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The Dark God Ch. 01

By: chthonic1239



Let me introduce you to my lover. He is known in the mind of man as Satan, Pan, the Prince of Darkness, or whatever you may call him. Children do not need to learn of him from their elders; he is an Archetype, already a part of their minds, like the instinct for hunger.

No, he is not merely a devil, a symbol to stand in for Evil itself, an embodiment. That's what everyone shrugs him off as. A playful demon having his way with a young, naive man like me. I know he is the One, the Evil One. When he is inside of me I can see all of the universe, from the dark eye of God. God once had two eyes, and when he saw pain and Evil through his left eye, he gouged it out with his own hand and cast it to Earth.

Out of the boiling mud in which the eye landed came my lover. He grew slowly, taking shape as a fetus does, leeching off of the material around him, the eye becoming more and more aware of its new and independent state of being. Finally he ballooned up, coated with black filth, and sat up, hungry and groggy as though he had just awoken from a long slumber.

He was hideous at first. A gnarled being, like the branches of a dead oak, shapeless and unlike the man he appears to be now. He told me all this.

In a park in summertime with children playing fetch with their dogs and the lilacs giving off their weakly scent, he told me this. It was the first time I'd seen him and I loved him instantly.

I had been taking a stroll in early evening, drawn to the ghostly odor of the river, and was going along the bank, watching my feet crush the snake grass underneath me. Mosquitoes churned in little prickly clouds. The sky was dim, the air was at such a temperature that you could not feel it, and he--sitting at a bench and watching the elms tickle the sky--was just an ordinary man amongst the joggers and college students throwing frisbees.

At first I didn't take much notice of him. Yet he had long hair, longer than my auburn, shoulder-length hair, hair to the middle of his back, and I always look twice at men like that. Something androgynous, and therefore unearthly, always surrounds men like that, and it takes a great deal of care and affection to grow your hair out, a delicate task that only a few men are capable of.

I walked along the bank for another minute or two, slowly approaching the bench where he sat, before I really began to examine him. Yes, long black and slightly wavy hair, and he was turned so that I could see part of his profile, his slim nose. He wore a hat, the kind of hat an old man would wear, a jean jacket, and he had his legs crossed with a light brown leather boot resting just off his knee.

Like a child I dared to come down off the bank and creep up behind him, edging up against an untrimmed lilac bush so that I could watch him. As always, the fragrance of the smoky ethereal flower was dream-like and all at once a bombardment of childhood memories came to my mind as vividly as the sun, yet the scent was too weak...too weak. God had been prudish and frugal when he infused this flower with scent.

The tiny petals brushed at my cheek and felt a little cool, while the leaves were rougher and scratchy. I could see the very small movements of the beautiful man, see the whole of his mane of hair shift slightly, that wave becoming more crunched and that wave straightening out, as he turned his head from a little girl across the park at her swing to a golden retriever running circles around his master.

Master. I wanted to be able to call him Master.

From what I could see he had very dark eyes, and equally dark and thick lashes, which shaded the crannies underneath his strong brow. He looked almost like a Native American if it weren't for his very fair skin. His nose was smart and angular and had the slightest bend in the middle, giving it a somewhat Roman look, his lips full yet compact like a woman's. I could make out the shadow of a beard on his strong jaw.

I was in such a complete stupor that I almost didn't hear when he spoke. He looked ahead, away from me, he perhaps looked up at the sky to see an airplane and its trail of smoke scraping against the darkening oblivion, and he said, distinctly so that there was a delicious movement in his throat, "Good evening, Joel."

For a second I didn't absorb this. But soon enough in a small panic I jumped, shaking the leaves just like a startled squirrel. He didn't look at me, and I didn't believe he'd said my name, but I thought I heard it correctly, the way it's supposed to be said, "Jo-elle," like a girl's name, not "Jole" like people usually pronounce it.

Finally he turned to me. "Evening, Joel," he repeated, "are you going to be rude and ignore my greeting?"

I immediately felt ashamed. He must know me from somewhere, I thought, a friend of my family's? Someone who met me when I was a child? In horror I realized this might have been a cousin of mine that I hardly knew.

