by Eric Vall
“Hey, it could be worse,” Ira muttered. “We could be eating raw vargrat like we used to.”
“You used to eat it raw?” I gagged.
The Sister of Wrath shot me a death glare.
“You have no fucking idea,” she sighed. “For the longest time, Azazel wouldn’t let us eat anything else. He claimed anything other than the raw meat of a rodent was ‘too good for succubus filth.’ But then Lucifer cracked down on Azazel and told him he had to give his soldiers better rations. That’s when he started to let Gula do her thing.”
“What a twatwaffle,” Todd whistled. “I’m really glad that giant red asshole is worm food.”
“You and me both, Todd,” Ira agreed. “You and me both.”
Just then, the man who took our order appeared with two other employees. They sat down the various platters of food on the table, gave us a gracious bow, and then left with a “bon appetit.”
I saw the incredible creations that sat before us and nearly fell backward in my chair.
First, there was the pizzas themselves. There was a cheese, a pepperoni, and some strange concoction I wasn’t familiar with, one with chicken and some sort of orange sauce. Each of the pies were smothered with grease and toasted, bubbly mozzarella cheese, with a crust that was still smoking from the oven. The cheesy breadsticks were nearly identical, but somehow even more smothered in cheese and oregano.
I wasn’t a huge fan of wings, but the ones in the little plastic basket looked delectable. They had hints of golden-brown skin beneath their exterior that was completely overflowing with the maple-colored sauce. From the smell, they were just the right blend of smokey and spicy.
There were also eight sandwiches, half of them subs. The bread looked like it had been covered with butter and then toasted to perfection, and melted cheese and tender meat overflowed from between the two slices of bread.
“You know what they call these, bro?” Todd snickered. “Grinders. Like, honest to god, they call them the same thing I call those strippers at the Velvet Lips.”
“These are probably a way better value,” Sia admitted. “I reserve the … lower tier of dancers for those roles.”
“These will probably taste better, too,” Todd joked. “Trust me, Delightful Daisy is like--”
“I’m going to stop you there,” I said as I raised my hand and held back bile. “Before I lose my appetite.”
I picked up the nearest sub sandwich, raised it to my mouth, and took a bite. My teeth crunched against the toasted bread as my mouth was filled with a mixture of butter, mozzarella, and sausage complemented by a small dose of onion and green pepper. I swallowed the delicious bite and made a “mmmmm” sound as I rolled my eyes back in my head.
“This stromboli is to die for,” I announced.
“Stromboli?” Cupi asked curiously as she examined her sandwich.
The blonde succubus crunched into the sub, chewed it for a bit, and then her face stretched into a huge grin.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” I prompted.
“This is fucking delicious,” Cupi gasped nearly orgasmically.
I took a second bite, but as my taste buds sprang to life, I felt half of the sandwich’s filling fall out the back. I was wearing a gray sweater, and it was now covered with the greasy mixture.
“Fucking First Circle,” I sighed as I set the now-empty bread back into its basket.
“You should try this one, Jacob,” Plato mused and held up a pile of deli meat, cheese, and vegetables pressed between two pieces of sourdough. “It’s an italian club. The bread is a tad stale, and the lettuce is browning, but otherwise it’s not too bad.”
“Is that all yours is like?” Ira muttered. “The tomatoes in mine keep spraying me when I take a bite.”
We all glanced over at Todd and waited for him to make a snarky comment. It took a second for the imp to realize we were staring at him, and then he simply shook his head.
“That’s low-hanging fruit even for me, bro,” he said as he clicked his tongue. “Just eat and move on, friendos.”
Todd had already devoured half of the pepperoni pizza, so I reached for the one with the chicken. As I placed it on my plate, I smelled a tangy, hot scent that reminded me of the buffalo wings we always used to get back in college.
“What kinda pizza is this, Todd?” I questioned the imp.
Todd held up a finger as he continued to scarf down a handful of breadsticks. As soon as he swallowed, his face stretched into a wide smile.
