Dancing with the Devil: Daniel

We met at that bar where I was scared she wouldn't come alone, but thankfully she did. There we mostly sat and listened to band after band, which some were halfway decent. She only had the one drink which I wasn't happy about as I wanted her to get plastered, but I did pay like I said I would. Unlike her, I had a lot of IPAs, which I told her about. I had to explain to her why she really should be drinking an IPA and whatever she was drinking.

I then tense up when I remember the end of that date. Where I walked her out to her car when she said she needed to go as she had to work in the morning. When we reached her car, I informed her of what I thought she knew; that she owed me. I paid for her drink and gave her a great night, so I should get something in return. The least she could do is give me head. To get on her knees and blow me like I knew she could, at the very least. I even offered that it could be done in her car so no one would see.

The laugh she laughed after telling her this still hasn't fully gone out of my head. It was so mean, so cruel...so real. Like the thought of doing anything sexual with me was so outrageous that she couldn't even picture it. She kept that laughing fit as drove off too. Even the next time she saw me in class she started laughing.

"Sad, the way she treated you, was it not?" the Devil asks in a much more subdued tone, looking at me with a concerned look.

"I...I'm sorry?" I ask, confused again as I snap out of that horrid memory.

"Daniel, please. Let us not play games, I am far too busy. You know, just as I understand that you do, I can read you. All of you. Mind, body and soul. You may hide parts of yourself, but never from me," the Devil explains in a somewhat exhausted manner.

This is the first time that I really feel how powerful he is. That there really is magic within him. That he isn't some stupid preppy, but the Devil. The actual Devil.

I gulp at the knowledge that it's true that he can read minds. More than read minds, he can read your soul. Knowing what darkness is in there, along with what goodness. There's nothing kept from him. That's why he is so dangerous as he has all the tools he needs to manipulate anyone. That is why they say the number one rule in making a deal with the Devil is...don't.

For the briefest of moments I get scared that I'm in over my head. That I've made a terrible mistake by summoning him. That he's the master of lies and manipulation and I'm just a boy.

This feeling is pushed to the side when I tell myself that I'm in charge here. I was the one that summoned him here. If I wanted, I could send him away and he wouldn't be able to stop me. He's not the alpha, I am.

"O-Ok. Then you know what I want," I say, finding that I'm no longer puffing out my chest. Nor am I standing as tall as I could. In fact, I feel pretty small at the moment, even with my gut sticking out. The best I can do is cling to just the knowledge I can send him away for comfort.

"I do indeed, dear Daniel," the Devil says silky, looking like he is enjoying himself.

"But, there is one rule when dealing with the Devil of which you are not aware. Not that it is your fault. Very few know of this rule for it is a quiet rule. A silent rule, you might say," the Devil says, now walking along the outside of the crossroad in an exceptionally smooth and cool manner.

I get the feeling he doesn't want to walk onto the actual road. Either that, or he can't. But why? In my researching of the summoning, I don't remember anything saying that he couldn't walk onto the crossroads.

"You need to say out loud what you want," the Devil states, pausing to look me in the eye.

"What? Why? If you already know, why do I need to do that?" I ask, finding this is a very stupid rule. If it is already known by all parties, what good is saying it aloud? Doesn't make any sense.

To this the Devil smiles that happy smile, showing he agrees with me. In that smile I can see his understanding, letting me know he is on my side. That he's here to help me get what I'm after. That even he thinks it is a stupid rule.

"Oh, I know how silly it seems," the Devil says, resuming his walk around the outside of the crossroads.

"Why it must be done? Who knows. Maybe so that God the Fail-Father can hear it. Maybe because they want you to think there is power in a voice. Or maybe it is much simpler, such as you have to say it aloud so you can hear it said. To truly understand what you are asking for," the Devil explains causally as he paces slowly.

"Whatever," I say, still finding the entire thing stupid. It's like when they make you say an oath aloud at a judge's office. It's all just BS.

I open my mouth to say what I want but then pause. I pause because I find I don't want to say it aloud. I've thought about it a thousand times, maybe even a million, but never said it aloud. I don't fully understand why I don't want to say it, but I don't.

