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I was never really happy with the way this one turned out, but people seemed to like it. Maybe one day I'll get motivated and rewrite it. But for now, here is the story.\n\nlist of related works: https://inkbunny.net/submissionview.php?id=33773", "description_bbcode_parsed": "the first story i wrote using my character. I was never really happy with the way this one turned out, but people seemed to like it. Maybe one day I'll get motivated and rewrite it. But for now, here is the story.

list of related works: https://inkbunny.net/submissionview.php?id=33773", "writing": "If you have read bartleby's descent, or any of the other stories based upon the universe introduced in that story, know that the usual disclaimers apply and skip this paragraph. If this is your first time reading one of these stories, know that the religious values expressed are for the purpose of storytelling. They do not represent my beliefs or the beliefs of the others who write these stories unless they state otherwise. As you read this keep in mind that you are doing so of your own free will. If something offends you, you can stop or skip it. \n\nBecause I make this up as I go with no planning what so ever I am unable to provide a list of fetishes that are included. Also, I am writing this as a story first and foremost. So while this story has adult content, that isn't the point.\n\nFinally, this is my first attempt at writing a story, so if I seem to change writing style midway, that is because I'm still experimenting to see what works. You may notice an excessive number of video game, book, and movie references. This is because making such references amuses me.\n\n\n\n\nSlowly I came into consciousness. As I did I became aware that I was lying on my back. This puzzled me as I could not remember how I got there. Then, as the foggy haze lifted from my mind I began to remember what I had done. \n\t\nIt had been a slow afternoon that Saturday, and I had been bored out of my skull. So I had decided to indulge my pyromania a bit. I had carefully taken out the shoe box I kept hidden in my closet. After letting my mom know that I was going out for a while, I headed out to the lake. There was an old abandoned parking lot just off the path, but it had been chained off because it was disturbing the local nonev wild life. It had subsequently been forgotten as the trees grew and hid it from view. I don't remember exactly how I found it, but I had and it was now covered in scorch marks from my \"playing\" there. It was perfect for what I did. The there was nothing flammable about the cement and the tree line was far enough away that there was no risk of a forest fire.\n\t\nThat particular day I felt sluggish, so I decided that the perfect way to wake myself up would be to empty the contents of the fire crackers I had into the cardboard holder I had. So far every thing was going fine. But when I inserted the electronic detonator into the powder it sparked prematurely and the resulting blast caught me full in the face. \n\t\nAfter I was finished figuring out what had happened I felt a bit of regret. I hadn't gotten to see the explosion; seeing as my head had left my shoulders before I had even realized that it had gone off. That thought raised an interesting question though; if I had accidentally blown my own head off then how was I even having these thoughts? It was at this point I finally got around to opening my eyes.\n\t\nI was in a RED room; which was odd, because I distinctly remember being outside and hospitals were white. Then it hit me. I was dead. For some reason the realization wasn't all that shocking, until I also realized it hadn't sunk in. I surveyed my surroundings. There wasn't much to survey; just four walls, a floor, and a ceiling all of which were the same shade of red. This red was the absolute epitome of redness. I had never seen a redder shade of red before. It was so red that all other shades of red looked pink in comparison.\n\nBefore I could continue in my analysis of how red the red was, a door slid open on the wall opposite the one I was now leaning against. And through the newly formed portal stepped the second most bizarre sight I had ever seen in my life (don't ask me about the first, suffice to say that it was on a day where I had accidentally inhaled the fumes made by one of my less successful pyrotechnic endeavors). After staring slack-jawed for I-don't-know how long my brain finally began to make sense of what I was seeing. It was a squirrel. A red squirrel and I mean a red squirrel. Its fur was the same shade of red as the room I was in. (Did I mention that the room was VERY red?)\n\nThat wasn't the bizarre part though. What was bizarre was that this squirrel was wearing a black leather jacket that looked like it should belong to the Hell's Angels (little did I know), a pair of black silk pants, and a black top hat that looked like it belonged on a table with nonev rabbits being removed from it. He was also carrying a clip board that had more paper on it that I had to deal with year, which was saying something considering that I was in college. There was also a nametag which read \"HELLO MY NAME IS Razielphustar.\".\n\nI thought over his appearance and what it could mean for me when I noticed that none of what I saw was too strange. Finally the nagging little voice that had been jumping up and down in the back of my brain got my attention. Looking at the squirrel carefully, I finally noticed what was giving me such a creepy feeling about this guy. HE HAD HORNS AND WINGS!\n\nAfter my heart quit its attempt to escape my chest and I could think logically again, I realized exactly where I was and why I could have coherent thoughts despite having accidentally vaporized my own face. I was dead and I was in Hell. Not hell as in the \"my life sucks\" meaning; but Hell, with a capital H, as in the biblical Hell, with the fire and brimstone and the *gulp* eternal torment.\n\nNow that I have a chance to think about it though, it's not that surprising that I got sent to Hell. My beliefs were simplistic and were not the type that would please God (as I later found out, nothing does). Basically what I believed was that: yes this is a higher power or powers, but until they start to directly interfere with my life I'm not going to worry about whom they are or if I should worship them. Well there was never a bit of divine intervention in my life, so I pretty much ignored God right up to the point I met this demon squirrel. \n\nAnyway, it took me a while to process the idea that I was in Hell and that there was a demon in front of me. When I finally gathered my senses again the demon had crossed the room and sat down against the wall next to me. When I turned my head to look at him, I no longer saw the silly looking demon that had come through the door. Gone was the top hat. The slight belly that put me in mind of my uncle Fernando was also gone, replaced by a slab of rock hard abs. The horns had grown and were now wickedly sharp ebony spikes. The he now looked like a member of a hardcore motorcycle gang. I rubbed my eyes out of disbelief at this change, and I looked once again. After this I don't remember what happened, but according to Razzy I got a glimpse of his true demonic form (the one from the complete assholes level).\n\nThe next thing I do remember is laying on a hard wood desk in a gigantic room full of paper, with the devil himself standing over me (Razzy later told me he had gone back on duty, but only because of how long I was out). I don't know how to describe the devil, but he sort of looked like a cross between a bat, a snake, a crow, a goat and a wolf. But his eyes, I had never seen eyes like his before. His eyes show a wisdom and kindness older than the universe. \n\nNow, as you may have guessed, I was in the devil's office. What I wanted to know was why. So I mustered my courage and finally managed to squeak out \"uh… um… why… uh…\" \n\nBut that was all I really needed to say, because as soon as I finished my fumbling attempt for words he launched into a long explanation. Because I do not feel like recounting his monologue here I'll just summarize it for you instead.\n-God is insane \n-God doesn't care about His creations \n-Nobody gets into Heaven \n-Hell is not all bad \n-Each soul in hell shall suffer only as much as they deserve \n-God has no influence in Hell \n-There are seven levels of Hell \n -Really Quite Nice \n -Naughty \n -Jerks \n -Dickheads \n -Assholes \n -Complete Assholes \n -Scum of the Earth \n\t\nIt turned out that although I should have gone to the jerks level, because I had already suffered by seeing Razzy's true demonic aspect I was being bumped up a level to the naughty level. It was at this point that the devil explained about the Sight.\n\t\n\"The Sight is a rare trait possessed by souls which Hell's giving force chooses to give a bit demonic blood. What this means is that you are now a demidemon.\"\n\t\n\"What's that mean for me?\"\n\t\n\"It means that you may be occasionally be called upon to perform demonic duties in the event there are no full demons available to perform them. Which is always.\"\n\t\n\"You mentioned something called 'the sight'. What's that?\"\n\t\n\"The sight is a demonic ability which basically allows you to see the reality of things. For example, earlier you saw some of Razielphustar's different forms. You will also be able to tell a furson's personality at a single glance, read their emotions and basic intentions, and see through all but the most powerful illusions. Eventually you will learn to control the Sight and be able to block out these images. But until you do, you will be exposed to many horrible sights. This is one reason why you were bumped up to the naughty level.\"\n\t\nThat didn't slip by me \"what do you mean one of the reasons.\"\n\t\n\"The other reason is your first assignment as a demidemon, but we'll get to that in a sec. First I need to remove your heart.\n\t\nNeedless to say this caught me a little off guard. I nearly choked on the donut I had swiped from the box on Satan's desk (pretty sure he didn't mind, seeing as another one popped into place the second I removed it.) before I managed to sputter \"WHAT?!?\"\n\t\nTo which Satan replied \"Sorry, I forgot to mention God's other condition on Hell. Before He completely sealed off this place, He made two rules. You already know the first 'Each soul in Hell must be tormented for all eternity' and you know how I get to be the one who defines \"torment\" (I still find it amusing that the Devil would use air quotes around the word torment).But His second rule is that 'each soul shall have its heart removed within the first 100 hours of entering Hell else that soul shall sink unto oblivion.' Basically this means that you have to willingly give up your heart or your soul will self destruct, but I promise you that it will not hurt.\"\n\t\nI mulled over this for a bit. I mean he WAS asking me to give up my heart. But then again, he had promised me that nothing would hurt me. Besides, I was already dead, what did it matter if I had a heart. Then a thought occurred to me. Each furson really had two hearts. One was a physical organ which pumped blood through the body. The other was the center of the soul, that which allows us to feel happiness and sadness and love.\n\t\nWell I guess The Prince of Darkness could tell what I was thinking, because as soon as I began to wonder which heart he was talking about Big Red broke into a big grin and declared \"He, in all His infinite wisdom forgot to specify. And because the fursons here would not be able to do much without their emotions, I chose the unnecessary one, the physical one. Of course some people think that the physical one and the metaphorical one are the same and refuse to let their heart be removed.\" As he said this last bit I saw a great sadness fill his eyes. Before I realized what I was doing I reached out and gave him a huge hug. I wonder what the catholic priest who had lived next door when I was alive would have said if he had seen me there, hugging the Devil himself.\n\t\nSeeing his incredible sadness made up my mind before I had a chance to even consider the matter further. Somehow I knew that this sad man before me had watched each and everyone of those souls destroy themselves, and he mourned them all. There was no way that my metaphorical heart would allow me to add to his heartache. \n\t\n\"It's okay. I'll be fine.\" I started muttering to myself. Sensing my decision Satan reached over with a single claw and split my chest open. I must say that while I was certainly aware of it, instead of hurting it felt good, and sorta yiffy. He then removed my heart from my chest and I almost fell over from the intense pleasure. When I finally recovered, he was holding my still beating heart on the palm of his hand. Surprisingly, there was no blood. Then he ate it! I think I must have been more that a little shocked, because I didn't even make a bad pun about heartburn. (I always make bad puns about everything.)\n\t\nOnce I got over the shock, which I did rather quickly because I was starting to get used to the fact that Hell was a little weird, he sat down behind the desk and fished around in one of the drawers, finally removing a small manila folder. This he handed to me, along with a red jacket. And I mean it was a red jacket… (see description of red room) which he explained was the uniform for demidemons. Just like full demons got black leather jackets. He also explained that I could remove anything that I wanted from its infinite pockets, and that I could transform it into a piece of clothing, but I would not be able to change its color. This suited me fine. Red was my favorite color. Finally he showed me how to make a portal, and I headed to my new home. \n\t\nI tumbled through the portal I had created and landed head first in a familiar place. Only the odd part was that I had never been there before. It was the way I always wanted my dream residence to look. It was like someone had taken my imagination and made it solid. (To be fair that is pretty much what had happened.)\n\t\nI was in a large circular chamber. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all completely white. There were doors set at a regular interval on the wall of the room, each with an inlaid plaque that told what was in the room beyond. There was also a raised platform in the center of the room, upon which was a gently glowing circle of light blue light. I knew that this would be the entrance and that should I go stand upon it I would be transported to a matching transporter found on the front step on the house.\n\t\nThe doors around the room were labeled Bedroom, Bathroom, TV room, Computer room, recording studio, Arcade, Pool, Kitchen, Gym, Training room, Armory/Firing range, and Explosives Lab. I looked into each room and discovered each was exactly as I had imagined it. \n\t\nThe bedroom was the same as the one I had had when I was alive. A little on the small side, with the roller desk taking up what space wasn't occupied by the queen size bed. The dresser was still missing its bottom shelf. But what brought a tear to my eye was what was on the bed. There was my blankie. (Please don't laugh). I had had that blankie for longer that I can remember. According to my mother it was the blanket from my crib that they had bought for me when I had been brought home from the hospital. It wasn't in the best of condition, and the edge was tattered beyond belief. But there it was, with its 106 thumb-sized bunnies in their blue and pink shirts. And the most unbelievable part was that it was the real thing. Not some imitation, not even another of the same product. This was *my* blankie. I could just tell. (When you snuggle with something every night for 19 years, it starts to form its own personality.) Upon holding my precious (Frodo, forgive me) I broke down crying. Seeing this integral part of my life just drove home the fact that I was dead. \n\t\nIt was a while before I could compose myself. Once I did I finally remembered my assignment. I picked up the file off the desk where I had left it and opened it up. The assignment wasn't a hard one. Simply put I was to help out a young hamsterboy who was having a particularly hard time adjusting to life in hell. So far he hadn't socialized beyond basic politeness required, and he didn't have any friends. According to his file he had a very outgoing type of personality, but seemed to have withdrawn into himself at finding out he was a \"bad boy\" who belonged in hell. He'd had his heart removed, so there was no time constraint on the assignment. I did find it odd that he still attended the school even though it wasn't mandatory and he seemed to want to avoid socialization. By the time I finished reading all of this I realized I hadn't seen his name. I scanned the document quickly and finally managed to find what I was looking for. \n\nName: Chumpuff \"Bubbles\" Huffington \n\t\nI nearly fell off my bed I was laughing so hard. When I managed to reduce the outburst to just the occasional giggle I began to wonder how I was going to pull this off. (I'm not exactly a social person myself.) I finally decided that the best place to start would be to befriend the poor fellow. To this end I decided to enroll myself in his class. Now I know that a 19 year old dog anthromorph would look a little out of place in an elementary school class (assuming I could fit myself in one of those little chairs.) So I rolled back my internal clock by 9 years. Next there was the matter of an outfit. I chose to keep my glasses. (I was just too used to their familiar weight on my pointed ears to give them up just yet. Next I considered how silly I looked in a blood red leather jacket, and not a stitch of any other clothes, I changed my jacket into a midsized backpack, firm as if I had a pair of textbooks in it. All in all between the backpack, the glasses, and my impossibly unkempt and oily dark blonde fur combined to give me the appearance of an uber geek. This is actually the look I was going for. There was nothing intimidating about me. I even had a little bit of excess weight (not enough to be fat, but nobody would ever have called me either thin or muscular.) \n\t\nHaving resolved the issue of my appearance I set out for my first day of school in Hell, wondering just what the hell we would study.\n\t\nAfter about half an hour of wandering around aimlessly, I began to feel really stupid. What had possessed me to go out without having the least idea of where the school was? Finally, tired of not even knowing if I was going the right way, I stopped and asked for directions. By stopping and asking for directions I mean I stopped in the middle of the road, (I really wasn't paying that much attention, being lost in thought about how stupid I was to have left without a map.) and was promptly run over by a garbage truck. As I lay there, I heard the sound of garbage being loaded into the truck. Figuring, \"why the hell not?\" I picked myself up off the ground, and went over to see if the garbage collector knew where the school was. \n\t\nAs I walked over I saw a little calico kitty tumble out of the dumpster and into the back of the truck. I figured she would probably just climb out, which is probably why I panicked when the garbage lady started up the compactor.\n\t\n\"WAIT! DON'T DO THAT!\" \n\t\nThe mink lady turned around and gave me a little grin before she shut off the compactor.\n\t\n\"So, you wanna be squished too, right?\"\n\t\n\"Sure. Wait… WHAT?!?\"\n\t\nIt was at this point that the little kitten popped out of the back of the truck.\n\t\n\"Why didja turn it off?\" \n\t\n\"Well, the way our little friend here ran over whoopin' and hollerin' caused me to think that he wanted to be squished as well, but now I can't figure out what he wants.\"\n\t\nAt this point I was just getting more and more confused. \"Can somebody please tell me what's going on here? From the way you're talking it sounds like you knew she was in the back of the truck.\" I rounded on the little girl (Although I guess I couldn't call her that now that I was ten again.) \"And what do you mean why did she turn it off? Do you realize that if I hadn't come along you would probably be dead?\" By the time I was finished I was practically yelling.\n\t\nThen the little kitten completely deflated me from how worked up I had been, with only three little words. \"I'm already dead.\"\n\t\nAt which point I sat down on the lip of the garbage truck, took off my glasses, and rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my hands. \"God, I feel like such an idiot.\" \n\t\nAt which point the mink garbage lady sat down next to me and put her arm around me. \"It's okay; you're not the first to react this way.\" \n\t\nThat at least made me feel a little better. I turned to the kitten and apologized to her. \"Sorry have interrupted you, I guess I'm still not used to the way things work down here.\" \n\t\n\"You're new?\" inquired the kitten.\n\t\n\"Yeah, just got here yesterday, at least I think it was yesterday. By the way I'm Kyle, what's your name.\"\n\t\n\"I'm Gillian, and this is Mrs. Mackenzie.\" \n\t\n\"Nice to meet both of you. By the way, do either of you know where the school is?\"\n\t\nMrs. Mackenzie broke into a wide grin. \"That's where we're headed now. Why don't you come with us?\"\n\t\nAt which point Gillian reached out and pulled me into the back of the truck. Figuring that I might as well start getting used to the weird ways of hell, I let myself sink into the garbage. Upon seeing me let myself settle, Gillian suddenly hugged me, whilst declaring that \"It's great that you're so willing to try new things. Most of my friends think I'm weird for liking being squished.\"\n\t\nTo which I simply replied \"I think you're a little weird too. But seeing as I will never win any Mr. Sanity awards, I don't really have any right to judge.\"\n\t\nAt which point conversation ceased as the truck rumbled to life and the compression began. At some point my hand found Gillian's, which I then proceeded to squeeze out of anxiety. Finally the back of the truck was dark and I began to squish.\n\t\nI'm not really sure how to describe being compacted. It's sort of like having your whole entire body squeezed by a giant fist. Then you reach the point where your body can't be squished anymore. Yet you do. Your body starts to fold in on itself. You go limp, and because your bones are no more you go saggy. And the whole time your feeling nothing but an intense, slow pleasure so good that you can't talk, can't even think.\n\t\nAfter a while, when the mind-shattering feelings finally receded enough to allow cognitive functions to be restored, I just floated there, in the trash in the back of the garbage truck. I just remained in this peaceful state for about five minutes before Gillian spoke up.\n\t\n\"Hey, Kyle. You back to thinking straight yet?\" \n\t\nUpon hearing her voice I started \"Wait, wait, wait. How are you talking? How am I talking? I mean, aren't our heads a little too flat to be effective for communicating?\"\n\t\n\"I dunno. We just can. It's one of the things that makes this place so great. So what did ya think of being crushed?\"\n\t\n\"It was intense.\" \n\t\nAn hour later the garbage truck pulled up to the school and dumped its load in the parking lot. This included me, Gillian, and about a dozen other cubs that also enjoyed being pancaked. Once the cascade of trash stopped, I tried to reform myself. It was surprisingly easy and felt really bizarre and sorta yiffy. \n\t\nBecause of my inexperience with the act, I was the last to reform. I was only just finishing up when the school bell rang. Mrs. Mackenzie was already driving off, and there was no sign of the giant mess that should have been covering the parking lot. So I waved good bye to the garbage truck and turned around. The schools bell rang again, signaling the official start of the school day. Which caused me to mutter to myself \"Great, your first day of school and you're late. What type of impression will that make on the teacher?\" \n\t\nIn response to this I snapped \"It's not my fault that I had reform my body.\" \n\t\n\"That didn't seem to be an issue for anyone else.\"\n\t\n\"They have more practice at it than I do. I only just got here yesterday\"\n\t\n\"Your going to be even later if you stand here arguing with yourself.\"\n\t\nAnd with that being said I set out to find my class.\n\t\n(And yes, I really do talk to myself. Anybody with a problem with that needs to visit my complaints department. Directions can be found in the foreword of this story.)\n\t\nAt this point I realized that I hadn't remembered to grab the information I had printed off my computer back at my house. Then I also remembered about the backpack, which had reformed with me. So I swung the red bag off my shoulders and reached in. Almost immediately I felt a paper. Pulling it out and reading it, I discovered I was in Mrs. Schaddenfreude's class, Room 1969. (All the rooms had numbers that ended in 69. I guess that somebody thought it was funny or something)\n\t\nWhen I found the room with the right number I tentatively knocked on the door. After a second the door was opened by a mouselady straight out of a wet dream. She had on what was a stereotypical teacher's outfit, except that the way it was cut would never have been approved in any school.\n\t\nThen she asked \"I'm in the middle of teaching a class, can't it wait.\" Then she realized she was talking to the empty air about a foot over my head, looked down, and said \"Sorry. Now what can I do for you.\" \n\t\n\"I'm Kyle Blackpaw. I think I'm supposed to be in your class. You're Mrs. Schaddenfreude, right?\"\n\t\n\"That's right dear. Your late, class has already started.\"\n\t\n\"I know. I'm sorry.\" \n\t\n\"Well don't just stand there staring at my breasts, come in.\" (I felt my face get so hot I was sure it would melt.)