Succubus Lord 7

by Eric Vall

  “Like what?” I asked. “History? PhD level literature? Scientific theory?”

  “Much, much more accessible than that,” the bearded man chuckled. “Let’s just leave it at that. I use a pen name nowadays, anyway.”

  “It’s historical erotic fan-fiction, isn’t it?” Todd interjected.

  Plato’s face turned red as he shot the imp an annoyed look.

  “N-no!” he argued. “I’d never go to that level of--”

  “I found the manuscript of your first draft on your dresser,” the imp said with a hint of “gotcha” in his voice. “There’s no judgement here, bro. Different strokes for different folks, I always say.”

  “That wasn’t ready yet … ” Plato protested as he looked at the floor. “It was just a draft.”

  “It was a good draft,” Todd admitted. “That thing you have between Nefertiti and Susan B. Anthony? I was moved to tears, bro. It might just be your best work since Symposium.”

  “You really think so?” the philosopher asked like a bashful child.

  “Totally,” Todd admitted. “When you’re all done, let me sneak a copy of this back up to Earth Realm and promote it on my show. You’re gonna be even more famous than you already are!”

  “Can we get back to business here?” Eligor sighed. “Not that I don’t want to talk about historical erotica and all that.”

  “Fine by me,” I agreed. “Where’d Superbia go?”

  “Oh, Sister Superbia left right after we got here,” Libidine explained. “After she healed you all up and we put you to rest, we sent her on a very, very important mission.”

  “A mission?” I questioned the succubi as my heart sank into my stomach. “You sent Sia on a mission without us? What were you thinking?”

  “I tried to stop them,” Eligor said with a shrug. “I said we didn’t have time for tomfoolery and that we needed to head straight for Azazel’s castle, but nope.”

  “Liby,” I implored. “Where did Sia go?”

  Suddenly, Libidine, Todd, and Plato all burst out into fits of laughter.

  “We just sent her back to the surface, bro,” Todd promised. “She isn’t in any danger. But we’re all gonna be if she doesn’t complete her mission pretty soon here. I could eat one of those whatchamacallits? A dung beetle?”

  “A Skarbeetle,” Eligor corrected. “And trust me, those are not for eating. I tried that once, when I was starving and desperate. I was ill for weeks.”

  “So wait … ” I pondered aloud. “You sent Sia for food?”

  Todd stood up on the stool he had been sitting on and began to make a sound like a game show bell. “That’s right, Jakey boy,” he laughed. “We were starving, so we sent Strawberry Shortcake on a food run.”

  “Is she at the mall, or--” I started, but the imp cut me off with a wave of his hand.

  “Nah, bro,” he explained. “We weren’t gonna take a chance of having hair in our food or having it be the wrong texture or any of that ‘bait and switch’ shit the First Circle likes to pull. Also, minor correction, we sent her back to Earth to tell Gula to go on a food run. She’s the culinary expert, after all.”

  “She’s been gone for nearly two hours now,” Plato explained. “She’s probably ready to be called back.”

  I pressed my finger against the flaming battle axe tattoo on my arm, and the white light shot forth.

  It danced like a flickering flame for an instant, and then Gula’s short, curvy figure appeared in its brilliance. The Sister of Gluttony stepped out of the light holding three massive plastic bags, each one filled to the brim with styrofoam containers.

  “Hello, everyone!” the redhead grinned happily as she walked toward the table and sat the bags on top of its stony surface. “Who’s hungry?”

  “Did you even need to ask, Firecracker?” Todd whistled as he salivated at the sight of the take-out in front of him.

  Gula crossed her arms across her chest and pouted at the imp.

  “Firecracker?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, that’s my new nickname for ya,” Todd explained. “The other ones weren’t really sticking, ya know? But this one definitely fits your personality. Doesn’t it, Jakey?”

  Todd and Gula both looked over at me with completely different expressions on their faces. Out of fear for my safety, I refused to answer the question.

  “How did you get all this?” I diverted. “The Porta ad Inferos is out in the middle of rural Virginia.”

  “Tris showed us this app she’s been using a lot lately,” Gula explained. “Grubhub, I think it’s called?”

