The Whims of the Dark One

written and illustrated by Yin Twig


Zed, alone in a strange house in a strange neighbourhood, allowed the strange man to put the blindfold over his eyes. It was that kind of a day.

“Stand up,” the man said. Zed stood. The man kept a hand on his shoulder and steadied him as he got to his feet.

“Lift your arms,” the man said. Zed lifted his arms. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. The man’s hands were steady as they slid down Zed’s back to grab at the hem of his t-shirt, before sliding it up his back. Every nerve ending in Zed’s body pulsed at the sensation.

The shirt was gone. It hit the ground somewhere with a barely audible sigh.

The hands returned to Zed’s torso, starting at the shoulders and then tracing downwards, past his nipples, which were embarrassingly hard, over his ribs, down his sides and then met in the middle, at his belt buckle.

“Um,” Zed said. He grabbed his belt in one hand and pushed the blindfold up with the other hand.

“Yes?” the man said. “Is there something wrong?”

“This is moving a bit quickly,” Zed said.

“We’re on a bit of a time crunch,” the man said, consulting his notes. “You were twenty minutes late this morning and we need you prepared by 7:06.”

“Right,” Zed said. “It’s just… I mean…”

“Do you want to do this or not?”

“Yes!” Zed shouted. He needed this so badly. The first appointment would have been in a month if he hadn’t been lucky enough to get the last-minute cancellation slot. “It’s just… Well, what’s your name?”

“My name?” the man asked.

“I’d feel more comfortable if I knew the name of the man who was stripping me, that’s all.”

“My name’s on my card,” the man said.

“DeathNuts ReaperSnake, Satanic Consultant is a bit of a mouthful. Do I call you Mr. ReaperSnake, or is just DeathNuts fine with you?”

The man shrugged. “It’s Felix,” he said.


“My name,” the man said. “Felix. Anyways, you need to put the blindfold back on. We’re running out of time.”

Zed sighed and put the blindfold back on. He was way past having second thoughts and was well into having seventh and tenth thoughts. But there was really no other choice, if he wanted to figure out this whole mess.

Felix set back to work at his pants and it wasn’t long before Zed was entirely naked except for the blindfold, feeling the warmth of the skylight on his skin and feeling the echoes in the tiny, wood-paneled room.

Felix whistled under his breath.

Zed bristled, his face reddening with equal parts embarrassment and rage. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. You have to lie down now, for the next part.”

Zed lay down on the floor as Felix started walking him through the procedure.

“I’m going to tie your hands and legs so that they stay in the right places, and then you need to keep your head still on this neck rest.” The right places for legs were in the snow angel formation, legs elevated, hips off the ground.

“I’m going to draw the symbols all around you, so you have to stay very still,” Felix continued. He paused, and Zed could hear the sound of chalk scraping on the floors all around him. The chalk stopped. Felix removed the blindfold from Zed, who could see Felix only as a dark form above him, surrounded by a halo of white light.

“Did you bring the things?” Felix asked.

“Yes, they’re in that box over there.” His arm itched, just above his left elbow. There probably wasn’t time to scratch it.

Felix grunted as he opened the box and the happy, homey smell emerged.

“When I said chicken, I didn’t mean a grocery store roast,” Felix said, frowning.

“It was all I could find. The hatchery wouldn’t sell me a chicken once I told them what it was for.”

Felix grunted. “I know. I have the same problem. We’ll make do. And the samples?”

“In the baggies.”

“Most people bring vials.”

“Can we just get on with it?”

Felix checked his watch. “Three minutes to go. The Dark One is never early. Don’t move your head.”

“The light is so bright. Isn’t that weird for a ritual like this?”

“Light’s fine,” Felix said. “Who doesn’t like light? Here.” He lowered the blind a little bit. “Two minutes.” Then, “Oh! I nearly forgot, we need a picture of the Dark One nemself. Ne’s going to watch both of us while we do this. I’ll put nem facing you because I’m the one who needs to perform.”

Felix did put the picture facing Zed. The Dark One wore a face of mild interest and had sharp, pointy red eyebrows that would make any movie villain jealous.

Felix stood on the edge of the ceremonial circle and laid out his array of tools: a ceremonial dagger, a clean empty glass vial, a support stand, a yellowish beeswax candle, a pair of scissors, a lighter and the roast chicken in its plastic container from the store. He positioned himself between Zed’s legs.

“It’s time,” Felix said. “You ready?” Now he sounded excited.