“Bro,” he mused. “Three words. Buffalo. Chicken. Pizza. Total orgasm in your mouth.”
I bit into the slice and quickly realized the imp was right. There was a small hint of heat, but nothing too overwhelming. Unlike a normal pizza, all of the red sauce was replaced by a mixture of buffalo sauce and ranch. This combination, along with the tender chicken, caused the slice of pizza to nearly melt in my mouth as I chewed. I took two more bites of the pizza, and then I had to recoil in pain.
As I took the final bite, a fleck of the buffalo sauce flew up and hit me square in the eye.
“Mother fucker,” I growled as I quickly grabbed a napkin and rubbed my eyelid. “Ya know, this food is delicious, but it’s almost not worth it. Is anyone else having issues?”
“Oh, my sinuses and eyeballs are on fire,” Ira giggled, and I saw tears were streaming down her cheeks. “It just makes this meal all the more delightful, in my opinion.”
“Yeahhhh,” Cupi spoke up and motioned to her stained white shirt. “I didn’t really like this thing, anyways.”
“My beard is a greasy mess,” Plato sighed. “I’m going to have chin acne for months.”
“What about you, Superbia?” I asked the prim and proper succubus madame. “What’s the deal with yours?”
“Nothing,” she said with a shrug. “You see, friends, even when you’re in the First Circle, it pays to be cautious and delicate with your--”
Before she could finish, one of the waiters walking behind her tripped over his own feet, and she was cut off by a waterfall of soda landing smack-dab in her lap.
Sia’s face turned red from embarrassment, and then it quickly turned into a look of anger. She craned her neck eerily slowly so she could look at the waiter, and I was worried we were about to witness a murder.
“I’m so sorry!” he apologized profusely as we all tried not to laugh. “Let me get that for you … ”
The redhead held up her hand and sighed. “It’s alright, dear,” she grumbled. “It’s the First Circle. I should have expected as much.”
“Look on the bright side, Strawberry Shortcake,” Todd joked and shoved another slice of pizza in his mouth. “Next time Jakey goes down on you, he’s gonna get the sweet, refreshing taste of root beer.”
“Thanks, Todd,” Superbia said through gritted teeth.
“I’m here till Thursday,” he laughed, and then he threw an entire chicken wing into his mouth, bones and all.
Todd crunched up the hunk of chicken with his teeth, swallowed it whole, and then picked at his teeth with his claws.
“Is that safe?” I gasped. “You--you just at the bones and everything.”
“Bro, I’ve got a gut of steel now,” Todd explained as he slapped his belly. “I could probably eat a fucking box of nails and razorblades, and I’d be fine. But I really don’t want to test that theory.”
“Why not?” Ira asked, a little too into the idea.
We ignored the Sister of Wrath’s question as we continued to stuff our faces with the incredible food. Everything tasted nearly perfect, and eventually we got so into it we stopped giving a fuck about all the small issues that came along with it. Within no time, we had reduced our massive feast to nothing.
Then all of us were now sitting back in our chairs, and we moaned and held our bloated stomachs as if we were about to give birth.
“We … we didn’t even touch the cookies,” Cupi forced the words out of her mouth.
“We can’t let that stand,” Todd belched.
“The Toddster does not allow for wasted desserts. Everybody take five of the suckers!”
The succubi, Plato, and I all groaned as we reached forward, grabbed a handful of the circular morsels, and began to shove them in our faces.
The cookies were still warm from the oven, but I could tell they were somewhat undercooked.
Joke’s on you, First Circle. Cookie dough is the shit.
“We’re probably all gonna get salmonella from those,” I laughed as we finished off the last of the food.
Todd let out a loud burp and rubbed his cheeks satisfactorily. “Worth it, bro,” he groaned. “Worth. It.”
We let our food digest for a few more minutes as the wait staff came back out and cleaned up the remnants. Then Plato looked down at his watch and sighed.