I skulked out from behind the bush, shoulders hunched as if from the cold, and sat down next to him. Instantly and without hesitation he introduced himself as Satan. I would have walked off then and there, scoffing and shaking my head and not even giving him a second thought, had he not mentioned his name.

"Perhaps you know me better as Thon," he said.

My stomach did a little sour flip. Who knew that name except for my parents and me. Thon, from the Greek word chthonic, meaning from the underworld. I had liked that word since I first saw it, the impossible arrangement of consonants, and instead of Hades or Pluto or Satan, names for the Dark God that I hated because those names had no meaning for me, I made up the name Thon. In this name I could see the grayness of the walls of Hell, the dark, bleak, earthen colors that were the devil's only comfort. He must have ached to see the celestial color of blue, or the bright green grass that a fawn, reddish-brown and speckled with bright white spots, would lay down on. That name made me feel as though the devil existed and that he was not just part of myth.

"Why are you speaking to me?" was the first thing that came out of my mouth.

"Because," he said. "Because, you are to be my lover, my Chosen One, and I must tell you this at some point or another, am I right?"

"How do you know I'm going to be yours?"

He laughed softly. "Because. It's just going to be, and that's all there is to it."

"Are you psychic?"

A sweet smile, a smile that brought out the delicate curl of his eyelashes, melted across his face. "Don't you know, dear Joel, that I am eternal, and that compared to my lifetime, your life is so brief that it passes by in an instant? That it passes by so quickly and has already happened, that it is already gone away? Your past, your future, your present...they are all the same thing. I know your life as you mortals know a fleeting rush of sensation, a pinnacle at the end of your lovemaking, a feeling that is fought for so tenaciously, and once it has happened, when it is done, that's all it is--done. Gone."

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"If I'm gone already," I said, skeptically although I knew I understood what he said, "why bother coming into my life?"

"Because, though you are gone," he answered, looking at me straight-on for the first time, "you are also here."

This paradox was so sweet and sad, barely understandable, like a forgotten dream just on the verge of being remembered.

"Why do you pick me," I said, more as a statement to myself rather than a question posed to him, because I thought it was too big to understand, or maybe there was no rhyme and reason to it, just another event in the chaotic universe that warranted no logical explanation.

"I am the lover of every being," he answered anyway. "I do love mankind. But in such a way that sometimes humans mistake it for hate, for evil. Some return my love. I cannot accept it though, because like I said, their love for me comes in such hateful gestures. They murder, they destroy, they bring filth into this world, all in my name. They forget that I am not a wretched and regrettable creation of God, rather I am part of God, and we created the universe together, He and I, giving birth to this exquisite palette of balance.

"Do I need to explain to you that you returned my love with much humane expression, coloring my life with the bland colors of the Underworld? You used bland colors, that is true, but even as you did that you gave me a life in your mind that was more colorful than a rainbow on a dewy hill.

"You know why God allows suffering? You ask this over and over, throughout the centuries, you humans. It is no test. There is no test. God and I created the universe and mankind before there was this schism, before there was this distinction between good and evil. Everything was in balance and harmony until he looked through me, his left eye, and saw the pain and misery he caused when he created the human mind. That was too much for him to bear. So he cast me off, he cast his own eye out, and it was then that he was unable to see your suffering. It is I who sees your suffering. God only sees good, the majestic mountains, the supernovae, the downy wings of a bird, and therefore he is blind to the evils of holy wars, he is blind to everything bad in the world.

"But when he cast me out he didn't know that he also deprived himself of some aspects of goodness. It takes much compassion and understanding to perceive suffering, am I not right? That's the part I brought with me. To see the beauty and usefulness of all forms of sexuality, the indulgence in food, those are sins to him, but to me, they are forms of goodness."

I listened with delight as he told me of himself and of God. He told me of his fall, of his birth in the muck, that over millennia he was able to muster whatever creative force was left in him, and gather this earthly material to make this horrid creature that he was in the beginning.

Without God and him being One, he had such little creative power in him. Even God has just as little or even less creative power without him. That is why the universe is essentially static, consisting of the same forms, that is why creatures of the Earth have changed only a little through evolution. Evolution is the lame attempt of both God and Satan to create as they once did.

I listened for hours into the night until the moon like a fingernail hung in the sky and we were the only ones left in the park. The chill began to bite, so I pleaded with him to please come home with me.

