else in the wardrobe but stank of past intimidation and fear.

Surax licked it. Few things got it wetter than reminders of how human lives could always be worse.

The bed creaked as Surax positioned itself over the too-big toy. A normal person did not have the capacity in their body for something even half the size. Surax was not subtle about anything. It growled in pleasure as the tip of the toy pushed past its lips. It did nothing to stop the flow of juice that was forced out onto the bed as the toy vanished inside it. A body like a hole in space had a lot of room for fucking oneself.

Every muscle in Surax’s thick thighs flexed as it bounced on the toy. It spread itself open at Keys to make sure he could see what he couldn’t have. Keys kept his hands to himself. Part of being allowed to be part of Surax’s usual was waiting for his turn. He had no trouble not looking away from the sight of Surax distending around the molded silicone or the way the toy glowed with infernal pussy juice.

When Surax pointed Keys was on his knees in a minute with his face pressed up against the unreal shape of Surax’s cockhead. It messed up his glasses instantly. He couldn’t get his mouth around Surax because he was playing by certain rules so he could pass among humans. Instead he held Surax with both hands and mashed skin and tongue against flesh until he was smeared with glowing pre-come from his cheeks to his dapper mustache.

He had to play on Surax’s terms if he wanted to play with Surax at all. Luckily for Keys, he’d never had trouble following its rules.

It swiped the same claws it had used to shred Rickardt across Keys’ body. Unlike Rickardt, Keys simply lost his clothes and not his life. His cock sprang out all wet and eager. When Surax picked him up he didn’t fight it.

Surax laughed in a way that shook the potted plants someone else was paid not enough money to take care of. It played with his balls with a talon. “It’s cute how you picked one type of body all the way back in the beginning and have stuck with it so long,” it said.

Keys smirked. “I know what I like,” he said as he hung from its hand. It still rode the toy so hard the bedframe threatened to scoot out of place. The broad tip of Surax’s cock pushed against his ass in time with its bounces. “You like it, too, or you’d have suggested we get things over with by jerking each other off and going our separate ways.”

“More fun this way,” said Surax.

“Much more fun. Now use me like you promised.”

It lowered him until he could plant one foot on either of its thighs. Once he had enough weight braced against it, Keys grabbed the metal knockers that hung from Surax’s nipples and pulled on them. It snarled. It then pushed him down on its cock while he kept the piercings held in each hand.

When Keys was walking the mortal world he liked to look human on the outside. On the inside he had his own almost infinite space. He gasped as every bumpy piece of Surax’s cock jewelry thrummed against his asshole on its way inside. That cock could make even a hole as experienced as Keys’ feel tight around it.

They made hellish music together as Surax kept Keys bouncing in its lap even as its cunt nearly swallowed the toy.

A seam of light opened up across the purple skin of Surax’s belly to reveal a hidden mouth with a tongue of its own. It curled that tongue around Keys. All the teeth in its inky maw only made things hotter. Keys groaned with joy even as he held on to Surax’s door-knocker jewelry for dear life. Classic devils knew how to treat upstarts like him right.

Keys came first. Hot white ropes of demon come fell across the blackness of Surax’s exposed guts. It drank him down with the same politeness it had used to savor its affogato.

“Aren’t you cute,” it said once it finished.

He couldn’t be out of breath because he didn’t need to breathe. Keys felt worn out anyway. He was raw all over and Surax hadn’t slowed down.

“Need me to top you off before you go out into the world?” it asked him. It was very good at making its voice sound syrupy sweet without losing its deepness.

“Yes,” said Keys. “I need it.”

“So cute,” said Surax.

It came inside of him then. A human coming in Keys was nothing new. He made his human disguise look the way it did to make them want to do that, assuming they didn’t want him coming inside of them, instead. He could tell when they finished from their sounds, and the way they moved, and the way it tasted when he absorbed their life force through sex.

Fucking Surax was nothing like that.

When Surax came it was like all of Hell itself was pounding through Keys’ body. He felt like his skin had to be glowing from how much magma-colored come he felt it pump into him. A lesser man might have died. The infinite space inside of him was tested by Surax’s cock.

He could actually feel it all happening, unlike the people he’d been with who only thought they could despite the human body not working that way.

Keys screamed with joy as he burned up into nothing. After a few seconds he got over it, made a new body, and sat down next to Surax on the bed.

“I’d love to stay longer, but it looks like there’s an investor meeting at two o’clock,” he said.

“And I need to start planning mayhem that doesn’t involve fucking you to pieces,” said Surax. It sounded a little resigned. It hadn’t taken the toy out of itself.

Damn the already very damned Rickardt for not scheduling his meeting any later. “Sorry I don’t have the time to help you out with that,” said Keys.

“Don’t be,” said Surax. It leaned back to take the end of the toy in one hand to diddle itself lazily. “I think I’m taking this with me. It’s more deviant when I can mix sex and violence together.”

“That’s true.” Keys stood up and brushed himself off. “I’d better get ready. It’s no fun being tardy for these things.”

He concentrated. A ripple of light shone over him as though he’d walked too close to a sunlit swimming pool. Now he looked just like Rickardt, from his expensive suit to his expansive haircut.

“I’m going to go ruin a man’s reputation and cause as much collateral damage as possible,” he said. “Meet you in a few months to double-team his eternal soul? I’ll tell you all the juicy gossip. The look on his face will be priceless.”

“Not if we don’t get together for drinks first,” said Surax. “Anywhere you’d like me to spare when I go on my next rampage?”

“Surprise me,” said Keys.

Surax showed its teeth again. “It’s a date,” it said, and then it was gone in a whiff of brimstone. The metal bedframe would never be the same again.

The next time Keys walked into the penthouse it would be spotless once again. The next time he returned he planned to have company. Depending on how that went he might have even more company, complete with photo evidence to leak to the worst tabloids. He had meetings to attend, souls to raze, and businesses to drive into the ground.

But before all of that, he was going to have another cup of coffee.

Read this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.

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