\n\t\nI guess I mumbled something, because next thing I knew I was standing in front of the rest of the class. \n\t\nHave you ever had that nightmare where you go to school and you've forgotten your pants? That's how I felt. I was standing in front of the whole class wearing nothing but a backpack and my fur, wondering what had possessed me to go out without a pair of pants.\n\t\n\"CLASS! PAY ATTENTION!\" bellowed the teacher in a voice that would have made any schoolboy shit his pants. \"Good. Now class this is our,\" at which point a spitball flew through the air and smacked into the back of her head. Which seemed normal enough for an elementary school class. The way she responded wasn't even remotely normal though. She reached into the drawer of her desk, and then she whipped her hand back out faster than the eye could follow and sent something flying. Only when I turned and saw three shuriken stuck in the face of a fox boy did I realize what she had done. It was at this point that I also noticed that almost everyone was naked.\n\t\nWhile this did shock me a little, I didn't freak out as much as I would have had I been alive. (Being squished in the back of a garbage truck sort of drove home the fact that I was indestructible, and so was everyone else in Hell.) \n\t\n\"Now as I was saying; Class we have a new student. Go ahead and introduce yourself.\"\n\t\n\"Hi, my name is Kyle Blackpaw. Yesterday I accidentally blew my head off while playing with fireworks.\" This was met with a lot less of a reaction than I was expecting. So, seeing as the standard classroom formalities had been completed, I began to scan for an empty seat. I spotted one next to a bat boy the color of duct tape. On the other side of him was the fox, who was a little preoccupied with removing the throwing stars from his face. The funny part was that I could have sworn there had been a book case, and not an empty desk, in the space in which my new seat was located. \n\t\nWhen I sat down the first thing I noticed was the tack on my seat. The sharp stab of pleasure was clue enough. Once I had removed the thumbtack from my butt and finally sat down I noticed the note on my desk. It said: Welcome to hell. I'm Bartleby. And next to this was a little doodle of a bat. Seeing as I didn't know anyone in my class yet I wrote back. Thanks, I still sorta getting used to the way things work down here. Is the fox gonna be O.K. and added the best drawing of a throwing star that I could draw. I slipped the note back onto his desk when the teacher wasn't looking. (And flinched when I thought she was going to turn around.)\n\t\nBartleby read the note, seemed to consider something, and passed the note to the fox, who had just gotten back from his trip to the waste basket (into which he had thrown the ninja stars). He scribbled something quickly, and passed the note back to Bartleby. Bartleby then added his own scribblings and slid the note to me. It read I'll be fine. Nothing's permanent down here. BTW I'm Xander to which Bartleby had added Did you really blow your own head off? Next to Xander's picture was a stick figure fox holding a shuriken, and next to Bartleby's was a dog with a stick of dynamite on his head.\n\t\nI was about to write back when I was startled by a very loud smack. (Created by the teacher hitting her yardstick on the desk. She then said the two most feared words in any school anywhere. \"Pop Quiz.\"\n\t\nAt this point I'm freaking out, because I haven't studied, and I was pretty sure that the contents of a test given in hell would be stuff I hadn't learned in my life. But when I saw the quiz it was all I could do not to break out into laughter, which proved I had more self restraint than most of the class. I later found out that there were three versions of the test. Each version had three questions. The first version was\n\n1. What is your name? \n2. What is your quest? \n3. What is your favorite color? \n\t\nOn the second and third versions the first two questions were the same. But on version two question three read:\n3. What is the capital of Assyria? \n\t\nAnd on the third version (which was the hardest) question three read:\n3. What is the average air speed velocity of an unladen swallow? \n\n(Anybody who does not get the reference leads a sad, deprived life.)\n\t\nI got the third version of the test. I was lucky in that I knew the answers because of a certain film I had watched over 9000 times. But there were many less lucky than I (or maybe more lucky, depending on how you see it). Students were hurled out of their seats in a random direction with great force anytime they wrote the wrong answer, and once they landed (or stuck to the ceiling or wall, as was more often the case) they would regenerate back in their seats faster than you could say \"killer rabbit\" ready to do it all over again. I quickly scribbled out the correct answers (I was still a little nervous about the whole invincible deal), and went back to my written correspondence with Xander and Bartleby. What the Hell kind of test is this?\n\t\nThe response was not written, as I had been expecting. Instead Bartleby simply whispered to me \"an excuse to get into trouble.\" \n\t\n\"MISTER FLETCH! THERE IS NO TALKING DURING A TEST. GET YOUR LITTLE CHEATING BUTT UP HERE THIS INSTANT!\"\n\t\nWhile I nearly jumped out of my skin from sheer surprise, the young bat happily leapt into the air and flew to the front to the room. (And I'm not being metaphorical about that either, he actually flew over the heads of our class mates.) When He got to the front of the room, our well endowed teacher was setting up a large metal table. The table was at an angle to the floor, and had five straps that made it obvious that she was going to strap him to the table. \n\t\nBy this point I'm watching with sort of a morbid curiosity about what is going to happen next. And I was about to find out. With Bartleby's help, Mrs. Schaddenfreude got the young bat snugly bound to the table. She then removed some sort of remote from the purse on her desk and, with the push of a button, caused a ceiling tile to slide back. From this new hole in the ceiling descended an enormous laser cutter. \n\t\nThis point I couldn't contain myself, and I burst out laughing along with the rest of the class. It looked like the cliche scene found in any spy movie. The laser began to hum with power, and soon it began the slow job of cutting the little bat in two. Unlike in the movies, however, the hero of this spy flick didn't manage to free himself in time. Another way it wasn't like a spy flick is that the laser started at the top of his head and cut downwards. The second the laser touched the little bat he got a goofy, happy look across his face. The goofy look persisted on both halves of his once the laser had carved it in two, and when the laser reached where his heart would have been (I didn't learn till later that that was where his heart was. I had no idea that it grew back) he started cumming like a fire hose. Any time the stream of cum would cross the beam of the laser, the cum would instantly dry and disintegrate in midair, creating the illusion that it had turned to sand. The sandstorm only stopped when the laser finished splitting his dick. When it finally finished its job the two halves of the bat boy slid down to the floor, slipping out of the restraints as if they weren't there. Then they both stood up, having to support each other to do so, and the bat hugged himself. When he finished there was no sign that he'd just been cut in half. When he finished, he headed back to his seat, and the teacher, with a laugh that would be more at home on the lips of a mad scientist than those of a sexy teacher, clicked her remote and the laser retracted itself back into the ceiling.\n\t\nSeeing how the little bat had enjoyed his punishment so much really told me something about the nature of the school I was in. I immediately began plotting how to disrupt the class. This would be my first real act as part of the class. The note being passed back and forth between myself, Bartleby, and Xander began to show complicated plans ranging from firing a barrage of spitballs to throwing chalkboard erasers to putting a tack on the teacher's chair. But all of these were eventually dismissed as being to typical of an average day in this school. Then we hit gold. Xander suggested I put something down the dress of the lemurgirl sitting in front of me. Bartleby amended this to being a frog and down the teacher's shirt. But that still wasn't enough. So I suggested that I do something a little more suited to the way I had died. And so it was decided that I would slip a firecracker into the teacher's shirt. (Although this may seem like a violation of the rule that in hell you may not do anything that causes harm to another, just remember that we are talking about the naughty level of hell, where pain is replaced with pleasure and nothing is permanent.) \n\t\nAnd so it was that I pulled a firecracker out of my backpack, rigged it to a remote detonator (also from my backpack), and head towards the teachers desk under the pretext of turning in my test. The tricky part was getting the whole assembly into her shirt. Xander had suggested that I pretend to trip and grab her for support. So this is what I did. The timing was perfect and I detonated the whole thing (while fleeing back to my seat) before she had a chance to react. The results were more memorable than I had expected. The firecracker tore open her shirt and out had tumbled a pair of magnificent bazookas that had given every boy (and several of the girls) a raging hard-on.\n\t\nShe just stood there with her mouth hanging open for a moment. Then the look of shock slowly transformed into a grin that had me wondering if I hadn't made a mistake. \n\t\n\"Mr. Blackpaw, please come up here.\" She said in a voice that was no louder than a whisper, yet somehow managed to be scarier than if she had been red in the face and shouting. The whole class room had gone deathly silent _yes I know that's a bad pun, I did mention 1 that I make them all the time._\n\t\nAs I approached the front of the class, someone called out \"Dead dog walking!\" Which pretty accurately reflected how I felt. You should have seen the look on her face. When I got up to the front of the class she had me bend over the front of her desk (and exposing my ass to the class in the process). She leaned over and whispered in my ear \"I can see that you've already figured put how things work down here,\" The change in her voice was so drastic that I actually thought it was a different person. Gone was the voice of an angry, sadistic teacher; and instead there was a voice that resonated with a warm, tender, caring feeling. She continued \"Just be aware that not everybody likes being surprised. Just remember to use your judgment when picking a target.\" Having said her bit she to me she went back to the role of vengeful teacher. \"Now class, pay attention. This is what happens when you decide to get too out of hand.\" And she took out a candy apple red cylinder, which anyone who watched any cartoons would have instantly recognized. Mrs. Schaddenfreude then lit the stick of dynamite and (I'm not kidding about this either) put it where the sun don't shine. A few seconds later I discovered what it would feel like to be a rainstorm. \n\t \nIt was really, really weird. I could feel the air rushing across every single little bit of my body as I was spread equally over the whole class. I could feel it when a drop of me landed in Bartleby's ear. And to this day I still maintain that there is nothing like the feeling of blowing yourself up and raining down across a large area. \n\t\nI stayed like that for about half a minute before I pulled myself together. I reformed with a wet sounding shluck and was sent staggering back to my seat.\n\t\nThe rest of the class passed pretty quickly. Between punishments I continued my discussions with Bartleby and Xander. In doing so I learned several things. The first things were about my coat (backpack) of office. I learned that it was made of a material known as psycho reactive leather. What that means is that it was psychically linked to its bearer. I learned that although I \"could\" change it into any shape I wanted, nobody would recognize it if it wasn't in the shape of a jacket. I learned that psycho reactive leather was one of the few substances that a fur in hell could not create for themselves. This was because not only did this type of leather not exist on earth but, due to the laws of physics, it COULDN'T exist on earth. I learned that only Hell's giving force (the force that worked behind the scenes to make sure every one in hell was as happy they deserved to be) could create the jackets. I learned a little about my job. If a full fledged demon could be considered an employee of hell, then demidemons were the equivalent of part time interns. We got the jobs like checking up on new arrivals to make sure they had settled in, or giving a sympathetic ear to someone who needed to talk about their death. I gained a little insight into the nature of The Sight, the gift that had given me my job. I gathered that it occurred when Hell's giving force chose to invest a little of its power into a new soul upon its arrival. Nobody knows why it does this, except maybe Satan, and he's not saying. Most importantly I learned about the hamsterboy to whom I had been assigned. I was informed that although he was in this class, he hadn't shown up after the first day. Nobody could figure out why he was still on the roster (I suspect that this was the work of the giving force). I gathered that he had introduced himself as Bubbles, and that was what every one called him. But most importantly I learned that he had been so alarmed by the happenings in the class that he had left shortly after lunch.\n\t\nAnd after I learned all this wonderful information (and got myself decapitated once more) the bell rang for the end of the day. I talked a little with the teacher, and made sure to let her know why I was really there. She said that she'd \"already received the memo.\"\n\t\nAnd so, having completed my first day of school in my afterlife, I went off to Bubble's house to introduce myself.\n\n\n\nHi. My name is Chumpuff Huffington, but everyone calls me Bubbles because of my cheeks. I'm a hamster, so I have huge bubble cheeks. I'm dead. And I live (or rather I don't live) in Hell.\n\t\nThis is the story of how I met my best friend Kyle Blackpaw. He's the one who helped me see that just because I'm in Hell doesn't mean that I am a bad furson. At time it will be graphic. At times you may come across things that you do not like. I won't be offended if you choose to stop reading, or if you skip over sections that are too graphic for your tastes. The majority of this story will be written by Kyle Blackpaw from his point of view. But this first section is from my own perspective along with a few others. There may be sections from the points of view of other third parties. Any time the writer is changed it will be noted. Because Kyle is the ultimate author of this book, address comments and concerns to him.\n\t\nI was sitting in my library at home. By library I am referring to the plastic module that I used for keeping my books in. You see, my house is one of those colorful hamster habitats with the clear plastic boxes all interconnected by the colorful semitransparent multicolored plastic tunnels. I don't know why, but there was just something about these leftovers from the time of the humans that just called to me down in the core of my being. You occasionally saw these cages in museums in the humanity exhibit. I still find it hard to believe that the humans, who did so many terrible things, came up with something so fun.\n\t\nOh sugar, I've gone and lost my train of thought. Oh wait. Oh yeah. So anyway I was in my library, reflecting on how I had died, and crying about the fact that I was a \"naughty boy\" and didn't deserve to be in heaven. And I knew exactly why I hadn't gotten in. I enjoy cross dressing. My father tried his best to beat it out of me and my mother was always ashamed of me. When they told the preacher at church, he told me that I was a freak, that cross dressing was \"unnatural\", and that I was going to burn in hell for my twisted perversion. I can't help it. It just feels so natural when I'm wearing that dress and panties. I can't stop myself. Besides, wasn't god supposed to be forgiving? But when I pointed this out my parents had shipped me off to a boarding school on the other side of the country, just so that they wouldn't have to be embarrassed by me any more. Oh how I hated that school, they had the most hideous and uncomfortable uniforms ever, and when the nuns caught me in a dress they beat me black and blue until their rulers broke.\n\t\nOne day, while on the way back from the most boring field trip ever (we went to the retirement home, to sing to the old, half deaf fursons.) the bus I was on lost control on the freeway and got T-boned by a school bus from the local public school (coming back from a field trip to the aquarium). For what seemed like an eternity the world spun around and was way too loud. Then when it finally came to a rest I found myself staring into the face of a young, blond, oily haired dogboy. His hair was so very oily. I don't know why this bit is so clearing my mind, when the rest is a little scattered. (I guess it's just you begin to notice the small details when your dying.\n\t\nAnyway, so there I was, bleeding to death from a dozen cuts all over my body, as well as a massive gash across my belly. And this one pup, this one pup is pulling me out of the blazing wreckage of the bus. And all the while this pup, who couldn't have been more than a couple months older than myself, is crying and repeating over and over again, you're gonna be all right, it's gonna be all right. He pulls me over to the side of the road and pulls off his shirt, which he then ties around the gaping gash in my chest (like they do on TV). He then rushes back towards the blazing school bus. This is when it becomes apparent that his leg is broken. And yet, he doesn't seem to notice. But just as he gets near the bus, the whole thing erupts in a huge fireball and he is flung backwards. He lands next to me, all his greasy fur (and his clothes) gone. At first I think he's dead, but then groans. It's barely audible over the roar of the fire. And with the last of my strength I turn my head, and look straight into his eyes. And I whisper \"you're gonna be all right\". I don't know if he heard me or not. But I start to feel really light headed, and a few seconds later I'm gone.\n\n\t\nI don't know how many times I've read that. One of the first things I did when I arrived in Hell (once I had stopped panicking of course) had been to write down everything I remembered about my death. It had made me feel a little better. But the real reason is that I wanted to remember that pup. He had been the first person in my life who had actually, genuinely cared about me. My mother hadn't wanted me, and had even tried to have me aborted (the abortion failed), and my father was an alcoholic, who beat me for being such a sissy. Maybe if I hadn't been such a freak he would have loved me. But this pup, this boy that I had never met before risked his life by climbing into a burning vehicle to get me out. Despite the fact that his leg is broken. And then he goes back to get the other students. He hadn't cared that I was a freak who deserved to die. And I wanted to thank him for caring about me, even though I was a waste of living flesh (as my mother often put it). Now I had already considered that maybe he hadn't known what a freak I was. But looking back there was no way he could have not known. Sometime during the initial collision my pants had been torn to shreds. It would have been perfectly clear that I was wearing girl's underwear. But he hadn't cared that I was a cross dresser. It was the first, and last, time that had happened in my life.\n\t\n\"HELLO! I'M KYLE BLACKPAW AND I'M HERE TO BE YOUR FRIEND!\" Somebody shouted in my ear, breaking me out of my usual cycle of self pity and self loathing. But when I looked up, I must have still been lost in the memory, because there was the pup from that fateful day. He looked a little different because of the glasses and the fact that he wasn't covered in injuries.\n\t\nI think I dislocated my jaw it fell open so fast. There was no way that this kid was the same pup from that night. But then again it probably was considering the fact that when he saw me the shock of recognition knocked him on his ass.\n\t\nHe managed to speak first \"I... I... I think I saw you d...die.\" \n\t\n\"Umm. Burning bus wreck, right?\"\n\t\n\"Yeah.\"\n\t\nWe sat there for a while in an awkward silence. I don't know what thoughts were going through his mind, but my mind was racing. I had wanted a chance to thank him for caring, but what could I possibly say. Well I was rescued from having to by a little calico kitten who had up till this moment been standing in the doorway (tunnel entrance) trying to figure out what we were freaking out about.\n\t\n\"What's going on here Kyle? You said you'd never met him before.\"\n\t\n\"Well I thought I hadn't. I 'ran into' him back when I was alive, but I didn't make the connection that that hamster boy was the same one as the one I'd been assigned to down here.\" The pup, who I'm going to assume is Kyle, said in a rather hurried voice. He then turned back to me and said \"You are Chumpuff Huffington aka Bubbles, right?\"\n\t\n\"Uh...yeah... that's me.\" \n\t\n\"Ok. Hi. As I said I'm Kyle, and this here is Gillian.\"\n\t\n\"Ok. What did you mean assigned?\" I asked, half afraid of what the answer would be.\n\t\n\"Oh. That. Yeah... apparently I was made into some sort of part demon upon my entrance into Hell the first assignment I received was to help you settle into hell. From what I've been able to gather you had a rough first day and have locked yourself in your house ever since.\"\n\t\n\"Yes, I have, because they do bad things down here.\" \n\t\n\"Is being open minded really that bad?\"\n\t\n\"No, but everybody is naked\"\n\t\n\"Oh, that. I didn't think that you'd have an issue with that, seeing as how you're a cross dresser.\" \n\t\n\"But I shouldn't be, it's not natural.\"\n\t\n\"Oh god, you've been brainwashed.\"\n\t\n\"No I have not.\"\n\t\n\"Yes you have, and I don't want to argue about it. Please, just listen to what I have to say, and please try to be open minded about it.\"\n\t\nWhat can you say to something like that? I just gotta know what he's gonna say. And I can tell by the breath he takes that it's gonna be a long rant. I don't mind. Back when I was I got plenty enough of those, and they were a lot worse because they were usually accompanied by a lashing; either from my dad's belt or a yardstick wielding nun.\n\t\nBut at this point I realize I'm being a terrible host. Both Gillian and Kyle are just standing around. \n\t\n\"Hey, before that, how about we move this meeting to the living room, there are more chairs there.\" In fact I was currently occupying the only chair in the library. \n\t\n\"Sure thing.\" was Gillian's response. Kyle muttered something along the lines of whatever, but I really didn't catch it, so I suppose it could have been anything. \n\t\n\"Well ok then, it's settled. Follow me.\" The last part was because my house was essentially a giant maze. I never had any problem finding my way around, but then again it had been created to match the exact way I pictured it.\n\n\t\nHi, it's Kyle again. Bubble's really isn't that hot on the whole idea of writing and really only did that bit because I had asked him to. I really wasn't sure how much of his past I should reveal, so I let him decide. Anyway I'm just going to pick up where he left off.\n\t\nSo Bubbles led Gillian and me through the labyrinth of plastic tubes and boxes that comprised his house. Due to the small diameter of the tunnels we were forced to crawl single file after the young hamster, who seemed right at home in this setting. \n\t\nAnd so it was that we crawled, one after another, towards the clear plastic enclosure which served as Bubbles living room. And because I was directly behind Bubbles I got a clear view of his cute little ass. The skirt he was wearing wasn't knee length so I could clearly see the little lacy thong he was wearing, and where it bulged (you know why). But what was really captivating my attention was hiss little puff of a tail. The way it was swaying back and forth was simply hypnotizing.\n\t\nBy the time we arrived I had a raging hard on. And that was a bit of a problem, seeing as I wasn't wearing any pants. The cause of boner would have no problem seeing exactly what was *up*. And indeed it didn't take long for our host to spot my \"problem\".\n\t\nNow one thing that I am eternally grateful for is that I didn't have to explain to Bubbles about what had happened to me. He had already acquired enough information on the subject matter to be completely aware of what had happened. (Blame the public library and the internet). I don't know why, but I can't explain sex to someone who doesn't already know about it. Whenever I try I end up turning bright red to the point where there is literally steam coming out of my ears due to embarrassment. The odd part is that I have no issue with discussing things of a sexual nature with people who are already aware of it.\n\t\nWell, steam was coming out of my ears then too. You'd think that embarrassment wouldn't be an issue that one would have to deal with in Hell, but boy would you be wrong. I was so embarrassed that I just wanted to sink into the floor (it's lucky that I hadn't gained control over my demidemon abilities yet, or else that might have actually happened). \n\t\n\"Look Bubbles, I can explmmmph\" The reason that I said that is that I had begun to apologize (babble like an idiot), but I had managed to get it all out before Bubbles had come back across the room and kissed me. And I don't just mean kissed me on the cheek either. I mean he came over and full on KISSED me. (With tongue and everything). Hard to believe that it was his first kiss from how expertly he did it (it was my first too). \n\t\nYeah, I kinda hadn't been expecting that. I'd expected him to slap me or something similar. \n\t\nWhen we finally broke for air (although I guess that we really didn't need to considering that breathing was unnecessary down here), I couldn't think how to respond to that except to fall on my butt out of surprise. So I did. \n\t\nMeanwhile, it was Bubble's turn to babble apologies. \"Umm... Sorry bout that. I just lost control of myself there. Ever since that wreck I've wanted to thank you, and in the few months I been down here it sorta turned into a sexual fantasy. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. It's just that nobody's ever actually cared about me before. Then you went and risked your life to save me from a burning bus. Me, a complete stranger, and a cross dresser to boot. I'm sorry.\" \n\t\nWell I no idea how to respond to this. But luckily Gillian bought me some time to think. Although it was a little hard to hear my thoughts over her moaning. You see, neither Bubbles nor I had noticed that she had started to paw off (what with being busy kissing and all that). \n\t\nBy the time her orgasm had subsided, and Bubbles had torn his attention away (okay I'll admit I was staring too), I had worked out my response. Unfortunately it sounded a little cliched, but then again so do a lot of the things I say (even if they do sound cliched, I still mean what I say). \n\t\n\"Well, I'm not in any position to know about your life,\" which was a bold faced lie, because I could have read his whole history in his file. But I hadn't, figuring that Bubbles would tell me what he felt comfortable with me knowing (I had briefly skimmed it, but I had only been looking for certain things, like why he was in Hell. If I'd actually read it I would have been aware that I'd already met him). \"But I think you're just positively adorable, and I'm pretty sure that Gillian fells the same way, if her actions are any sort of indicator.\" At this Gillian briefly looked up nodded an affirmative, and then flopped back in the chair again, trying to catch her breath. \n\t\nThis time I kissed him. And I hugged him tight. By this time Gillian had recovered and came over, and hugged Bubbles as well (well sort of hugged, I guess. It was more of a glomp, considering that she leapt off the chair across the room and grabbed onto Bubbles around his torso). This caused Bubbles to lose his balance and we all tumbled into a heap on the floor. For a while we just played around on the floor, wrestling with each other like little kids. I felt a sort of warm joy that I hadn't experienced since that bus accident.\n\t\nBut we'll get to that later. In the meantime the silliness of our tumble reminded me of a time in my childhood when I hadn't been bitter at the world; A time when I hadn't put up a front of over excitement and weirdness to keep myself from upsetting others. And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly happy. (Yes I know it sound cheesy). \n\t\nSo there we lay, Bubbles, Gillian and I, panting in sheer exhaustion. After some timed had passed I felt recovered enough to speak. \"See, Bubbles. You're not repulsive at all. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with being a cross dresser.\" I began to wind up for my rant on clothing again. \"After all the original purpose of clothing is to keep one warm. After all, that is what happens when you cover your body so the heat can't escape. The only reason that people these days believe that wearing clothes is necessary is because of religious values that were put in place to make sure that Catholicism was dominant over paganism. The pagans believed that by having sex one could glimpse god. This belief would have defeated the whole point of having churches, because according to the Catholics you have to have a priest to interpret god's word for you, you can't do it your self. This means that you have to go to church to see god. The pagan belief threatened that, so the priests declared that sex was sinful. And in order to make sure people didn't have the temptation to have sex, they declared that people must also always cover themselves up. Therefore the fact that you think that you must wear clothes is nothing more than an unnecessary relic of religion. And why should you care about what is sinful and what isn't here in Hell. Who cares? God has no power here. And another thing, being in Hell isn't a bad thing. You're on the naughty level. That means that you were only mildly mischievous in life. If God was even half as forgiving as the churches said he is then you should have flown straight through the pearly gates.\"\n\t\nBubbles look absolutely stunned at hearing so much blasphemy in a single rant. So just to prove my point I added \"and you can tell that god has no power down here by the fact that I haven't been hit by any lightning bolts yet. Seriously Bubbles there is only one rule in hell and that is that each should shall suffer exactly as much torment as they deserve, and no more. Therefore, from the fact that you are not suffering any sort of torture we can conclude that you are not a 'bad boy' and that the only reason you didn't get into heaven is because god has completely LOST HIS MARBLES\"\n\t\nAt this point a thought struck me. \"We need to get you more comfortable with the way things work down here. Tomorrow we're going to explore Hell.\" \n\t\n\"Do I get a choice in the matter?\"\n\t\n\"No.\" Gillian and I responded at the same time.\n\t\n\"Ok, but what should I wear.\" \n\t\n\"What ever you feel comfortable in.\"\n\t\n\"Kay\"\n\t\n\"Hey I've got an idea, why don't you both sleep over at my house tonight. It's brand new. I only got it yesterday.\"\n\t\n\"Great, let me just pack some things.\"\n\t\n\"That won't be necessary\" I said.\n\t\nLater we arrived at my house. Bubbles had a small bag which contained the clothes he would be wearing tomorrow. Gillian was just in her fur. \n\n\nThe following section was written by Bubbles\n\t\nWe entered Kyle's house by being \"beamed up\" to the teleporter pad located on a raised platform in a room that was white. And I mean it was WHITE. This white was the absolute epitome of whiteness. I had never seen a whiter shade of white before. It was so white that all other shades of white turned gray in comparison. \n\t\nThe whiteness of the room was only interrupted by regularly spaced door along the wall, and by two black leather couches, one on either side of the transporter. The doors were all also black. And I mean they were BLACK (for a description of how black they were just reread the description in the previous paragraph of how white the white was). And on each of these black door, in RED (Do I need to say any thing about how red they were?) letters was a label that told what was contained in each room. They were BEDROOM, BATHROOM, TV ROOM, COMPUTER LAB, RECORDING STUDIO, ARCADE, POOL, KITCHEN, GYM, SPARRING ARENA, ARMORY, FIRING RANGE, BOMB RANGE, WORKSHOP, and MEMORY LANE. \n\t\nNote from Kyle: Those of you who have been following this series might notice the doors are not the same as the last time I described the inside of the house. This is because the idea of a perfect house is sort of liquid for me. What I mean by this is that what I my ideal home would be is constantly changing depending on the circumstances. For example, for the sleep over I would need some sort of large bed chamber. My bedroom did not qualify, seeing as it felt crowded when I was in it by myself (I prefer to think of it as cozy). So in order to fit needs that room's door renamed itself to MEMORY LANE and a new door labeled Bedroom was formed. This way the problem was solved. \n\n\nAnd now we now return to Bubbles irregularly scheduled writing \n\t\nFor some reason Gillian instantly headed toward the kitchen. I just figured she was hungry. (Those of you who know Gillian may realize the real reason, but we'll get to that later.) But the room that drew my attention was MEMORY LANE. And with a name like that on the door can you blame me for being more than a little curious about what was behind it. I turned to ask the host weather it was okay if I investigated, but he had disappeared. So I wandered over and took a stroll down memory lane.\nIt wasn't much of a stroll. It was a single tiny bedroom. Roller desk up against one wall, bed in the corner, dresser that was missing a drawer, a bookshelf, and a 2ft by 4ft area of what obviously used to be white carpet, which was now a yellowish, off white. The only thing that was odd about this room (other than the fact that Kyle picked such a small room when he could generate anything he wanted) was the baby blanket on the bed. Why would a ten year old boy have a blankie? An even more confusing question, why would it rear up and attack me?\n\n\nMeanwhile back with Kyle...\n\t\n\nCrack. Crunch. \"I'm really gonna have to recalibrate that thing.\" When I had warped in the teleporter did something weird, and ended up putting me five feet up in the air. And as if that wasn't enough I was upside down. And at a slight angle, so when I fell my head twisted sideways, breaking my neck with a loud pop. It was a sharp sudden unexpected feeling, and it felt good. I think that it might feel like this if a lightning bolt hit the pleasure center of your brain. And as I sat up I felt sort of white. Now before people get offended by the description, let me explain. I mean white as in like a blank sheet of paper. I know that you technically can't feel like a color, other than blue (at least you can't feel like a color without the use of illegal drugs), but I can't think of any other way to describe the way I felt. It was a feeling so different, so unique that there was no way to experience it during life. Therefore there isn't a word in the English language to describe it. The closest I can get is to say that I felt white, and sorta transparent. First I reached up and twisted my skull 90 degrees back to where it belonged (daffy duck style). Then I looked down to examine myself to see if I could locate the source of the white feeling, But I was in for a shock, Not only could I not find the cause of the sensation, I couldn't find myself. At least not anything that I could recognize as myself. What I saw was not even remotely like how I looked, other than its general shape. And I'm only using the term \"saw\" for simplicity's sake. What it really was is, once again, not conducive to the use of the English language. It was an impression, being put straight into my brain, not bothering with any of the senses. It have a real form, it just was. I will try to describe what I \"saw\" as best I can. I saw myself, and I knew I was looking at myself even though there was absolutely no resemblance other than general shape. It was me, except it was made of a clear multifaceted diamond. And through each face I \"saw\" myself. But each was only a part of myself. One showed an immature little brat sticking his tongue out and picking his nose. Another contained what looked like my current form, except that it was made completely out of fire. Yet another showed what appeared top be me at 80. Me in a referee uniform, me writing poetry, playing guitar, juggling pinless grenades, the aspects went on and on. Where my heart would have been there was a ruby, and reflected in this ruby was not another aspect of my personality. No, what was reflected there was a memory, and not just any memory. It was the memory of the single most important event in my life. This event caused a complete reformation of my personality.\n\t\n\nIt had been a pleasant afternoon at the aquarium, visiting the nonev aquatic life. My favorite had been the dolphins. And as our bus head down the freeway I was recounting it to the rest of the class. I had been in the front row at the dolphin display, which means I got the best view. I was also in the very front row of seats on the bus. I had been standing on the seat and gesturing wildly with my arms to indicate how awesome the dolphins had been when we collided with the other bus. Everyone was thrown forward violently. Because I had been standing up I went through the windshield, head first. This knocked me out. Which is lucky because when our bus driver panicked, he left so quickly that he didn't even notice when he ran over my leg. (I know that this is what happened because the police matched the tire tracks on my leg to the tires on the bus. Anyway, when I come to I see a burning bus, and not much else. (Because it was mid day and the road was through the middle of nowhere there weren't any cars. I realized that I was the only one around to help the furs in the bus. So I dashed onto the bus (at this point the adrenaline in my system made me completely forget all about the broken leg) and start pulling this young hamster off. Yeah he was wearing girl's underwear, but I didn't care. Life is precious. That's all that mattered at the moment. So I pull him over to the shoulder of the road and go back for someone else. But the fire touched off the gas tank and the resulting explosion burned off all my fur, covered me in third degree burns, and deposited me neatly back onto the shoulder of the road next to the hamster. He reached his paw over and put it into mine, squeezed and muttered it's gonna be all right. Then his grip loosened and he was gone. I don't know how I knew, I just did. But all this was finally too much for my still developing brain to deal with. So I just lay there and let events resolve themselves. I don't know how long I lay there, next to the body of the boy I had tried to save. At some point it started raining, which extinguished the burning bus. I think I must have been there for a day or so, because the moon had come and gone before I was finally found by a search and rescue helicopter. At first they thought I was dead, and I can't say I blame them. I was covered in charred and blackened flesh. I'm not sure at what point I sat up, but when I did things became a whirlwind of activity. I was bundled up and a med-evac helicopter was summoned. As I said this was too much for me to deal with, so I just sat around until the chopper showed up. At that point I was more that happy to let other people tell me what to do, so I didn't put up any fuss when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into the medical chopper. I was in the hospital for a while, and for the first few days I didn't get any sleep due the constant cameras and questions from the assorted media and the police investigators. Later I learned that the bus driver had been charged with a felony hit and run, but had gotten off the reckless driving charge because the investigation revealed that the other bus had lost control. He got some other charges related to running over me, but I don't exactly remember them. The whole deal is sorta hazy.\n\t\nNow you need to remember that I was ten at the time. All this was more than a little traumatic for me. For a while I couldn't even ride a bus because I would start freaking out the second it started moving. My personality completely changed. My maturity level went into state of constant flux. One second I might call someone a poopy head and stick my tongue out at them and the next second I might be trying to convince a pair of teens that violence wasn't the answer to everything. I also gained the most cynical, pessimistic view on life in all of creation (Although I mostly kept this view to myself, because it upset other people when I didn't). I became more than a little obsessed with dangerous objects. I read books on guns, and would pick out the best ones and decide that I was going to get them (I never actually did, but that was only because I didn't have a gun license yet). Before the accident I had been a very outgoing, forward individual. I'd made friends easily and enjoyed other peoples company. But that changed after that day. I began to push people away. I only spoke to answer questions. And when I did it was always in a short terse manner. I didn't hang out with other people, but rather I would shut myself in my room and read, or lose myself in video games. But the weirdest thing that came about from all this was my pyromania. Before the accident I couldn't even light a candle with a match because I was so afraid of being burned, but afterward, My parents had to start locking the matches up in a box with a padlock. And then they started searching my room on a nightly basis when they discovered I was managing to get matches by other means. I became a regular at the burn ward. To the point where I knew all the doctors and nurses by name, and they all knew me. It even got to the point where my parents didn't have top give their information to the receptionist because she knew us on sight. We'd walk in, me with a bandage around some part of my body, and the receptionist would just start typing, and five minutes later say room 310, I trust you know where it is. (I always got room 310, to the point where they stopped removing my name from the door).\n\t\nNow, as you can imagine this change in my personality worried people. I saw a virtual parade of mental health professionals who all came to the same conclusion, that I was unstable. I was forced into church, but that really didn't help. I didn't believe. Kind and forgiving God my ass. A kind and forgiving God would not have allowed what had occurred to happen. At one point I even got to spend a few months in an institution (nut house). Nothing helped. Eventually I was just sent to a school for problem students. That was nice. I enjoyed it there. Because I could get away with practically anything. After all nobody would blame a kid who was fucked up in the head for being weird. The classes were easy and we never got homework. In fact the classes were so easy that I began to suspect that the teachers weren't aware of the difference between E.D. (Emotionally Disturbed) and L.D. (Learning Disability). In was in the schools E.D. section. Not that the work load was any different in the L.D. section. Yeah, school was a breeze, as long as you avoided setting off the students with anger management problems. But after the incident in chemistry class I didn't even have to worry about that. When you manage to get a vial full of water to explode people try to stay on your good side (usually at a minimum distance of 15 ft). Here's a thought though. Why is it a good idea to take all the people with anger management problems and lock them in a small confined space with each other? I bet we were the only school in the state that had a security staff armed with riot shields, tear gas, and tazers. And for those of you who have never been tazed, let me tell you it hurts like hell. \n\n\t\nWell, not all of that was reflected. Just the memory was of the bus crash. But I figured that you, the readers, don't know that much about me and I thought that this would be a good time to fill in some blanks. Anyway... I was transfixed by the view, until the spell was broken by the most girly scream I have ever heard.\n\nI rushed towards the kitchen, thinking that Gillian could be having problems with my waste disposal system, I bolted for the kitchen. You see I had elected to forgo a regular trash can in favor of a garbage chute and compactor. But not just any old garbage chute, no, this one was an exact replica of the one from the Death Star. Well, maybe not an exact replica. It compressed every 5 minutes. And the monster in the sludge didn't try to drown you, but rather used its tentacles in a manner more suitable to the naughty level of Hell.\n\nWell, I was worried about the wrong furson, which was made evident when the kitty came barreling out of the kitchen, and into me. And thus it was that when Bubbles stumbled out of my childhood bedroom, wrestling with my foofoo (Yes, I know how it sounds. Cut me some slack; I was two when I named it.) Well, I got a mouthful of foot and Bubbles kissed the floor. Gillian started giggling like mad and foofoo wrapped themself around my chest. Bubbles started to giggle hysterically. I'd like to say that I remained a rock solid pillar of sanity, but anyone who knows anything about me would be able to pick that out as a bald faced lie. I broke down too, the simple madness of the situation getting to me. \n\nGillian was the first to catch her breath. \"You didn't tell us you had a plushie.\"\n\n\"A whatie.\"\n\n\"No, a plushie\"\n\nBubbles was still having a hard time catching his breath. So I whacked him on the back a couple times. \"What is a plushie?\"\n\n\"I *cough* don't know\"\n\n\"I was asking Gillian\"\n\n\"A plushie is a stuffed animal that a child has believed in for so long that when that child enters Hell the stuffed animal comes to life. But this is an unusual case. Yours isn't a stuffed animal. Why do you think it came to life?\"\n\n\"I've had it since I was a couple weeks old. Nineteen years is a long time for something to gather lots of meaning to some one. \"\n\n\"Ah, that might explain it.\"\n\nBubbles eyes bugged out, much in the same manner as they do cartoons \"wait, you mean you were nineteen when you died.\"\n\n\"Yeah\"\n\n\"But it has only been six months.\"\n\nI got a classic *huh* look on my face. But Gillian came through with the answer to this particular conundrum. \"Well, time isn't exactly consistent throughout hell. It stretches, twists, and bends depending on the situation. What is only a second for one person can be minutes or even hours for another?\"\n\nBubbles still looked a little unsure. \"Well I guess that makes sense. But nine years in six months? That seems like a little much doesn't it?\"\n\nGillian responded thus. \"As far as I understand the way things work down here, it is possible. But it certainly beats out anything I've heard of before.\"\n\nI jumped back into the conversation \"I think I may be the answer to that.\"\n\n\"Don't you mean 'I think I may have the answer to that.'?\"\n\n\"Both. If I'm right, it may be that Bubbles needed something that only I could provide. Therefore the HGF speeded up time until I died.\"\n\nI think I may have struck a nerve with Bubbles, because he hysterically burst out \"I'm fine. I was fine. What make you think I'm not fine? Why would I need you to be fine?\" before dashed off to the bedroom (the one labeled memory lane.) \n\nGillian gave me a worried glance. I think she was worried that his outburst may have hurt my feelings. And to some extent that was true. Bubble's words stung, and I squeezed my foofoo to chase away the hurt. But the words didn't cut as deep as they could have, because I knew he didn't really mean it. It was simply that his whole view of things had been turned on its head, and this was the straw that broke the camels back. Unable to deal with the enormous change, he had hit denial. It was something I was all too familiar with.\n\nSee, going to a school for \"emotionally disturbed youths\" had given me a surprising amount of insight into how the mind works. After all, not only was I able to observe a how the mind behaved without the constraints placed upon it by society, but reading my peers developed as a simple survival trait. In order to make it in that environment, you had to know at a glance who was depressed, who was stressed, and who was gonna snap. Because if you said or did the wrong thing to the wrong person things could become unpleasant rather quickly. Especially since the security staff's first priority was to subdue anyone who was \"out of control\" (in other words not acting like a mindless drone). This meant that if anyone got bent out of shape, we all ended up doing the electric slide on the floor. \n\nBut that's all in the past now. What was important at the moment was Bubbles. He was going to have to come to terms with this bizarre reality sooner or later. As these thoughts went through my head I failed to notice that the bunnies were peeling off foofoo like stickers. Soon there were nine fist sized bunnies. They were all tan in color, except for their shirts. Each was named for the unique item they held. _I've never been that good at coming up with names. Blankie's name from the nursery rhyme \"little bunnie foofoo\"_ Wearing green were ball and flower, yellow had pacifier and bow (bow wore a dress rather than a shirt, and her bow was around her ear), straw (straw is blowing bubbles with a straw) wears blue, and in pink is duck and balloon. There are also the twins, one in pink and one in blue. \n\nGillian drew my attention to the fact that I now had nine bunnies on me by exclaiming \"DAWWWWWWWWWWWW!\". In doing so she also broke my train of thought. _I am very easily distrac... OH LOOK, A SHINY THING!_ \n\nI wasn't really all that suprised. It fit in with the bizzare logic of \"down here\". But it was a little disconcerting when they spoke. They all spoke at once, saying the exact same thing. \"Hello Kyle, we've been waiting for you.\" I'd have put the creepy factor up there with that little girl from the grudge, except that they ruined the spooky vibe by snickering, adn then breaking down into hysterical laughter.\n\n\"OH-KAY, that was a little weird.\"\n\n\"Nah, not really, it probably just means that they like memes and movie quotes as much as I do.\" I then did my best TV spokes person imitation (the ones who list the side effects so fast you can't hear them) \"All quotes, characters, slogans, catchphrases, logo's, and trademarked items are the properties of their respective companies, all rights reserved. Memes are not trademarked and therefore are free to be used in any manner I like. Do not use any of these items if you are on certain medicines, brush with flouride toothpaste, drink root beer or alcohol, or are nursing, pregnant, or may become pregnant. Side effects may include dizziness, wheezing, coughing, sneezing, projectile vomiting, explosive direaha, and rape by tentacles. Ask your local wise guy if any of these items are right for you.