“Yes,” Zed said. “Of course.”

Felix peeked there again, and then quickly looked away. “Makes sense,” he said simply.

Showtime. The first object that he used was the ceremonial dagger. This he drew lightly across Zed’s chest, making a thin scrape that stung like a papercut. Upon finishing, Felix turned plunged the dagger in the side of the roast chicken, which wobbled in the little plastic tray. Felix frowned.

“It’s not bleeding,” Felix muttered. “No, of course it isn’t…”

He paused only for a fraction of a second, then carefully removed the chicken from the little container and set it aside. He regarded the plastic container base, made a face and then reached his hand in the bottom of the tray and pulled out a sprinkling of semi-congealed chicken fat remnants. These he let trickle through his fingers. He did this three times, until the third time when he reached over and traced his index finger across Zed’s chest. Having traced an oily line across Zed’s chest, Felix went back for more oil.

Refill. Line. Refill. Line. Refill. Line.

Zed’s chest filled up with moist, warm lines. Then Felix moved on to his arms, his hips, his legs and his face. He filled the perimeters and traced the lines inwards. Zed could hear his own breathing getting slightly ragged, his chest rising and falling too quickly to hide.

“Don’t move,” Felix said; Zed redoubled his efforts to be still. He tried to distance himself from the goings on and found his eyes drawn to the Dark One, whose interested eyes met his own in a long, unblinking stare.

Apparently satisfied with his work of drawing with chicken fat, Felix moved on to the next items. He used the scissors to cut a hole in the bottom of the two plastic bags, squeezing the contents into the glass vial. He stopped the vial with his thumb and shook it, mixing the contents.

“Why are you mixing them? You said to bring them separately,” Zed said. He looked away from the Dark One, whose eye contact was excellent, veering towards eerie.

“So that I could mix them,” Felix said absently. He used his other hand to light the candle which burned with a small flame that was barely visible compared to the bright light that shone through the thin curtain blocking the skylight. He put the vial in the metal stand over the candle flame, Zed watched as the bottom blackened and the contents boiled.

The smell of boiled body fluids filled the air. Why did he have to like this so much? The smell, the feelings, it took Zed back to that time at the Satanitorium, that night with… what was his name again? The one that Zed remembered lately when he closed his eyes. Dia… Diablo.

He was distracted. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice Felix losing his clothes, didn’t notice until he felt Felix push his way inside him.

Zed moaned in surprise and shock. He strained at the ropes, stretching every muscle, lifted entirely off the ground by his own flailing. The ropes creaked but didn’t give, holding him fast in the correct position. He moaned again as Felix shifted under him, just enough to prod on Zed’s prostate in the exact perfect place. He could barely hear Felix’ breathing over his own. Felix shifted again and found a place that was even more perfect.

“Yes!” Zed moaned. Felix reached out a single finger and pressed it to Zed’s lips.

“Quietly, quietly, now. I need to focus,” Felix said tonelessly, but his affectations of annoyance were betrayed by a tiny smile that crooked the left side of his mouth, wrinkling the light brown stubble.

Zed took a breath. He would try to be good. The breath came out almost a sob, a call of worship to the Dark One. He turned his eyes hellward, and locked eyes with nem, whose eyes seemed to burn into Zed’s skull, just like Diablo’s had in the broom closet of the Satanitorium where anything on Hell and Earth can happen.

Diablo… Where was he now? What was he even doing with himself?

Felix flicked the vial and it dinged, empty now. Felix blew out the candle and moved again, Zed bit back another moan of pleasure. How long could he hold back? Zed tilted his head back and concentrated on the full feeling and the slow and languorous pulsing of Felix’s dick in his ass.

“Now,” Felix muttered, and it was probably mostly to himself, because that was when he started really moving around, thrusting ever so slightly, and then more, and then even more…

“Oh!” Zed took another breath. He tried to keep it in, but the thrusts were coming quicker and quicker now. “Diablo!” he called out.

Where did that come from? Why was he even thinking about Diablo when he was staring at Felix’s built chest?

Felix came. Zed didn’t, which was really the crux of the problem. Above him, the Dark One’s smile reached nearly ear to ear. Hadn’t he been frowning before? The Dark One was magical, and magic was Zed’s favorite turn-on. Well, not that he could get turned on. That was the problem.

“I’ve figured out what your problem is,” Felix said, extricating himself and cleaning himself off. “Diablo is your problem.”


