Drummer Boy - Back Into Hell Ch. 03

What are you talking about? Jason sent.

Purleen and Kristin are heading toward the Hall of the Grand Spine, which lies at the brilliant antipode of Tarterus, Granny sent. Our destination is the darkling antipode, the home of Great Electra.

The hell is an 'antipode'? Jason sent.

On your world, they would be called 'poles', Granny sent.

What the fuck?! Jason sent. Why?

Because, Granny sent, I have decided that we shall entreat Great Electra to aid our cause.

Oh. Okay, I guess, Jason sent, but do we have to actually go there? I mean, can't you just text her or something? Y'know, with your mind?

The distance is too great, even for one with my power and prowess, Granny sent. In any case, one does not 'text' a request to the Grand Wing, no matter the urgency. This must be done in person.

Great, Jason sent, Kristin and Pearl already have a big head start, and we're flying halfway across the planet so you can have a sit-down with your boss.

I have deemed it necessary, Granny sent. We do have an advantage, though. They are traveling roughly the same distance, but we are traveling without impediment. They, on the other hand, are fighting their way through hostile territory.

Jason thought back to his dreams from earlier. Oh yeah. I guess I knew that, he sent. Plus they're doing ... some other stuff.

Are they? Granny sent. And how do you know of this?

Well, I sorta fell asleep while you and Thumper were ... busy ... and I had this dream-

Allow me, Granny sent.

Jason felt Granny enter his mind. Not a gentle probing, but rather a forced entry, ripping into his thoughts with what felt like clawed fingers, digging through his thoughts until she found the memories she sought. It hurt like fuck, and when she had finished, Jason's head felt raw and tender, like he'd been smacked with a baseball bat from the inside out.

"Fucking hell, Granny!" Jason said out loud. "What'd you do that for?!"

Expedience, Granny sent.

Well, next time ask! Jason sent, his head still throbbing. And go easy on me. That fucking hurt!

Mental shrug from Granny. It appears that your mind has become entangled with Purleen's. This is a complication.

You're tellin' me, Jason sent. So is this a permanent thing?

Unknown, Granny sent. But for now, it shall have to wait.

Come on, G, Jason sent. Nightmares for the rest of my life sucks. I'd much rather have my 'hot fudge Salma Hayek sundae' dreams back.

I'm sure, Granny sent. But we must put lesser concerns aside for the time being. Much hinges on our meeting with Great Electra and the aid she chooses to give, if any at all.

Why wouldn't she? Jason sent. She wants this war over as much as anyone, right?

Aye, Granny sent, but we shall be dealing with one of the Three, and even I cannot profess to know her mind.

Great. Long way to go for what might end up being a crap shoot, Jason sent. Then, The girls are pretty damn buff already. You really think they're gonna need Electra's help?

In a matter of this importance, Granny sent, I would prefer to eliminate what chances I can.

Okay, Jason sent. Darkling antipode it is, then.

Looking around at the unchanging landscape, he sent, I guess playing 'I Spy' is out of the question. Wanna do '99 Bottles of Beer' instead?

Granny's response was sharp and saucy. How about we play 'shut up and avoid a messy death'?

Despite the overt threat, Jason sent back a mental shrug. Man, I hate it when you pick the games, he sent.

* * *

Riding a winged demon is pretty easy, once you get the hang of it.

At first, Jason was too terrified to do anything but be utterly terrified. He was several hundred feet above the craggy, barren ground, the wind rushing past them loud and cold, and there weren't any seat belts on this ride. Maybe fine for Granny and her kind, but for a landlubber like Jason, everything was wrong with this picture. Add to that the fact that, in this position, he was essentially straddling Fuck-Bringer. Although rendered safe by its scabbard, having that big heavy thing between his legs wasn't exactly comfy.

