Lust's Price Ch. 01

Greg rested his head in his hands. His cubicle provided little peace from the rest of the office. The other salesmen droned on their phones or laughed with each other. Greg tried to look at his screen again, but the image blurred and made his head ache. The conversation with himself began again. He lost track over the years of how many times he'd had it, but it seemed to come around at about four o'clock on most workdays. "How did I get here?" Sometimes he tried to convince himself that the solitary conversation was therapeutic, a way of compartmentalizing and address his various worries. He knew it was a lie. He couldn't remember when the lie started, either.

Sixteen years earlier, he walked into the insurance office to speak with an old friend of his father. At the time, Greg had been a twenty year old, fresh faced young man celebrating his daughter's second birthday. He had a pretty young wife, eyes on a new house, and a bright future ahead of him. The years turned out to be less kind than anticipated. When he turned thirty, he almost had an affair. He stopped at the last minute, but it forced him to ask painful questions about the course of his life. Greg began to believe that he'd married entirely too early, let alone have a child. He loved his family, but at the same time they represented all the paths not taken. Early on, he and Victoria, his wife, planned on traveling the world. Every summer would be spent on a different beach or tucked away in some mountain cabin. Greg had not taken a vacation in a decade. When asked about it, he waved off the question with ambiguous references to the economy or Congress. The truth, again painfully, was that the only thing worse than being stuck at work would be a vacation sapping all of his meager free time.

Greg looked at the clock again. A few minutes had passed. Carl moved across the office toward Greg's desk. "Carl, Jr." Greg reminded himself. Carl senior had hired Greg and been a good boss until health forced him into retirement. The man's son, a bronzed, flabby man who seemed like he would be greasy to the touch, took over the small insurance firm. The new Carl came in with new dynamic ideas, a fancy business degree from a state university, and zero hours of actual work experience. The older members of the sales crew had enough clout to avoid Carl's meddling, but Greg was right in the line of fire.

"Heya, Greg, could you come talk with me in my office?" Carl's teeth almost glowed from the whitening treatment, especially in contrast to the coats of spray-on tan.

"Uh, sure." Greg's heart sank. He hated the lectures about morale and approaching everything with a smile. The office grew muted as Greg stood up and followed his boss into the small office.

"Have a seat." Carl closed the door behind them. Greg grew more unnerved. Carl enjoyed leaving the door open during his lectures so the others in the office would hear and receive the message vicariously. In reality, the others just laughed at the unlucky man to be the target of Carl's most recent management tool. Greg took a seat in the cheap plastic chair while Carl moved behind the desk to sit in a luxurious, leather office chair. "I'll get to the point. Greg, we've appreciated your work over the past years, but unfortunately we're going to have to let you go. This is not a reflection on your work, necessarily, and we would have liked to keep you on, but the firm isn't bringing in as much as it needs. In light of that, we're making some cuts and you have the lowest sales."

Greg's ears rang. At his home, beside the door, Victoria had placed a small ceramic bowl. The bowl attracted a variety of odds and ends such as pens, random receipts, small flashlights, and other things one finds in their pocket at the end of the day. Primarily, the bowl was the resting place of the family's mail. Greg automated almost every bill he had to pay, but many of the companies chose to send paper bills anyway. They stacked in the ceramic bowl, getting higher and higher, until someone would throw them out in frustration. He should have been thinking about the bills or maybe even the receipts, but beyond the ringing in his ears, all he could wonder was where that bowl came from.

"Greg?" Carl's voice cut through his thoughts. How long had he been sitting there? "Greg, don't worry. I talked to my dad about this before I called you in here. We're not going to cut you loose without a net. You'll have two months of severance pay, and you'll keep your benefits through the end of the year.

He manged to reply. "I've worked here for almost twenty years. This is the only thing I've ever done."

"You're still a young man, Greg. Maybe this can be a reason to shake up your life."