“Diablo’s the one who stole your cock.” Felix stood and pulled his pants out of a pile of clothing.

“What?” Zed strained at the ropes. “What do you mean he stole it? He didn’t just run in and take it; you’d think I’d notice. It was just that I woke up in the morning of the 24th, and it was gone.”

“Gone, or just really, really small?” Felix tried again, and failed again, to not look.

“Gone! And let me up!” Zed said, pulling at the ropes again, agitated. “How could he do that?”

“He brokered a deal with the Dark One,” Felix said, ever calm. He moved to Zed’s right arm and started to untie the ropes. “And in return, the Dark One made your cock cease to exist. You shouldn’t squirm so much; you’ve really tightened these up.”

“What was he doing negotiating with my cock?” Zed asked. “He should have used his own.”

“He blamed you for turning him gay, apparently,” Felix said. “Well, not really you. Your cock. He blamed your cock.” He paused for a minute. “It must have been epic.”

“What did my cock ever do, except give him a good time? My cock was fucking charitable! He was panting for it. He asked me! He practically begged me!” Zed said, squirming with indignation.

“I don’t know why,” Felix said. “Someone was just a little bit too eager to get to the end of the ritual. If I’d had more time, I could have investigated further.”

“So what can I do?” Zed said, feeling his right hand come free.

“Do?” Felix said. “Accept that you’ve found your answer? The case of the missing cock is closed. The perp: Diablo and the Dark One himself. I’m really sorry for your loss. Hopefully you at least have closure.” Felix scrunched his face sympathetically.

“No! There has to be something else! You’re a Satanic consultant, the best one out there. You’re DeathNuts ReaperSnake and you have to help me!” Zed stopped, realizing that he was shaking Felix by the shoulder with his one good hand, the others still tied down. He took a deep breath. Released, Felix calmly returned to untying Zed’s other hand.

“There is one thing that I can think of,” Felix said, finally, when all but one foot was still tied. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“No pun intended, I’m sure,” Zed said.

Felix snickered. “You’ll need to collect three things…”


The Satanitorium was the home to the city’s most hard-core Satanists and the hordes of Goth kids who had enough money to buy leather pants and desperately wanted to see a goat burn.

It sat at the edge of town, formerly a big box store that moved farther out of town to pay less in taxes. The owners painted it black with red trim, and there it sat, blotting the nice landscape of other box stores painted in significantly more soothing colours. It had a giant parking lot, which was what was needed to hold all of the town’s enthusiastic Satanists and would-be Satanists.

Passing through the front doors, Zed heard the familiar bagpipe music blasting through the speakers and felt himself relax. Why had not come back in so long? He couldn’t really remember.

“You really like this shit, don’t you?” Felix walked beside him. He needed to be close, in case the mission was successful. The three ingredients could only be used if they were fresh.

“Brings back memories, that’s all,” Zed said. Some memories weren’t as pleasant. He remembered now how much leather pants chafed the thighs. He was sure that they must have fit properly once, but at least he could still get them on, four years later.

But at least there was bagpipe music. The Dark One’s instrument of choice.

“Are you sure that he’ll be here?” Zed said. “It seems like a long shot.”

“If you’d just done a successful Satanic ritual, wouldn’t you come to the Satanitorium?” Felix said. “Let’s be reasonable, here. Keep your eyes peeled.”

They rounded the corner, where the bagpipe music merged with the death metal in a glorious cacophony of worship. Pools of black water flowed from waterfalls that started high above the walls, pooling beneath the large slate stones for walking, each stone as a large as a bathtub. The air had a dank, watery smell to it, the lights were dimmer here and the lights here were filtered red.

Felix, his hand on Zed’s arm, flashed a badge to the bouncer, a man in a dark cape lurking in the corner. The jewels on the man’s oversized vampire teeth glinted in the red light as he nodded and allowed them to pass through.

“Oh, thanks, I forgot about the cover,” Zed said.

“How do you forget about that? How long has it been?”

“Well… I always came with other people who would take care of it,” Zed said. “You know, like now.” He winked at Felix.

“Dark Lord, you’re spoiled,” Felix said, shaking his head.

Zed laughed and grabbed Felix’s loose black sweater and pulled him close and, giggling, planted a fierce kiss on Felix’ face. He felt Felix stiffen in surprise. Zed playfully bit Felix’ bottom lip and then away.

“What the hell?” Was Felix blushing? Maybe it was the red lighting. Whatever it was, Felix looked good in red.

