The Demonization of Humberstone Rd.

We took the opportunity of the shoot to sit down with the angels and discuss our domestic difficulties. As always, they listened to us. They suggested inviting an angel to help us maintain a loving relationship in bed. Delilah had been quite taken with Glorithornacca or Glory as we all called her, so she seemed like a natural choice. Better still, she would come from the church, bringing my dick, and then take it back with her afterwards.

That seemed to work. For a while at least. Delilah was much more invested in sex when Glory was there. I didn't see anything sinister about it. Everyone knows angels are sexless. She enjoyed being held by someone else while I ate her out, or having four hands instead of two caressing her during foreplay. I was inexperienced sexually, and while I wasn't super keen on having an extra person in the room, I figured anything that made my wife happy was for the best.

Then my world fell apart.

It started with the Halo tournament. The thing about not having any testicles is that it affects more than just your sex life. I'm not claiming that a first-person shooter is some kind of macho sport for super masculine men, but ever since being parted from my most treasured possession, I'd noticed my game was off. I was lacking in aggression. My reactions were just that bit slower. I tended to play more conservatively without even meaning to.

So I asked the angels for my penis back. Just for that match. They said no. I don't know if it was a power trip, being a jobsworth, or a genuine worry that I'd abscond up the Humberstone Road the second I was packing heat again. But they weren't budging. It turned into a whole argument. They ended up calling Delilah and she talked me down.

Or so they thought. I had made a note of the type of locker they were using and then I arranged to have one delivered. I got it sent to my grandmother's house to avoid suspicion. Then I studied the lock and worked out the best way to open it quickly (using a library card and a hairpin if you're interested.)

On the night of the tournament, I turned up early, kissing Delilah on my way out and telling her not to wait up. The community center is always most active at night. That's when everyone is most horny and looking for distraction. Around six o'clock, everyone is either at dinner or on their way home from work. I made sure the coast was clear and then was into the locker in under twenty seconds.

My penis wasn't there.

I took a risk and opened a few of the others. Those were all full. I guessed it was just mine. I closed the locker up again and took a casual stroll around the community center, church, and graveyard. All the angels were there except Glory.

Now in a panic, I 'borrowed' a bike and rode straight home. Once there, I took a moment outside the door to collect myself, opened it very carefully, and crept inside. Quickly establishing there was no one in the kitchen or lounge I made my way upstairs.

Before I reached the landing, my worst fears were confirmed. I could hear them.

If I had just burst in, it wouldn't have become the national scandal that it did. It would have been my word against the word of an angel.

So instead I got my camera. And, yes, it didn't take more than one flash for them to realize what was happening. You've seen those pictures, no doubt -- pixelated or unpixelated. The first one of an angel fucking a human woman, her massive feather wings half-lifting them in the air. The second of them stopping, turning surprised. And then the third and final one of an angel rushing towards me in anger, an erect penis already half covered in sexual juices.

My penis. Not hers.

Demons are just fallen angels. I had caught Glory mid-tumble.

Then my life got kind of crazy. Everyone telling me what I should do. People threatening me with all kinds of things. Talking to the press. Talking to the police. Talking to my divorce lawyer. Talking to the Prime Minister.

AngelGate was already partially underway. People were already asking questions about the old PlayDemon magazine and its tenuous relationship with reality. My pictures blew the doors off completely. It was all anyone was talking about anywhere for at least a month. It was tough at first, but it got easier when other people started to come forward. Not just in St Martha's but in other churches around the country and soon around the world. People started talking about how they felt pressured, blackmailed, and manipulated into following the angel's instructions. A lot of the community outreach places closed. Sometimes they were shut down by the police for specific infractions, and sometimes they just quietly shut up shop and disappeared. I started giving speeches around the country, telling my story. That helped me process things as much as I think it helped other people.

Of course, being the focus of national attention had its own benefits. It's only been a few months but I'm already in another relationship. Dvorbanna, Yannisvarthex, and Klemptophia are all I could want from a trio of steady partners. We're not exclusive of course -- you could say they're more fiends with benefits. And despite what you might have heard in the papers, they are definitely not out to steal my penis.

After all, how am I going to be a bad boy without one?

Yours,

Colin Kirkwood.

Friday 13th June 2003

To the Editor,

Regular readers to your paper may remember me. I wrote in some months ago as the working girl who was worried about the presence of demons in the Leicester red-light district and was very concerned at the time about my financial future.

I'm writing to you again today to let you know how much my fortunes have changed under the new administration. I didn't vote Lucifer, but blow me down if I haven't benefited the most. I was very lucky to be one of the first to be chosen to take part in the brand new bovinification programme launched last year, having been in police custody at the time. I know you've been following the development of the Cadeby Farm and Nursery project closely and I know your reporters even visited there last month. I was being serviced by my bull at the time, so unfortunately I didn't get a chance to speak with them. I'd like to make that up now.

From my perspective, the project is a complete success. Having developed four new nipples across my torso, I'm now able to feed six infants at a time and produce enough milk daily to feed three sets in rotation, meaning eighteen little tikes are fully fed by myself alone. And with another eleven ladies in my shed alone, there's never a dull moment.

I'm so much happier now than when I had to scramble to make a living in dead-end jobs or sell my body on the street. I have nature and the little ones surround me all day and I find that I'm living life with an immense feeling of serenity such as I've never felt before. From the moment I wake to the time I lay my head down again, everything just makes sense. I'm told that this is partly because the DNA splicing isn't just about mammary glands, but also includes some of the cow's own instinctive peace of mind.

The only thing that puts a crimp in my day are these constant protests outside the farm. I find it ironic that angels of all people would be against babies being raised in a stable.

So to any young girls who are uncertain about their future and thinking about their options, I say, come and work in my field!

Regards,

Molly Meadows, Cadeby.

Monday 16th June 2003

To the Editor,

I was shocked to discover that our little cherubs may be being nursed by former prostitutes. Don't they vet people before they turn them into animals?!

Yours,

Disgusted of Ashby-de-la-Zouch