Leveling Up Ch. 49-56

49. Private Jet

"It's been forever since I watched cable TV," I remark, raise an eyebrow, and lean back into the black leather chair. The air is filled with pink noise and the sound of ice scraping against my glass as I sip my wife's sweet and smoky cocktail and fiddle with a boxy square remote. A red light blinks on and the screen flickers. Nathan is seated next to me while my wife lounges with Judy on the other side of the plane. "Fuck, commercials you can't skip. I forgot about those."

A familiar song begins to emit out the television's speakers. "Oh no, they didn't!" I complain and groan loudly. The inevitable live action remade scene by scene retreads ofThe Snow Queen play out in the film trailer. Another childhood animated classic slayed by the insatiable quest for easy money. Lazy and unimaginative and chock full of shitty CGI, the only difference is now apparently the princess rejects the prince and battles the evil wizard by herself. The actress even winks at the camera like we should congratulate the indolent writers for actually composing something new despite how oblivious they are to just how clichéd it is. "For fuck's sake." I lean towards Nathan, seethe, shake my head, and sigh. "These bastards did it again. Another movie where every single frame was hand drawn by a talented artist and beautiful. Replaced with some lazy garbage shot with a shitty modern video camera and terrible computer graphics. I fucking hate this trash."

"I know Mr. T," Nathan agrees and nods his head rapidly. "There's no magic in the movies anymore. I listen mostly to podcasts. History ones. Y'know, ever since I took your class."

"I swear, if I get any amount of fame in this town," I promise, clench my hands together, set my jaw, and stare intensely. "I'll fix Hollywood. Bring back the romance, the passion, and the sex. No more rehashed watered down garbage remakes and cape shit. We need films full of action, erotic thrills, and brilliant new ideas. Made by adults for grownups."

The trailer ends and it shifts to some old man walking his dog in a forest. He rubs his chin as if dwelling on something deeply profound. "Every day I trek these woods with Spartacus but recently my mind gets all foggy," the old man mumbles. The film shifts to a close up shot of the man's wrinkled face as he squints at some unknown thing in the distance. "Then I asked my doctor about Discentro." A sleek custom font logo superimposes on top of the image including the corporate symbol for the Vanholt corporation as some upbeat melody plays. My nostrils flare and I think of the sadistic shit that sick bastard did to my demonically possessed wife. "Side effects include nausea, constipation, seizures, pulmonary embolism, dissociative thoughts, severe rash, and indigestion."

To Nathan, I comment, "I'd rather fucking kill myself than deal with all that bullshit."

The screen fades followed by a loud chime and shifts to a brightly lit white news desk behind which a female in her young twenties sits wearing an expensive dress, decked out in make up, and face full of signs of plastics surgery. In a deeper than expected voice, she drones, "Rumors tonight that Hollywood heartthrob Heath Halverson has split from his longtime belle, actress and superstar Mia Thompson. Has she really dumped the man voted four years in a row to be the world's sexiest man?" The camera footage depicts muted clips of Heath portraying the super hero/Roman god Mars in the most recent crossover slop hero movie.

The private jet's sole flight attendant approaches me holding the handset of a phone in her hand. "Mr. T-t-tag-lia-cauzy..." the flight attendant struggles.

"Tagliacozzi," I correct.

"Someone's calling for you on the satellite phone," she explains as she hands me the phone handset.

"Teddy, how's it going?" Sammy Shasta's lispy voice sounds through the speaker. Before I can answer, he continues, "I think I found the solution to that little problem you and your wife have."

I tilt my head, raise my right eyebrow, and nod. Surely in a city as big as LA. Someone has to know a way out of this peculiar predicament of ours. "Uh huh?" I ask

"I have a guy who's exactly what you need," Sammy's voice explains through the satellite phone speaker. "They call him the Sexorcist."

"The Sexorcist?" I ask, blink, and rub at my chin.

50. "The Sexorcist" Set - Beverly Hills

"Good on you driving us here but why don't you go catch a flick or something?" I suggest to Nathan with a nod of my head. "Demonic power, perverted sexual urges, and a man who refers to himself unironically as 'The Sexorcist'. I understand you're over 18. But still, none of these things sound like something a young man with a bright future ought to be exposed to. Besides, this demon inside my wife and I. It always seems to lead to violence and ruin. Remy and Troy Daniels bloodied and beaten. Thalsyn tortured and arrested by feds. All the infidelity. It's gotten way out of hand."