“Don’t you use that rule, whenever you use the Dark One’s name in vain, you get a kiss?”

“No one does that anymore!”

“You’d prefer a blow job?” Zed winked.

“Just look for your friend.” Felix had that crooked smile again and he kept a hand on Zed’s arm.

“He’s not my friend, I barely knew him,” Zed said, scanning the crowd. Somehow, Diablo’s face was crystal clear in his mind.

“How did your penis turn him gay, if you barely knew him?”

“Well, my penis knew him, I guess. I did fuck him pretty thoroughly,” Zed said. “But I didn’t turn him gay. He was already gay. That’s why he wanted me to fuck him.”

“I know, I’m kidding,” Felix said. “They say not even the Dark One can turn someone gay.”

“Who is the ‘they’ that say that?” Zed asked.

“Never mind. Hey look, that guy over there looks pretty happy with himself.” Felix pointed and there, sure as the lights were red, sat Diablo, looking as smug as a used turd salesman.

“That’s him,” Zed said, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching.

“You know what you have to do.”

Let’s do this. Zed sashayed across the floor, using the full power of his flirt. He got the reaction he was hoping for, from everyone except the one he wanted.

Diablo screamed. “You!” He pointed at Zed, his finger shaking, his entire body tense. “What are you doing here!”

“I heard that you were my cock’s biggest fan,” Zed said. “So I just had to come say hello.”

Diablo squealed slightly, then clamped his mouth shut.

“It’s refreshing that you remember my face, too,” Zed said.

Diablo backed away, holding his hands in front of him to block his advance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zed gave him a dark look, a mixture of a smolder and a deep glare.

Diablo squealed again, louder and longer, like a teacup piggie, or maybe even a full hog. He was a screamer, Zed remembered. Honestly, four years later and he still remembered all of the stupid little details of a one-evening stand.

“Is there anything you want to say for yourself,” Zed said.

“Get away from me!” Diablo said. “I won’t be held down by you any longer!”

Zed advanced again and Diablo backed away again, and then Zed felt a hand with metal claws on his arm. “Hey,” said the bouncer. “He said he doesn’t want to be around you. Satanists don’t stalk Satanists. We’re all family under the Dark One.”

Zed sighed. He’d have to go with the desperate measures.


Henry ‘Diablo’ Smith sat at the bar of the Satanitorium, nursing his third Sangria with shaking hands. Why would he come? Why now?

Everything was going so well after the ceremony. The penis that he’d obsessed about for four years, that he’d drawn compulsively, that made him lose his job, it was gone. It suddenly left his mind, leaving only memories of memories.

Why would he come today, when Diablo couldn’t want him anymore? Diablo took another sip of his drink, waiting for it to steady his nerves. It wasn’t working. Nothing was working.

“Is this seat taken?” High pitched voice. Long hair. Miniskirt. A woman who was attractive, he assumed, based on the sheer volume of makeup that she was wearing.

She pressed her manicured hand on Diablo’s arm and batted her thick, luscious eyelashes.

He was straight and she was a woman, so clearly this was going to work out perfectly.

“No! I mean, it’s not taken! I mean, call me Diablo… if you want. Let me buy you a drink! Or two? Oh no, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

“Zed—I mean, call me Zelda,” the woman said, and she even smiled. Man, she was totally into him.


Great hell, this was embarrassing. Zed tittered as Diablo ordered him a virgin strawberry daiquiri. At least there were gender stereotypes to make his evening a little cheaper.

When the flamingo-pink beverage arrived, Zed smiled, took a sip, and then leaned to one side and unceremoniously spat the contents of his mouth into one of his plastic baggies. It was the first of the three ingredients: a gift given freely by Diablo. This one had come easily, but the other two would be much harder to obtain.

Operation Flirtation now began in earnest. Zed clutched at Diablo’s arm, and laid his head on Diablo’s shoulder.

“Tell me about yourself, sugar pie lumpikins,” Zed said. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Felix, trying to hide his snickers in a glass of coke.

“Well, I’m straight,” Diablo said.

“That’s so cool, me too!” Zed said. “It’s like we have so much in common.”

“That’s enough about me, tell me about yourself,” Diablo said.

“Well.” Zed looked up through his false eyelashes and twirled the hair on his wig. “I like listening to music and curling up in front of a fire with someone special reading the Necronomicon.”