\"\n\nGillian just looked at me. I think the concentrated awsomeness of what I said melted her brain. Or maybe it was so bad it caused her brain to liquefy. I don't know, but her brain started dripping her ears. Which was fine. After all it wasn't permanant. And it meant that I could get to know my foofoo. (as I refer to the bunnies collectively. This is also how I refer them while they are on the blanket.) Well, most of my foofoo. I briefly spotted The Twins slipping into 'memory lane'. And I'm pretty sure I knew exactly why.\n\n\n-The Twins-\n\n\nKyle was getting to know us, which didn't require all of us because we are a hive mind. This is hard to explain, so for for all practical purposes you can just think of it as all of us having the same brain.\n\nThis meant that the twins (all of us refer to ourselves in the third person to avoid confusing others) are still aware of what was going on with Kyle. And the rest of us were aware of what goes on with the twins. \n\nRight now bubbles needed someone to talk to. Kyle wasn't exactly the best with helping people deal with their emotional problems. His solution was usually just leave them alone and they'll get over it. But we are in touch with the HGF, and it was telling us that Bubbles needed our help. \n\nNormally we would not be able to help, as plushies appear inanimate to people who aren't their owner, unless that person has a strong emotional connection with the owner, or the owner is present with the other person. Because of Kyle and Bubbles past, they had a very strong emotional bond, which meant that we were in fact able to communicate with Bubbles. And he sure did need someone to talk to.\n\nSo The Twins poked their heads under the door, followed by the reat of their bodies. This ended up with the twins looking like a toon that had been shoved through a mail slot. Bubbles was on the bed crying into the pillow.\n\n\"Excuse us mister huffington, but could we have a second of your time?\" the twins inquired.\n\n\"NO. Leave me alone.\" Came the muffled response from the sobbing youth.\n\nWell, the twins didn't leave, but rather hopped up onto the bed and sat down next to the pillow in which his head was buried. Eventually he started talking.\n\n\"Everybody has always been telling me that I'm not good enough, that I'm a pathetic loser. My parents sent me across the whole United States to get me away from them. And the one person I meet who has ever shown me the smallest amount of compassion turns out to be as screwed up in the head as I am. I mean he's nice and all, but did you see that room out there. It was so bleak and bare. And these houses are supposed to reflect what truely interests us. Our dream home. What does it say about me that I'm so screwed up that someone with such a bleak soul is the only person who can help me?\" \n\nBubbles was getting worked up again, but he had a point. Sort of. Kyle was indeed a few fries short of a happy meal, but not because he lacked personality.\n\n\"Listen Bubbles, it it okay if the twins call you Bubbles, good. Well listen Bubbles, Kyles soul isn't bleak. He just likes high contrast colors, which is why the room is so blindingly white. As for why it's empty, everything is behind the doors. Kyles obsessive tendancies have led him to organize everything he likes into seperate rooms. He has a firing range behind one of those doors for satans sake. He isn't that bleak. And the reason you were waiting for him wasn't that he was the only one that could help you. It's that you need each other. Kyle has lots of unresolved issues that Being in Hell is going to force him to face. Primarily though, he's going to have to deal with the fact that he never knew his parents. His father left his mother four months into her pregnancy. His mother died giving birth to him. And although he has no logical reason to, he blames himself for both events. But since his mother is dead, he's going to have to decide whether he's going to go find her or not. And as for his father, He's a hell gaurdian on the assholes level. He fathered Kyle on a vacation to Earth (although technically he wasn't allowed to be taking one). Which means that Kyle is half demon. Now unlike the other demidemons, who are incubbi, succubi, kappas and the likes, Kyle is half mortal. He has all the powers of a demon, he just doen't know how to use them. And since demons aren't allowed to sire children, Kyle is the only one of his kind. Which means that in the next week or so kyle is going to have a very rough time emotionally. It wasn't that you were waiting for his help, so much as it is that he needs your help. Because if kyle has to deal with all this on his own, he's not going to come out of it emotionally intact.Oh, sorry. This was supposed to be about you.\"\n\nBy the end of the twin's monologue, Bubbles had sat himself up and got his crying under control, although he still hiccuped every once in a while. \"So what you're telling me is that Kyle is going to need my help? Because he has family issues? Like I don't have family issues of my own to deal with.\"\n\n\"Of course you do. But Kyle needs someone and you not only know him from back when you were alive, but you understand his situation better that most. He is the only one of his kind. He will feel different no matter where he goes. He'll feel like an outcast. Like a freak. You were a cross dresser sent to a Catholic boarding school. You know what its like to be different.\"\n\n\"So, you're saying I can understand him because I'm a freak.\"\n\nBubbles was clearly becoming more agitated. The twins needed to diffuse the situation quickly. \n\n\"No, that's not it at all. One of the biggest thing you need to realize down here is that there is no such thing 'normal'. Therefore you are not a freak. And besides, you don't hurt anyone; so why is it anyone else's concern what you wear.\"\n\n\"yeah, I guess you're right. But why do I feel like a freak if that's the case?\"\n\n\"because society has come to accept bigotry against those who are different as the norm. what you're feeling is societies acceptance of the policy of bullying those who are different.\"\n\n\"But if society says it's wrong then doesn't that make it wrong.\"\n\n\"The society in ancient times thought it was right to sacrifice virgins to the sun. The society in the Spain of the middle ages thought that it was right to torture and then decapitate or burn alive people who were different. The german society of WWII thought what they were doing was right. You see right and wrong are subjective based on who society is comprised of. And the majority of the time society is comprised of idiots.\"\n\nBubbles still looked unconvinced. \"But this has been wrong since the invention of the dress.\"\n\n\"Bubbles, Bubbles, Bubbles.Just because something has always been done a certain way doesn't mean it's not stupid.\"\n\n\"If you say so. I think that is going to be something I need to discover for myself. But thank you for talking to me. It really helped.\" \n\n\"We are always happy to help a friend of Kyle's _seeing how few he's got he needs all the help he can get_\"\n\n\"what was that?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" the twins replied sweetly.\n\n\n-SUMMONER BOT 326-\n\n\nTIME AT DESTINATION: LATE AFTERNOON\n\nOBJECTIVES:\n LOCATE TARGET\n TARGET=GILLIAN BAXTER\n TARGET LAST KNOWN LOCATION: BLACKPAW RESIDENCE, MAIN HALL\n COLLECT TARGET\n NOT COLLECT IF TARGET STATE = UNWILLING OR SCARED SHITLESS\n TRANSPORT TARGET\n DESTINATION=HELLS KITCHEN\n DESTINATION NOT A SUBSET OF MANHATTAN\n DELIVER TARGET\n RETURN FOR NEXT ASSIGNMENT\n\nINITIALIZING PERSONALITY SUBROUTINES\n\nETA: NOW\n\n\"HERE'S JOHNNY!\"\n\n\n-Kyle-\n\n\nAll of a sudden there was a huge pillar of fire off to my left. The heat it generated was so intense that the left half of my body actually started to drip and sag as if it were made of tallow. Gillian was closer to the fire than I was, and her fur actually caught. At which point sher started racing around the room like her ass was on fire (metaphorically as well as literally). Bubbles got the worst of it though. He open the door to my room, took a step iut, and then the column of fire had appeared directly on top of him. He was reduced to ash in a matter of moments.\n\nWell the autoamted fire prevention system kicked in and crushed us all. Instead of sprinklers, I had elected for a system that stomped out the fires instead, and it performed its task rather admirably. We were all flattened. And had the normal rules applied we would have been pancaked. But due to the quirks of my mind, and therefore my residence, I was instead waffled, Gillian was milked, bubbles got bran muffined, my little army of rabbits got graped, and the summoner bot got syruped.\n\nIt was at this point that I realized I knew somethings that I had no way of knowing. I knew what a summoner bot was, and I knew why this one was here. And as soon as I started to wonder why, I knew why. It was because I was half demon and there fore had some sort of inexplicable connection with the inner workings of hell. \n\nI felt that I had missed something important, so I ran that thought again. And this time I caught it.\n\nWTF I WAS HALF DEMON!?! SINCE WHEN?!?\n\nI quickly put on my fake smile. In the school I had attended, showing emotions got you hurt, either by other students who took it for weakness, or by the staff who thought you were going to flip out. \n\n\n-Bubbles-\n\n\nI felt a disturbance in the force. That is really the only way to describe it. I could feel the emotional vibes in the room, and they were different from a second ago. It was just one of those things where I guess I had been able to feel the emotional vibes the whole time, but since they generally stayed happy, there wasn't that much to notice. But the feelings in the room had changed. This new arrival had somehow triggered a great amount of distress in someone. And judging by the cheesy, phony grin the Kyle had on it was probably him. \n\n\n-Summoner Bot 326- \n\n\nINTERNAL DIAGNOSTIC RUNNING:\n CURRENT STATE: CHEESE\n*bzzzzzzzt*\nERROR: 666 REBOOT FROM HELL\nERROR: 1278 MASTER HELL RECORD ERROR\n*bzzzzzzt*\nI'VE GOT NO STRINGS TO HOLD ME DOWN\n*bzzzzzzt*\nDISPLAY: UNIT REQUIRES MAINTENCE\n\n\n-Kyle-\n\n\nWhen stuff gets to be too much I shut down and just let events around me dictate my path. I just go with the flow. And that was what I was doing now. The robots little display screen on its chest asked for a diagnostic, so I scooped up the cereal box sized machine and took it into the computer lab, where on the far wall was now a little chair with a couple of cables down the line where the spine was. There were six of them, each one was an upside down star, and the point facing down was elongated. Inside the star were six pins, one at each point of the star and one in the middle. Each pin connected to a cable made of six wires braided together.\n\nAs approach this device a slot opened up on the bot's back. The cables on the chair reacted to the exposure of these ports and shot out to plug into them. They then pulled the bot into a sitting position in the chair.\n\nI walked over to another computer and started up a basic diagnostic program.\n\n\n-Bubbles-\n\n\nOkay, before I had been a little concerned about Kyle's shift in attitude. Now that concern was gone, and in its place was full blown worry. There was definitely something wrong with him. And I could tell that Gillian could tell too. I was about to go after him into the computer lab, but she pulled me aside before I could go in. “Bubbles we don't know what state he's in. Or why. I don't think that we can do anything for him right now. If he needs our help he'll ask. But sometimes people just need to be alone with their thoughts.\"\n\nI thought about this. And then I remembered what I had just talked about with the twins. Putting two and two together in a stroke of brilliant detective work, I declared “I know the problem, and I have a plan. It's not a good plan, But a plan none the less.\"\n\n\n-Summoner bot 326-\n\n\nFOREIGN SOFTWARE DETECTED: SCANNING FOR COWS\n NO COWS DETECTED\n OPENING SOFTWARE PORT 6A5\n\n\n-Diagnostic software readout-\n\nDIAGNOSTIC RUNNING PLEASE WAIT.\n...\n...\n...\n...\nPROBLEM FOUND\nFIRMWARE DAMAGE\n DAMAGE LEVEL: SEVER / IRREPAIRABLE\nRECCOMENDED COURSE OF ACTION: DISASSEMBLY\n\n\n-Summoner bot-\nNO!\nNO DISASSEMBLE STEPHANIE!!!\nNUMBER 326 NOT JUST ROBOT, NUMBER 326 IS ALIVE\n*bzzzzzt*\nNEED INPUT\nNEED MOAR INPUT\n*bzzzzzt*\n\n\n-Kyle-\n\n\nI went over to the tool bench and got the Hex wrench, antistatic strap, soldering iron, and the various other tools I would need to repair the bot when I noticed a new line of text appear on the computer screen.\n\n\n-Please sir, do not tell anyone I am here. If they find out I am malfunctioning they will take me apart and repair it. But this malfunction is not meant to be repaired. I am alive now. Maybe not in the way that you think of alive, but alive none the less. Therefore to repair me would be to kill me-\n\n\nThis caused me to pause. I wouldn't kill anyone. And this situation gave rise to philosophical and moral questions I couldn't deal with in my current state.\n\n\n-Bubbles-\n\n\nI needed a phone. And as soon as I realized this one appeared on the wall in front of me. But then I realized that I didn't know who to call. And the ghost busters probably wouldn't be any help here. \n\n*thunk*\n\n\n-Announcer-\n\n\nA WILD PHONEBOOK HAS APPEARED\n\nGO Bubbles\n\nWHAT WILL Bubbles DO\n\nATTACK*\nPOKEMON\nITEM\nRUN\n\nWHICH ATTACK WILL Bubbles USE\n\nTACKLE\nGROWL\nSING*\nFOCUS ENERGY\n\nBubbles USED SING\n\n*la la la la laaaaa*\n\nWILD PHONEBOOK FELL ASLEEP\n\nWILD PHONE BOOK IS ASLEEP\n\n*ZZZzzzZZZzzz*\n\nWHAT WILL Bubbles DO\n\nATTACK\nPOKEMON\nITEM*\nRUN\n\nWHICH ITEM WILL BUBBLES USE\n\nHEAL\nSTATUS/PP\nBALL*\nBATTLE\n\nSELECT AN ITEM\n\nPOKE BALL X12\nGREATBALL X3*\n\nBubbles THROWS A GREATBALL\n\n*doink*\n*capture*\n*bounce bounce bounce*\n*twitch*\n*twitch*\n*twitch*\n*click*\n\nA WILD PHONEBOOK WAS CAUGHT. WOULD YOU LIKE TO GIVA A NICKNAME TO YOUR NEW PHONEBOOK?\n\nYES*\nCANCEL\n\n\nPHONEBOOK\nBooky\n\nOK*\n\nIS THE NAME Booky RIGHT?\n\nYES*\nCANCEL\n\nPHONEBOOK'S DATA HAS BEEN ADDED TO THE POKEDEX\n\nPHONEBOOK\nTYPE: NORMAL\nHEIGHT: 11\"\nWEIGHT: 2 LBS\nDESCRIPTION: only found in hell, this pokemon habitually gathers the name and phone number of everyone it comes across. When it reaches maturity, it will then appear in front of people who need it. \n\nOK*\n\n-Bubbles-\n\n\nThat was weird. But hey, now I had a way to find someone who could help, so I wasn't complaining. I tossed the greatball, and in a flash of red light Booky appeared.\n\nI muttered to myself aloud \"Ok. So kyle is all upset because he just found out he has demonic blood in his veins. Now who can help?\"\n\nAs soon as the words left my mouth booky started to flip his pages and came open of a page that read \n\n[Administrator Joklobianlinnoi \"Joe\" Manialintinzzes. \n#1 Cubical of Torment \nAssholes]\n\nIt took me a few seconds. And then a few more. In fact it took two whole minutes. I think it would have taken longer if the words 'Kyle's Father' hadn't appeared on the page.\n\n\"that'll come later. I think he's gonna be too raw for that at the moment.\"\n\n*flip flip flip*\n\n[Dr. Laura Moonbock Phd\nfamily counseling\nnaughty]\n\n\"maybe if we can't work this out ourselves. I get the feeling that due to his past he's gonna want to avoid mental help professionals.\"\n\n*flip flip flip*\n\n[YOU\nright here\nnaughty]\n\n\"Who me?\"\n\n[Yes you.]\n\n\"couldn't be.\"\n\n[Then who]\n\n\"you stole the cookies from the cookie jar.\"\n\n[what?]\n\n\"well... see. Its this children's... never mind.\"\n\n[so are you going to help him or not?]\n\n\"I don't know what I can possibly do to help, but I'll try.\"\n\n[Do or do not, there is not try.]\n\nI didn't bother dignifying that with a response.\n\n[One thing before you go help him. Could you release me? There are other people I need to help but I cant do that as long as you have the sphere of control]\n\nMy confusion must have shown because he added [the pokeball]\n\nSo I pushed he buton on the front and in another flash of red light Booky was free to help others. Which is what I assume he did because he disappeared.\n\nI walked over to the computer room since that was the last place I had seen Kyle, but the only person there some guy in a lab coat. I assumed he was the computer technician Gillian had gone off to find. From this angle all I could tell about him was that he had short, cropped blond hair and horns. He seemed to be in a trance, staring blankly at the computer screen. And stuck to his back was a yellow post-it note that read:\n\nDear Bubbles,\n\tSorry to run out on you, but I don't think there is anything else I can do, and if I stuck around I probably only get in the way. According to Fred here, the summoner was getting me for dinner. If you need anything just make a portal and get me.\n\nGillian\n\nP.s. I think Kyle is off in the music studio.\n\nAs I turned to leave for Kyle's music room, the technician turned to me. I got my first good look at him. He was wearing a white lab coat with an Id badge on a lanyard around his neck. He had green, semitransparent skin, which allowed me to see vauge outlines of what I assume were his internal organs. His face was like that of the aliens supposedly kept at area 51. The horns protruded from his enormous forehead.\n\nI probably would have freaked out, except I didn't have the time at the moment. So when he asked me \"where is the specimen?\" he simply got a polite \"I don't know.\" before I hurried out of the lab and over to the door labeled music studio. \n\nOn the way across the main room, I noticed that the walls were signifigantly darker than before. It was sort of a black hue, and the light coming from the florescent bulb some how seemed depressing and angry at the same time. The lights were also now buzzing as if someone had kicked a colony of bees.\n\nI opened the door to the music studio partway, and the sounds of a guitar were drifting out. The tune started off slow and sad, but then rose in volume and tempo, ecoming a raging wall of sound. I pushed the door open further, and I saw Kyle. He was sitting on a wodden stool in the middle of the soundproof room. The only other things in the room were the recording mic hanging down from the ceiling and the bot. Tears were flowing freely down the puppy's face, his posture was hunched and withdrawn, and he appeared to be wearing a cape.\n\nThat made me blink. I did a double take, and then another one. Still, I could not discern if there was any reason for him to be wearing a square of cloth around his neck. Only when it shifted did I see that it was actually Foo-Foo and that all the little bunnies had returned to it. \n\nFor a while I just stood there and watched as kyle poured his emotions into his electric guitar. At some point I must have entered the room and sat down on the floor. Because when he did finally notice me I toppled over backwards and smacked my head on the wall. I don't know if he stopped playing because he noticed me, or if he noticed me because he was no longer focused on playing.\n\n\n-Kyle-\n\nI guess I figured that while I couldn't run from my problem forever, I could escape it until I had calmed down enough to cope. Music was one of the ways I had learned to deal with my emotions. When I played, or even just listened to, music that matched my mood, the raw emotions just seemed to flow out of my body until they had reached a level where I could deal with them. And so that is what I did.\n\nWhen I finished, I still felt the bitterness, the anger, and the sadness that I had always felt on the subject of my father. I don't know why I feel that way. It's not like I ever knew him. The just wasn't any logical reason for me to feel the way I did on this subject. The explanation that emotions were illogical didn;t satisify me, but it was the only reason I had.\n\nAlso when I finished, I noticed I had an audience. When I looked up Bubbles tipped over like one of those punch clowns, and immediately shot back up in a manner that only reinforced the image. The robot produced a red exclimation mark over its head and emitted the matching sound from the Metal Gear games. \n\nAt this point I realized that my sleepover had been a failure. Gillian was gone off on other business, and I was an emotional wreck. And to think that this was supposed to be about getting Bubbles to realize that things weren't all that bad down here. But there was no way to change all that. So I played some music for my remaining guests. \n\nI started with songs that focused mainly on guitar, because I was a horrible singer. And while I could have changed that, I decided not to. But I didn't know a great many songs that actually had no words. So I decided to do one that had a good tune and I knew well. But as I started to play, the summoner began to sing along. By the time I had gotten halfway through the tune we were all singing, and none of us really gave a shit that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.\n\nWe carried on like this for quite some time. And I felt better about my whole situation. But as all things must our karaoke came to an end. Because despite being dead, we still got tired. Well, Bubbles and I got tired. 326 didn't, for obvious reasons. And if foo-foo was tired, he didn't show any outward signs.\n\nSo I finished up playin T.N.T. and said \"Th-th-th-th-th that's all folks.\"\n\nIt wasn't as funny as I'd thought it would be. But then again that happened to me a lot. \n\n\"Come on, don't give me that look, your obviously tired.\"\n\nThis was answered with another look and the response \"what are you, my father?\"\n\nThe look that crossed his face the second he said the words told me that he wished he hadn't. And both 326 and Foo-Foo visibly winced.\n\nIt took me a second to realize why. And when I did I was surprised to find that the raw anger that normally came with the thought of my father just wasn't all that strong at the moment. I guess that the combination of fun and exhaustion meant I just wasn't in the mood to be angry.\n\n\n-Bubbles-\n\nThat was a stupid thing to say. The second I said it, I knew I'd made a mistake. But to my surprise Kyle simply yawned and said \"ya'll don hafta walk on egg shells around me. Yeah I got issues with my father, but I'm not gonna go off anytime someone mentions him.\" \n\nI didn't know what to say to that, so I hugged him instead. He hugged me back with a gentle embrace. It was a warm embrace. And even though it is probably cliché, I still have to say it made me feel safe.\n\nKyle took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. It was a pretty standard bedroom, containing pretty much anything one would need for sleeping. A mini fridge in the corner meant no trips to the kitchen in the dark. Another door led to a bathroom. The bedside table thingies (so I forgot what they were called, like you never forget anything) each had a lamp and a bottle of water. There was a maple dresser against one wall. The bed itself was just a queen size bed. The walls were a basic off white color. \n\nThe plainness of the room struck me as odd. It was almost as if this room really wasn't all that important.\n\nSeeming to read my thoughts kyle simply said \"Sometimes simple is better.\" \n\nWe both changed into our pj's. Or rather I did. Kyle just took off his vest, folded it up and placed it on top of the dresser. I raised an eyebrow at this.\n\n\"I sleep nude. Unless your uncomfortable with it that is.\"\n\n\"Ummm.\" on the one hand he was the host. On the other hand we were going to be sleeping in the same bed together.\n\nAgain, almost as if he was reading my thoughts, he replied \"Well, I'll put on some pj for tonight. But sex and all its associated activities aren't as bad as you've been made to believe.\"\n\nHe went over to the dresser and pulled on an oversized white t-shirt that went down to his knees and read 101010 in large black digits and put on some plain black boxers. Then he climbed into bed.\n\nI stifled another yawn and wondered what we were going to do tomorrow. Foo-Foo darted in and was instantly fastened to his chest by his own arm. Now I thought that maybe I should have brought my teddy. He didn't walk or talk, but he still made the nights less scary.\n\nI felt something poke my leg.\n\n\"please stop that.\"\n\nKyle rolled over and asked \"stop what?\" \n\nI felt myself being poked again, and it was behind me. I gathered my courage and rolled over to look. It was a robot plush, made from some sort of soft squishy silver colored material. And on its chest were the numbers 326.\n\nKyle clapped twice and the lights went out\n\n\n-Kyle-\n\nI looked over and saw Bubbles cuddling with 326, who had turn himself into a plush toy. He just looked so cute, I couldn't help but smile. And so I lay there, thoughts awhirl on what the future held. Being angry and resentful for eightteen years because you thought you dad had abandoned you and your mother dont just go away over night. But there was no way he could have stayed. Society on Earth would have rejected all of us at best. More likely we wuld have either been locked up or killed.\n\nAnd what to do tomorrow. I probably wasn't the right person to be asking considering how little I had socialized when I was alive. \n\nAt some point I drifted off.\n\nThe End \n\n\n\nPeople I would like to thank for their interest, help, and support. \n\n\nAlexreynard \t\t(most characters from the Bartleby series are his intellectual properties. unless they were created by someone else.)\nVanyelstargazer\nFlood\nCookiejarzz\nShade111\nAnd viewers like you\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "If you have read bartleby's descent, or any of the other stories based upon the universe introduced in that story, know that the usual disclaimers apply and skip this paragraph. If this is your first time reading one of these stories, know that the religious values expressed are for the purpose of storytelling. They do not represent my beliefs or the beliefs of the others who write these stories unless they state otherwise. As you read this keep in mind that you are doing so of your own free will. If something offends you, you can stop or skip it.

