Standard Disclaimer: The show, Brimstone, and all characters in it, including
Ezekiel Stone and the Devil, belong to Fox and not us. We have just borrowed
them for a while and will put them back when we're done. Honest! We are
poor
as ragged churchmice and what's left belongs to the Universal Unconscious.
Sue
at your own risk. We're so broke we can't even pay attention.
Mayhem
by LadySerez and Lady Rhian
Another day, another lunch break with the secretaries from Hell...
The bell rang, deep and doleful. It was abruptly cut off by a scream. The
secretaries of Hell were coming back for yet another lunch break...
"I got another Heavenogram from upstairs today. Little fluffbrains sent
me
another white Dove. Thing didn't last more than a minute.... I'm tired
of
cleaning up the damn things. They crap all over the paperwork, then die
from
the air, and the imps find them and bite the head off, leaving the rest
for me
to find."
"What'd these twerps have to say?" A secretary took a swig of grog, then
coughed. "Fuck! Fuck!" She extracted a small imp, who grinned obscurely
at
her. With a grin, she flung it just so...its trajectory leading it to the
attack squid that was on the menu today. A tussle ensued, guards putting
bets
down.
"Oh, the usual. 'Having a wonderful day, don't you wish you were up here'.
That sort of thing."
"Don't you *wish* you were up here..." the male secretary snorted. "You
know,
I hate to admit it, but Hell is much more interesting than Heaven. I mean,
where else would you have secretaries doing what we do?"
"Satan," one of the secretaries said grouchily. "I'd hate having to deal
with
those fluffbrains every day. Or even worse, be one."
"True. True. At least the Big Suave wears decent clothes. I hear the Poobah
up
there is still wearing bloodstained robes and sandals. I tell you, there's
a
limit to self-torture."
"'We got Mother Theresa,' one of the secretaries parroted. "They should've
had
to deal with Hitler. Or Mao."
"And if it isn't the Doves, it's those damn packets of 'goodness and light'.
As if any of that has a snowball's chance of surviving down here..."
"Don't even mention *those*. Mammon got one, and was harassing us left
and
right for DAYS... 'This is Hell,' he was screaming, as if we didn't know.
At
least Sally Ann distracted him, that is before his wife took her apart."
"Or Pol Pot. Ick. Have you ever heard a more self-centered, whining, mass
murderer of a fool?" A secretary pulled out a file and started doing her
nails. "Did you hear what Miriam did? Grinned at him, then led him to this
perfectly lovely closet where.."
The secretaries crowded close to hear the story. Muted chuckles resounded
through the cafeteria. The guards and the cook looked worried and began
checking that they were all intact.
"Look at those wimps over there. Checking their baskets, as if we were
interested in those. Rapists get those, mass murderers don't!"
"So, what's the latest on the Stone situation?" One of the secretaries
asked,
too casually.
In the background, the busboy started fighting with something that looked
like
a gargoyle. The cook noticed and ran to help. The guards still were protecting
their jewels.
Another cook ran by with a fire extingusher. He hit the spray button, but
it
didn't work. "That's fucking Hell for you!" he yelled. As a last resort,
he
bashed the gargoyle over the head, making it drop to the floor, unconscious,
and giving the cooks a chance to check its tags.
"He sent back the three-in-one case. Poor Kid repented, not that it got
him
anywhere. And the English bloke keeps insisting they should all stay in
the
same cell, just like old times."
"Just like Benedict, poor man. Miriam's started sending petitions up for
him
now, which tells you a lot, doesn't it?" The secretary caught her breath.
"And
that damned English bloke--he pinched Eleanor on the butt, not once, but
three
times!"
"That poor boy kept apologizing..."
"No, no," the same secretary said. "The *other* situation..." She straightened
her finger and coughed.
"Oh, *that*? Yes." the other secretary bit her lips. "The Big Suave's got
a
hard on for you-know-who."
"I have an idea," one of the secretaries announced proudly. All the other
secretaries left off talking to stare at her. She coughed at the unexpected
weight of all those stares and took a gulp of her coffee. "One of the incubi
owes me a favor. We could send him up there to plant the idea in Stone's
head.
You know, the Boss, a bed, a night of fun... Wank, wank... you get the
idea."
"Sounds good," one of the secretaries allowed. "But you know that if the
Boss
catches wind of it, we're gonna be in deep dogshit."
"What, like Pol Pot? What the Big Suave doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides,
the man *needs* it. He tried to kill the Hea-mail the other day.
And you know
what mess it leaves after it expires.."
"So? What is he gonna do? Kill us? What torture could possibly be worse
than
working for Belial? I've survived that."
Screams broke out behind the counter, as one of the octupus decided to
mount a
escape attempt, and in doing so, twined itself around a guard's head,
therefore turning the other guards' attention away.
The secretaries would later wonder if that had been on purpose...
"Getta off! Getta fuck off!" howled the guard. He twisted around, frantically
trying to get it off. The cook advanced with a cleaver, clearly intending
to
chop the octupus off. The invertebrate, no stupid he, decided to jump to
freedom.