“Wow,” Diablo said. “Me too.” Zed checked, and realized that Diablo’s eyes weren’t dilated at all. His breathing wasn’t getting any faster. From where he was sitting, which was halfway on top of his lap, Zed could tell that Diablo wasn’t even the slightest bit aroused.

Even with his admirable, probably award-winning performance, Zed was not getting his catch. He was not reeling in his prey.

What the heaven? He’d invoked the desperate measures. Did he really have to use his secret weapon?

“Maybe do you want to go to the fire pit and we can read the Necronomicon together?” Diablo said, like this would be a tempting option.

Lust potion. Zed hadn’t ever used one before; he’d never had to. But, desperate times…

The potion was one of the hardest to make; Zed had been barely able to cobble together enough ingredients for the teaspoon’s worth of potion that Felix made him.

There were so many ways that things might go wrong. If he put the potion in the wrong glass or if Diablo didn’t drink it all or if any of the liquid got spilled, he’d be out of luck. Worse, if Diablo had any forethought, he might have drunk an anti-potion potion before coming to the Satanitorium.

But even if he might fail, Zed had to try. That was, unless he wanted to spend weeks, months or years coming back to the Satanitorium, slowly inching around the bases with Diablo, trying desperately to get the other two ingredients.

He just needed to wait for Diablo to look away from his drink… Zed smiled absently and tittered again as he rifled through his purse for the potion. It was a pink liquid, stoppered inside a little plastic vial, courtesy of Felix.

He looked up to see Diablo downing the last of his Sangria.

“Well, I’m done! What do you say we go read together!” He was actually serious. It would be almost cute, if Zed didn’t have good cause to despise him.

There was only one drink left. It would have to do. Zed turned his body away from Diablo and surreptitiously upended the vial into the cup, never looking away from Diablo.

“I’d love to go sit by the fire,” Zed said, each word coming out with a whoosh of breathy air. “But I’m not done my drink yet. Maybe you can help.Open up.”

With that, Zed brought the cup up to Diablo’s mouth. Would he drink? Would this all be for nothing? The cup hung in the air for an eternity, a hair’s breadth from Diablo’s lips. Zed held his breath. He could feel his heart beating loudly enough that he was sure that the bouncer would hear it and mark his soul as permanently banned from the facilities.

Diablo drank and Zed’s heart resumed beating. Zed tipped the glass farther, putting more of the precious liquid into his mouth, and Diablo continued drinking.

Suddenly, Diablo’s eyes widened. His pupils dilated so quickly they looked like fireworks. His breathing turned to panting. Bingo.

“This way, my sweet lamb-adoodle, let’s go downstairs,” Zed said.

The sex section of the Satanitorium was down the stairs from the bar area, through a mural of the Dark One with nir mouth open and into the sticky, moist underbelly of the building. Even descending the stairs, you could already make out the smell of sex wafting up to meet them.

“Kiss…” Diablo moaned, and grabbed the back of Zed’s head as he tried to walk them down the stairs without falling. They’d barely made it to the bottom when Zed felt Diablo’s hand feeling down the front of his skirt grabbing at his… oh right, he didn’t have a cock anymore.

It didn’t matter. He had a mission. Stick to the mission.

“Here, let’s see if I can help you with your long, hard—”

“Problem?” Diablo asked, confused.

“Never mind,” Zed said. He kneeled down and set immediately to work. One hand undid Diablo’s belt buckle; the other was already working on his fly, the button, pulling down the elderly, threadbare boxer shorts to reveal his target.

Pubic hairs. He needed as many as he could get. Fortunately, Diablo wasn’t one for manscaping and there was a veritable forest there, ready to be clear cut. Zed dove in, wrapping his mouth around Diablo’s shaft as far as he could fit it down his throat. He didn’t pay much attention to form, because with the lust potion it wouldn’t matter anyways, and went at Diablo’s dick like he was eating a gobstopper, rolling it around in his mouth, nibbling with his teeth, sucking.

Diablo let out a loud, prolonged squeal. He grabbed Zed’s hair, pulling it deeply at the roots.

Two could play that game, Zed clenched his fist around Diablo’s fulsome pubic bush and wrenched back hard.

“Oh!” Diablo squealed. “Satan, yes!”

With his other hand, Zed fumbled until he found the next baggie and, without looking away from the gobstopper dick, managed to scrape at least a couple of hairs into the bag.

Only one thing left, and that thing looked like it was coming too soon.