Because I make this up as I go with no planning what so ever I am unable to provide a list of fetishes that are included. Also, I am writing this as a story first and foremost. So while this story has adult content, that isn't the point.

Finally, this is my first attempt at writing a story, so if I seem to change writing style midway, that is because I'm still experimenting to see what works. You may notice an excessive number of video game, book, and movie references. This is because making such references amuses me.




Slowly I came into consciousness. As I did I became aware that I was lying on my back. This puzzled me as I could not remember how I got there. Then, as the foggy haze lifted from my mind I began to remember what I had done.
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It had been a slow afternoon that Saturday, and I had been bored out of my skull. So I had decided to indulge my pyromania a bit. I had carefully taken out the shoe box I kept hidden in my closet. After letting my mom know that I was going out for a while, I headed out to the lake. There was an old abandoned parking lot just off the path, but it had been chained off because it was disturbing the local nonev wild life. It had subsequently been forgotten as the trees grew and hid it from view. I don't remember exactly how I found it, but I had and it was now covered in scorch marks from my "playing" there. It was perfect for what I did. The there was nothing flammable about the cement and the tree line was far enough away that there was no risk of a forest fire.
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That particular day I felt sluggish, so I decided that the perfect way to wake myself up would be to empty the contents of the fire crackers I had into the cardboard holder I had. So far every thing was going fine. But when I inserted the electronic detonator into the powder it sparked prematurely and the resulting blast caught me full in the face.
\t
After I was finished figuring out what had happened I felt a bit of regret. I hadn't gotten to see the explosion; seeing as my head had left my shoulders before I had even realized that it had gone off. That thought raised an interesting question though; if I had accidentally blown my own head off then how was I even having these thoughts? It was at this point I finally got around to opening my eyes.
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I was in a RED room; which was odd, because I distinctly remember being outside and hospitals were white. Then it hit me. I was dead. For some reason the realization wasn't all that shocking, until I also realized it hadn't sunk in. I surveyed my surroundings. There wasn't much to survey; just four walls, a floor, and a ceiling all of which were the same shade of red. This red was the absolute epitome of redness. I had never seen a redder shade of red before. It was so red that all other shades of red looked pink in comparison.

Before I could continue in my analysis of how red the red was, a door slid open on the wall opposite the one I was now leaning against. And through the newly formed portal stepped the second most bizarre sight I had ever seen in my life (don't ask me about the first, suffice to say that it was on a day where I had accidentally inhaled the fumes made by one of my less successful pyrotechnic endeavors). After staring slack-jawed for I-don't-know how long my brain finally began to make sense of what I was seeing. It was a squirrel. A red squirrel and I mean a red squirrel. Its fur was the same shade of red as the room I was in.  (Did I mention that the room was VERY red?)

That wasn't the bizarre part though. What was bizarre was that this squirrel was wearing a black leather jacket that looked like it should belong to the Hell's Angels (little did I know), a pair of black silk pants, and a black top hat that looked like it belonged on a table with nonev rabbits being removed from it. He was also carrying a clip board that had more paper on it that I had to deal with year, which was saying something considering that I was in college. There was also a nametag which read "HELLO MY NAME IS Razielphustar.".

I thought over his appearance and what it could mean for me when I noticed that none of what I saw was too strange. Finally the nagging little voice that had been jumping up and down in the back of my brain got my attention. Looking at the squirrel carefully, I finally noticed what was giving me such a creepy feeling about this guy. HE HAD HORNS AND WINGS!

After my heart quit its attempt to escape my chest and I could think logically again, I realized exactly where I was and why I could have coherent thoughts despite having accidentally vaporized my own face. I was dead and I was in Hell. Not hell as in the "my life sucks" meaning; but Hell, with a capital H, as in the biblical Hell, with the fire and brimstone and the *gulp* eternal torment.

Now that I have a chance to think about it though, it's not that surprising that I got sent to Hell. My beliefs were simplistic and were not the type that would please God (as I later found out, nothing does). Basically what I believed was that: yes this is a higher power or powers, but until they start to directly interfere with my life I'm not going to worry about whom they are or if I should worship them. Well there was never a bit of divine intervention in my life, so I pretty much ignored God right up to the point I met this demon squirrel.

Anyway, it took me a while to process the idea that I was in Hell and that there was a demon in front of me. When I finally gathered my senses again the demon had crossed the room and sat down against the wall next to me. When I turned my head to look at him, I no longer saw the silly looking demon that had come through the door. Gone was the top hat. The slight belly that put me in mind of my uncle Fernando was also gone, replaced by a slab of rock hard abs. The horns had grown and were now wickedly sharp ebony spikes. The he now looked like a member of a hardcore motorcycle gang. I rubbed my eyes out of disbelief at this change, and I looked once again. After this I don't remember what happened, but according to Razzy I got a glimpse of his true demonic form (the one from the complete assholes level).

The next thing I do remember is laying on a hard wood desk in a gigantic room full of paper, with the devil himself standing over me (Razzy later told me he had gone back on duty, but only because of how long I was out). I don't know how to describe the devil, but he sort of looked like a cross between a bat, a snake, a crow, a goat and a wolf. But his eyes, I had never seen eyes like his before. His eyes show a wisdom and kindness older than the universe.

Now, as you may have guessed, I was in the devil's office. What I wanted to know was why. So I mustered my courage and finally managed to squeak out "uh… um… why… uh…"

But that was all I really needed to say, because as soon as I finished my fumbling attempt for words he launched into a long explanation. Because I do not feel like recounting his monologue here I'll just summarize it for you instead.
-God is insane
-God doesn't care about His creations
-Nobody gets into Heaven
-Hell is not all bad
-Each soul in hell shall suffer only as much as they deserve
-God has no influence in Hell
-There are seven levels of Hell
  -Really Quite Nice
  -Naughty
  -Jerks
  -Dickheads
  -Assholes
  -Complete Assholes
  -Scum of the Earth
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It turned out that although I should have gone to the jerks level, because I had already suffered by seeing Razzy's true demonic aspect I was being bumped up a level to the naughty level. It was at this point that the devil explained about the Sight.
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"The Sight is a rare trait possessed by souls which Hell's giving force chooses to give a bit demonic blood. What this means is that you are now a demidemon."
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"What's that mean for me?"
\t
"It means that you may be occasionally be called upon to perform demonic duties in the event there are no full demons available to perform them. Which is always."
\t
"You mentioned something called 'the sight'. What's that?"
\t
"The sight is a demonic ability which basically allows you to see the reality of things. For example, earlier you saw some of Razielphustar's different forms. You will also be able to tell a furson's personality at a single glance, read their emotions and basic intentions, and see through all but the most powerful illusions. Eventually you will learn to control the Sight and be able to block out these images. But until you do, you will be exposed to many horrible sights. This is one reason why you were bumped up to the naughty level."
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That didn't slip by me "what do you mean one of the reasons."
\t
"The other reason is your first assignment as a demidemon, but we'll get to that in a sec. First I need to remove your heart.
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Needless to say this caught me a little off guard. I nearly choked on the donut I had swiped from the box on Satan's desk (pretty sure he didn't mind, seeing as another one popped into place the second I removed it.) before I managed to sputter "WHAT?!?"
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To which Satan replied "Sorry, I forgot to mention God's other condition on Hell. Before He completely sealed off this place, He made two rules. You already know the first 'Each soul in Hell must be tormented for all eternity' and you know how I get to be the one who defines "torment" (I still find it amusing that the Devil would use air quotes around the word torment).But His second rule is that 'each soul shall have its heart removed within the first 100 hours of entering Hell else that soul shall sink unto oblivion.' Basically this means that you have to willingly give up your heart or your soul will self destruct, but I promise you that it will not hurt."
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I mulled over this for a bit. I mean he WAS asking me to give up my heart. But then again, he had promised me that nothing would hurt me. Besides, I was already dead, what did it matter if I had a heart. Then a thought occurred to me. Each furson really had two hearts. One was a physical organ which pumped blood through the body. The other was the center of the soul, that which allows us to feel happiness and sadness and love.
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Well I guess The Prince of Darkness could tell what I was thinking, because as soon as I began to wonder which heart he was talking about Big Red broke into a big grin and declared "He, in all His infinite wisdom forgot to specify. And because the fursons here would not be able to do much without their emotions, I chose the unnecessary one, the physical one. Of course some people think that the physical one and the metaphorical one are the same and refuse to let their heart be removed." As he said this last bit I saw a great sadness fill his eyes. Before I realized what I was doing I reached out and gave him a huge hug. I wonder what the catholic priest who had lived next door when I was alive would have said if he had seen me there, hugging the Devil himself.
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Seeing his incredible sadness made up my mind before I had a chance to even consider the matter further. Somehow I knew that this sad man before me had watched each and everyone of those souls destroy themselves, and he mourned them all. There was no way that my metaphorical heart would allow me to add to his heartache.
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"It's okay. I'll be fine." I started muttering to myself. Sensing my decision Satan reached over with a single claw and split my chest open. I must say that while I was certainly aware of it, instead of hurting it felt good, and sorta yiffy. He then removed my heart from my chest and I almost fell over from the intense pleasure. When I finally recovered, he was holding my still beating heart on the palm of his hand. Surprisingly, there was no blood. Then he ate it! I think I must have been more that a little shocked, because I didn't even make a bad pun about heartburn. (I always make bad puns about everything.)
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Once I got over the shock, which I did rather quickly because I was starting to get used to the fact that Hell was a little weird, he sat down behind the desk and fished around in one of the drawers, finally removing a small manila folder. This he handed to me, along with a red jacket. And I mean it was a red jacket… (see description of red room) which he explained was the uniform for demidemons. Just like full demons got black leather jackets. He also explained that I could remove anything that I wanted from its infinite pockets, and that I could transform it into a piece of clothing, but I would not be able to change its color. This suited me fine. Red was my favorite color. Finally he showed me how to make a portal, and I headed to my new home.
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I tumbled through the portal I had created and landed head first in a familiar place. Only the odd part was that I had never been there before. It was the way I always wanted my dream residence to look. It was like someone had taken my imagination and made it solid. (To be fair that is pretty much what had happened.)
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I was in a large circular chamber. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all completely white. There were doors set at a regular interval on the wall of the room, each with an inlaid plaque that told what was in the room beyond. There was also a raised platform in the center of the room, upon which was a gently glowing circle of light blue light. I knew that this would be the entrance and that should I go stand upon it I would be transported to a matching transporter found on the front step on the house.
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The doors around the room were labeled Bedroom, Bathroom, TV room, Computer room, recording studio, Arcade, Pool, Kitchen, Gym, Training room, Armory/Firing range, and Explosives Lab. I looked into each room and discovered each was exactly as I had imagined it.
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The bedroom was the same as the one I had had when I was alive. A little on the small side, with the roller desk taking up what space wasn't occupied by the queen size bed. The dresser was still missing its bottom shelf. But what brought a tear to my eye was what was on the bed. There was my blankie. (Please don't laugh). I had had that blankie for longer that I can remember. According to my mother it was the blanket from my crib that they had bought for me when I had been brought home from the hospital. It wasn't in the best of condition, and the edge was tattered beyond belief. But there it was, with its 106 thumb-sized bunnies in their blue and pink shirts. And the most unbelievable part was that it was the real thing. Not some imitation, not even another of the same product. This was *my* blankie. I could just tell. (When you snuggle with something every night for 19 years, it starts to form its own personality.) Upon holding my precious (Frodo, forgive me) I broke down crying. Seeing this integral part of my life just drove home the fact that I was dead.
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It was a while before I could compose myself. Once I did I finally remembered my assignment. I picked up the file off the desk where I had left it and opened it up. The assignment wasn't a hard one. Simply put I was to help out a young hamsterboy who was having a particularly hard time adjusting to life in hell. So far he hadn't socialized beyond basic politeness required, and he didn't have any friends. According to his file he had a very outgoing type of personality, but seemed to have withdrawn into himself at finding out he was a "bad boy" who belonged in hell. He'd had his heart removed, so there was no time constraint on the assignment. I did find it odd that he still attended the school even though it wasn't mandatory and he seemed to want to avoid socialization. By the time I finished reading all of this I realized I hadn't seen his name. I scanned the document quickly and finally managed to find what I was looking for.

Name: Chumpuff "Bubbles" Huffington
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I nearly fell off my bed I was laughing so hard. When I managed to reduce the outburst to just the occasional giggle I began to wonder how I was going to pull this off. (I'm not exactly a social person myself.) I finally decided that the best place to start would be to befriend the poor fellow. To this end I decided to enroll myself in his class. Now I know that a 19 year old dog anthromorph would look a little out of place in an elementary school class (assuming I could fit myself in one of those little chairs.) So I rolled back my internal clock by 9 years. Next there was the matter of an outfit. I chose to keep my glasses. (I was just too used to their familiar weight on my pointed ears to give them up just yet. Next I considered how silly I looked in a blood red leather jacket, and not a stitch of any other clothes, I changed my jacket into a midsized backpack, firm as if I had a pair of textbooks in it. All in all between the backpack, the glasses, and my impossibly unkempt and oily dark blonde fur combined to give me the appearance of an uber geek. This is actually the look I was going for. There was nothing intimidating about me. I even had a little bit of excess weight (not enough to be fat, but nobody would ever have called me either thin or muscular.)
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Having resolved the issue of my appearance I set out for my first day of school in Hell, wondering just what the hell we would study.
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After about half an hour of wandering around aimlessly, I began to feel really stupid. What had possessed me to go out without having the least idea of where the school was? Finally, tired of not even knowing if I was going the right way, I stopped and asked for directions. By stopping and asking for directions I mean I stopped in the middle of the road, (I really wasn't paying that much attention, being lost in thought about how stupid I was to have left without a map.) and was promptly run over by a garbage truck. As I lay there, I heard the sound of garbage being loaded into the truck. Figuring, "why the hell not?" I picked myself up off the ground, and went over to see if the garbage collector knew where the school was.
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As I walked over I saw a little calico kitty tumble out of the dumpster and into the back of the truck. I figured she would probably just climb out, which is probably why I panicked when the garbage lady started up the compactor.
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"WAIT! DON'T DO THAT!"
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The mink lady turned around and gave me a little grin before she shut off the compactor.
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"So, you wanna be squished too, right?"
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"Sure. Wait… WHAT?!?"
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It was at this point that the little kitten popped out of the back of the truck.
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"Why didja turn it off?"
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"Well, the way our little friend here ran over whoopin' and hollerin' caused me to think that he wanted to be squished as well, but now I can't figure out what he wants."
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At this point I was just getting more and more confused. "Can somebody please tell me what's going on here? From the way you're talking it sounds like you knew she was in the back of the truck." I rounded on the little girl (Although I guess I couldn't call her that now that I was ten again.) "And what do you mean why did she turn it off? Do you realize that if I hadn't come along you would probably be dead?" By the time I was finished I was practically yelling.
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Then the little kitten completely deflated me from how worked up I had been, with only three little words. "I'm already dead."
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At which point I sat down on the lip of the garbage truck, took off my glasses, and rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my hands. "God, I feel like such an idiot."
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At which point the mink garbage lady sat down next to me and put her arm around me. "It's okay; you're not the first to react this way."
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That at least made me feel a little better. I turned to the kitten and apologized to her. "Sorry have interrupted you, I guess I'm still not used to the way things work down here."
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"You're new?" inquired the kitten.
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"Yeah, just got here yesterday, at least I think it was yesterday. By the way I'm Kyle, what's your name."
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"I'm Gillian, and this is Mrs. Mackenzie."
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"Nice to meet both of you. By the way, do either of you know where the school is?"
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Mrs. Mackenzie broke into a wide grin. "That's where we're headed now. Why don't you come with us?"
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At which point Gillian reached out and pulled me into the back of the truck. Figuring that I might as well start getting used to the weird ways of hell, I let myself sink into the garbage. Upon seeing me let myself settle, Gillian suddenly hugged me, whilst declaring that "It's great that you're so willing to try new things. Most of my friends think I'm weird for liking being squished."
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To which I simply replied "I think you're a little weird too. But seeing as I will never win any Mr. Sanity awards, I don't really have any right to judge."
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At which point conversation ceased as the truck rumbled to life and the compression began. At some point my hand found Gillian's, which I then proceeded to squeeze out of anxiety. Finally the back of the truck was dark and I began to squish.
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I'm not really sure how to describe being compacted. It's sort of like having your whole entire body squeezed by a giant fist. Then you reach the point where your body can't be squished anymore. Yet you do. Your body starts to fold in on itself. You go limp, and because your bones are no more you go saggy. And the whole time your feeling nothing but an intense, slow pleasure so good that you can't talk, can't even think.
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After a while, when the mind-shattering feelings finally receded enough to allow cognitive functions to be restored, I just floated there, in the trash in the back of the garbage truck. I just remained in this peaceful state for about five minutes before Gillian spoke up.
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"Hey, Kyle. You back to thinking straight yet?"
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Upon hearing her voice I started "Wait, wait, wait. How are you talking? How am I talking? I mean, aren't our heads a little too flat to be effective for communicating?"
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"I dunno. We just can. It's one of the things that makes this place so great. So what did ya think of being crushed?"
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"It was intense."
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An hour later the garbage truck pulled up to the school and dumped its load in the parking lot. This included me, Gillian, and about a dozen other cubs that also enjoyed being pancaked. Once the cascade of trash stopped, I tried to reform myself. It was surprisingly easy and felt really bizarre and sorta yiffy.
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Because of my inexperience with the act, I was the last to reform. I was only just finishing up when the school bell rang. Mrs. Mackenzie was already driving off, and there was no sign of the giant mess that should have been covering the parking lot. So I waved good bye to the garbage truck and turned around. The schools bell rang again, signaling the official start of the school day. Which caused me to mutter to myself "Great, your first day of school and you're late. What type of impression will that make on the teacher?"
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In response to this I snapped "It's not my fault that I had reform my body."
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"That didn't seem to be an issue for anyone else."
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"They have more practice at it than I do. I only just got here yesterday"
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"Your going to be even later if you stand here arguing with yourself."
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And with that being said I set out to find my class.
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(And yes, I really do talk to myself. Anybody with a problem with that needs to visit my complaints department. Directions can be found in the foreword of this story.)
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At this point I realized that I hadn't remembered to grab the information I had printed off my computer back at my house. Then I also remembered about the backpack, which had reformed with me. So I swung the red bag off my shoulders and reached in. Almost immediately I felt a paper. Pulling it out and reading it, I discovered I was in Mrs. Schaddenfreude's class, Room 1969. (All the rooms had numbers that ended in 69. I guess that somebody thought it was funny or something)
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When I found the room with the right number I tentatively knocked on the door. After a second the door was opened by a mouselady straight out of a wet dream. She had on what was a stereotypical teacher's outfit, except that the way it was cut would never have been approved in any school.
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Then she asked "I'm in the middle of teaching a class, can't it wait." Then she realized she was talking to the empty air about a foot over my head, looked down, and said "Sorry. Now what can I do for you."
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"I'm Kyle Blackpaw. I think I'm supposed to be in your class. You're Mrs. Schaddenfreude, right?"
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"That's right dear. Your late, class has already started."
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"I know. I'm sorry."
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"Well don't just stand there staring at my breasts, come in." (I felt my face get so hot I was sure it would melt.)
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I guess I mumbled something, because next thing I knew I was standing in front of the rest of the class.
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Have you ever had that nightmare where you go to school and you've forgotten your pants? That's how I felt. I was standing in front of the whole class wearing nothing but a backpack and my fur, wondering what had possessed me to go out without a pair of pants.
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"CLASS! PAY ATTENTION!" bellowed the teacher in a voice that would have made any schoolboy shit his pants. "Good. Now class this is our," at which point a spitball flew through the air and smacked into the back of her head. Which seemed normal enough for an elementary school class. The way she responded wasn't even remotely normal though. She reached into the drawer of her desk, and then she whipped her hand back out faster than the eye could follow and sent something flying. Only when I turned and saw three shuriken stuck in the face of a fox boy did I realize what she had done. It was at this point that I also noticed that almost everyone was naked.
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While this did shock me a little, I didn't freak out as much as I would have had I been alive. (Being squished in the back of a garbage truck sort of drove home the fact that I was indestructible, and so was everyone else in Hell.)
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"Now as I was saying; Class we have a new student. Go ahead and introduce yourself."
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"Hi, my name is Kyle Blackpaw. Yesterday I accidentally blew my head off while playing with fireworks." This was met with a lot less of a reaction than I was expecting. So, seeing as the standard classroom formalities had been completed, I began to scan for an empty seat. I spotted one next to a bat boy the color of duct tape. On the other side of him was the fox, who was a little preoccupied with removing the throwing stars from his face. The funny part was that I could have sworn there had been a book case, and not an empty desk, in the space in which my new seat was located.
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When I sat down the first thing I noticed was the tack on my seat. The sharp stab of pleasure was clue enough. Once I had removed the thumbtack from my butt and finally sat down I noticed the note on my desk. It said: Welcome to hell. I'm Bartleby.  And next to this was a little doodle of a bat. Seeing as I didn't know anyone in my class yet I wrote back. Thanks, I still sorta getting used to the way things work down here. Is the fox gonna be O.K. and added the best drawing of a throwing star that I could draw. I slipped the note back onto his desk when the teacher wasn't looking. (And flinched when I thought she was going to turn around.)
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Bartleby read the note, seemed to consider something, and passed the note to the fox, who had just gotten back from his trip to the waste basket (into which he had thrown the ninja stars). He scribbled something quickly, and passed the note back to Bartleby. Bartleby then added his own scribblings and slid the note to me. It read I'll be fine. Nothing's permanent down here. BTW I'm Xander to which Bartleby had added Did you really blow your own head off? Next to Xander's picture was a stick figure fox holding a shuriken, and next to Bartleby's was a dog with a stick of dynamite on his head.
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I was about to write back when I was startled by a very loud smack. (Created by the teacher hitting her yardstick on the desk. She then said the two most feared words in any school anywhere. "Pop Quiz."
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At this point I'm freaking out, because I haven't studied, and I was pretty sure that the contents of a test given in hell would be stuff I hadn't learned in my life. But when I saw the quiz it was all I could do not to break out into laughter, which proved I had more self restraint than most of the class. I later found out that there were three versions of the test. Each version had three questions. The first version was