"I understand Mr. T," Nathan responds, leans forwards, and nods while grinning. "You're so smart. You and your wife. There's no reason you can't overcome this. As soon as I leave here. I will pray for you and Mrs. T." He offers a smile, leans towards me, and rubs at his chest. His sincerity. Its solemn and well appreciated.

The rental car engine putters, my body turns, upper set of teeth bite down on my lower lip, and my throat clears. "Thanks, Nathan," I say. "This whole situation has gotten out of control. It's now the time when it needs to change. We can't keep careening down this path."

Nathan reaches his arms outside the car, grips my right hand with both of his, and nods. The engine revs and the car drifts away. My left arm wraps around my wife's shoulder and my eyes stare ahead. My wife wears a low-cut black dress and matching heels. Sammy Shasta, dressed as he was in the party we last met, speaks to the people assembled on the front lawn including a camera crew. It's dark outside and slightly windy. This location was described to me as a mansion but the structure looks like it'd be considered somewhat between a small and medium house in Central City. Still, given the cost of real estate around here, it has to be worth a small fortune.

A young woman barely older than one of my students pulls me away from Wendy and begins to apply makeup to my face as another young man does the same to my wife. I guess reality TV isn't much interested in well... reality. My eyes focus on Wendy's fat tits as they jiggle out the front of her black and white dress. She's dressed as she was at the mansion party. At least before she fucked the Central City Rocket in his own football jersey. My stomach knots and body shivers. Fuck, this better be it. The boner inducing demon inside of me. He's long overdue for one. A freezing cold shower.

A bearded man, my age, wearing a ball cap, sunglasses, and hoodie introduces himself to us as the director. "Don't worry about it," he urges. "You do as you do. We shoot the footage. Our editing team creates the magic. So all you have to do is simple.Go with theflow."

The Beverly Hills house front door creeks open and my wife and I enter with my arm hung over her shoulder. As we go in, Wendy's heels clack against the wood floor, thyme wafts into my nostrils from various burning candles arranged around the room that crackle and pop. Ornately decorated, with wood flooring, and stained glass windows, the room seemed more like something one would expect at a church and not a residential house. Two cameramen follow us into the house alongside the bearded director.

A tall spectacled middle aged man clad in a black priest robe over his protruding beer belly enters the room. He approaches Wendy and I, nods, closes his eyes, and recites the Lord's Prayer. As his orbs open again I notice they're firmly focused on my voluptuous wife's curvy cleavage. He smiles, leans towards my wife, and grasps his palms together. "I'm Father McGrath," he introduces, stares at Wendy's tits, and grins wide. "I'm an exorcist. There's no one better suited. To end the plague of sex demons infesting Los Angeles. I'm afraid the City of Angels is anything but these god forsaken days."

"We're from Central City actually," I explain.

Father McGrath nods, tilts his head, and scratches his chin. "I see, maybe not as bad as here, but a cesspool of vice nonetheless," he concludes. "What events have led you to seek my assistance?"

Wendy opens her mouth but before she can speak I butt in, "My wife fucked an incubus. He was trying to impregnate her. But I knocked her up already. So his sperm just, I guess, stayed inside? Then uhm... well... we were having sex, and I mean it must have gone inside my penis hole or something." I loudly cough. "Now we both have this sick urge. She wants to... cheat on me with other alpha males and I want it too. We've... ok, I know this sounds bad, but we've been indulging it. Satisfying the urge. It feels great but deep down its humiliating and degrading us. Things keep escalating and it has caused a lot of violence as well."

The older robed man adjusts his glasses and hesitates before asking, "And you know this man who had sex with your wife was an incubus how exactly?"

"I fought him," I quickly retort. "For hours in Old Downtown in Central City." My eyes peer over at the two cameramen, body shivers, and I feel cold sweat on my face and arms. "Of course, I only acted at all times in self-defense. To the extent there was catastrophic property damage, well that was caused solely by Thalsyn, the incubus. Obviously that's why the FBI only arrested him and not I. Look, I know he's an incubus because he showed me his true form. Wings, claws, tail, blue skin, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. He told me he believed his semen was the reincarnation of Lohrnihr, an ancestor of his."

He turns to Wendy and asks, "So you've been acting on this urge then? Cuckolding your husband with other men?"