  “Oh yeah,” Todd explained. “I showed Slothy that one. We call them up all the time when we’re in the middle of our pot-testing sessions. Bro, if you knew the kinda dough we blow on Grubhub every week … ”

  “Every week?” I couldn’t help but gasp.

  Thanks to the various endeavors I’d taken up on Earth, we were pretty well off. Between the Velvet Lips strip club, Ira’s political career, Todd and Ira’s dispensary, and Gula’s cooking show, we had plenty of money. Even so, you don’t get rich by spending your hard-earned cash like it’s going out of style.

  “Don’t worry about it, Jakey,” Todd promised. “Tuesdays with the Toddster alone brings in enough to cover our bill.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how they found you all the way out in the middle of the woods,” I continued.

  Gula just shrugged. “We are very persuasive,” she said coyly. “Particularly Sister Ira.”

  “Oh no,” Libidine half-chuckled, half-sighed. “Did Ira threaten some poor delivery boy with genital mutilation again?”

  “Of course not!” Gula said with an exaggerated gasp. “She just pretended to be ‘Maggie Franklin’ and told the guy she could get him free Wizards tickets if he was willing to come all the way out to our location.”

  “And that worked?” Todd asked as he shook his head. “I don’t know much about sportsball, but even I know the Wizards blow.”

  “Free tickets are free tickets.” Gula shrugged. “Either way, it worked, and we are now the proud owners of a bunch of Mexican food!”

  “I must admit,” Plato spoke up, “I’m quite ecstatic to try some of this. All of the Mexican cuisine down here is made of vargrat, and it usually is undercooked.”

  “Takes ‘Taco Hell’ to a whole new level, huh?” Todd mused as he snatched one of the containers from the bag and popped it open. “I’d hate to see any of the toilets down here.”

  “Toilets?” Plato asked curiously.

  Todd’s whole body cringed, and he let out a shudder at the philosopher’s words.

  “You know,” I said with a shudder of my own, “normally this conversation would make me lose my appetite. But, I’m so fucking hungry, I don’t give a shit. Bring on the tacos!”

  “You’ll definitely be ‘giving a shit’ later, bro,” Todd joked as he popped open his container and tossed a tortilla chip into his mouth. “I hope you brought the immodium.”

  I picked up one of the remaining containers and sat down at the table next to my friends. The food inside was super warm, and my mouth started to water in anticipation as I opened up the box. Instantly, my nostrils were hit with a scent of the floury tortillas and a mixture of cinnamon, chili powder, and cumin. I looked down at the food in the box, and my anticipation turned into full-on excitement.

  Before me sat a huge pile of mexican food, still steaming-hot. There was a tiny pile of yellow tortilla chips that must have been fresh out of the fryer, because they were still shimmering with grease. Just below the chips was a small side of refried beans that melted together in a light reddish-brown puddle and were covered with a helping of melted white cheese. Finishing off the sides was a helping of toasted, puffy mexican rice.

  Then there were the main dishes. This must have been some sort of combo deal, because there were three different types of entrees in the container. First, there was an enchilada, a tube of fried corn tortilla smothered with a tomato-bas
ed sauce that was almost oozing taco meat from both its sides. Beside it sat three hard-shelled tacos, packed to the brim with shredded chicken and cheese and topped off with a mixture of chunked tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and a dollop of sour cream. Finally, there was a golden-brown, burrito-shaped object I didn’t recognize.

  “What’s this?” I asked Gula curiously.

  “It’s a chimichanga,” she explained. “Wait … have you never eaten a chimichanga before?”

  “I can’t say I have,” I admitted. “I’m more of a ‘taco and burrito’ kinda guy.”

  “I have failed you, Jakey,” Todd sighed through a mouthful of beans. “I have failed you.”

  “I think this is a first,” Libidine observed. “An Earth food that one of us has tried before Jacob? How the tables have turned.”

  “It just means you all are becoming much more well-rounded people,” I said smugly. “Isn’t it every master’s dream to have his students surpass him?”