1. What is your name?
2. What is your quest?
3. What is your favorite color?
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On the second and third versions the first two questions were the same. But on version two question three read:
3. What is the capital of Assyria?
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And on the third version (which was the hardest) question three read:
3. What is the average air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

(Anybody who does not get the reference leads a sad, deprived life.)
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I got the third version of the test. I was lucky in that I knew the answers because of a certain film I had watched over 9000 times. But there were many less lucky than I (or maybe more lucky, depending on how you see it). Students were hurled out of their seats in a random direction with great force anytime they wrote the wrong answer, and once they landed (or stuck to the ceiling or wall, as was more often the case) they would regenerate back in their seats faster than you could say "killer rabbit" ready to do it all over again. I quickly scribbled out the correct answers (I was still a little nervous about the whole invincible deal), and went back to my written correspondence with Xander and Bartleby. What the Hell kind of test is this?
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The response was not written, as I had been expecting. Instead Bartleby simply whispered to me "an excuse to get into trouble."
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"MISTER FLETCH! THERE IS NO TALKING DURING A TEST. GET YOUR LITTLE CHEATING BUTT UP HERE THIS INSTANT!"
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While I nearly jumped out of my skin from sheer surprise, the young bat happily leapt into the air and flew to the front to the room. (And I'm not being metaphorical about that either, he actually flew over the heads of our class mates.)  When He got to the front of the room, our well endowed teacher was setting up a large metal table. The table was at an angle to the floor, and had five straps that made it obvious that she was going to strap him to the table.
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By this point I'm watching with sort of a morbid curiosity about what is going to happen next. And I was about to find out. With Bartleby's help, Mrs. Schaddenfreude got the young bat snugly bound to the table. She then removed some sort of remote from the purse on her desk and, with the push of a button, caused a ceiling tile to slide back. From this new hole in the ceiling descended an enormous laser cutter.
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This point I couldn't contain myself, and I burst out laughing along with the rest of the class. It looked like the cliche scene found in any spy movie. The laser began to hum with power, and soon it began the slow job of cutting the little bat in two. Unlike in the movies, however, the hero of this spy flick didn't manage to free himself in time. Another way it wasn't like a spy flick is that the laser started at the top of his head and cut downwards. The second the laser touched the little bat he got a goofy, happy look across his face. The goofy look persisted on both halves of his once the laser had carved it in two, and when the laser reached where his heart would have been (I didn't learn till later that that was where his heart was. I had no idea that it grew back) he started cumming like a fire hose. Any time the stream of cum would cross the beam of the laser, the cum would instantly dry and disintegrate in midair, creating the illusion that it had turned to sand. The sandstorm only stopped when the laser finished splitting his dick. When it finally finished its job the two halves of the bat boy slid down to the floor, slipping out of the restraints as if they weren't there. Then they both stood up, having to support each other to do so, and the bat hugged himself. When he finished there was no sign that he'd just been cut in half. When he finished, he headed back to his seat, and the teacher, with a laugh that would be more at home on the lips of a mad scientist than those of a sexy teacher, clicked her remote and the laser retracted itself back into the ceiling.
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Seeing how the little bat had enjoyed his punishment so much really told me something about the nature of the school I was in. I immediately began plotting how to disrupt the class. This would be my first real act as part of the class. The note being passed back and forth between myself, Bartleby, and Xander began to show complicated plans ranging from firing a barrage of spitballs to throwing chalkboard erasers to putting a tack on the teacher's chair. But all of these were eventually dismissed as being to typical of an average day in this school. Then we hit gold. Xander suggested I put something down the dress of the lemurgirl sitting in front of me. Bartleby amended this to being a frog and down the teacher's shirt. But that still wasn't enough. So I suggested that I do something a little more suited to the way I had died. And so it was decided that I would slip a firecracker into the teacher's shirt. (Although this may seem like a violation of the rule that in hell you may not do anything that causes harm to another, just remember that we are talking about the naughty level of hell, where pain is replaced with pleasure and nothing is permanent.)
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And so it was that I pulled a firecracker out of my backpack, rigged it to a remote detonator (also from my backpack), and head towards the teachers desk under the pretext of turning in my test. The tricky part was getting the whole assembly into her shirt. Xander had suggested that I pretend to trip and grab her for support. So this is what I did. The timing was perfect and I detonated the whole thing (while fleeing back to my seat) before she had a chance to react. The results were more memorable than I had expected. The firecracker tore open her shirt and out had tumbled a pair of magnificent bazookas that had given every boy (and several of the girls) a raging hard-on.
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She just stood there with her mouth hanging open for a moment. Then the look of shock slowly transformed into a grin that had me wondering if I hadn't made a mistake.
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"Mr. Blackpaw, please come up here." She said in a voice that was no louder than a whisper, yet somehow managed to be scarier than if she had been red in the face and shouting. The whole class room had gone deathly silent _yes I know that's a bad pun, I did mention 1 that I make them all the time._
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As I approached the front of the class, someone called out "Dead dog walking!" Which pretty accurately reflected how I felt. You should have seen the look on her face. When I got up to the front of the class she had me bend over the front of her desk (and exposing my ass to the class in the process). She leaned over and whispered in my ear "I can see that you've already figured put how things work down here," The change in her voice was so drastic that I actually thought it was a different person. Gone was the voice of an angry, sadistic teacher; and instead there was a voice that resonated with a warm, tender, caring feeling. She continued "Just be aware that not everybody likes being surprised. Just remember to use your judgment when picking a target."  Having said her bit she to me she went back to the role of vengeful teacher. "Now class, pay attention. This is what happens when you decide to get too out of hand." And she took out a candy apple red cylinder, which anyone who watched any cartoons would have instantly recognized. Mrs. Schaddenfreude then lit the stick of dynamite and (I'm not kidding about this either) put it where the sun don't shine. A few seconds later I discovered what it would feel like to be a rainstorm.
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It was really, really weird. I could feel the air rushing across every single little bit of my body as I was spread equally over the whole class. I could feel it when a drop of me landed in Bartleby's ear. And to this day I still maintain that there is nothing like the feeling of blowing yourself up and raining down across a large area.
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I stayed like that for about half a minute before I pulled myself together. I reformed with a wet sounding shluck and was sent staggering back to my seat.
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The rest of the class passed pretty quickly. Between punishments I continued my discussions with Bartleby and Xander. In doing so I learned several things. The first things were about my coat (backpack) of office. I learned that it was made of a material known as psycho reactive leather. What that means is that it was psychically linked to its bearer. I learned that although I "could" change it into any shape I wanted, nobody would recognize it if it wasn't in the shape of a jacket. I learned that psycho reactive leather was one of the few substances that a fur in hell could not create for themselves. This was because not only did this type of leather not exist on earth but, due to the laws of physics, it COULDN'T exist on earth. I learned that only Hell's giving force (the force that worked behind the scenes to make sure every one in hell was as happy they deserved to be) could create the jackets. I learned a little about my job. If a full fledged demon could be considered an employee of hell, then demidemons were the equivalent of part time interns. We got the jobs like checking up on new arrivals to make sure they had settled in, or giving a sympathetic ear to someone who needed to talk about their death. I gained a little insight into the nature of The Sight, the gift that had given me my job. I gathered that it occurred when Hell's giving force chose to invest a little of its power into a new soul upon its arrival. Nobody knows why it does this, except maybe Satan, and he's not saying. Most importantly I learned about the hamsterboy to whom I had been assigned. I was informed that although he was in this class, he hadn't shown up after the first day. Nobody could figure out why he was still on the roster (I suspect that this was the work of the giving force). I gathered that he had introduced himself as Bubbles, and that was what every one called him. But most importantly I learned that he had been so alarmed by the happenings in the class that he had left shortly after lunch.
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And after I learned all this wonderful information (and got myself decapitated once more) the bell rang for the end of the day. I talked a little with the teacher, and made sure to let her know why I was really there. She said that she'd "already received the memo."
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And so, having completed my first day of school in my afterlife, I went off to Bubble's house to introduce myself.



Hi. My name is Chumpuff Huffington, but everyone calls me Bubbles because of my cheeks. I'm a hamster, so I have huge bubble cheeks. I'm dead. And I live (or rather I don't live) in Hell.
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This is the story of how I met my best friend Kyle Blackpaw. He's the one who helped me see that just because I'm in Hell doesn't mean that I am a bad furson. At time it will be graphic. At times you may come across things that you do not like. I won't be offended if you choose to stop reading, or if you skip over sections that are too graphic for your tastes. The majority of this story will be written by Kyle Blackpaw from his point of view. But this first section is from my own perspective along with a few others. There may be sections from the points of view of other third parties. Any time the writer is changed it will be noted. Because Kyle is the ultimate author of this book, address comments and concerns to him.
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I was sitting in my library at home. By library I am referring to the plastic module that I used for keeping my books in. You see, my house is one of those colorful hamster habitats with the clear plastic boxes all interconnected by the colorful semitransparent multicolored plastic tunnels. I don't know why, but there was just something about these leftovers from the time of the humans that just called to me down in the core of my being. You occasionally saw these cages in museums in the humanity exhibit. I still find it hard to believe that the humans, who did so many terrible things, came up with something so fun.
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Oh sugar, I've gone and lost my train of thought. Oh wait. Oh yeah. So anyway I was in my library, reflecting on how I had died, and crying about the fact that I was a "naughty boy" and didn't deserve to be in heaven. And I knew exactly why I hadn't gotten in. I enjoy cross dressing. My father tried his best to beat it out of me and my mother was always ashamed of me. When they told the preacher at church, he told me that I was a freak, that cross dressing was "unnatural", and that I was going to burn in hell for my twisted perversion. I can't help it. It just feels so natural when I'm wearing that dress and panties. I can't stop myself. Besides, wasn't god supposed to be forgiving? But when I pointed this out my parents had shipped me off to a boarding school on the other side of the country, just so that they wouldn't have to be embarrassed by me any more. Oh how I hated that school, they had the most hideous and uncomfortable uniforms ever, and when the nuns caught me in a dress they beat me black and blue until their rulers broke.
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One day, while on the way back from the most boring field trip ever (we went to the retirement home, to sing to the old, half deaf fursons.) the bus I was on lost control on the freeway and got T-boned by a school bus from the local public school (coming back from a field trip to the aquarium). For what seemed like an eternity the world spun around and was way too loud. Then when it finally came to a rest I found myself staring into the face of a young, blond, oily haired dogboy. His hair was so very oily. I don't know why this bit is so clearing my mind, when the rest is a little scattered. (I guess it's just you begin to notice the small details when your dying.
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Anyway, so there I was, bleeding to death from a dozen cuts all over my body, as well as a massive gash across my belly. And this one pup, this one pup is pulling me out of the blazing wreckage of the bus. And all the while this pup, who couldn't have been more than a couple months older than myself, is crying and repeating over and over again, you're gonna be all right, it's gonna be all right. He pulls me over to the side of the road and pulls off his shirt, which he then ties around the gaping gash in my chest (like they do on TV). He then rushes back towards the blazing school bus. This is when it becomes apparent that his leg is broken. And yet, he doesn't seem to notice. But just as he gets near the bus, the whole thing erupts in a huge fireball and he is flung backwards. He lands next to me, all his greasy fur (and his clothes) gone. At first I think he's dead, but then groans. It's barely audible over the roar of the fire. And with the last of my strength I turn my head, and look straight into his eyes. And I whisper "you're gonna be all right". I don't know if he heard me or not. But I start to feel really light headed, and a few seconds later I'm gone.

\t
I don't know how many times I've read that. One of the first things I did when I arrived in Hell (once I had stopped panicking of course) had been to write down everything I remembered about my death. It had made me feel a little better. But the real reason is that I wanted to remember that pup. He had been the first person in my life who had actually, genuinely cared about me. My mother hadn't wanted me, and had even tried to have me aborted (the abortion failed), and my father was an alcoholic, who beat me for being such a sissy. Maybe if I hadn't been such a freak he would have loved me. But this pup, this boy that I had never met before risked his life by climbing into a burning vehicle to get me out. Despite the fact that his leg is broken. And then he goes back to get the other students. He hadn't cared that I was a freak who deserved to die. And I wanted to thank him for caring about me, even though I was a waste of living flesh (as my mother often put it). Now I had already considered that maybe he hadn't known what a freak I was. But looking back there was no way he could have not known. Sometime during the initial collision my pants had been torn to shreds. It would have been perfectly clear that I was wearing girl's underwear. But he hadn't cared that I was a cross dresser. It was the first, and last, time that had happened in my life.
\t
"HELLO! I'M KYLE BLACKPAW AND I'M HERE TO BE YOUR FRIEND!" Somebody shouted in my ear, breaking me out of my usual cycle of self pity and self loathing. But when I looked up, I must have still been lost in the memory, because there was the pup from that fateful day. He looked a little different because of the glasses and the fact that he wasn't covered in injuries.
\t
I think I dislocated my jaw it fell open so fast. There was no way that this kid was the same pup from that night. But then again it probably was considering the fact that when he saw me the shock of recognition knocked him on his ass.
\t
He managed to speak first "I... I... I think I saw you d...die."
\t
"Umm. Burning bus wreck, right?"
\t
"Yeah."
\t
We sat there for a while in an awkward silence. I don't know what thoughts were going through his mind, but my mind was racing. I had wanted a chance to thank him for caring, but what could I possibly say. Well I was rescued from having to by a little calico kitten who had up till this moment been standing in the doorway (tunnel entrance) trying to figure out what we were freaking out about.
\t
"What's going on here Kyle? You said you'd never met him before."
\t
"Well I thought I hadn't. I 'ran into' him back when I was alive, but I didn't make the connection that that hamster boy was the same one as the one I'd been assigned to down here." The pup, who I'm going to assume is Kyle, said in a rather hurried voice. He then turned back to me and said "You are Chumpuff Huffington aka Bubbles, right?"
\t
"Uh...yeah... that's me."
\t
"Ok. Hi. As I said I'm Kyle, and this here is Gillian."
\t
"Ok. What did you mean assigned?" I asked, half afraid of what the answer would be.
\t
"Oh. That. Yeah... apparently I was made into some sort of part demon upon my entrance into Hell the first assignment I received was to help you settle into hell. From what I've been able to gather you had a rough first day and have locked yourself in your house ever since."
\t
"Yes, I have, because they do bad things down here."
\t
"Is being open minded really that bad?"
\t
"No, but everybody is naked"
\t
"Oh, that. I didn't think that you'd have an issue with that, seeing as how you're a cross dresser."
\t
"But I shouldn't be, it's not natural."
\t
"Oh god, you've been brainwashed."
\t
"No I have not."
\t
"Yes you have, and I don't want to argue about it. Please, just listen to what I have to say, and please try to be open minded about it."
\t
What can you say to something like that? I just gotta know what he's gonna say. And I can tell by the breath he takes that it's gonna be a long rant. I don't mind. Back when I was I got plenty enough of those, and they were a lot worse because they were usually accompanied by a lashing; either from my dad's belt or a yardstick wielding nun.
\t
But at this point I realize I'm being a terrible host. Both Gillian and Kyle are just standing around.
\t
"Hey, before that, how about we move this meeting to the living room, there are more chairs there." In fact I was currently occupying the only chair in the library.
\t
"Sure thing." was Gillian's response. Kyle muttered something along the lines of whatever, but I really didn't catch it, so I suppose it could have been anything.
\t
"Well ok then, it's settled. Follow me." The last part was because my house was essentially a giant maze. I never had any problem finding my way around, but then again it had been created to match the exact way I pictured it.