No matter. This is too important to act like a scared little girl. Who cares if it makes me feel uncomfortable...or scared.

"I w-w-want every girl that's ever turned me d-down, laughed at me, said...or thought...I was gross, to want me sexually. For them to want nothing more in life...than my cock," I begin, feeling my anger begin to rise. Now that I've started saying it, it's much easier.

"And I want every guy that has ever thought he was better than me, bullied me, or made me look stupid to bow down and be scared of me, knowing I am the true alpha," I speak aloud, my voice getting stronger and more passionate the more I speak.

Only as I say what I want, it doesn't sound as good as I thought. In fact, I hear how stupid it could be taken. But I try my best to push it aside as this is what I want. What I want more than anything.

"Ahh, I call that the Incel's Delight," the Devil says happily after listening to what I've said.

"I am not an Incel!" I yell loudly, my anger flared instantly. My body tenses up and I feel my eyes start to bug out. The rage I keep inside me is barely contained as the ball that holds it cracks at hearing that stupid, pathetic word. The word that people label you without even knowing you. Where they make that you are the bad guy.

"My apologizes dear Daniel," the Devil apologizes with a small bow.

At this, my heart pounds. It was already going fast due to my fear of the situation, but hearing that term always sparks my fury. It makes me want to just claw someone eyes out.

"I am not an Incel!" I yell at him, pissed off. I'm so tired of being called that. Every asshole loves to call you that, no matter where it is just because you are right and they aren't. Damn near every post or comment I would make online would get that as a response, just because it was my opinion. For the Incel to get help. That I was the one that needed help and not them, just because they know I was right.

"Such an ugly term, is it not?" the Devil says, agreeing with me. He now wears a look of understanding and nods his head as his dark eyes stare at me.

Still seething, my chest huffs and puffs as I feel unable to control my temper. Hearing that word of late has really triggered me. Like I can't control myself at hearing it.

It's the thought that people actually think that I could be an Incel. That I'm scared of women. Sure, I don't get any sex, but that's not my fault. It's all these stuck-up bitches. It's like they all got together and made a pact to torment and fuck with my life by not treating a man as he should be treated. They need to learn how the world works.

"I see how it affects you. How it cuts into you," the Devil says in an understanding tone. He's stopped walking and just stares at me now.

"But...dear Daniel, if we are to do business, you cannot lie to me," the Devil tells me quite serious. The look he gives sort of cuts through my anger. It makes me concerned that he may not complete the deal. It fills me with a weird, scared feeling I may not get what I want.

"That nice little prepared speech is not what you truly want," the Devil says, his dark eyes focused on me like a cat's on prey. The look he has is one that suggests I've been lying to him.

"I...I don't...I don't understand," I tell him, my anger all but gone. Yet as I say this, I know it's a lie.

I never really noticed, but he's right, of course. That's not what I really want. In part, I do want it, but it's not what my heart craves. Not what I think about every night before I drift off to sleep. What I fantasize in my free time until it makes my dick hard. And with that, I lower my head.

"You want something more, do you not? Something far more powerful?" the Devil asks, very intensely, as if he knows I'm hiding more and wants to hear it.

"Yes," I hiss, knowing it's true. This comes out amazingly easy as if it's been waiting to leap forward. Only what I really want is...I don't know if I can say it aloud. It feels like if I admit it, it'll make me the villain. That I'll be forever cast as the bad guy. That it is crossing a line, not just with me, but the universe.

"Say it," the Devil orders, his voice deep and commanding. His tone is so powerful and deep that shovers move all over me. It makes me feel that he truly is the Devil. The only one that can make my fantasies come true.

"I want them to hurt. All of them. Everyone," I say in a whisper, going into something of a daze.

With that, I'm transported back to the memories from a year ago. I'm with my friend Amy, back then she was my friend. We grew up together as she lived next door. From kindergarten to high school, we were friends and used to hang out all the time. Nearly every day for years we would hang out.