For her part, Granny wiled away the hours by mentally giving Jason the skinny on what had gone down at her Aerie, Fist-of-Dark, while she'd been away. It had been only a week for them on Earth, but the equivalent of seven weeks had passed on Tarterus. From the sisters that remained, Granny had learned that the Spines, initially hesitant to attack the Aerie, soon discovered that not only was the "Golden Avenger" not coming out to play anymore, but neither was their Grand Wing Mother. They confirmed their suspicions with a series of big pushes against the Aerie, wearing them down over time. Fist-of-Dark was on its last legs when Pearl and Kristin showed up. The Wings got hopeful, and the Spines fearful, but both sides got it wrong. The women took off for the brilliant antipode straight away, and the Spines figured they had it in the bag. Then Granny showed up, rallied the Wings, and that was about where Jason came in.

Granny went on, mentally rambling about strategies and support from other Aeries and other military stuff that Jason didn't get, along with several choice curses in Wingspeak that didn't translate well, and Jason kind of checked out. His thoughts drifted, and in doing so, he found that his Pearl-dar started picking up images of her two-woman war against the Spines. Scenes of horribleness began to well up in his mind, and that brought him back to the here and now, right quick.

After the first hour or so, though, he did manage to relax a bit. Granny was in her element, confident, beating her wings at regular intervals, keeping them solidly aloft. In addition, her demon heat was coming in handy now, and served to keep him comfortably warm. And with his head resting in the nape of Granny's neck, her hair muffled the sound of the wind enough that he got really comfy.

Plus, Jason couldn't help feeling Granny's big juggs underneath her leather halter. Her boobs jiggled rhythmically as she worked her shoulders. Granny didn't seem to mind if him using them as makeshift stress relievers, or if she did, she didn't say anything. After a while, Jason's terror seemed to exhaust itself, and he found himself starting to drift off into a gentle snooze.

Jason awoke, tumbling through the air, with the ground rushing toward him at an alarming rate.

An instant later, Granny swooped underneath him, managing to catch him so that she was on her back and Jason was straddling her waist. Jason wasted no time wrapping his arms around her.

Jason hugged his face into Granny's chest. "Huh... huh... huh..." was all he could manage.

"Yes," Granny said to him. "I taste terror. I taste relief, gratitude, embarrassment. Is that about right?"

Jason nodded vigorously into Granny's laced bosom. "Yuh-huh!"

"Good," Granny said.

Granny grabbed him by his waistband, and flung him off of her, sending him even higher into the air. Jason flailed around for a bit, adrenaline pumping, sure again that he was going to die. Then Granny was underneath him again, only this time facing downward once more, with Jason's legs around her waist.

Jason was dumbfounded. "Why?!" he shouted, exasperated.

It will serve you well to remember those feelings, Granny sent to Jason's mind, Now, hold tight to me, and do try to remain conscious.

Jason leaned forward into Granny's back again, not saying anything but hating her for being such a dick. Granny beat her wings again, regaining their lost altitude, and Jason could somehow feel her reacting to his anger with pleasure. Humiliating him had given her a thrill, and he hated her more for that.

Jason squeezed her massive breasts, roughly, tightly. Painfully, he hoped. Granny purred, and her body emitted a burst of warmth. Jason moved one hand up to her neck, and then the other, encircling her crimson throat.

Yes, Granny sent, her thoughts sliding seductively into his own. This excites you.

Jason didn't answer with words, or even thoughts really, but rather by increasing the pressure around Granny's throat.

Do what you must, beast, Granny said. I am completely at your mercy...

Granny let her thoughts trail away, and Jason's mind picked up where they left off. It wouldn't be too much trouble, if he worked at it, to unzip his jeans, and simplicity itself to raise Granny's leather skirt above her plump, fleshy ass cheeks. To stuff his cock, now hard as a wooden table leg, into Granny's hot, wet pussy.

Yes, came Granny's slithery thoughts. Hot like cinnamon. Moist, like honey. Everything you've imagined, and more.

Jason saw in his mind then, an image of him fucking Granny as they flew. Spurring her on from behind by ramming into her pussy, using his cock like a throbbing, fleshy riding crop. Faster, fuck-steed, faster! And if she balked at his urgings, or refused to heed his commands and slowed, a few sharp yanks on her thick, gorgeous mane, or a firm squeeze on her excellent throat, that would send a message, put her back in the right frame of mind.

You think to break my spirit, do you? Granny sent. I invite you try. Perhaps it will be the other way around?