In my bed, under the covers, we lay naked, me on top, pressed together in a toasty warmth, never making love. He stroked my back as he continued to tell his story, and I could feel the whole length of his hardness on my belly. There was so much for him to tell, and I wanted him to go back to the beginning and tell everything again in greater detail, so that his story lasted for eternity.

As he told the story of the legendary serpent, he reached down and wrapped his hand around my stiff cock. Casually he went on.

"I managed to muster all my strength and transform myself from this wretched shapeless thing into a serpent, long, like this." He tugged gently and playfully at my cock, making me almost moan out loud. "I slithered into a tree," he said. His hand moved smoothly up and down the shaft. I thrilled at how clever he was, how he used my penis to tell his tale, how he let my penis be a part of his story. "And I watched with delight the very first humans. What an awkward blunder. So naive, so exquisite. Eve herself came to me, to a fruit I had made to grow on the tree where I lurked."

His stroking was timed so perfectly, so teasingly. It was pleasurable enough yet made me want more, made me want to buck in his hand and press myself tight against the hard bone of his pelvis.

"Eve herself, the legendary goddess Eve, came to me, her breasts jiggling slightly as she walked, and I could smell the moistness already dewing up in the gauziness between her legs at the sight of me. I told her to eat the fruit, that it would give her tremendous knowledge, that it would transform her into a being like God and myself, and she hesitated coyly at first. 'But God forbids it,' she said, but little did she know. How could she know what it would bring, this fruit of my creation. God had made her naive and blind to suffering, as he himself was, and I gave the gift of knowledge of Good and Evil to her and to mankind.

"She ate of the fruit, and with her first bite, the sweet juice came dripping down her cheek, down her plump breast, the droplet tickling her nipple just correctly that a shiver of delight came over here, and she moaned, throwing her head back and letting the fruit fall to the ground." At this he fingered the liquid that began to bead up on the head of my cock, and it quivered, nearly sending me into my final spasm.

"Oh, how even then she knelt to the damp earth and picked up the fallen fruit, and hungrily and greedily she placed it in her mouth." With feline movements he placed me on my back and moved his wet lips down my stomach, and placed the whole of my cock into his warm, burning mouth. With a single ravenous suck, he moved his mouth up the shaft and lingered there at the tip, moving his head playfully and slowly from side to side, grazing his slightly rough tongue on the most tender and tingly parts. He released his grip with a smack of his lips and licked at those full red lips as if to taste every particle of pre-cum smeared there.

How gorgeous and animalistic and even dangerous he seemed, those dark eyes peering at me across his stony brow, his hair fallen across one shoulder and dangling low enough to tickle my leg.

"In her lust the beautiful, curvaceous woman laid back on the earth, licking her fingers clean of the sticky fluid, and she opened her legs to me, her eyes closed, and I could see the wetness glistening there. Mankind, bound to me through the fruit, was ready to heed my call whenever I called to their minds. I summoned Adam to the scene. He came, curious and enthusiastic, his mop of light brown curls so soft-looking that I wanted to kiss him on the head."

He moved his fingers through my hair. His hand slid down to the hair at the base of my cock, and he stroked it, tickled it, as if it were the hair on my head.

"Adam came, dumbfounded to see Eve spread out on the ground, in heat like a cat and beckoning to him with a smooth, writhing arm. 'Come to me,' I made Eve say, with her mouth and her voice, but with my mind. 'Come inside of me. Put your serpent here.' She slid her finger in the folds between her legs. Her hips bucked, what a wild thing she had become!

"I, the serpent, crawled up his leg like a spiral staircase, towards his flaccid, useless genitals. I merged with my twin, the small dangling thing that had never been used. I merged with him and he became hard, erect, and he was suddenly flushed like a man, staring at his wife in new wonder. At once he entered Eve on my command."

He began to stroke my cock feverishly, stopping only to lick it, leaving a generous amount of moisture, and then continued stroking. I grabbed the pillow beneath my head and moaned loud, dizzied by the electricity of all this.