But then she changed once she graduated high school. Amy told me she didn't want to be friends with me any longer because of how I acted. That I was the one who changed instead of her. That I made her and her friends uncomfortable. Just because I suggested a few times we become Friends With Benefits if not just boyfriend and girlfriend. I know she said she saw me as a brother, but that's bullshit.

I got mad and told her how she's changed into a stuck-up bitch. That just because she has tits and a cunt, that didn't give her any sort of power. That she needed to know her place as I've done so much for her over the years. That if it wasn't for me, she probably be some crack whore begging to do handjobs for a dollar.

The stupid bitch went off on me at that. Saying how for the past few years she had to make excuses to others why we were friends. That every single one of her friends thought I was a creep. A sexist, loser, ugly creep. She accused me of only talking about sex and being misogynistic with my idiotic opinions that made no sense. That once upon a time she loved me because I was sweet and kind, but now I was nothing but an Incel that scared her.

After that she never talked to me again. Blocked me in every social media possible. Never responded to any of my texts, not even the ones telling her that I forgave her. Made it seem like I was the asshole. Even her parents turn away and pretend they don't see me when we are both outside.

Amy was my friend. My best friend. Then the bitch betrayed me. I thought she would be different. That of all the people on the planet, she could see the real me. We were supposed to get married after all, didn't she see it? She belonged to me.

What hurt the most was her saying she was scared of me. That is something I've heard before, but I thought Amy was different. That she would see my actions as romantic and sweet. Just because I talk a lot about sex doesn't mean it isn't romantic.

Well, if she is going to be scared of me, then let me give a reason. Oh, how I thought about teaching her a lesson. Of teaching them all a lesson. To make them see I wasn't some fat, jobless loser still living with his parents like they say I am. I'm a man. An alpha. Bitches should be giving up that pussy with glee.

"I want them to hurt. Every single last one of them," I tell the Devil, only this time my voice is much stronger. To this, I look up and make eye contact with him. When I do, I see he's smiling that happy smile, showing he knows exactly what I want.

"I want all those bitches to be beaten and raped repeatedly. To make them learn that they are cunts, nothing more. They should be trembling in fear at the sight of a real man like me, not blocking me on Instagram. I want to teach them a lesson," I say, the words tumbling out faster and faster as I say what I really want. What I've grown to want.

"There we go, dear Daniel. That is the truth," the Devil croons, liking my sincere desire. The way he says this is much like a teacher would when a poor students gets the right answer after being called on.

"It is frustrating, is it not? For others to tell you it is your fault you act like this," the Devil begins as he resumes his pacing. My eyes lock onto him where I can't seem to look away, as if I'm bound to him now he knows what I really want.

"Why should you change, just because women are disgusted by the sight of you due to poor hygiene and eating habits?" the Devil states passionately, stopping to look at me, wanting confirmation.

"R-Right," I stammer out, starting to feel justified. For a moment, a tiny little moment, it almost feels like he's making fun of me. That he's mocking me. But looking upon him, I know that's not true. Looking at his visage, I know he is on my side.

"Others need to respect that you are allowed your own opinion. Just because they cringe and disagree with it does not give them the right to write you off as some loser," he continues, his silky voice becoming more intense.

"How dare they treat you like they have. Where nearly anything you post is reported and removed because they claim it is sexist or racist. Do they not see who they are dealing with? Do they know how insulting it is when they offer therapy to help you?" the Devil continues passionately, sounding almost as upset as I am.

"Yeah!" I agree with a yell, my heart becoming filled with angry joy. Well, not joy, but something like it. This feels much darker than joy, but it feels good. The fact someone agrees with me changes everything. It makes me feel validated.

"Alright, dear Daniel, you caught me on a special night. I am very moved by your plight," the Devil says theatrically after a long pause, turning to look at me.

"For the gift I am about to bestow, I do not require your soul, only your permission," he then states, his dark eyes staring into mine.

His eyes seem different now. They look bigger, deeper and blacker, even if they haven't physically changed. In a way, those eyes look like the way I feel.

"I...I don't understand," I confess. The Devil makes deals for your soul. That's the way it goes. That's what all the research said. The way he says this last part sounds like he's wanting to give me something for free. That can't be right. The Devil never gives but takes.