The cleaver flew through the air and took the guard's ear with it. "Hey,
you
look like Van Gogh," remarked a laughing guard. "You stupid fuck. I *am*
Van
Gogh!"
"Okay, then. Are we agreed?" The secretary looked around the table. No
one
else spoke. "Fine, let's do it."
***
Ezekiel Stone woke out of a deep and dreamless sleep to the sensation of
someone watching him. For a moment, he laid still in bed and tried to think
who it might be.
A soft, familliar chuckle confirmed his suspicions. "Still determined to
be
human, Ezekiel?" the Devil's voice was rich with amusment.
The incubus stared at the beautiful man before it. Oh, this wouldn't be
*too*
hard to do. He'd been worried when one of the secretaries pulled in the
favor
he owed her. Who knew what one of *those* wanted?
Stone reached up to turn on the light, but stopped when he felt the Devil's
hand come down on his arm. Strangely, he felt the hand move slowly up his
naked arm, in a manner that could only be called 'caressing'. No, that
couldn't be. This was just too strange.
"What do you want?" his voice sounded strangely naked and defenseless in
the
dark. He resisted the temptation to jerk his arm away, even when the hand
moved to his chest and then downward.
There was a maliciously amused note in the Devil's voice. "Can't you figure
it
out? I thought you were a detective."
A moment of confusion turned into uncertainty and dread. "You have to be
joking."
"Do I sound like I'm laughing?" The Devil's other hand, almost too warm
to be
human, was pressed against his scalp, fingers threading through his hair.
"Too much. You're asking too much," Zeke replied, staying perfectly still.
"It's not enough I have to be your agent. Do I have to be your whore, too?"
The Devil silenced him with a kiss. Zeke tried to draw back, but succeeded
only in pulling the Devil down on top of him. The other man was just as
naked
as he was. "Self-confident bastard," Zeke thought.
The kiss wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. In fact, it wasn't
bad
at all, and that scared him a lot more than any torture he'd ever suffered
in
Hell. Even worse was the Devil's body on his. The rough hair and male body
should have felt wrong. But it didn't.
The Devil broke the kiss, hot breath gusting against Zeke's shoulder. "Well,
well, aren't we the eager one?" the Devil said, hands sliding down Zeke's
body, the rough thumbs caressing his nipples.
Zeke shuddered at the pleasantly erotic sensations the rubbing evoked.
He
could feel a warmth pooling in his groin. With anyone else, he would have
welcomed the familiar heat of arousal. But the Devil wasn't just anyone.
One of those rough fingered hands slipped down his body to encircle the
hardening cock. The rough stroke that followed nearly jerked Stone upright
in
reaction. A low moan of pleasure filled the room, and Stone had a hard
time
believing it came from his own mouth. His hands clenched in the sheets.
He
tried to convince himself he didn't want this. Tried and failed.
He began to wonder not what he would do if the Devil didn't stop, but what
he
would do if the other man did. He was fully erect now, his cock pulsing
with
pleasure and need. He felt the Devil's hot mouth kissing its way down his
body
to his groin, and then he was engulfed in wet heat.
A long moan blew past Stone's lips, his hips bucking in response, driving
his
swollen cock deep into the Devil's mouth. The long tongue slithered around
him
in a slow swirling motion, and when he could feel again, Stone found his
hands
buried in the Devil's hair, holding his head in place to make him continue.
A soft chuckle told him the Devil was aware of all of this, and found it
deliciously amusing. But, instead of tossing off a smart remark, he flicked
his tongue back and forth over the underside of Stone's cock, sending a
thrill
of heat and sensation spearing into Stone's groin. Zeke was barely aware
of
the outside world, everything was shut out but the delicious sensations
searing through his cock and the feel of soft hair in his hands.
Even in the dark, he closed his eyes, moaning and groaning as that incredibly
long tongue slithered around his cock. He found himself rocking his hips,
shuddering as the Devil's lips rubbed against his shaft.
How could he ever have not wanted this? How could he have wanted it to
end?
Another cry of pleasure tore out of his throat, and the world went white
as
his body convulsed and he began to come. As the semen shot out of him,
warmth
and a curious weakness pervaded his body, leaving him unable to do anything
but lie there and feel the intense pleasure
Later, he was dimly aware of the Devil wishing him a good sleep. With a
faint
chuckle and a warning not to mention this again, the other man was gone.
***
"You want me to do *what*?!?" The cook stared at Belial in disbelief. He'd
thought he'd heard it all. The cannibal's request for tender virgin flesh,
Hitler's obssession with vegetables (if only he'd been content with
veggies...), His Majesty's haggis. But this? This?
"You want me to, uh, make a gourment dish out of this?" The cook held up
a
bowl of calf's kidneys and wilted asparagus in the other.
"Yes." Belial looked pleased, the cook had finally caught on.
"Oh. If you'd just have a seat, sir." the cook looked with dawning concern
at
the stuff Belial'd given him.
The busboy looked over his shoulder, and sighed. "If that was raw fish
and
rice, you could have made sushi. I miss sushi."