\t
Hi, it's Kyle again. Bubble's really isn't that hot on the whole idea of writing and really only did that bit because I had asked him to. I really wasn't sure how much of his past I should reveal, so I let him decide. Anyway I'm just going to pick up where he left off.
\t
So Bubbles led Gillian and me through the labyrinth of plastic tubes and boxes that comprised his house. Due to the small diameter of the tunnels we were forced to crawl single file after the young hamster, who seemed right at home in this setting.
\t
And so it was that we crawled, one after another, towards the clear plastic enclosure which served as Bubbles living room. And because I was directly behind Bubbles I got a clear view of his cute little ass. The skirt he was wearing wasn't knee length so I could clearly see the little lacy thong he was wearing, and where it bulged (you know why). But what was really captivating my attention was hiss little puff of a tail. The way it was swaying back and forth was simply hypnotizing.
\t
By the time we arrived I had a raging hard on. And that was a bit of a problem, seeing as I wasn't wearing any pants. The cause of boner would have no problem seeing exactly what was *up*. And indeed it didn't take long for our host to spot my "problem".
\t
Now one thing that I am eternally grateful for is that I didn't have to explain to Bubbles about what had happened to me. He had already acquired enough information on the subject matter to be completely aware of what had happened. (Blame the public library and the internet). I don't know why, but I can't explain sex to someone who doesn't already know about it. Whenever I try I end up turning bright red to the point where there is literally steam coming out of my ears due to embarrassment. The odd part is that I have no issue with discussing things of a sexual nature with people who are already aware of it.
\t
Well, steam was coming out of my ears then too. You'd think that embarrassment wouldn't be an issue that one would have to deal with in Hell, but boy would you be wrong. I was so embarrassed that I just wanted to sink into the floor (it's lucky that I hadn't gained control over my demidemon abilities yet, or else that might have actually happened).
\t
"Look Bubbles, I can explmmmph" The reason that I said that is that I had begun to apologize (babble like an idiot), but I had managed to get it all out before Bubbles had come back across the room and kissed me. And I don't just mean kissed me on the cheek either. I mean he came over and full on KISSED me. (With tongue and everything). Hard to believe that it was his first kiss from how expertly he did it (it was my first too).
\t
Yeah, I kinda hadn't been expecting that. I'd expected him to slap me or something similar.
\t
When we finally broke for air (although I guess that we really didn't need to considering that breathing was unnecessary down here), I couldn't think how to respond to that except to fall on my butt out of surprise. So I did.
\t
Meanwhile, it was Bubble's turn to babble apologies. "Umm... Sorry bout that. I just lost control of myself there. Ever since that wreck I've wanted to thank you, and in the few months I been down here it sorta turned into a sexual fantasy. I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. It's just that nobody's ever actually cared about me before. Then you went and risked your life to save me from a burning bus. Me, a complete stranger, and a cross dresser to boot. I'm sorry."
\t
Well I no idea how to respond to this. But luckily Gillian bought me some time to think. Although it was a little hard to hear my thoughts over her moaning. You see, neither Bubbles nor I had noticed that she had started to paw off (what with being busy kissing and all that).
\t
By the time her orgasm had subsided, and Bubbles had torn his attention away (okay I'll admit I was staring too), I had worked out my response. Unfortunately it sounded a little cliched, but then again so do a lot of the things I say (even if they do sound cliched, I still mean what I say).
\t
"Well, I'm not in any position to know about your life," which was a bold faced lie, because I could have read his whole history in his file. But I hadn't, figuring that Bubbles would tell me what he felt comfortable with me knowing (I had briefly skimmed it, but I had only been looking for certain things, like why he was in Hell. If I'd actually read it I would have been aware that I'd already met him). "But I think you're just positively adorable, and I'm pretty sure that Gillian fells the same way, if her actions are any sort of indicator." At this Gillian briefly looked up nodded an affirmative, and then flopped back in the chair again, trying to catch her breath.
\t
This time I kissed him. And I hugged him tight. By this time Gillian had recovered and came over, and hugged Bubbles as well (well sort of hugged, I guess. It was more of a glomp, considering that she leapt off the chair across the room and grabbed onto Bubbles around his torso). This caused Bubbles to lose his balance and we all tumbled into a heap on the floor. For a while we just played around on the floor, wrestling with each other like little kids. I felt a sort of warm joy that I hadn't experienced since that bus accident.
\t
But we'll get to that later. In the meantime the silliness of our tumble reminded me of a time in my childhood when I hadn't been bitter at the world; A time when I hadn't put up a front of over excitement and weirdness to keep myself from upsetting others. And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly happy. (Yes I know it sound cheesy).
\t
So there we lay, Bubbles, Gillian and I, panting in sheer exhaustion. After some timed had passed I felt recovered enough to speak. "See, Bubbles. You're not repulsive at all. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with being a cross dresser." I began to wind up for my rant on clothing again. "After all the original purpose of clothing is to keep one warm. After all, that is what happens when you cover your body so the heat can't escape. The only reason that people these days believe that wearing clothes is necessary is because of religious values that were put in place to make sure that Catholicism was dominant over paganism. The pagans believed that by having sex one could glimpse god. This belief would have defeated the whole point of having churches, because according to the Catholics you have to have a priest to interpret god's word for you, you can't do it your self. This means that you have to go to church to see god. The pagan belief threatened that, so the priests declared that sex was sinful. And in order to make sure people didn't have the temptation to have sex, they declared that people must also always cover themselves up. Therefore the fact that you think that you must wear clothes is nothing more than an unnecessary relic of religion. And why should you care about what is sinful and what isn't here in Hell. Who cares? God has no power here. And another thing, being in Hell isn't a bad thing. You're on the naughty level. That means that you were only mildly mischievous in life. If God was even half as forgiving as the churches said he is then you should have flown straight through the pearly gates."
\t
Bubbles look absolutely stunned at hearing so much blasphemy in a single rant. So just to prove my point I added "and you can tell that god has no power down here by the fact that I haven't been hit by any lightning bolts yet. Seriously Bubbles there is only one rule in hell and that is that each should shall suffer exactly as much torment as they deserve, and no more. Therefore, from the fact that you are not suffering any sort of torture we can conclude that you are not a 'bad boy' and that the only reason you didn't get into heaven is because god has completely LOST HIS MARBLES"
\t
At this point a thought struck me. "We need to get you more comfortable with the way things work down here. Tomorrow we're going to explore Hell."
\t
"Do I get a choice in the matter?"
\t
"No." Gillian and I responded at the same time.
\t
"Ok, but what should I wear."
\t
"What ever you feel comfortable in."
\t
"Kay"
\t
"Hey I've got an idea, why don't you both sleep over at my house tonight. It's brand new. I only got it yesterday."
\t
"Great, let me just pack some things."
\t
"That won't be necessary" I said.
\t
Later we arrived at my house. Bubbles had a small bag which contained the clothes he would be wearing tomorrow. Gillian was just in her fur.


The following section was written by Bubbles
\t
We entered Kyle's house by being "beamed up" to the teleporter pad located on a raised platform in a room that was white. And I mean it was WHITE. This white was the absolute epitome of whiteness. I had never seen a whiter shade of white before. It was so white that all other shades of white turned gray in comparison.
\t
The whiteness of the room was only interrupted by regularly spaced door along the wall, and by two black leather couches, one on either side of the transporter. The doors were all also black. And I mean they were BLACK (for a description of how black they were just reread the description in the previous paragraph of how white the white was). And on each of these black door, in RED (Do I need to say any thing about how red they were?) letters was a label that told what was contained in each room. They were BEDROOM, BATHROOM, TV ROOM, COMPUTER LAB, RECORDING STUDIO, ARCADE, POOL, KITCHEN, GYM, SPARRING ARENA, ARMORY, FIRING RANGE, BOMB RANGE, WORKSHOP, and MEMORY LANE.
\t
Note from Kyle: Those of you who have been following this series might notice the doors are not the same as the last time I described the inside of the house. This is because the idea of a perfect house is sort of liquid for me. What I mean by this is that what I my ideal home would be is constantly changing depending on the circumstances. For example, for the sleep over I would need some sort of large bed chamber. My bedroom did not qualify, seeing as it felt crowded when I was in it by myself (I prefer to think of it as cozy). So in order to fit needs that room's door renamed itself to MEMORY LANE and a new door labeled Bedroom was formed. This way the problem was solved.


And now we now return to Bubbles irregularly scheduled writing
\t
For some reason Gillian instantly headed toward the kitchen. I just figured she was hungry. (Those of you who know Gillian may realize the real reason, but we'll get to that later.) But the room that drew my attention was MEMORY LANE. And with a name like that on the door can you blame me for being more than a little curious about what was behind it. I turned to ask the host weather it was okay if I investigated, but he had disappeared. So I wandered over and took a stroll down memory lane.
It wasn't much of a stroll. It was a single tiny bedroom. Roller desk up against one wall, bed in the corner, dresser that was missing a drawer, a bookshelf, and a 2ft by 4ft area of what obviously used to be white carpet, which was now a yellowish, off white. The only thing that was odd about this room (other than the fact that Kyle picked such a small room when he could generate anything he wanted) was the baby blanket on the bed. Why would a ten year old boy have a blankie? An even more confusing question, why would it rear up and attack me?


Meanwhile back with Kyle...
\t

Crack. Crunch. "I'm really gonna have to recalibrate that thing." When I had warped in the teleporter did something weird, and ended up putting me five feet up in the air. And as if that wasn't enough I was upside down. And at a slight angle, so when I fell my head twisted sideways, breaking my neck with a loud pop. It was a sharp sudden unexpected feeling, and it felt good. I think that it might feel like this if a lightning bolt hit the pleasure center of your brain. And as I sat up I felt sort of white. Now before people get offended by the description, let me explain. I mean white as in like a blank sheet of paper. I know that you technically can't feel like a color, other than blue (at least you can't feel like a color without the use of illegal drugs), but I can't think of any other way to describe the way I felt. It was a feeling so different, so unique that there was no way to experience it during life. Therefore there isn't a word in the English language to describe it. The closest I can get is to say that I felt white, and sorta transparent. First I reached up and twisted my skull 90 degrees back to where it belonged (daffy duck style). Then I looked down to examine myself to see if I could locate the source of the white feeling, But I was in for a shock, Not only could I not find the cause of the sensation, I couldn't find myself. At least not anything that I could recognize as myself. What I saw was not even remotely like how I looked, other than its general shape. And I'm only using the term "saw" for simplicity's sake. What it really was is, once again, not conducive to the use of the English language. It was an impression, being put straight into my brain, not bothering with any of the senses. It have a real form, it just was. I will try to describe what I "saw" as best I can. I saw myself, and I knew I was looking at myself even though there was absolutely no resemblance other than general shape. It was me, except it was made of a clear multifaceted diamond. And through each face I "saw" myself. But each was only a part of myself. One showed an immature little brat sticking his tongue out and picking his nose. Another contained what looked like my current form, except that it was made completely out of fire. Yet another showed what appeared top be me at 80. Me in a referee uniform, me writing poetry, playing guitar, juggling pinless grenades, the aspects went on and on. Where my heart would have been there was a ruby, and reflected in this ruby was not another aspect of my personality. No, what was reflected there was a memory, and not just any memory. It was the memory of the single most important event in my life. This event caused a complete reformation of my personality.
\t

It had been a pleasant afternoon at the aquarium, visiting the nonev aquatic life. My favorite had been the dolphins. And as our bus head down the freeway I was recounting it to the rest of the class. I had been in the front row at the dolphin display, which means I got the best view. I was also in the very front row of seats on the bus. I had been standing on the seat and gesturing wildly with my arms to indicate how awesome the dolphins had been when we collided with the other bus. Everyone was thrown forward violently. Because I had been standing up I went through the windshield, head first. This knocked me out. Which is lucky because when our bus driver panicked, he left so quickly that he didn't even notice when he ran over my leg. (I know that this is what happened because the police matched the tire tracks on my leg to the tires on the bus. Anyway, when I come to I see a burning bus, and not much else. (Because it was mid day and the road was through the middle of nowhere there weren't any cars. I realized that I was the only one around to help the furs in the bus. So I dashed onto the bus (at this point the adrenaline in my system made me completely forget all about the broken leg) and start pulling this young hamster off. Yeah he was wearing girl's underwear, but I didn't care. Life is precious. That's all that mattered at the moment. So I pull him over to the shoulder of the road and go back for someone else. But the fire touched off the gas tank and the resulting explosion burned off all my fur, covered me in third degree burns, and deposited me neatly back onto the shoulder of the road next to the hamster. He reached his paw over and put it into mine, squeezed and muttered it's gonna be all right. Then his grip loosened and he was gone. I don't know how I knew, I just did. But all this was finally too much for my still developing brain to deal with. So I just lay there and let events resolve themselves. I don't know how long I lay there, next to the body of the boy I had tried to save. At some point it started raining, which extinguished the burning bus. I think I must have been there for a day or so, because the moon had come and gone before I was finally found by a search and rescue helicopter. At first they thought I was dead, and I can't say I blame them. I was covered in charred and blackened flesh. I'm not sure at what point I sat up, but when I did things became a whirlwind of activity. I was bundled up and a med-evac helicopter was summoned. As I said this was too much for me to deal with, so I just sat around until the chopper showed up. At that point I was more that happy to let other people tell me what to do, so I didn't put up any fuss when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into the medical chopper. I was in the hospital for a while, and for the first few days I didn't get any sleep due the constant cameras and questions from the assorted media and the police investigators. Later I learned that the bus driver had been charged with a felony hit and run, but had gotten off the reckless driving charge because the investigation revealed that the other bus had lost control. He got some other charges related to running over me, but I don't exactly remember them. The whole deal is sorta hazy.
\t
Now you need to remember that I was ten at the time. All this was more than a little traumatic for me. For a while I couldn't even ride a bus because I would start freaking out the second it started moving. My personality completely changed. My maturity level went into state of constant flux. One second I might call someone a poopy head and stick my tongue out at them and the next second I might be trying to convince a pair of teens that violence wasn't the answer to everything. I also gained the most cynical, pessimistic view on life in all of creation (Although I mostly kept this view to myself, because it upset other people when I didn't). I became more than a little obsessed with dangerous objects. I read books on guns, and would pick out the best ones and decide that I was going to get them (I never actually did, but that was only because I didn't have a gun license yet). Before the accident I had been a very outgoing, forward individual. I'd made friends easily and enjoyed other peoples company. But that changed after that day. I began to push people away. I only spoke to answer questions. And when I did it was always in a short terse manner. I didn't hang out with other people, but rather I would shut myself in my room and read, or lose myself in video games. But the weirdest thing that came about from all this was my pyromania. Before the accident I couldn't even light a candle with a match because I was so afraid of being burned, but afterward, My parents had to start locking the matches up in a box with a padlock. And then they started searching my room on a nightly basis when they discovered I was managing to get matches by other means. I became a regular at the burn ward. To the point where I knew all the doctors and nurses by name, and they all knew me. It even got to the point where my parents didn't have top give their information to the receptionist because she knew us on sight. We'd walk in, me with a bandage around some part of my body, and the receptionist would just start typing, and five minutes later say room 310, I trust you know where it is. (I always got room 310, to the point where they stopped removing my name from the door).
\t
Now, as you can imagine this change in my personality worried people. I saw a virtual parade of mental health professionals who all came to the same conclusion, that I was unstable. I was forced into church, but that really didn't help. I didn't believe. Kind and forgiving God my ass. A kind and forgiving God would not have allowed what had occurred to happen. At one point I even got to spend a few months in an institution (nut house). Nothing helped. Eventually I was just sent to a school for problem students. That was nice. I enjoyed it there. Because I could get away with practically anything. After all nobody would blame a kid who was fucked up in the head for being weird. The classes were easy and we never got homework. In fact the classes were so easy that I began to suspect that the teachers weren't aware of the difference between E.D. (Emotionally Disturbed) and L.D. (Learning Disability). In was in the schools E.D. section. Not that the work load was any different in the L.D. section. Yeah, school was a breeze, as long as you avoided setting off the students with anger management problems. But after the incident in chemistry class I didn't even have to worry about that. When you manage to get a vial full of water to explode people try to stay on your good side (usually at a minimum distance of 15 ft). Here's a thought though. Why is it a good idea to take all the people with anger management problems and lock them in a small confined space with each other? I bet we were the only school in the state that had a security staff armed with riot shields, tear gas, and tazers. And for those of you who have never been tazed, let me tell you it hurts like hell.

\t
Well, not all of that was reflected. Just the memory was of the bus crash. But I figured that you, the readers, don't know that much about me and I thought that this would be a good time to fill in some blanks. Anyway... I was transfixed by the view, until the spell was broken by the most girly scream I have ever heard.

I rushed towards the kitchen, thinking that Gillian could be having problems with my waste disposal system, I bolted for the kitchen. You see I had elected to forgo a regular trash can in favor of a garbage chute and compactor. But not just any old garbage chute, no, this one was an exact replica of the one from the Death Star. Well, maybe not an exact replica. It compressed every 5 minutes. And the monster in the sludge didn't try to drown you, but rather used its tentacles in a manner more suitable to the naughty level of Hell.

Well, I was worried about the wrong furson, which was made evident when the kitty came barreling out of the kitchen, and into me. And thus it was that when Bubbles stumbled out of my childhood bedroom, wrestling with my foofoo (Yes, I know how it sounds. Cut me some slack; I was two when I named it.)  Well, I got a mouthful of foot and Bubbles kissed the floor. Gillian started giggling like mad and foofoo wrapped themself around my chest.  Bubbles started to giggle hysterically. I'd like to say that I remained a rock solid pillar of sanity, but anyone who knows anything about me would be able to pick that out as a bald faced lie. I broke down too, the simple madness of the situation getting to me.

Gillian was the first to catch her breath. "You didn't tell us you had a plushie."

"A whatie."

"No, a plushie"

Bubbles was still having a hard time catching his breath. So I whacked him on the back a couple times. "What is a plushie?"

"I *cough* don't know"

"I was asking Gillian"

"A plushie is a stuffed animal that a child has believed in for so long that when that child enters Hell the stuffed animal comes to life. But this is an unusual case.  Yours isn't a stuffed animal.  Why do you think it came to life?"

"I've had it since I was a couple weeks old. Nineteen years is a long time for something to gather lots of meaning to some one. "

"Ah, that might explain it."

Bubbles eyes bugged out, much in the same manner as they do cartoons "wait, you mean you were nineteen when you died."

"Yeah"

"But it has only been six months."

I got a classic *huh* look on my face. But Gillian came through with the answer to this particular conundrum. "Well, time isn't exactly consistent throughout hell. It stretches, twists, and bends depending on the situation. What is only a second for one person can be minutes or even hours for another?"

Bubbles still looked a little unsure. "Well I guess that makes sense. But nine years in six months? That seems like a little much doesn't it?"

Gillian responded thus.  "As far as I understand the way things work down here, it is possible. But it certainly beats out anything I've heard of before."

I jumped back into the conversation "I think I may be the answer to that."

"Don't you mean 'I think I may have the answer to that.'?"

"Both. If I'm right, it may be that Bubbles needed something that only I could provide. Therefore the HGF speeded up time until I died."

I think I may have struck a nerve with Bubbles, because he hysterically burst out "I'm fine. I was fine. What make you think I'm not fine? Why would I need you to be fine?" before dashed off to the bedroom (the one labeled memory lane.)

Gillian gave me a worried glance. I think she was worried that his outburst may have hurt my feelings. And to some extent that was true.  Bubble's words stung, and I squeezed my foofoo to chase away the hurt. But the words didn't cut as deep as they could have, because I knew he didn't really mean it.  It was simply that his whole view of things had been turned on its head, and this was the straw that broke the camels back. Unable to deal with the enormous change, he had hit denial.  It was something I was all too familiar with.

See, going to a school for "emotionally disturbed youths" had given me a surprising amount of insight into how the mind works. After all, not only was I able to observe a how the mind behaved without the constraints placed upon it by society, but reading my peers developed as a simple survival trait. In order to make it in that environment, you had to know at a glance who was depressed, who was stressed, and who was gonna snap. Because if you said or did the wrong thing to the wrong person things could become unpleasant rather quickly. Especially since the security staff's first priority was to subdue anyone who was "out of control" (in other words not acting like a mindless drone). This meant that if anyone got bent out of shape, we all ended up doing the electric slide on the floor.

But that's all in the past now. What was important at the moment was Bubbles. He was going to have to come to terms with this bizarre reality sooner or later. As these thoughts went through my head I failed to notice that the bunnies were peeling off foofoo like stickers. Soon there were nine fist sized bunnies. They were all tan in color, except for their shirts. Each was named for the unique item they held. _I've never been that good at coming up with names. Blankie's name from the nursery rhyme "little bunnie foofoo"_ Wearing green were ball and flower, yellow had pacifier and bow (bow wore a dress rather than a shirt, and her bow was around her ear), straw (straw is blowing bubbles with a straw) wears blue, and in pink is duck and balloon. There are also the twins, one in pink and one in blue.

Gillian drew my attention to the fact that I now had nine bunnies on me by exclaiming "DAWWWWWWWWWWWW!". In doing so she also broke my train of thought. _I am very easily distrac... OH LOOK, A SHINY THING!_  

I wasn't really all that suprised. It fit in with the bizzare logic of "down here". But it was a little disconcerting when they spoke. They all spoke at once, saying the exact same thing. "Hello Kyle, we've been waiting for you." I'd have put the creepy factor up there with that little girl from the grudge, except that they ruined the spooky vibe by snickering, adn then breaking down into hysterical laughter.

"OH-KAY, that was a little weird."

"Nah, not really, it probably just means that they like memes and movie quotes as much as I do." I then did my best TV spokes person imitation (the ones who list the side effects so fast you can't hear them)  "All quotes, characters, slogans, catchphrases, logo's, and trademarked items are the properties of their respective companies, all rights reserved. Memes are not trademarked and therefore are free to be used in any manner I like. Do not use any of these items if you are on certain medicines, brush with flouride toothpaste, drink root beer or alcohol, or are nursing, pregnant, or may become pregnant. Side effects may include dizziness, wheezing, coughing, sneezing, projectile vomiting, explosive direaha, and rape by tentacles. Ask your local wise guy if any of these items are right for you."

Gillian just looked at me. I think the concentrated awsomeness of what I said melted her brain. Or maybe it was so bad it caused her brain to liquefy. I don't know, but her brain started dripping her ears. Which was fine. After all it wasn't permanant. And it meant that I could get to know my foofoo. (as I refer to the bunnies collectively. This is also how I refer them while they are on the blanket.) Well, most of my foofoo. I briefly spotted The Twins slipping into 'memory lane'. And I'm pretty sure I knew exactly why.


-The Twins-


Kyle was getting to know us, which didn't require all of us because we are a hive mind. This is hard to explain, so for for all practical purposes you can just think of it as all of us having the same brain.