"Shake up my life? You fucking prick. I have a family to take of and you want me to 'shake up' my life?" For the first time in years, Greg felt something. Anger. "Let me ask you something, Carl. Have you ever, just once, taken a look at our yearly revenue over the past two decades? Have you seen the fucking inverted 'V' that is our year over year revenue tracking? Yeah, you fucking have. And I bet it chides your ass to know that the last time this firm made more money year over year was the year your dad retired. You can fire me, but that's not going to save this sinking fucking ship. Have you looked at the world? You think everyone is brimming with such confidence that they don't need insurance?"

Carl's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. "I know your upset b--"

"You're god damn right I'm upset." Greg stood up and yanked open the office door. "Hey everybody, quick announcement. I've been fired. Now, I know you all love working here, but me getting canned is the iceberg scraping a gash in the fucking hull. I'm first, the rest of you can just line up because you're never going to outsell that man's in-fucking-competence."

The others watched in silence. Greg went to his desk. He immediately realized he had nothing personal in his cubicle, but he grabbed a hole punch for good measure. He flipped off Carl and stormed out of the building.

***

The sleepy, small town of Cedar Pines rolled by as Greg drove home. He didn't know what he would tell Victoria. Emily, his daughter, was off visiting friends for the week, so at least he would have time alone to break the news to his wife. She had harped on him for years about getting a new job. She wanted more money, a better house, or better clothes. Greg had agreed about finding a new job, but not for the money. He simply wanted to not hate work so much every day. If more money meant he hated going home less, that would be an added perk.

He loathed himself for staying at his dead end job until it turned on him. He hated his wife a little more for being right about it all these years. Time and again, he had opened up his resume and tinkered slightly, changing a font or taking out one lie and adding another. Through all of it, he applied for nothing, as if some magical job would appear from thin air. He daydreamed about landing a new career and the thought of telling Carl Jr. to jump on a dry dildo often lulled him to sleep. It all seemed so difficult, though. Greg couldn't face the thought of rejection, of trying and failing, or of being told his dream's high aspirations stood on a false sense of value. Instead, he avoided it. He made excuses and grew comfortable in his discomfort.

A street light up ahead flicked to yellow. Greg impulsively turned onto a side street to avoid the wait. The street led into a neighborhood that reeked of opulence. Enormous houses with well kept lawns and four car garages lined each side of the shady road, further souring Greg's mood. A man walking down the sidewalk caught his eye. The figure had his back to Greg and walked with a slender cane. Something about the man drew Greg's attention. It distracted him enough to almost crash into an oncoming car. The other car's horn blared, and Greg swerved into the gutter. His car jerked and rattled as the wheels rolled over the rough terrain. He pulled the wheel again, swerving back into the street and steadying himself. When he thought nothing could get worse, he felt the jarring thump of a tire going flat. He drove on for a while hoping the noise would go away. Finally, he pulled to the side of the road and discovered front right tire sagging with deflation.

With a defeated resignation, Greg went to the trunk and began to gather the spare tire and jack. As he went to work removing the flat tire, he heard a soft noise in the distance. Click...click...click. The man with the cane was still walking down the sidewalk, slowly approaching where Greg had stopped. The man was dressed in a black, fitted suit and looked as if he had wandered out of a funeral. He took long strides jabbing the tip of the cane against the stone. Click....click....click. Greg ignored the man and focused on his own problems. He bruised his knuckle with a tire iron and almost threw out his back trying to position the spare on the axle. As Greg lowered the car down from the jack, he realized something was missing. The clicking had stopped.

The man stood behind Greg, as silent as stone with his hands folded across the top of the cane. "Car trouble?" the man asked. His voice was harsh and raspy. He wore circular, black glasses. His skin was pale and looked a little too much like paper.

Greg waved at the man and put the tools back into his trunk, though he held on to the tire iron as he eyed the man. "Flat tire is all, thank you."

"Is that really all, Gregory?"

Greg's hand gripped the tire iron. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The man smiled, a grim split in his face. "Everyone knows me. I whispered to you in your cradle. I'll wink at you from atop your grave. I held your mother's hand when she sucked her first cock. I'll watch your daughter do the same."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Greg's knuckles turned white with tension. He held out the iron rod with clear intent. "You think you can wander around here saying what you want, old man? You some kind of freak?"