"I don't give a fuck what you miss. Did you get the food ready for the
slurry?
Good. Pour the bisque in. And make sure there's nothing alive in there."
"That's gonna be hard to do," the busboy remarked as he watched a lobster
try
to escape. "Couldn't you have, you know, pulled the meat out instead of
tossing the lobsters in?"
"Critics, critics. In case you didn't notice, asshole, regulations clearly
say
there *has* to be something alive at every meal." The cook glanced at the
food. "Get me some marinade."
The secretaries all trooped in, at this point. They were all chattering
away,
anxiously awaiting news from the incubus.
"Belial wants a fancy meal, I'll give him one. Look on the bright side,
Yamato. At least he can't kill us again."
The cook pulled out a frying pan, threw out a imp, and heated it up. As
he
went about his business of cooking, Yamato hopped up onto a stool and
cautiously watched for the gargoyle.
As the smoke rose up from the pan, Yamato watched. He remembered all too
well
the last time Belial had demanded something from the last cook. Nimitz
was
great at bluffing, and he could probably actually pull it off.
One of the secretaries looked at the snapping lobster on her plate and
shuddered. "Insects again?" she said. "You think they could come up with
a new
idea once in a while." She picked up her knife and stabbed the lobster
several
times before the blunt end of the knife broke through the shell. It screamed
faintly and died.
"Wonder how the "Talk" went?" asked a secretary.
"We'll know in a minute. Here he comes."
A dark-haired young man swaggered into the room, acting as if the bulge
at his
groin was his center of gravity. "Hello ladies," he shouted cheerfully,
wagging his bulge at them.
"Oh, no." One of the secretaries said in dread. "You had to send Eblis
after
him, didn't you?"
"Incubi. All the same, confident that they're attractive to damn near
everyone!"
"Eblis?!?! The most horniest, aggressive incubus? Oh, Margot, how could you?"
"He owed me a favor. Know any other incubi willing to give us a break and
not
tell the boss?"
All the secretaries nodded, accepting Margot's explanation. "So, Eblis,
how'd
it go?" Margot asked.
The young man swaggered up to the table. "Hey ladies, if I said you had
a
lovely body, would you hold it against me?"
Meanwhile, Nimitz had finally gotten the meal Belial wanted cooked.
"Here it is, sir. All cooked and done. There's nothing alive on the plate.
Enjoy!" the cook tried imitating a chef by the name of Wolfgang and failed
miserably.
"Not bad. Not bad at all." In a wink of a eye, Belial ate it all. "And
now,
for some dessert."
"Sir?"
"Tail sex!" With a lusty laugh, Belial started chasing Nimitz around the
tables, past the guards, and out the doors. Yelling followed. A dove staggered
in and dropped down on one of the secretaries' plate. She looked at the
bird
with disgust.
The Incubus smacked his lips. "Very tasty! I'd almost have done that one
for
free." He leaned over to whisper something in the ear of one of the
secretaries. She colored bright red while Eblis chuckled.
"So, what happened?"
The young incubus shrugged. "It was strange, y'know? I showed up, all ready
for a little sport, and he had the nerve to try and resist me for a while."
He
popped a bit of lobster claw in his mouth, shell and all, and chewed.
The dove sighed and imploded. "Ahhh! Ahh! Shit. And I just got this clean
after that incident with the vultures..."
"Resist? Surely you jest. After all, no one can resist a incubus..." remarked
Margot.
"Yeah, I know," the Incubus said. "It *was* funny. Almost..."
"Almost?"
"Almost as if, no, that can't be. I'd have known if it were."
"Stop blathering on and say it," yelled one of the secretaries.
The lobsters picked that moment to try and engineer an mass escape. The
secretaries could hear Yamato yell for help from the other cook, Patton.
"Patton! Patton! Get the tongs!"
"Not *those* tongs, the Chinese gang kind!" Yamato was still shrieking.
"Almost as if he was one of us."
The Incubus spat out bits of shell and rose. With a pinch on a young
secretary's butt, he left the rest of them, dumbfounded, behind.
The End
Yamato, Nimitz, van Gogh and Patton were real
people. Yamato was the Admiral
in charge of the Japanese Navy (and planned the attack on Pearl Harbor).
Yamato opposed the attack on Pearl Harbor--he said that it wasn't wise
to
awake the sleeping giant that was America. But since he'd been ordered,
he did
it. He was killed in 1943 in China by an American plane who didn't
know who
they'd just killed.
Nimitz was Yamato's mortal enemy, Admiral of the American Navy. He engineered
the victory at Midway and Wake Island, opening the way to invade Japan.
Van Gogh was a Impressionalist painter of the 1840's--he was quite mad
when he
died. However, before he died he cut off his ear.
Patton was the general in charge of the Army corps in Africa, met up with
Rommel a few times, started the invasion of Italy, drove all the way to
the
Battle of the Bulge, won the battle for west Germany. He also thought he
was
the reincarnation of Alexander the Great...no, I'm not kidding. He did
do a
good imitation, through. After all this...he died as a result of a car
accident in 1945 just outside Bulgorne, Germany.