  “It certainly was for Socrates,” Plato interjected. “And I definitely wanted Aristotle to do better than I had in this life. According to what I’ve heard of your history books, it looks like both our dreams came true.”

  “You could say that,” I chuckled as I picked up the chimichanga. “This is your first taste of real Earth Realm food in years, Plato. How are you liking it?”

  “Pardon my French,” the philosopher grinned, “but this is fucking exquisite. Much better than vargrat, that's for sure.”

  “I just heard Plato eat a taco and then say ‘fuck,’” Todd observed through a belch. “I don’t think my life can get any better than this moment right here.”

  I raised the chimichanga to my mouth and bit into its golden skin. There was a satisfying crunch as my teeth cut into the fried dough, and then a blast of flavor exploded into my mouth. I savored the mixture of tender carne asada and white queso that hit the inside of my mouth and blended together perfectly with the greasiness of the shell. Then, I gulped it down and went back for more. Before I knew it, the entire chimichanga was little more than a greasy aftertaste.

  “Oh my lord,” I nearly moaned with satisfaction. “That was … I need to get me some more of those, asap!”

  “I figured you’d like it,” Gula giggled. “You know what my favorite part about these things is? I can eat them all in one bite.”

  The redheaded succubus winked at me, and then she picked up her own thick chimichanga and tenderly pushed it into her mouth. It got stuck for a second or two as it passed by her tongue, but then she closed her lips around the morsel and began to chew it up. Once it had been worn down a bit, Gula swallowed it with a singular gulp.

  I seriously didn’t know whether or not to be turned on, impressed, or in shock. Probably a mixture of all three.

  I picked up one of my hard tacos and bit into it. The second I did so, the warm filling entered my mouth, and my taste buds felt like they were set on fire. There was a taste of the spicy taco meat, but it was perfectly counterbalanced with the acidic tomato, sweet onion, sharp cheddar cheese, and wet crunch of the lettuce.

  Unfortunately, my robe also got a chance to enjoy the taco.

  As I bit into the morsel, the shell crunched open, and nearly half of the filling spilled out onto my clothes.

  That was the catch in the First Circle of Hell. It was made to look just like our own Earth Realm, but with several minor inconveniences that made living here annoying as fuck.

  “Shit,” I growled as I snatched up a napkin and wiped off my robe.

  I finished off the remnants of my taco and grabbed another one from the box. This time, I made it only about halfway to my mouth before the shell snapped and the entire taco splattered onto my robe. I let out a grunt of frustration as I wiped it up and then ate the now-empty shell. There was only one taco left, and I wasn’t going to let it make a fool out of me.

  I snatched it up, this time being very careful to hold it with both of my hands. The morsel made it to my mouth, and I ate it as quickly as I possibly could. However, as I took the last bite of the taco, I felt a greasy, wet drizzle run down my chin and drip off onto the robe.

  “Son of a bitch,” I sighed and wiped it clean. “Is anyone else having taco issues?”

  “I’m pretty sure there aren’t any gynecologists around, Jakey,” Todd snickered. “You’re on your own if you got taco troubles.”

  The imp’s entire front was covered with grease, meat, and speckles of his meal. Even though he didn’t wear any clothing, it still looked like there were stains abounding all across his chest.

  I glanced over at Libidine and saw her taco was floating in front of her, encased with green Hellfire.

  “I had some issues, as well,” she explained, “but I think I figured it out.”

  Gula’s clothes appeared to be fine, but she had remnants of sour cream all over her face.

  “Oh dear, Sister,” Libidine mused as she leaned in close. “I think you’ve got a bit of something on your face.”

  Without another word, the dark-haired succubus extended her finger, wiped the creamy substance from Gula’s chin, and then used her tongue to lick it off. I couldn’t help but stare as Liby’s long, wet tongue ran along her finger and picked up the dollop of cream seductively. The succubus finally stuck her finger in her mouth, sucked the remaining sour cream off, and then swallowed it down her throat.

  “Better?” she asked knowingly.

  “M-much better,” Gula admitted.

  I looked over at Plato and nearly doubled over in laughter.