The man's smile did not falter. "Bravery is not your strong suite, Gregory. You're a little worm, wriggling up from wet earth to be squashed beneath the feet of greater men."

"Listen, buddy, I don't know who you think you are, but I've had a fucking terrible day and --" Greg stopped. He couldn't move. The man kept smiling as he walked closer. A strong smell of sulfur filled the air, and Greg's insides coiled in revulsion. His anger dissipated into pure fear.

"Do you know who I am now?" asked the man in black.

Greg not move, but whispered, "Yes."

"You didn't believe in me. I can tell. The wonderful thing about you Westerners is how quickly all those years of doubt vanish." As the man spoke, the street grew darker. The sounds of the world faded away until everything was still and quiet. Greg's eyes rolled around trying to keep sight of something familiar, but it was as if night was falling rapidly around him. Soon, all that remained of the world was a slab of concrete and a swirling blackness around the two figures. "You lost your job. How unpleasant. Now you're headed home to your...frumpy wife and brat child. They'll tell you it's alright, but they'll hate you. I imagine Victoria will leave you the second someone with the slightest interest comes along."

Greg whimpered. Visions of dingy, empty apartments clouded his thoughts as feelings of despair washed over him. "What do you want?" he asked, choking back tears.

The man touched Greg's face. His fingers felt like ice. "I want what is mine. But in the meantime, I need a little help from friends. And they need a little help from me. How would you like a job, Gregory?"

Greg thought he should pray or defy the man in some fashion. Instead, excitement began to surpass his fear. All his life he had dreamed of being important, and now he stood in the grip of a creature from another world. "What do you mean?"

The man in black waved his hand and from the darkness a bright light appeared. It rushed toward them until it was only a few feet away. As it grew closer, Greg discerned shapes - buildings and streets. The light was a hole in the darkness, a window between worlds. He recognized the aerial view of his hometown from the familiar landmarks. He wondered if somewhere down there, his body lay in the street. "I want you to give me that city. The how is a little complex, but basically you need to make as many of the humans of Cedar Pines as you can beg for my blessing."

"How do I do that?"

The man waved his hand again. The window to Cedar Pines evaporated into gray smoke. "Pick a sin. Any old sin will do, though some are more effective than others. Have you ever just wallowed in sin, Gregory? You haven't, I would know. Back home, we have amazing places. Gluttons eat and eat until they can't eat any more, but they do. The prideful live in a cycle, going through day after day of feeling superior. Lots of different little scenarios for them to play in."

"Lust." Greg said.

"A perennial favorite," the man in black replied.

"And what do I get?"

"A savvy salesman, even now. You get to be a god. Well, a lesser god. Immortality. Health. A new...perfect body, shaped a little more suitable for your purpose. You'll have some little tricks like me. Maybe even figure something out on your own. Of course, you have to pay the price of admission first."

"My soul?" Greg asked. The thought of a soul seemed so silly to him.

"Common misconception. You keep your soul, but think of it as a sponsorship. You still drive the car, but my name is on the hood."

Greg thought he should pretend to debate about the choice, but saying no was the furthest thing from his mind. "So is it like a contract or something?"

"Don't be silly. We take our payment the old fashioned way. First, the down payment." In a swift motion, the man in black snatched Greg's wedding ring off his hand. "The soul has to be in a vulnerable place for transmutation. We'll get you there. All you have to do when the time comes is say yes." The man in black put the ring in the palm of his cold, pale hand and leaned over it, whispering. He then slipped the small metal band into his pocket. "Don't worry, you'll get back. I've sent one of my associates to guide you the rest of the way. We won't meet again until the town is ready." The man started to walk off into the inky blackness. "Oh, and Gregory, don't fail." The final words cut like a knife, sending a chill through Greg's body.

The world lurched. Greg fell forward and cracked his head on the pavement. As he shook the dizziness from his head, the street came back into view. He was beside his car in an empty street.