My wife blushes and nods her head as an embarrassed smile spreads across her face. "Yes Father McGrath, I've been a very naughty and unfaithful wife because all of this," she confesses. "Please, I just want us to be a normal married couple again. Stop craving the penises of men other than my husband."

My ribs squeeze together and knees feel weak.

Father McGrath smirks, puffs out his chest, and sets his jaw. "Ok, I will help," he promises, sneers at me, clasps his chin and taps his mouth with his fingers. "Of course, I will have to draw this demon out. That's the only way. So yes, I will need some time alone with your wife. Get her good and excited and then I can exorcise this demon. Please stand by the door and listen."

My wife, Father McGrath and one of the cameramen enter another room, Wendy's heels clack, and the door closes shut behind them with a click.

"Ok, go ahead and get on your knees," Father McGrath's muffled voice commands.

Clacking followed by a thud sounds and my wife responds, "Like this?"

There is chuckling through the door followed by ruffling. "Yes ma'am, you're clothing, please," Father McGrath's voice requests.

A zipper distends and there is even more ruffling. "Even these?"

"Yes, all of it," he orders.

"What do you think is going on in there?" the other cameraman asks me as the director nods behind him.

My ribs squeeze, arms cross over my chest, and jaw sets. "Look, I didn't ask to be possessed or whatever," I explain, shake my head, and sigh. "It was supposed to be a one time thing because I was bored. Never would I have thought it would get this out of hand."

"Uh huh, right into your mouth," his voice commands. The air fills with sucking, lapping noises. My wife must be in there. Naked. Jiggling her breasts. Blowing his cock as it hangs underneath his bloated belly. I shiver as my stomach knots and nausea spreads over me.

"Don't forget my balls," he orders."

My wife giggles and I hear more slurping. "Oh my god, Father, this thing feels so heavy against my face," she flirts.

My chest hists, body shudders in icy sweat, and eyes gaze downward.

"You're really dirty aren't you?" he taunts. "I can see it in your eyes. How much you love it. Ok slut, on your hands and knees. Spread that nasty cunt of yours. I know its what you want."

"Fuck yes, oh my god, please do that again," my wife's voice repeats through the door. She giggles once more, "Teddy, you'll never believe what we're doing in here. It's so naughty."

My body seizures and I collapse.

51. Hell - Year????

The sky is black but full of dense and puffy scarlet clouds pulsing with cackling electricity and the occasional lightning bolt strikes the forsaken ground followed by a loud burst of thunder. I'm in a white and gray mixed marble structure held up by high and large cylindrical columns and mostly open without walls set atop a high hill. The ground upon which it sits is dark red, rocky and barren of plant life. I step towards a well and stare down into it's blood red reflection. My eyes see not myself but a blue skinned, dark curly haired and moderately bearded demon dressed in an ornate black and red robe with bat like blue wings behind him as well as an additional set of boned skeletal wings behind those.

I try to wave my hand... which is actually a claw but I can't. I have no control. My eyes are viewing another entity's experience. My stomach warms and I understand that this is Lohrnihr. It's strange that I recognize some of myself inside of him. My new symbiotic situationship with him. This is his past experience.

We lift up and turn and I am shocked to see a huge crowd of demons, many of similar appearance to Lohrnihr albeit without a second set of wings standing silently and staring at us. Many hold ornate goblets seemingly full of wine. Our throat clears and Lohrnihr addresses the crowd in his own gravelly tone, "When Nemara and I shed blood together in our clan's unholy well and joined together in marriage, we fulfilled the final step of establishing a glorious and perennial patriarchy. All the work we've done. The sacrifices. So much has the power and strength not only of myself but of you all, my spawn and kinfolk, increased tremendously recently. Starting tomorrow, I petition the high demon counsel and demand recognition. At this point, I clearly deserve the official title of Demon Lord. Of course this will elevate all of us as members of one of the great clans of the outer realms. Imagine all the respect, the fear from others we will command, the alcohol that will flow, and of course the constant orgies!"

The crowd cheers proudly and guzzle libations with little restraint.

We approach two male figures, one I recognize as Thalsyn but dressed in a red and gold robe, and the other is taller than us with red skin, a pointy, narrow, and long black beard, and black horns that seem to spread much wider than the others in attendance. "I could have never done this without you," Lohrnihr praises, looks at the red skinned figure with soft eyes filled with inner glow, cracks his voice, and nods. "The gold I spent on your education. Only for us to receive such massive returns on investment. I'd not be where I am today without you. It can't be said enough. Thank you."