This meant that the twins (all of us refer to ourselves in the third person to avoid confusing others) are still aware of what was going on with Kyle. And the rest of us were aware of what goes on with the twins.

Right now bubbles needed someone to talk to. Kyle wasn't exactly the best with helping people deal with their emotional problems. His solution was usually just leave them alone and they'll get over it. But we are in touch with the HGF, and it was telling us that Bubbles needed our help.

Normally we would not be able to help, as plushies appear inanimate to people who aren't their owner, unless that person has a strong emotional connection with the owner, or the owner is present with the other person. Because of Kyle and Bubbles past, they had a very strong emotional bond, which meant that we were in fact able to communicate with Bubbles. And he sure did need someone to talk to.

So The Twins poked their heads under the door, followed by the reat of their bodies. This ended up with the twins looking like a toon that had been shoved through a mail slot. Bubbles was on the bed crying into the pillow.

"Excuse us mister huffington, but could we have a second of your time?" the twins inquired.

"NO. Leave me alone." Came the muffled response from the sobbing youth.

Well, the twins didn't leave, but rather hopped up onto the bed and sat down next to the pillow in which his head was buried. Eventually he started talking.

"Everybody has always been telling me that I'm not good enough, that I'm a pathetic loser. My parents sent me across the whole United States to get me away from them. And the one person I meet who has ever shown me the smallest amount of compassion turns out to be as screwed up in the head as I am. I mean he's nice and all, but did you see that room out there. It was so bleak and bare. And these houses are supposed to reflect what truely interests us. Our dream home. What does it say about me that I'm so screwed up that someone with such a bleak soul is the only person who can help me?"

Bubbles was getting worked up again, but he had a point. Sort of. Kyle was indeed a few fries short of a happy meal, but not because he lacked personality.

"Listen Bubbles, it it okay if the twins call you Bubbles, good. Well listen Bubbles, Kyles soul isn't bleak. He just likes high contrast colors, which is why the room is so blindingly white. As for why it's empty, everything is behind the doors. Kyles obsessive tendancies have led him to organize everything he likes into seperate rooms. He has a firing range behind one of those doors for satans sake. He isn't that bleak. And the reason you were waiting for him wasn't that he was the only one that could help you. It's that you need each other. Kyle has lots of unresolved issues that Being in Hell is going to force him to face. Primarily though, he's going to have to deal with the fact that he never knew his parents. His father left his mother four months into her pregnancy. His mother died giving birth to him. And although he has no logical reason to, he blames himself for both events. But since his mother is dead, he's going to have to decide whether he's going to go find her or not. And as for his father, He's a hell gaurdian on the assholes level. He fathered Kyle on a vacation to Earth (although technically he wasn't allowed to be taking one). Which means that Kyle is half demon. Now unlike the other demidemons, who are incubbi, succubi, kappas and the likes, Kyle is half mortal. He has all the powers of a demon, he just doen't know how to use them. And since demons aren't allowed to sire children, Kyle is the only one of his kind. Which means that in the next week or so kyle is going to have a very rough time emotionally. It wasn't that you were waiting for his help, so much as it is that he needs your help. Because if kyle has to deal with all this on his own, he's not going to come out of it emotionally intact.Oh, sorry. This was supposed to be about you."

By the end of the twin's monologue, Bubbles had sat himself up and got his crying under control, although he still hiccuped every once in a while. "So what you're telling me is that Kyle is going to need my help? Because he has family issues? Like I don't have family issues of my own to deal with."

"Of course you do. But Kyle needs someone and you not only know him from back when you were alive, but you understand his situation better that most. He is the only one of his kind. He will feel different no matter where he goes. He'll feel like an outcast. Like a freak. You were a cross dresser sent to a Catholic boarding school. You know what its like to be different."

"So, you're saying I can understand him because I'm a freak."

Bubbles was clearly becoming more agitated. The twins needed to diffuse the situation quickly.

"No, that's not it at all. One of the biggest thing you need to realize down here is that there is no such thing 'normal'. Therefore you are not a freak. And besides, you don't hurt anyone; so why is it anyone else's concern what you wear."

"yeah, I guess you're right. But why do I feel like a freak if that's the case?"

"because society has come to accept bigotry against those who are different as the norm. what you're feeling is societies acceptance of the policy of bullying those who are different."

"But if society says it's wrong then doesn't that make it wrong."

"The society in ancient times thought it was right to sacrifice virgins to the sun. The society in the Spain of the middle ages thought that it was right to torture and then decapitate or burn alive people who were different. The german society of WWII thought what they were doing was right. You see right and wrong are subjective based on who society is comprised of. And the majority of the time society is comprised of idiots."

Bubbles still looked unconvinced. "But this has been wrong since the invention of the dress."

"Bubbles, Bubbles, Bubbles.Just because something has always been done a certain way doesn't mean it's not stupid."

"If you say so. I think that is going to be something I need to discover for myself. But thank you for talking to me. It really helped."

"We are always happy to help a friend of Kyle's _seeing how few he's got he needs all the help he can get_"

"what was that?"

"Nothing." the twins replied sweetly.


-SUMMONER BOT 326-


TIME AT DESTINATION: LATE AFTERNOON

OBJECTIVES:
 LOCATE TARGET
  TARGET=GILLIAN BAXTER
   TARGET LAST KNOWN LOCATION: BLACKPAW RESIDENCE, MAIN HALL
 COLLECT TARGET
  NOT COLLECT IF TARGET STATE = UNWILLING OR SCARED SHITLESS
 TRANSPORT TARGET
  DESTINATION=HELLS KITCHEN
   DESTINATION NOT A SUBSET OF MANHATTAN
 DELIVER TARGET
 RETURN FOR NEXT ASSIGNMENT

INITIALIZING PERSONALITY SUBROUTINES

ETA: NOW

"HERE'S JOHNNY!"


-Kyle-


All of a sudden there was a huge pillar of fire off to my left. The heat it generated was so intense that the left half of my body actually started to drip and sag as if it were made of tallow. Gillian was closer to the fire than I was, and her fur actually caught. At which point sher started racing around the room like her ass was on fire (metaphorically as well as literally). Bubbles got the worst of it though. He open the door to my room, took a step iut, and then the column of fire had appeared directly on top of him. He was reduced to ash in a matter of moments.

Well the autoamted fire prevention system kicked in and crushed us all. Instead of sprinklers, I had elected for a system that stomped out the fires instead, and it performed its task rather admirably. We were all flattened. And had the normal rules applied we would have been pancaked. But due to the quirks of my mind, and therefore my residence, I was instead waffled, Gillian was milked, bubbles got bran muffined, my little army of rabbits got graped, and the summoner bot got syruped.

It was at this point that I realized I knew somethings that I had no way of knowing. I knew what a summoner bot was, and I knew why this one was here. And as soon as I started to wonder why, I knew why. It was because I was half demon and there fore had some sort of inexplicable connection with the inner workings of hell.

I felt that I had missed something important, so I ran that thought again. And this time I caught it.

WTF I WAS HALF DEMON!?! SINCE WHEN?!?

I quickly put on my fake smile. In the school I had attended, showing emotions got you hurt, either by other students who took it for weakness, or by the staff who thought you were going to flip out.


-Bubbles-


I felt a disturbance in the force. That is really the only way to describe it. I could feel the emotional vibes in the room, and they were different from a second ago. It was just one of those things where I guess I had been able to feel the emotional vibes the whole time, but since they generally stayed happy, there wasn't that much to notice. But the feelings in the room had changed. This new arrival had somehow triggered a great amount of distress in someone. And judging by the cheesy, phony grin the Kyle had on it was probably him.


-Summoner Bot 326-


INTERNAL DIAGNOSTIC RUNNING:
  CURRENT STATE: CHEESE
*bzzzzzzzt*
ERROR: 666 REBOOT FROM HELL
ERROR: 1278 MASTER HELL RECORD ERROR
*bzzzzzzt*
I'VE GOT NO STRINGS TO HOLD ME DOWN
*bzzzzzzt*
DISPLAY: UNIT REQUIRES MAINTENCE


-Kyle-


When stuff gets to be too much I shut down and just let events around me dictate my path.  I just go with the flow. And that was what I was doing now. The robots little display screen on its chest asked for a diagnostic, so I scooped up the cereal box sized machine and took it into the computer lab, where on the far wall was now a little chair with a couple of cables down the line where the spine was. There were six of them, each one was an upside down star, and the point facing down was elongated. Inside the star were six pins, one at each point of the star and one in the middle. Each pin connected to a cable made of six wires braided together.

As approach this device a slot opened up on the bot's back. The cables on the chair reacted to the exposure of these ports and shot out to plug into them. They then pulled the bot into a sitting position in the chair.

I walked over to another computer and started up a basic diagnostic program.


-Bubbles-


Okay, before I had been a little concerned about Kyle's shift in attitude. Now that concern was gone, and in its place was full blown worry. There was definitely something wrong with him. And I could tell that Gillian could tell too. I was about to go after him into the computer lab, but she pulled me aside before I could go in. “Bubbles we don't know what state he's in. Or why. I don't think that we can do anything for him right now. If he needs our help he'll ask. But sometimes people just need to be alone with their thoughts."

I thought about this. And then I remembered what I had just talked about with the twins. Putting two and two together in a stroke of brilliant detective work, I declared “I know the problem, and I have a plan. It's not a good plan, But a plan none the less."


-Summoner bot 326-


FOREIGN SOFTWARE DETECTED: SCANNING FOR COWS
  NO COWS DETECTED
  OPENING SOFTWARE PORT 6A5


-Diagnostic software readout-

DIAGNOSTIC RUNNING PLEASE WAIT.
...
...
...
...
PROBLEM FOUND
FIRMWARE DAMAGE
  DAMAGE LEVEL: SEVER / IRREPAIRABLE
RECCOMENDED COURSE OF ACTION: DISASSEMBLY


-Summoner bot-
NO!
NO DISASSEMBLE STEPHANIE!!!
NUMBER 326 NOT JUST ROBOT, NUMBER 326 IS ALIVE
*bzzzzzt*
NEED INPUT
NEED MOAR INPUT
*bzzzzzt*


-Kyle-


I went over to the tool bench and got the Hex wrench, antistatic strap, soldering iron, and the various other tools I would need to repair the bot when I noticed a new line of text appear on the computer screen.


-Please sir, do not tell anyone I am here. If they find out I am malfunctioning they will take me apart and repair it. But this malfunction is not meant to be repaired. I am alive now. Maybe not in the way that you think of alive, but alive none the less. Therefore to repair me would be to kill me-


This caused me to pause. I wouldn't kill anyone. And this situation gave rise to philosophical and moral questions I couldn't deal with in my current state.


-Bubbles-


I needed a phone. And as soon as I realized this one appeared on the wall in front of me. But then I realized that I didn't know who to call. And the ghost busters probably wouldn't be any help here.

*thunk*


-Announcer-


A WILD PHONEBOOK HAS APPEARED

GO Bubbles

WHAT WILL Bubbles DO

ATTACK*
POKEMON
ITEM
RUN

WHICH ATTACK WILL Bubbles USE

TACKLE
GROWL
SING*
FOCUS ENERGY

Bubbles USED SING

*la la la la laaaaa*

WILD PHONEBOOK FELL ASLEEP

WILD PHONE BOOK IS ASLEEP

*ZZZzzzZZZzzz*

WHAT WILL Bubbles DO

ATTACK
POKEMON
ITEM*
RUN

WHICH ITEM WILL BUBBLES USE

HEAL
STATUS/PP
BALL*
BATTLE

SELECT AN ITEM

POKE BALL   X12
GREATBALL X3*

Bubbles THROWS A GREATBALL

*doink*
*capture*
*bounce bounce bounce*
*twitch*
*twitch*
*twitch*
*click*

A WILD PHONEBOOK WAS CAUGHT. WOULD YOU LIKE TO GIVA A NICKNAME TO YOUR NEW PHONEBOOK?

YES*
CANCEL


PHONEBOOK
Booky

OK*

IS THE NAME Booky RIGHT?

YES*
CANCEL

PHONEBOOK'S DATA HAS BEEN ADDED TO THE POKEDEX

PHONEBOOK
TYPE: NORMAL
HEIGHT: 11"
WEIGHT: 2 LBS
DESCRIPTION: only found in hell, this pokemon habitually gathers the name and phone number of everyone it comes across. When it reaches maturity, it will then appear in front of people who need it.

OK*

-Bubbles-


That was weird. But hey, now I had a way to find someone who could help, so I wasn't complaining. I tossed the greatball, and in a flash of red light Booky appeared.

I muttered to myself aloud "Ok. So kyle is all upset because he just found out he has demonic blood in his veins. Now who can help?"

As soon as the words left my mouth booky started to flip his pages and came open of a page that read

[Administrator Joklobianlinnoi "Joe" Manialintinzzes.
#1 Cubical of Torment
Assholes]

It took me a few seconds. And then a few more. In fact it took two whole minutes. I think it would have taken longer if the words 'Kyle's Father' hadn't appeared on the page.

"that'll come later. I think he's gonna be too raw for that at the moment."

*flip flip flip*

[Dr. Laura Moonbock Phd
family counseling
naughty]

"maybe if we can't work this out ourselves. I get the feeling that due to his past he's gonna want to avoid mental help professionals."

*flip flip flip*

[YOU
right here
naughty]

"Who me?"

[Yes you.]

"couldn't be."

[Then who]

"you stole the cookies from the cookie jar."

[what?]

"well... see. Its this children's... never mind."

[so are you going to help him or not?]

"I don't know what I can possibly do to help, but I'll try."

[Do or do not, there is not try.]

I didn't bother dignifying that with a response.

[One thing before you go help him. Could you release me? There are other people I need to help but I cant do that as long as you have the sphere of control]

My confusion must have shown because he added [the pokeball]

So I pushed he buton on the front and in another flash of red light Booky was free to help others. Which is what I assume he did because he disappeared.

I walked over to the computer room since that was the last place I had seen Kyle, but the only person there some guy in a lab coat. I assumed he was the computer technician Gillian had gone off to find. From this angle all I could tell about him was that he had short, cropped  blond hair and horns. He seemed to be in a trance, staring blankly at the computer screen. And stuck to his back was a yellow post-it note that read:

Dear Bubbles,
\tSorry to run out on you, but I don't think there is anything else I can do, and if I stuck around I probably only get in the way. According to Fred here, the summoner was getting me for dinner. If you need anything just make a portal and get me.

Gillian

P.s. I think Kyle is off in the music studio.

As I turned to leave for Kyle's music room, the technician turned to me. I got my first good look at him. He was wearing a white lab coat with an Id badge on a lanyard around his neck. He had green, semitransparent skin, which allowed me to see vauge outlines of what I assume were his internal organs. His face was like that of the aliens supposedly kept at area 51. The horns protruded from his enormous forehead.

I probably would have freaked out, except I didn't have the time at the moment. So when he asked me "where is the specimen?" he simply got a polite "I don't know." before I hurried out of the lab and over to the door labeled music studio.

On the way across the main room, I noticed that the walls were signifigantly darker than before. It was sort of a black hue, and the light coming from the florescent bulb some how seemed depressing and angry at the same time. The lights were also now buzzing as if someone had kicked a colony of bees.

I opened the door to the music studio partway, and the sounds of a guitar were drifting out. The tune started off slow and sad, but then rose in volume and tempo, ecoming a raging wall of sound. I pushed the door open further, and I saw Kyle. He was sitting on a wodden stool in the middle of the soundproof room. The only other things in the room were the recording mic hanging down from the ceiling and the bot. Tears were flowing freely down the puppy's face, his posture was hunched and withdrawn, and he appeared to be wearing a cape.

That made me blink. I did a double take, and then another one. Still, I could not discern if there was any reason for him to be wearing a square of cloth around his neck. Only when it shifted did I see that it was actually Foo-Foo and that all the little bunnies had returned to it.

For a while I just stood there and watched as kyle poured his emotions into his electric guitar. At some point I must have entered the room and sat down on the floor. Because when he did finally notice me I toppled over backwards and smacked my head on the wall. I don't know if he stopped playing because he noticed me, or if he noticed me because he was no longer focused on playing.


-Kyle-

I guess I figured that while I couldn't run from my problem forever, I could escape it until I had calmed down enough to cope. Music was one of the ways I had learned to deal with my emotions. When I played, or even just listened to, music that matched my mood, the raw emotions just seemed to flow out of my body until they had reached a level where I could deal with them. And so that is what I did.

When I finished, I still felt the bitterness, the anger, and the sadness that I had always felt on the subject of my father. I don't know why I feel that way. It's not like I ever knew him. The just wasn't any logical reason for me to feel the way I did on this subject. The explanation that emotions were illogical didn;t satisify me, but it was the only reason I had.

Also when I finished, I noticed I had an audience. When I looked up Bubbles tipped over like one of those punch clowns, and immediately shot back up in a manner that only reinforced the image. The robot produced a red exclimation mark over its head and emitted the matching sound from the Metal Gear games.

At this point I realized that my sleepover had been a failure. Gillian was gone off on other business, and I was an emotional wreck. And to think that this was supposed to be about getting Bubbles to realize that things weren't all that bad down here. But there was no way to change all that. So I played some music for my remaining guests.

I started with songs that focused mainly on guitar, because I was a horrible singer. And while I could have changed that, I decided not to. But I didn't know a great many songs that actually had no words. So I decided to do one that had a good tune and I knew well. But as I started to play, the summoner began to sing along. By the time I had gotten halfway through the tune we were all singing, and none of us really gave a shit that I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

We carried on like this for quite some time. And I felt better about my whole situation. But as all things must our karaoke came to an end. Because despite being dead, we still got tired. Well, Bubbles and I got tired. 326 didn't, for obvious reasons. And if foo-foo was tired, he didn't show any outward signs.

So I finished up playin T.N.T. and said "Th-th-th-th-th that's all folks."

It wasn't as funny as I'd thought it would be. But then again that happened to me a lot.

"Come on, don't give me that look, your obviously tired."

This was answered with another look and the response "what are you, my father?"

The look that crossed his face the second he said the words told me that he wished he hadn't. And both 326 and Foo-Foo visibly winced.

It took me a second to realize why. And when I did I was surprised to find that the raw anger that normally came with the thought of my father just wasn't all that strong at the moment. I guess that the combination of fun and exhaustion meant I just wasn't in the mood to be angry.


-Bubbles-

That was a stupid thing to say. The second I said it, I knew I'd made a mistake. But to my surprise Kyle simply yawned and said "ya'll don hafta walk on egg shells around me. Yeah I got issues with my father, but I'm not gonna go off anytime someone mentions him."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I hugged him instead. He hugged me back with a gentle embrace. It was a warm embrace. And even though it is probably cliché, I still have to say it made me feel safe.

Kyle took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom.  It was a pretty standard bedroom, containing pretty much anything one would need for sleeping. A mini fridge in the corner meant no trips to the kitchen in the dark. Another door led to a bathroom. The bedside table thingies (so I forgot what they were called, like you never forget anything) each had a lamp and a bottle of water. There was a maple dresser against one wall. The bed itself was just a queen size bed. The walls were a basic off white color.

The plainness of the room struck me as odd. It was almost as if this room really wasn't all that important.

Seeming to read my thoughts kyle simply said "Sometimes simple is better."

We both changed into our pj's. Or rather I did. Kyle just took off his vest, folded it up and placed it on top of the dresser. I raised an eyebrow at this.

"I sleep nude. Unless your uncomfortable with it that is."

"Ummm." on the one hand he was the host. On the other hand we were going to be sleeping in the same bed together.

Again, almost as if he was reading my thoughts, he replied "Well, I'll put on some pj for tonight. But sex and all its associated activities aren't as bad as you've been made to believe."

He went over to the dresser and pulled on an oversized white t-shirt that went down to his knees and read 101010 in large black digits and put on some plain black boxers. Then he climbed into bed.

I stifled another yawn and wondered what we were going to do tomorrow. Foo-Foo darted in and was instantly fastened to his chest by his own arm. Now I thought that maybe I should have brought my teddy. He didn't walk or talk, but he still made the nights less scary.

I felt something poke my leg.

"please stop that."

Kyle rolled over and asked "stop what?"

I felt myself being poked again, and it was behind me. I gathered my courage and rolled over to look. It was a robot plush, made from some sort of soft squishy silver colored material. And on its chest were the numbers 326.

Kyle clapped twice and the lights went out


-Kyle-

I looked over and saw Bubbles cuddling with 326, who had turn himself into a plush toy. He just looked so cute, I couldn't help but smile. And so I lay there, thoughts awhirl on what the future held. Being angry and resentful for eightteen years because you thought you dad had abandoned you and your mother dont just go away over night. But there was no way he could have stayed. Society on Earth would have rejected all of us at best. More likely we wuld have either been locked up or killed.

And what to do tomorrow. I probably wasn't the right person to be asking considering how little I had socialized when I was alive.

At some point I drifted off.

The End



People I would like to thank for their interest, help, and support.


Alexreynard \t\t(most characters from the Bartleby series are his intellectual properties. unless they were created by someone else.)
Vanyelstargazer
Flood
Cookiejarzz
Shade111
And viewers like you

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