  The philosopher had been wearing a perfectly-tailored, light gray suit. “Had been” was the key word here. Now, the pristine fabric was covered with splotches of red, brown, white, and even some green. Plato didn’t seem to care, though, as he continued to down his food like it was going out of style.

  “You uh, don’t happen to have another suit, do you?” I asked with a chuckle.

  The philosopher looked up at me curiously, then down at his outfit, and then he shrugged.

  “This old thing?” he said with a guffaw. “I’ve been wearing my suit for hundreds of years. Trust me, this is far from the worst thing that’s ever been on my clothes. It’s pretty ironic, actually. I finally get to savor something that comes from outside of the gates of Hell, and I end up spilling half of it on my suit. That’s the First Circle for you, my friends.”

  “It’s because you’re all eating like madmen,” Eligor finally spoke up. “I haven’t ruined any of my clothes.”

  “That’s because you’re hardly wearing any clothes!” Gula protested and motioned to the knight’s “armor.” “I swear, girl. How is that comfortable? I’d much rather be naked than in something that skimpy.”

  “Comfort isn’t important when you’re a double agent in Lucifer’s world.” Eligor shrugged. “Survival comes first and foremost, then you worry about everything else.”

  We finished off the remaining Mexican food quickly, and then we all leaned back in our chairs exhaustedly.

  “I think … I think I’m good for another two days, dudes and dudettes,” Todd grumbled and patted his bloated belly.

  “Tell me about it,” Libidine added. “I feel like my stomach is about to explode.”

  “Mexican food will do that to ya, Lib,” the imp snickered.

  “I must admit, that was better than anything I could whip up,” Gula sighed. “This sort of food was never my forte.”

  “Not your forte?” Plato said through a slight belch. “If I were you, I’d figure out how to make it my forte! I wish I could have this sort of dish for every meal.”

  I motioned to the philosopher’s beard, which was now full of little bits of crumbs and flecks of food.

  “I know you want to eat like this every day,” I joked sarcastically, “but is saving it in your beard really the best option?”

  “I suppose I could call that ‘Grubhub’ organization you were talking about,” Plato pondered.

  “I don’t think there’s a tip in the worl
d big enough to get somebody to deliver to Hell,” I prodded the philosopher.

  “Oh, I know of a tip that’s big enough … ” Libidine cooed as she bit her lip hungrily.

  Gula must have seen how uncomfortable the comment made me, because she joined in with the teasing.

  “I know what you mean, Sister,” she chuckled. “I’ve had some very, very big tips in my lifetime. Most of them have come in the last few months, of course.”

  “You’re talking about Jacob’s penis, aren’t you?” Eligor said as she broke the flow of the banter.

  “How would you know what my homeboy’s twig-n-berries look like?” Todd gagged. “Please don’t go into much detail.”

  Eligor folded her arms over her massive chest and smiled.

  “Because I helped get him out of his armor and his bloody clothes,” she mused. “How could I miss that thing? I’ll admit, I gawked a bit more than I probably should have.”

  “Everybody does,” Gula purred. “It’s only natural when you see a hog the size of a log.”

  Todd shook his head back and forth rapidly.

  “I’m impressed with your wordplay, Firecracker,” he said through his motions, “but please stop talking about his bacon rod like that.”

  “I could go for some bacon right now.” Gula grinned, obviously trying to weird Todd out. “Extra crispy and hard.”

  “I’m going to have to second what the imp is saying,” Plato interjected. “Is this how you people talk all the time?”

  “It is!” Todd gasped. “Oh, praise the Exalted One, the Toddster can finally share his pain with another human being!”

  Before Plato could utter another word, Todd leapt onto the table, ran over to the philosopher, and pulled his head into a tight embrace.

  “What are you--”

  “Shhhhhh, shhhhhhh,” Todd whispered. “Don’t ruin the moment, bro. No homo.”

  “Riiigghhht,” Eligor sighed and rolled her eyes. “Now that we’ve eaten and rested, what’s our next plan of attack?”

  Plato tried to say something, but his voice was little more than a mumble against Todd’s chest. He angrily pried the imp’s hands off the back of his head, pulled his head back, and let out a loud gasp of air.