“As much as I’d love to just sit here and remain in my food coma,” he laughed, “we need to get going if you want to make it to Asmodeus on time.”
“That’s fine with me,” Cupi announced as she stood up. “We need to walk off some of this lunch, anyway.”
“That was lunch?” Sia muttered. “That was enough food to count for our next three meals.”
“Come now, Superbia,” Ira giggled and stood up. “You know Asmodeus is going to want to wine and dine us. He’s the Master of Love, after all.”
“Master of Love, huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “What, is he some sort of hunky sex machine? Doe he have a huge-ass harem of succubi?”
“Oh, you’ll see,” Cupi reassured me ominously.
We left a small tip for the waiter in the form of an autographed copy of one of Plato’s works, and then we headed out the door and toward Asmodeus’ dwelling.
The six of us continued onward for another fifteen minutes, and then I saw it. Asmodeus’ cathedral.
And holy shit, it was the most glorious thing I’d ever seen.
Much like the cathedrals of Earth Realm, the building was a massive structure with spires that stretched to the heavens. However, its exterior colored with a combination of reds, pinks, and purples, and there were massive neon signs plastered around the walls.
There were several stained glass windows, and each of the beautiful artworks displayed two lovers in the throws of different sexual positions. Todd was trying to list them all off as we approached, but I was too shell-shocked to pay attention.
Last, but certainly, certainly not least, almost every piece of the structure was shaped like a different piece of genitalia. The spires looked like dicks, the doors looked like vaginas, and even the knocker on the wooden pink door looked like a set of testicles.
“Am … am I hallucinating, bro?” Todd asked. “Please tell me we got food poisoning back at Marty’s, and I’m in some sort of fever dream.”
“This is real, alright,” Plato chuckled. “I know it’s a little … odd the first time you see it, but it’ll grow on you.”
“There’s a dick joke in there somewhere,” Todd observed, “but I’m way too into this cathedral to figure it out.”
“Speaking of which,” Plato said as we reached the entryway of the building, “this is where I leave you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Cupiditas asked. “Surely Asmodeus won’t care if we have one more member of our team along.”
The philosopher perked up. “I’m a member of your team?”
“Of course you are,” I reiterated. “You’ve done so much for us, Plato.”
The bearded man put his hand over his heart and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “I’m flattered,” he said through a toothy grin, “but this is your diplomatic mission. If something were to go wrong and you’d need to take refuge, you know where my cave is located. But for now, I bid you all ado.”
Plato bowed, and then he turned around and began his long journey back home.
Meanwhile, the five of us were left in front of the giant cathedral of love.
“Soooooo,” Todd started as we stared at the door, “who’s gonna knock? I’m definitely not touching balls, bro.”
“I’ll do it,” Superbia offered as she shot me a sly grin. “As Jacob has discovered, I have zero qualms about holding balls in my hands.”
The succubus picked up the knocker and then pounded it against the door three times. There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of a mechanical lock being lifted rang out from the other side. The door opened, and we were greeted by a man with black, long-top hair and a jewel-encrusted military uniform on his body.
“Hello,” he said. “You must be Jacob and the ‘three musketeers.’ My name is Ronaldo, and my master has been looking forward to meeting you all day. Do come in.”
Ronaldo stepped to the side and gestured for us to enter, and we obliged.
The inside of the cathedral was even more insane than the outside. Before us sat a long carpet runner made of complete red shag, and it stretched all the way down the massive hallway, all the way up to a throne on the other side of the room.
The walls were painted in shades of warm colors, and mounted on them were a vast array of sex toys.
“This way, please,” Ronaldo said as he stepped past us and headed down the runner.
The six of us followed the man as we took everything in.
Either side of the pathway was filled with bean bag chairs, large furry couches, and circular beds. More interestingly, almost all of them were inhabited by men and women in various states of undress.
We finally arrived at the end of the runner, and I could now see Asmodeus’ throne much more clearly. It was made up entirely of translucent red crystals, and the King’s name was carved into the backrest of the seat.