“Ooooooh!” Diablo squealed, and then came in a choking spray that filled Zed up to his sinuses.

Yes! Zed fought his instinct to swallow and fumbled for another baggie, to spit the precious treasure into.

One, two and three. He had all of the items that he’d need to completely rectify the Case of the Missing Cock.

The mission. He had to go find Felix.

“Come on Diablo,” Zed said. “We’ve got to go meet someone now.”

“Let’s fuck instead,” Diablo said.

Oh, that sounded wonderful. It really did, and Zed was sorely tempted to just stay in the sex hallway, but sooner or later the clothes would come off and then…

“No, we’re not going to fuck,” Zed said. “We’re going to walk up the stairs, there’s a good boy, and—”

“Walk up the stairs?” said a familiar voice. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“When did you get down here?”

“I just had a feeling,” Felix said. He smiled; his teeth looked somehow sharper, his eyes almost glowed in the dim light. He had the aura of a true Satanist, something Zed could only aspire to. He had to settle for just being really sexy, which, in retrospect, was not really the worst thing ever.

Diablo, apparently bored, ignored the interaction and humped himself up and down the nearby stony walls, moaning.

“You used it?” Felix said.

Zed nodded.

“Hmm, I guess we shouldn’t leave him running around like that,” Felix said. “He’ll have to come.”

“No!” Zed said. There was no way that the man who’d stolen his penis was going to watch him begging the Dark One to get it back. That was just cruel… and so like the Dark One.

“The samples don’t last very long. I don’t think you want to risk waiting,” Felix said, his breath on Zed’s ear. “And you know that the harder is the asking, the better is the answering.”


Felix bit down on Zed’s ear and pressed him back into the wall. Then, Felix pressed himself in farther, straddling Zed’s legs and pinning him torso to torso against the wall. “You know that most of my clients don’t get this kind of service, right?”

“I guessed,” Zed said. That body, that aura. If Felix so much as suggested it, he would probably have been willing to run naked through the room of fire with his grandmother watching.

“And you know that I have the best of intentions, right?”

“No, but you’ll have to do,” Zed said, smiling as he wrapped his arms around Felix’ neck and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Felix chuckled as he forced Zed’s head back against the stone wall. Zed’s eyes opened wide as Felix’s tongue levered his mouth open in one swift motion and tasted the metallic tang of Felix’ tongue as it owned his mouth, felt their breathing merge. Then he felt a tongue running up the inner part of his thigh, a hand on each of his calves. Diablo? He couldn’t move his head enough to see who it was. He could see a pair of glowing eyes in the background. They were watching him intently.

The tongue found his crotch and licked his pink heart thong panties. Whoever owned the tongue wasn’t fazed at all by the barrier. They licked again and again until Zed could feel the dampness through the cloth.

Zed squirmed, but Felix held him fast against the wall. After some time, Felix’s hands moved down Zed’s body, down to the awful leather miniskirt, to the back where the zipper was. Zed felt him unzipping the skirt, ripping it away in shreds from his body until Zed stood in his little thong panties, exposed for all to see.

Oh hell. The eyes in the corner were more intense, leering directly at him. Zed closed his eyes and tried to pretend they weren’t there. Normally he liked an audience, but not when the audience seemed like it could look into all of the dark places in his soul.

Four hands pawed at the underwear and it came away. Felix reached around Zed’s waist and slid his hand down and down until he reached Zed’s hole. Felix slid a finger in, knuckle by knuckle, then a second finger, then a third finger as Zed felt his toes curl back with pleasure.

The slight pain, the feeling of fullness and stretching. Diablo was sucking at where Zed’s cock used to be. Even without it there, the feeling was still oddly erotic. Zed arched his back and felt himself losing himself to pleasure.

Felix’s fourth finger started squirming its way carefully but insistently into Zed’s ass.

His mouth still occupied by Felix, Zed moaned, his world thinning and slowing into just this wonderful, horrible, awful, amazing moment. In a sudden tug, Felix pulled his hand out and away, and disengaged from Zed’s lips.

“Now you’re ready for the ceremony,” Felix said, leaning back to look at Zed, who slumped forward. Zed felt air returning to his lungs that he hadn’t even noticed was missing.

“Yes,” Zed said simply. Where had the creepy eyes gone? Zed couldn’t see them anywhere.

“You need to be fully naked,” Felix said, and he turned away, getting items out of the bags and spreading them out on the floor.

“Yes, get naked!” Diablo said. Augh, why was he still here?