"Think so, huh?" Jason said, the challenge inflaming his anger. "Let's just see about-"

And then just as suddenly, Jason's rational mind came back online. He relaxed his grip on Granny's throat, and then, very deliberately moved his hands down, to again encircle her waist.

Lost your nerve, have you? Granny sent. Perhaps you are not beast enough to tame me?

Nah, Jason sent. I just realized that that's not my fantasy, it's yours. What's up with you, Granny? Why you tryin' to play me?

Granny sent a mental sigh. My '99 Bottles of Beer', I suppose, she admitted. I am bored.

I understand, trust me, but do ya mind leaving me out of it? Jason sent. I'm not your boredom fuck.

You are what I say you are! Granny sent angrily, but Jason wasn't taking the bait this time.

Sorry, Jason sent, the number you have reached is no longer in service.

But I am the Grand Wing Mother, Granny sent, kinda lamely this time, and I command it.

Shoulda brought a Rubik's cube or something, Jason sent. Maybe you could do some of that fancy math you like to brag about?

Hmmph, Granny sent. Perhaps I shall. Certainly it will give me more pleasure than intercourse with a savage.

Hey, do what you must, beast, Jason sent.

Granny responded to this barb by executing a series of terrifying corkscrew spirals, which was enough to shut Jason's smart ass right the fuck up.

* * *

Hours passed. Despite being bored, and tired as well, Jason found he couldn't relax, not with the memory of plummeting to the ground still fresh in his thoughts. Granny was keeping her thoughts to herself, so there wasn't much else to do but watch the landscape as it rolled by below.

And what a bleak landscape it was. Most of it was orange, craggy desert. Occasionally they'd fly over patch of sparse, scrubby little bushes making a sad attempt to grow in the rocky waste. No animals that Jason could see, though, and no water at all. The last was beginning to worry him, since he was getting pretty thirsty.

His only distractions from this were the intermittent glimpses of what was going on with Pearl and Kristin. Every so often he'd catch a picture in his mind of a flash of electricity, or a horned woman being beheaded, set to the tune of Pearl's echoing laughter. And although it was seductive to follow along, stay tuned in as it were, he knew that he'd end up seeing a lot of shit he didn't want to see, and risk falling asleep in the bargain. So he tried his best to shut it out of his mind, keeping his eyes trained on the ground, and eventually the images would fade.

This worked for quite a while, but he knew it wouldn't work forever.

How much longer, Granny? Jason sent.

The same length of time since last you whined your thoughts at me, Granny returned, minus ten minutes.

Can't we stop for just a little bit? Jason sent.

Time is short enough as it is, Granny returned. And landing without shelter risks mishaps that would cost us more of that time. We shall maintain our present course.

Jason could sense from her thoughts that Granny was feeling grouchier than usual. Normally he wouldn't push, but he was feeling pretty grouchy himself.

Seriously, Granny, Jason sent, You gals may be built for this kinda stuff, but I'm not. I don't even have a jacket!

Perhaps if you had used your time to prepare yourself by finding appropriate garments, Granny sent, rather than fornicating with what was likely the last of my birthing beasts, your current state would not be so miserable.

I'm telling you, it was against my will! Jason sent.

Granny responded by giving one of her wings an extra little flick on the upswing, grazing Jason across the back of his head.

And that only happened because you decided to take yourself a nookie break! Jason sent. Who's being selfish and wasting time now, huh?

Granny wing-flicked Jason again, but that just made him madder.

And! Jason sent, If you had just told me that we'd be zooming through the air for like, forever, I could have prepared a bit. But nooooo...you're all like 'Hop on, cowboy! Let's play horsey ride!'

Granny bristled, and Jason found himself filled with sudden dread, wondering what the penalty was for ignoring the first two wing-slap warnings. But then Jason felt sort of a mental sigh from her.

There is sense in your words, Granny sent.

Waitaminit, Jason sent. Are you actually saying I'm right?

Of course not, Granny sent. I merely concede that I acted rashly, and this I now regret.

Well, Jason sent, baby steps.

Granny ignored him and went on. Had I acted with forethought, I would have remembered to don a flight skirt.