Ronaldo walked up beside the throne, held up his hands, and cleared his throat loudly. The second he did so, the entire room grew eerily silent.
“Ahem,” he started. “Denizens of the First Circle, please welcome our special guests, Jacob Ralston and his friends.”
There was muted cheering, but nothing to write home about.
Just then, a group of men walked out from a nearby doorway with guitars in their hands. They formed a line on each side of the door that stretched all the way up to the crystal throne, and then they began to play fanfare on their guitars in the form of a funky bassline.
“This is too good, bro,” Todd whispered. “I’m dreaming. I’m fucking dreaming.”
“Please welcome our master, the King of the First Circle and the Master of Love,” Ronaldo continued. “Denizens, welcome your king, Asmodeus!”
Nothing could have prepared me for what walked through that door.
Into the room stepped a large, lanky demon. He had dark red skin, beady black eyes, and two horns that came out in a straight, downward curve. He stood about seven feet tall on his clawed feet, and he towered over all of the Shades who played his fanfare.
What really made Asmodeus stand out, however, was his outfit.
The demon was wearing a huge, flowing purple cape made completely of fur. It had a white trim spotted with speckles of black, and the cape made the King look like he was double as wide as he really was. He wore a matching purple top hat on his head and jewel-encrusted black shoes, and he strutted toward his throne using a jewel-encrusted cane. Underneath the cape was a red, frilly dress shirt unbuttoned all the way down to the center of his chest, and his bottom half was squeezed into black leather pants that looked like they would explode if he bent over. Once he reached his destination, two of the guitarists rushed over and pulled his cape off his shoulders, and then he sat down.
“Pinch me, bro,” Todd whispered. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
I had to shut the imp up with a gentle slap to his shoulder, and then we watched the King of the First Circle with bated breath.
Asmodeus placed his cane in front of his body and leaned in to look at us. Finally, he smiled, sat back, and crossed his right leg over his left knee.
“Jacob Ralston, welcome to my not-so-humble abode,” he said somewhat cockily. “Please make your
self at home. We have much to discuss.”
Chapter 7
“What’s the protocol, here?” I whispered to Sia under my breath. “Do I bow?”
“Jacob,” she hissed, “you are a King. You don’t bow to anyone.”
Asmodeus sat up in his chair and quirked an eyebrow. “Is there something you wish to say, Jacob?” he asked curiously.
“Uh, no, I--pleased to make your acquaintance, Asmodeus,” I sputtered. “I received your message, and I was hoping we could talk about a potential alliance.”
“So forthcoming,” he whistled. “I love it. But please, Jacob, don’t feel like you need to be hard-nosed with me. This trip should be one of pleasure, not just of business.”
“I can tell pleasure is kinda your thing,” I joked as I gestured all around us.
“What can I say?” Asmodeus shrugged. “I like to have a good time, and I like for all of my friends and underlings to have a good time as well.”
“I gotta ask,” Todd spoke up before anyone could stop him, “this is the First Circle, right? How exactly does one have minor inconveniences in a love shack like this?”
“You must be the imp I’ve heard so much about,” the King of the First Circle chuckled. “Well, my friend, you don’t have to worry about any of that here. This is the one place in my domain where we are free of the curse. Like you said, this is a ‘love shack.’ What kinda pleasure house would this be if you had to worry about things like ED or running out of lube or the bed breaking on you mid-coitus?”
“Fair enough.” Todd nodded. “Three more questions … was that a viagra dispenser I saw mounted to the wall over there? And do you have any singles rooms? And if you do, is there any way to get internet down here?”
Asmodeus grinned. “Yes and yes,” he explained, “and down here, you don’t need internet. I will provide two live performers who will do whatever your heart desires.”
“Alrighty then,” the imp said as he yawned. “Boy, you know, it’s been a long journey. If it’s okay with you, I think I’m gonna go take a nap or something in one of those private rooms.”