"As I said, dear Daniel, I am moved by you. I wish to give you what you need. After all, there is a lesson to be taught. An enormously powerful lesson," the Devil explains with emotion.

"If you tell me you will accept my gift, I give it to you freely, with no compensation required. You need not sell your soul, nor any of your possessions. It will be my gift to you," the Devil explains further. To this, I can tell he is not pressuring me to accept, but I still feel pressured. It occurs that I'm the one pressuring myself to take it. That if I don't, I'll lose my perfect opportunity. This is a once in a life time event.

"Ok, I accept," I tell him, putting my trust in what he can give me. I know I should pause and think about this. To consider what could go wrong, or to ask what the gift is, but I don't. He and I have a connection, I can feel it. It's like only he knows the truth, my truth.

"Granted, dear Daniel," the Devil says as he snaps his fingers.

Upon doing this, nothing happens. I look down at myself, expecting something to be different but see nothing. I keep searching myself, wondering what he's done, but don't see any change at all.

"What did you do? What's the gift?" I ask eagerly. Never have I have had such anticipation. The way I feel is like combining every kid on Christmas Eve that's waiting for Santa. And that dark part of me tingles in delight at the thought of those bitches getting raped as I stand here.

The Devil merely smirks. He gives me a strange look now, one that I can't exactly place. If I didn't know better I would say he looks at me like a sucker that just bet his house at a rigged casino. That it was too easy for him to get what he wanted.

"Give it time, dear Daniel. I promise you with all my being, you will see the gift I have given you," the Devil replies in his standard manner, complete with happy smile. To this I want to ask more, to get him to tell me what he's done, but I don't think he will. That's not his style.

"Now, as I had previously mentioned, I am rather busy tonight, so I will take my leave now," the Devil tells me in an apologetic manner. After saying this, he gives me a smile, then turns and starts to walk away. He walks back the way he came, not saying anything more to me. There's no "it was nice to meet you" or anything. He's just...leaving.

My mouth drops opens to ask all the questions I have. To ask what he gave me. How long it will last. And maybe the most important, why he didn't want my soul. In all the research I did, I never heard of him not wanting to take a soul. That has to mean something.

Once again, I find I can't say anything. In a daze I watch him walk away in his smooth, confident manner. I can't seem to take my eyes off him, knowing that one day that'll be me. That I will look just like that.

In a rather strange occurrence, once he is some distance away, after each step he takes, the bright blue light overhead seems to fade some. Like the moonlight is on a dimmer or something. It doesn't take long for him to disappear from my sight due to this. His distance, combined with the dim light makes it seem like he teleported into the darkness. Maybe he did. Or maybe if I tried to run after him, I would find him walking until he reached his next destination.

I'm not sure how long I stand in the middle of the crossroads. It feels like I've been here for days, when I know I haven't. I just stare down the path that I came, knowing not to go that away again.

Filled with a new sort of feeling, I begin to walk. Despite the time and muggy weather, I find that I'm excited. Excited for the first time in a long time. I feel like the world belongs to me now. That finally I'm going to be able to get my revenge. After all, I have the Devil on my side now.

As I walk, I keep trying to figure out what's changed with me. I examine nearly every inch of myself to find if there's a change in my appearance. When I find none, I log online to see if there's any new posts or comments, such as people apologizing to me. Or maybe even some bitch begging for my cock. Again, no change.

"What's this?" I say aloud as I spot a few buildings up ahead. I would say it is the start of civilization, but it's not. It's just four or five large buildings together in a crump. Two of the buildings look like factories, but they are so old and broken down, I'm not sure if they are abandoned or not.

There's only one building in which I am interested. That's the smallest one, which is also the only one that seems alive with electricity and people. That's the small building with the sign "Bubba's Bar."

Upon checking my cell, I see it is just past one in the morning. This makes me smile as it means that the bar won't be closing soon. That I can go in, get a drink and see if I can spot what I've been given. Surely whatever gifts I've been given will reveal themselves to me.