***

Greg wiped sweat from his brow as he drove home. Had it been a seizure? Did he black out and hallucinate from a lack of oxygen? Anything was more likely than meeting the devil and bargaining with his soul. The world all seemed normal, no mysterious figures in black, no demons, and no four horsemen. Yet it all seemed so real. He could still feel the dread of being in that black space, the worry about being left there forever, and the seductive power of the man's offer. If it had been real, something else would happen. The man promised someone would come to help him. Greg glanced at the naked ring finger on his right hand. And why did he take my ring?

The garage door clattered shut behind him as he parked the car. He entered through the kitchen and immediately went in search of his wife. "Victoria?" No one answered. He moved quickly up the stairs worried something else awful could have happened. He found her sitting on the edge of their bed. She looked normal, her plain body and unflattering hair everything he expected, but her eyes looked unfocused and distant. As he started to walk to her, he sensed something else. He froze and spoke to his wife, "Victoria, what's the matter?"

"Oh, you finally showed up," she hissed, suddenly glaring at him. "I shouldn't expect you to be on time."

"What are you talking about?"

She stood up and walked over to him. Her hand shot out and grabbed his crotch, squeezing hard and causing him to yelp in pain. "All these years, you've tried to satisfy me with that little prick. You'd come to me mewling about how much you loved me just so you could get the tip of that pencil thin dick wet. How many times did I go to sleep wondering if you ever stuck it in me at all? You wouldn't know the difference if you just slid between my pussy lips until you squirted your pathetic cum on my stomach."

She squeezed again, harder. Greg collapsed to the ground in pain. "Victoria...what's wrong with you?"

In answer, a shape coalesced on the bed. As ludicrous as his day had been thus far, Greg knew immediately what he saw. The creature was manlike in form, but taller. It had red skin that looked thick, as if more similar to a rhinoceros hide than human skin. Long, black claws tipped the thing's hands and feet. Fangs jutted out from the beast's mouth. It had a mane of grizzled black hair from which two curved horns, like that of a ram, emerged. It was naked with its legs spread to display an inhuman appendage. The demon's cock was a foot long and as wide around as thick as the handle of a baseball bat. The head of his demonic tool oozed a black ichor that could only be the demonic equivalent of precum. Further down, tennis ball sized testicles bulged in a smooth sack, pulsating slightly in rhythm with whatever organ kept the monster alive. The man in black had been, or at least appeared, as a normal human. Other than its basic shape, nothing about this creature was human. A forked tongue slithered from its mouth. Greg thought a snake was also on the bed, but instead realized it was the thing's tail. The demon spoke, "My master has sent me to collect your payment. I am Aragoth, your master."

Greg didn't know how to react. He could barely think from the pain in his balls. As much as he had come to dislike Victoria, he didn't want her to be part of this. At least, not this part. "The deal was with me. Let her go."

The demon laughed. He held up his hand, brandishing a small golden ring on one of his fingers, "She is my wife. I will do with her as I please. Strip him naked." Greg cowered away as his wife bore down on him. The face he had known for so many years seemed twisted with hate and revulsion. She grabbed his shirt, ripping at it with inhuman strength. More than once, her nails cut into his flesh leaving bright red gashes in his skin. The shirt came free, and she turned to his pants, quickly unbuckling them before tearing them away. Her hand slipped into the band of his boxers, brushing slightly against his cock and causing it to swell rapidly. She laughed at the sight of him, a cruel laugh full of derision and scorn.

Greg whimpered, "Victoria...please, I love you."

"And look what your love did to me. It made me fat and old. I never loved you, Greg. Selling your soul was the first useful thing you've ever done. I have a new lover now. See that cock over there, the one five times the size of yours. That's the kind of cock I've always needed. After all these years, I'll finally get to feel like I'm being fucked."

Aragoth's voice rumbled, "Come my pet, it is time for your reward." His taloned hand stroked up and down the length of his demon cock. More of the black cum oozed from the tip, rolling over his red fingers and staining the white sheets on the bed. Victoria crawled over to him submissively, like a scolded dog returning to her master. Greg watched as his wife got on her knees before the foot long cock and took it in her hand. Despite his humiliation and despair, he found it arousing. The thought of Victoria's mouth being stuffed full of demon cock made his little prick throb painfully with erection. "Are you ready to receive my blessing, slut? To become a panting whore for the Master?"