The harder is the asking, the better is the answering.

Zed fumbled at his shirt, his limbs suddenly feeling leaden and sloppy.

“Naked! Naked! Naked!” Diablo said again. He grabbed the bottom hem of Zed’s the tank top and pulled it and all that was underneath it up and over Zed’s head, tossing it behind him. He came in for a kiss, and Zed sidestepped him, so Diablo ended up kissing the wall, which he did with great gusto.

“You’ll need these,” Felix said. He handed Zed a pair of knee pads.

Oh yes. Oh no.

“I didn’t say that it was going to be easy,” Felix said. He stood, and took the knee pads out of Zed’s hands, before putting them over his knees. “You can stop any time you want, but if you do, you’ll probably regret it for the rest of your life. You’ll only have one chance.”

Only one chance. That chance was now. Why did he feel with every fibre of his being like he wanted to stop?

“You need to get on your hands and knees now,” Felix said gently, putting a hand on Zed’s arm and pulling him gently down to the ground. Then Felix pulled his arms forward until Zed was on his hands and knees, in the middle of the sex hallway in the basement of the Satanitorium. Felix leaned back to inspect his work and then smiled and carefully pulled the wig off of Zed’s head, revealing his shaggy black hair. Felix trailed his hand in Zed’s hair and massaged his scalp with his fingertips. “You know what you need to do.”

“No, I don’t!” Zed said, for some reason feeling panic rising in his throat. What was wrong with him. He could do this any day?

“You just need to be yourself. I know that I like you, Zed. I don’t see why the Dark One wouldn’t, too. You need to be yourself and stay on your hands and knees in the centre of the circle. You can’t leave it, or everything gets destroyed. And, you’re going to wear this.”

Another day, another blindfold. Would it be the last time? Could Zed even bring up the kind of excitement that he’d normally feel for this kind of experience?

He didn’t have time to think too much about it, because as soon as the blindfold was on, there was someone working their way inside his ass. Then there was a cock in his mouth as well, and Zed poked at it with his tongue, trying to get it to go away.

I could probably just use a strap-on for the rest of my life. The thought occurred to Zed. I don’t have to do this. It will be so much simpler just to stop this now and…

The cock in his asshole thrusted and pushed Zed forward into the cock in his mouth. Felix’s face suddenly came into his mind.

Felix would probably be disappointed if I just gave up, Zed thought.

Another thrust, another grind, both penises were finding their own rhythm. Hands from behind squeezed his hard nipples, moving them around in small circles over his rib cage. Hands from in front found his butt cheeks and massaged them deeply, moving them around in circles, even as his ass clenched around the cock that was inside them. From in front, another thrust. The hands on his nipples clenched even tighter and Zed shuddered into the cock in his mouth. The one behind him came.

He felt a quick removal, and it seemed like that would be a reprieve, but then a fresh cock thrust into his ass forcefully, just as the penis in his mouth came. Zed saw stars as he choked down the come in his mouth, and just as he could breathe, he had another cock in his mouth and for the love of all that was hellish, how were there so many cocks in the world?

He wasn’t going to give up. And if he wasn’t going to give up, there was only one thing to do and that was to go with it. This wasn’t his first orgy. There was a rhythm, a dance that you could find when you were with two or more people. It was like riding a rodeo, you just had to understand where to put your ass. New cock after new cock, and Zed learned them. Eventually, he lost count, and the muscle memory from years of one-night stands took over naturally as the completely dark world seemed to morph and distort.

He knelt alone in the dark expanse of nothingness. Suddenly, there wasn’t nothingness, there were eyes. The eyes. And the smirk. And the face. The Dark One, and not just nir face, but all of nem. Most obvious from Zed’s point of view was the enormous penis dentata, swaying as ne walked towards Zed. There was said to be a vagina dentata hiding behind the first member, for equal-opportunity pain.

The Dark One didn’t speak but information was beamed directly into Zed’s mind. A choice: quit, or go on. A knowledge: continuing would be far more exhausting than quitting. A burst of the feeling from Zed’s own body: his arms tired and shaking, his knees sore, his jaw aching, his throat hurting, his ass in more pain than he’d ever felt in his life. This, already; could he take more?

But if he stopped now, all he’d have to show for himself is the pain.

“Bring it,” Zed shouted at the Dark One. “I won’t give up!”