I don't think anyone cares what you look like up here, Jason sent.

Fashion is hardly my concern, Granny sent.

Then Granny sent him a rapid flood of mental images. They depicted Granny flying, and around her were what appeared to be speed lines. Jason quickly gathered that the lines were meant to represent airflow. By changing the posture of the figure in his mind, Granny explained rather neatly the basic concepts of aerodynamics, including the corresponding effects of drag and instability.

This was something Jason hadn't thought of. Whenever he'd seen the demons flying, it had been with their legs straight out behind them, doing the Superman pose. Which made sense; it was more aerodynamic, and for short hops, that was probably fine. But Granny had been flying for hours, and at top speed. It was like she was planking, but instead of doing it for the duration of a selfie, she'd been doing it all day. Jason didn't think he could do that for more than a few minutes, and even Granny, with her demon strength, was getting worn down.

Now you understand my dilemma, Granny sent. Of course, our kind long ago conceived of a solution to the problem of sustained flight, in the form of flight skirts.

As Granny thought the phrase "flight skirts" another image came into Jason's mind: it was a mostly-flat piece of wood, with carved recesses for the legs, hips, and bosom, and leather straps in the back to form a harness.

Hey, I saw some of those! Jason sent. There were dozens of 'em, all lined up along the walls in that armory place.

Granny gave a mental sigh. I now feel the fatigue taking a significant toll on my mind, as well as my body. And yet there are several more hours before we reach Bright Lady's Brow.

Then, Jason had an idea. Hey, I've got an idea, he sent.

What a novel sensation for you, Granny sent back dismissively. Then, Very well. What is your idea?

Try swimming, Jason sent.

Surely even you are aware, Granny sent, that there is precious little water to allow for that method of transport.

Just go through the motions, I mean, Jason sent. With your legs at least. It'll give them something to do, and take your mind off of holding them so stiff.

Hmm, Granny sent, considering. Intriguing. However, you will have to show me how, as I have never swimmed before.

Right, Jason sent. This planet is all beach, no surf. Okay, you can look in my head, but not so rough this time, got it?

I shall use a light touch, Granny sent.

Jason thought about swimming, imagining the different strokes he knew. Dog paddling was probably useless for this, which Granny agreed with. He thought about a front crawl, with its scissor kick. Granny seemed to be taking notes, but nudged him along, seeking more options. Then he imagined a breast stroke, with its sweeping, frog-like kicking motion, and Granny seemed to like that one.

She delved a little deeper into Jason's mind, thankfully keeping her promise to be gentle, and gradually sort of molded her thoughts around Jason's remembrances of swimming a breast stroke. He felt her starting to kick her legs in time to the beating of her wings.

It was a little clunky at first, as Granny got a feel for working her wings and legs in concert, but she quickly adapted the motion for flight, and in no time at all she was almost seamless at it.

Granny moaned with relief. I can feel my legs again, she declared. This will suffice, for the time being, at least. Tell me, how did you come by such cleverness?

It's a little embarrassing, Jason sent.

You are entirely embarrassing, Granny sent, but I accept you for what you are.

So, don't tell anybody, Jason sent, but I took dance classes for like four years.

That is hardly the most shameful thing about you, Granny sent.

Hey, I've got an image to maintain! Jason sent. Ballet and drumming... they don't mix.

I shall never understand your bestial ways, Granny sent, but go on.

Anyway, Jason continued, sometimes we'd have to hold our arms in a certain position while we'd do a routine. We'd be practicing the same sequence over and over, and my arms would get real tired. I found out that if I kinda wiggled 'em around regularly, when the teacher wasn't looking, I didn't get worn out so fast. Jason gave a mental shrug. Thought the same thing might apply here. I just had a brainwave.

It is fortunate that you did, Granny sent. Jason could tell from her thoughts that her mood had lightened already. So how is it that you became a percussionist, rather than a dancer?

Well, you know how it is, Jason sent, when you're little, your folks put you in all kinds of classes and clubs. Try stuff out, see if anything sticks.

Nay, Granny said. A wasteful practice. I have found education itself, motivated by the threat of the furnace, to be enough.