"Yes, yes, happy to contribute to your clan of course, of course!" the taller red skinned demon responds in a noticeably deep voice and nods rapidly.

"Bullshit!" Lohrnihr quickly responds. "You may be a devil but at this point I consider you family. You're part of this clan now. This is a time to celebrate. Stop being a wizard for one night and enjoy yourself. You may have your pick and breed with any woman here. Except Nemara of course. Spread your seed and enjoy yourself. I'd love to have some of your devil blood in my spawn. Nothing wrong with a little bit of diversity now, is there?" We wrap our arms around him into a warm embrace before shifting our gaze towards Thalsyn.

I remember when I fled Old Downtown. When the FBI fired a shotgun blast against his knee. Its been on my mind. That whole time I was desperately trying to kill him. But seeing him get captured like that. I'm hardly the type of guy to care about honor or any of that shit. Booze to me is above honor for example. Doing a guy like that though after he fought so hard for so long. It's just not right. Special Agent Boulder. He's a cowardly pretty-boy faggot. He better stay the fuck away from me.

"Speaking of seed, how are things going with breeding?" Lohrnihr asks Thalsyn.

"Yes my lord, the great successes of you and the devil wizard Asmolt," Thalsyn warmly eyes us, nods his head, smiles, and begins. "Everyone is very excited for the future. Tales of you vanquishing the behemoth of Hoorth, the brutal raid on Malvora, and of course the way you and Asmolt tricked that Special Forces Unit from Perditus and had them boiled alive. My lord, you've become the living legend our clan has always needed. The amount of fucking going on. It's always been a lot. But now more than ever our kin seek new spawn. You'll see just how wild things have gotten when we commence the nightly orgy."

"No better Chief Incubus has there ever been, thank you Thalsyn and may you indulge in the many fruits of our amazing success," Lohrnihr praises before embracing my prior adversary.

Through the loud din of many talking over each other, laughter, and snickering, comes the subtle sound of a woman moaning and a man gasping. "Really, drunk already?" Lohrnihr asks with a chuckle. "The wedding barely ended." The sound grows steadily, growing louder and louder. We look around back and forth and don't seem to see any source of the lurid noises. Instead others are noticing and they too begin to peer back and forth. I feel the hair on the back of our neck begin to stand.

An intense blast of lightning strikes the ground outside of the marble structure. Everything brightly illuminates and near the blood filled well there is suddenly revealed for a mere second a female demon bent over naked as she if fucked from behind by a tall and extremely muscular male demon with broad bull-like horns. The image fades with the powerful bolt and almost immediately intense thunder booms.

"Who dares to disturb my wedding night with such nonsense!" Lohrnihr roars, clenches our right claw, spreads both our sets of wings, and trembles. "Reveal yourselves at once and prepare for ritual execution and sacrifice!"

Deep male and female laughter floods the room as everyone stares towards the bloody well. Something flickers and then the pair are revealed. Nemara, nude with lavender skin, large jiggling breasts and completely debauched, spreads her legs as the extremely muscular purple skinned hulk of a demon, smirking, chest puffed out, pounds his hard cock into Lohrnihr's newlywed wife's pussy. The two of them suddenly stop, part their lips, and subsequently smile. Nemara dismounts her lover, stands nude, and smirks.

Gasps sound from the crowded audience followed by angry yelling.

Our ribs squeeze together, stomach knots, and knees weaken. Fuck, hardly my first time experiencing these sorts of feelings. But this hits so much harder. Our throat feels thick and eyes moist and runny. "N-nemara, what have you done!?" Lohrnihr yells in a voice that cracks.

Nemara cackles and her eyes glow red. "How pathetic that speech was," she mocks. "You're all a bunch of backwater fools. Your pathetic clan." She dramatically spits on the floor right next to the unholy well. Total scumbags." She laughs again. There is something familiar about her voice.

"You heard her," the purple skinned demon barks. "I fucked your wife. New demon lord?" he grunts and shakes his head before chuckling. "Come bitch, kneel, swear fealty to your superior. I'm taking your newly wife. You're welcome to join us. As our new slave. Or just hand that power of yours over and you can live. I will just take the females of your clan and leave. It's that simple."