"Adam entered Eve, and you must understand, every time a man enters a woman, it is me, my whole body, the serpent, entering her, feeling her warm slickness envelop my soul, oh, what ecstasy that is, to always feel that pleasurable tightness, the shocks, as if my whole body were a penis, as if my whole body were always feeling this," he said, stroking harder and faster to demonstrate what he meant, and I cried out, knowing that in any other circumstance I would have long felt the pinnacle much earlier, but he had the power to make it drag out in me, to make me feel this as more than just an instantaneous moment, to make the pleasure feel as if it would go on for eternity.

"He rode her roughly and savagely, as a man does when he is deprived of this for so long. In unison they came to ecstasy, and I spit my venom into her, my life-giving venom. You should have heard her scream, you should have felt her grind her hips into Adam's. They lay there on the dirty ground in that same climax for days. Days passed, and they hungered not for food. They lay locked together in this passion, this interminable peak, never weakening, and at last one morning the orgasm subsided."

With one final stroke, a suprisingly gentle one, he brought me to the peak. I breathed out heavily. My cock throbbed, the shocks pulsating through my body, and I grew deaf for an instant, hearing my own sounds from within, the sloshing of my blood, my hearty breaths. The slickness came, between my cock and his hand, and he laughed delightedly. He continued to stroke me lazily until I became soft and useless. I fell into a deep, dark sleep.

I dreamt of cloudy days. Of a cold, biting, winter chill, the air dry, the sky gray and the leaves of the trees a very dark green. I dreamt of wind chimes tinkling so mournfully. It was the sound of a lonely spirit walking the snow-covered earth, looking for something it has lost, yet never knowing what exactly that was. A large-eyed little girl sat down in a corner of a shabby house and warmed herself by the heater. There was music, an original composition, playing somewhere, perhaps it was a ghost playing in a hidden room somewhere in the house. The girl finds the room, spies the piano, but as soon as she sees it, the music stops playing, as if the ghost never wanted to be caught.

I awoke slowly. I saw his black hair framing his face as he laid propped up on his elbow, looking down on me. His eyes were sad and his face softened and streaked red, as though he'd been crying for a long time. His palm came to lay warmly on my cheek.

"Do you remember the time," he said, "when you were sitting idly on your front step, and suddenly in a flash there came to your mind an image of what your front gate looked like, many many years ago before your father built a new gate? You didn't even know you still had that memory in your head. It was a simple, meaningless thing, something you hadn't thought of in years, and now it was all of a sudden in your mind for no reason. And then you cried...copiously you cried, and you couldn't decide if they were tears of joy or tears of sorrow."

I pondered quietly for a while. "Yes, I remember that."

"It was that day a terrible storm came. The winds thrashed and made you run inside and close the door, and you watched it from the window. It rained and hailed, and throughout it all, the sun was shining furiously through a chink in the clouds."

"Yes, I do remember."

"That memory of yours, it made me cry. I cried and cried. To cry over something devoid of meaning! I made the biggest storm. God kept saying you cried to rejoice, as a celebration of your childhood suddenly realized. He made the sun shine brutally."

"Yes, I remember that day, my love."

He let his eyes dance on my face for a moment. He said, "That was the day I learned that I loved you." 

The Dark God Ch. 02



I am Joel. My hair is auburn, wavy and shoulder-length, my eyes almond-shaped and green and large. I am twenty-one years old, a college student and part-time volunteer at a local animal shelter. I am very, very much in love with Satan.

My lover is the Archetype, the Shadow. He makes young girls touch themselves in their most private places while they conjure images (varying from girl to girl) of the lover that was meant for them, when in reality, all of those men--blond or raven haired, muscular or plain--are him: Satan, the one I call Thon.

We had met and had our first brief encounter over a year ago. He'd been with me just for one night, and in the day, when I had rested up from our exertion, I woke up to find he had gone.

Was it just a dream? A very vivid, unlikely dream? I was sore, and my whole body pulsed as if it were a heart. I was naked and tangled in a blanket.

Months and a year had passed and I had myself pretty much convinced that this was a severely vivid hallucination. I kept myself occupied with my Medieval studies in college, and most of my weekend hours and after-school hours were spent taking care of strays at the shelter just on the outskirts of town. Earth was in the death of winter and the sky was dense with clouds and all was silent, a sure sign of heavy snow to come.