The Dark One smirked and walked around Zed in a circle. Zed held still, remembering what Felix had told him. When he’d passed where Zed could see him, the Dark One reached a hand in front of his face from behind, stretching nir clawed fingers in front of his eyes before drawing them back and allowing the nails to scratch along his back. Where they scraped, pain built up like lines of flame, searing into his shoulder muscles. His arms shook. The lines of fire continued down and down, now past his ribs, now near his spine, now branching back out, sliding down and around to his hips and into his ass.

Everything seemed like fire as the world turned bright white and Zed felt pain in every fiber of his being. Was he on fire? No, that would be too not-painful for what this was. He couldn’t think.

Like jumping into a cold lake, the initial crest receded slightly, and Zed realized that everything hurt and could think about how awful this was in a more abstract way.

Another question from the Dark Lord: Diablo or Felix?

The question didn’t make any sense, but somehow Zed knew the answer. Diablo or Felix? Felix. Felix all the time. Even if he never saw Felix again after this was over, Felix. Just thinking about Felix calmed the excruciating pain just a little bit more, filling Zed with emotion and desire, a combination he’d never thought he could feel.

The Dark One didn’t speak, but ne nodded. Ne gestured with nir claw-hand, and with a gust, the air itself flipped Zed onto his back, unable to move, held like he was on all fours. The Dark One raised nir claw-hand high into the air and then brought it down and down, like a homing missile.

Like a homing missile aiming for Zed’s crotch. Zed saw the claws coming.

Zed didn’t say that he wanted to continue, but he didn’t even try to dodge the claw-hand, which hit his pubic bone with full force and went down and through, and every part of the agonizing, excruciating pain that he’d just felt fell to zero on the pain scale, so intense was this new pain.

Was he exploding? No, that would be too not-painful.

He woke up screaming. Felix knelt beside him, holding Zed’s head in his lap as Zed thrashed in pain. Surrounding them was a massive crowd of everyone in the Satanitorium, all staring at him as he lay on the cold, sticky floor.

Zed came. Then, he passed out.


Zed woke up in a strange bed, but at least he wasn’t wearing a blindfold. He lay on his back, under a pile of black blankets that smelled strongly of musk and body spray and stared at the bone-white walls.

The bed was lovely and comfortable and warm and a total contrast to Zed’s body, which had by now formed a commission and was presenting its laundry list of complaints to the part of Zed’s brain that would normally have freaked out about waking up in a strange house.

There was one part of Zed’s body that did not feel nervous at all about his current situation, and that was the part that chose that moment to pitch a tent under the comforter just as Felix walked through the door.

A few months ago, Zed might have been annoyed that he was being betrayed by his dick, but now he was just overjoyed that he even had one that could embarrass him.

“This is your house?” Zed said. It came out fuzzy; his jaw was still sore and tired after generating that many consecutive blow jobs.

“Yeah,” Felix said, looking almost sheepish. “I wasn’t going to leave you there.”

“Yeah…” Zed said. That reminded him of something. What was it? Oh, right. “What did you do with Diablo?”

Felix looked troubled.

“You didn’t just leave him, did you?” Zed said.

“I couldn’t find him,” Felix said. “Things just got so intense and when I looked up, he was gone.”

“Oh,” said Zed. It was hard to feel bad for Diablo, when he was recovering from the worst pain he could even conceive of, because of Diablo.

Felix sat on the bed behind Zed and pulled him closer until he was half-sitting in Felix’s lap. Zed smiled and snuggled in. Felix put a glass to his lip and tilted it so that he could drink. A few sips and Zed was feeling like he had never been hurt in his life.

He turned and gave Felix an accusatory look. “Did you just give me a healing potion? You know that I can’t afford one of those!”

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s on me,” Felix said. The arm that held the glass rested on Zed’s chest, a half-hug from the big spoon.

“Felix?” Zed said.


“Do I actually have a dick again, or am I just imagining it?”

“You do…” Felix said nervously. “I mean sort of. Mostly. You should probably take a look at it.”

Zed threw the covers back and stared downwards, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Felix was right. There was a dick there.

Sort of.


Zed’s new dick looked like Diablo right down to his nervous, creepy face staring up at him. Zed watched as his penis—forevermore to be named Diablo—smiled at him and flashed him a thumbs-up.

“Did you want to try sticking that dick where the sun doesn’t shine?” Felix said, winking and pointing at Diablo.

Zed narrowed his eyes. “Yes, absolutely.” Then. “Wait… are you offering?”

“I think it can be arranged.”

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