My supervisor and I had become concerned for one stray cat we rescued from certain death in an alleyway--a few days ago she wandered off and never returned. We were sure that the cold would endanger her life.

And that was the most of my worries. All seemed quite normal.

Heavy snow did come, and as I watched the fat snowflakes at my window I resignedly gave up hope that the feline would ever return to us alive.

The morning after the silent, peaceful storm I ate my breakfast as I gazed at the blinding expanse of white, sandwiched on each side by frosted tree branches, as my front window faces away from town and towards the countryside. A small ditch ran alongside the trees on the left side, covered with at least two feet of snow, the same ditch where in springtime I liked to stroll, swatting at mosquitoes and picking the elusive gnome-like asparagus.

Out in the distance I spotted what seemed like a big black boulder. Strange, I thought, that all the little branches of the trees were covered with snow, but that boulder was not. It must have been placed there after the snow – but why in the world would anyone want to place a boulder there?

I put on a heavy coat and some boots and trudged out in the knee-deep snow. The boulder was about the distance of a football field away, so by the time I got close enough to see any details my face was nipped by the cold and a warmth glowed within me from the laborious walking.

This was no boulder. It seemed to be moving but I couldn't quite tell what it was. As I moved I saw something in the corner move like a tail. Closer, closer – it was a tail!

I approached and within ten feet of the object I saw a half orange face looking at me – it was the missing cat from the shelter. She lay in the lap of a man who sat Indian-style in the snow. The man, in a long black wool coat, stroked the cat with a gloved hand.

He had long, black hair, and wisps of it broke off in the slight breeze, dancing as if from the heat rising off of a fire.

It was he – Thon.

I became hot with anger. "Where in the Hell have you been!" I demanded.

He laughed, pleasantly surprised by my ironic choice of words, and I felt a slight embarrassment.

"Not just in Hell, my sweet, but to the far reaches of the universe and back, and everywhere in between."

"It's been over a year!" I stammered.

"You must forget. To my lifetime of eternity, a year is just the blink of an eye."

I was at a loss with his seeming coldness. I felt betrayed. A fleeting thought came to my mind, that I would turn to God just to spite him. "And you never once gave any thought to me." I lowered my head like a child.

He scoffed. "Nonsense. I reclined on the dark side of the waxing moon each night just watching you, until the full moon came and I could see you no more, and I returned every time the moon ducked into complete darkness."

"And the rest of the time? Where were you? Skulking around the earth convincing everyone else that they were your only love?"

The smile vanished from his face. He stood up and in movements so natural and smooth that I wasn't at first shocked to see it, the cat merged into his coat and was no more. His brow seemed knotted with pain and I regretted that I said anything to him to hurt him, this beautiful man.

"I'm...I'm sorry," I said. I briefly touched a button on his coat. I looked into his eyes – it was the first time I saw him in a well-lit place, and I noticed with a mild shock how different his two eyes were. Though both were dark brown one was slightly tinged red, as if it were bleeding. No one would be able to notice it unless they were this close to him and in such light.

"Oh, this," he said, pointing to the reddish eye. "This is the very eye that God discarded into the mud."

"And the other eye?"

"I fashioned it. Out of the deep brown mud in which I stewed."

Together we walked back to my home. The rush of warmth as we entered the door was suffocating at first, and then medicinal.

As soon as the door was closed I turned to him and we pressed together – the bulk of him in that wool coat, and he covered my mouth with his hungry mouth and melted into the sloppiest kisses. His mouth was hot, hotter than an ordinary man's.

"I'm cold," I breathed.

"Here," he said, and took each finger into his mouth, quickly and hungrily, and when the chilly bite of my right hand was taken away but still lingering, he shoved my hand into the folds of his coat, into his jeans, and the fabric scratched my skin roughly, my palm feeling the slightest patch of hair against hot skin. He helped me to find the base of his already hard cock and I wrapped my hand around it. There, all the cold was now gone. And when I was sufficiently warmed he took my hand out and led me to the couch.

He removed his jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt and threw it off. His lightly muscled chest was smooth and very white, with just the scantest trace of hair. He sat on the couch and pulled me down onto his lap, and I nuzzled my head in the crook of his shoulder.

This felt so right, like being wrapped in my favorite blanket. I pressed my palm to his chest as he kissed my mouth. I realized that during our first encounter he never kissed me on the mouth. How tender it was, and then it made me wonder what it would be like to lay with him as a woman. It was such an enticing thought that I immediately became hard.

"You really want to know?" he said, with a vaguely surprised tone of voice. I nodded. He unzipped my jeans slowly, as if he would break what was inside, and tugged them off of me. Then he laid me back on the couch with my hips resting on his lap and he spread my legs, and felt between them, right behind my scrotum.

And then with his fingers he began to prod. The pressure was suddenly unbearable and I flinched, crying out, but with his other hand he squeezed my leg tenderly and made me relax. The pressure grew and grew, my muscles tightened, until I felt skin tear. In a sudden moment of clarity I wondered if this was how a woman felt when she lost her virginity, when the hymen snapped. My hips writhed in his lap.

Suddenly the pressure was gone, the painful pressure, but I felt a different kind of sensation – it was similar to his finger pressing against me just a moment ago, but this, this was sweeter and milder, like a warm humid day. My whole groin vibrated with a lulling electricity, and I realized, how slick it felt down there, and how smoothly he was moving his fingers in and out of me. In horror I wondered if he had torn a wound into me and used my own blood for lubrication. I gasped.

Looking down, I was stunned, as if waking up from a dream and seeing that the laws of nature no longer made sense. There between my legs, I couldn't see my hard, erect cock. Though I still felt sexually aroused and would have expected my cock to be at its stiffest and standing up straight, this new sensation was mild, more spread out within my pelvis. It was like butter melting over the surface of a warm pan.

Instead there was the littlest mound, with delicate hairs, and I saw Thon's hand working expertly just beyond the mound. I looked to his face and saw it pale and his lids half-closed. I could tell this magic trick had taken much of his energy. But he was pleased.

He faced me now, with a mild smile, and took his fingers out of me. How wonderfully tight my new orifice had closed in on itself as he removed his fingers, and instantly I missed the pressure inside. He brought his fingers, slick and shiny with my own fluids, up to my chest, and began to massage my nipples. With both hands he squeezed hard at the pectorals, gathering up the flesh greedily, as if kneading dough. I'm not a meaty person, slim, in fact, almost spare, like a girl, and I marveled at how he made me feel so fleshy. In fact at that moment the flesh seemed too thick. So I looked down, and gasped.

He had fashioned two breasts out of my boy-skin. There were, in place of a flat chest, two plump and round breasts, supple under his grip, and now with so much energy spent his grip loosened, his hair tumbled down onto my stomach, and he laid his head on me, panting and limp.

After his breath slowed, he mustered the last bit of strength he had left and carried me, his pretty new bride, to my bedroom and we fell asleep together, my face stuffed into the fragrant crook of his neck. 



The Dark God Ch. 03



The sun set, leaving the sky a juicy orange above the hills and the deep reaches of space a dark, sweet purple that reminded me of wine. I strolled in the cool, slightly humid evening towards the full moon, gold like a coin and frightening in its majesty. It was the kind of moon that could make werewolves, could tug at the webs of your mind and bring out the evil.

There was a sweet fragrance in the air, something fruity like orange blossoms. I walked all night over an endless, well-trimmed lawn and the scent grew stronger and stronger, and I became more and more frustrated when I could not find the source of the smell.

The scene faded. My soul merged with my body and I slowly opened my eyes, realizing I had been dreaming. The drowsy warmth of my room enveloped me.

But this was not my room...it seemed altogether familiar, yet different. I noticed my simple bed had been turned into a four-poster bed, and up the four posts grew a green waxy vine, studded with huge, white flowers, which at their centers were very pink and bled into their petals. Small red fruits, which I had never seen before, concealed themselves behind the blossoms. The same vines draped over the bed to make a canopy. Fresh white and pink petals fell to the bed and had covered me like a thick quilt.

To my left was Thon. He was propped up on his elbow, watching me. His long black hair tumbled down and clung to his sculpted muscles. The petals had not covered him and he was completely naked, and very white like a marble statue. His whiteness almost matched that of the petals. His shadows were very dramatic and made me startle at how muscular he was, yet far from bulky. He was like a healthy cat that was bred for showing.

"Well, come here, now," he said, "you can see me, but I can't see you." And he brushed away the petals that had covered me.

I was very shocked to look down and remember that Thon had turned me into a woman the day before - so I had not been dreaming! What a lovely woman I was, too. A Renaissance beauty, no waif, with curves that should be squeezed like fruit at the market. My breasts, I could tell, were very firm, but I was afraid to touch them, lest this dream melt away and I wake up with my normal male body, which, nevertheless, had been very beautiful. I guessed that my long auburn hair would have fitted me perfectly as a woman, and I saw that it did - I spied myself in a mirror across the room. When I was a boy, I knew, that with all my feminine beauty, I would have made a lovely woman.

Thon was examining my body with even more interest, if that was possible. He stared for a long while at the hairy cleft between my legs, and then up at my generous breasts. He seemed very pleased with his work. And then his sculpted arm moved gracefully down his belly, down to the penis which was already hard and standing up straight.

He wrapped the fingers around the base of it. I noticed the fine black hairs on his knuckles, very sparse, like wispy ghosts compared to the hairs where his large cock met his pelvis. He moved his hand very slowly over it, in time with his eyes moving across my body. I wanted to grab the thing out of his hand and help him, but this was far more enticing.

His hand moved up to the head, pre-cum glistening at the tip. His strokes were so exquisitely timed that I wanted to reach down to my own hard cock and imitate his moves, until I realized I had no cock. Yet I still felt the same, burning arousal - but it was spread throughout my hips, through my legs, this was a more relaxing sensation, but at the same time it made me ache for him more. I wanted him to fill me up, to cure myself of that void.

His breath quickened and became deeper so that it was audible. His male suffering was so irresistible. I watched with curiosity how he tugged at his cock, as if I had never seen this happen before. He threw his head back and let the air out of his mouth, bringing it back in and seething, his eyes closed and then opened again, feasting on the sight of my body.

Finally I could not take it anymore. I crept towards him and covered his mouth with kisses. His hand came up off his cock, and rested on the back of my head, as if he had found a more satisfying place.

He reached towards the canopy of flowers and picked off one of the red fruits. Then he placed it at my lips. It was much like a strawberry, but I could not decipher the taste. It was like all fruits in one. Yet there was a musky flavor behind it, something exotic and yet so earthy, and it reminded me of taking his cock deep into my throat, the saltiness of his flesh arousing my mouth to watering.

He drew himself up and brought his hard cock, heavy with blood, up to my chest. He held his cock and placed the tip of it on my left nipple and a shock of sensation traveled from my nipple straight down to my crotch. I almost cried out.

Thon laughed. "So much more intense, isn't it?" he said. I nodded in disbelief.

He continued to play with my nipple and spank it with his cock. It seemed he would not be content until he had smothered every last inch of himself on my breast. He thrust hard against me, grunting and rough, and hurting me just a little, stopping now and then to tickle my nipple with the head of his cock. But it was as though he wanted to penetrate that thick flesh on my chest, and the fragrance of his crotch so close to my face was overpowering - I grabbed his cock and helped him thrust it against my breast, until he could control it no longer and a white ribbon of his seed shot out.

As he caught his breath, he sighed his weariness into my mouth. His tongue slid against mine tenderly, while his hand lay on my breast. Then he left me for a while. I could hear him down the hall, in the bathroom, the water running. He returned to the room and lifted me up, and carried me to the tub, and set me down, the warm water licking at my skin. Slowly and sloppily--I could tell he had never done this before, not even for himself, he must have always been immaculate--he ran his hands over my body and shampooed my hair, then lifted me out and dried me with a towel.

When he led me back to my bedroom, which was no longer covered with that strange flower and its fruit, there was a green satin dress laid out on my bed. It was strappy on the back and embroidered with dragonflies and flowers. On the floor were green satin shoes with tiny gold beads. He slid the dress on my naked body without any help from me. It went on smoothly and was snug like my own skin. I watched him place the shoes on me and I was delighted at the arch of my foot. I hadn't noticed that he had magically dressed himself in a white shirt and black pants.

"Why are we dressed?" I asked. "Are we going out to some place special?"

"Yes, very special," he answered. "I'm taking you to Hell."