The Dark God Ch. 02

I am Joel. My hair is auburn, wavy and shoulder-length, my eyes almond-shaped and green and large. I am twenty-one years old, a college student and part-time volunteer at a local animal shelter. I am very, very much in love with Satan.

My lover is the Archetype, the Shadow. He makes young girls touch themselves in their most private places while they conjure images (varying from girl to girl) of the lover that was meant for them, when in reality, all of those men--blond or raven haired, muscular or plain--are him: Satan, the one I call Thon.

We had met and had our first brief encounter over a year ago. He'd been with me just for one night, and in the day, when I had rested up from our exertion, I woke up to find he had gone.

Was it just a dream? A very vivid, unlikely dream? I was sore, and my whole body pulsed as if it were a heart. I was naked and tangled in a blanket.

Months and a year had passed and I had myself pretty much convinced that this was a severely vivid hallucination. I kept myself occupied with my Medieval studies in college, and most of my weekend hours and after-school hours were spent taking care of strays at the shelter just on the outskirts of town. Earth was in the death of winter and the sky was dense with clouds and all was silent, a sure sign of heavy snow to come.

My supervisor and I had become concerned for one stray cat we rescued from certain death in an alleyway--a few days ago she wandered off and never returned. We were sure that the cold would endanger her life.

And that was the most of my worries. All seemed quite normal.

Heavy snow did come, and as I watched the fat snowflakes at my window I resignedly gave up hope that the feline would ever return to us alive.

The morning after the silent, peaceful storm I ate my breakfast as I gazed at the blinding expanse of white, sandwiched on each side by frosted tree branches, as my front window faces away from town and towards the countryside. A small ditch ran alongside the trees on the left side, covered with at least two feet of snow, the same ditch where in springtime I liked to stroll, swatting at mosquitoes and picking the elusive gnome-like asparagus.

Out in the distance I spotted what seemed like a big black boulder. Strange, I thought, that all the little branches of the trees were covered with snow, but that boulder was not. It must have been placed there after the snow – but why in the world would anyone want to place a boulder there?

I put on a heavy coat and some boots and trudged out in the knee-deep snow. The boulder was about the distance of a football field away, so by the time I got close enough to see any details my face was nipped by the cold and a warmth glowed within me from the laborious walking.

This was no boulder. It seemed to be moving but I couldn't quite tell what it was. As I moved I saw something in the corner move like a tail. Closer, closer – it was a tail!

I approached and within ten feet of the object I saw a half orange face looking at me – it was the missing cat from the shelter. She lay in the lap of a man who sat Indian-style in the snow. The man, in a long black wool coat, stroked the cat with a gloved hand.

He had long, black hair, and wisps of it broke off in the slight breeze, dancing as if from the heat rising off of a fire.

It was he – Thon.

I became hot with anger. "Where in the Hell have you been!" I demanded.

He laughed, pleasantly surprised by my ironic choice of words, and I felt a slight embarrassment.

"Not just in Hell, my sweet, but to the far reaches of the universe and back, and everywhere in between."

"It's been over a year!" I stammered.

"You must forget. To my lifetime of eternity, a year is just the blink of an eye."

I was at a loss with his seeming coldness. I felt betrayed. A fleeting thought came to my mind, that I would turn to God just to spite him. "And you never once gave any thought to me." I lowered my head like a child.

He scoffed. "Nonsense. I reclined on the dark side of the waxing moon each night just watching you, until the full moon came and I could see you no more, and I returned every time the moon ducked into complete darkness."

"And the rest of the time? Where were you? Skulking around the earth convincing everyone else that they were your only love?"

The smile vanished from his face. He stood up and in movements so natural and smooth that I wasn't at first shocked to see it, the cat merged into his coat and was no more. His brow seemed knotted with pain and I regretted that I said anything to him to hurt him, this beautiful man.

"I'm...I'm sorry," I said. I briefly touched a button on his coat. I looked into his eyes – it was the first time I saw him in a well-lit place, and I noticed with a mild shock how different his two eyes were. Though both were dark brown one was slightly tinged red, as if it were bleeding. No one would be able to notice it unless they were this close to him and in such light.

"Oh, this," he said, pointing to the reddish eye. "This is the very eye that God discarded into the mud."

"And the other eye?"

"I fashioned it. Out of the deep brown mud in which I stewed."

Together we walked back to my home. The rush of warmth as we entered the door was suffocating at first, and then medicinal.

As soon as the door was closed I turned to him and we pressed together – the bulk of him in that wool coat, and he covered my mouth with his hungry mouth and melted into the sloppiest kisses. His mouth was hot, hotter than an ordinary man's.

"I'm cold," I breathed.

"Here," he said, and took each finger into his mouth, quickly and hungrily, and when the chilly bite of my right hand was taken away but still lingering, he shoved my hand into the folds of his coat, into his jeans, and the fabric scratched my skin roughly, my palm feeling the slightest patch of hair against hot skin. He helped me to find the base of his already hard cock and I wrapped my hand around it. There, all the cold was now gone. And when I was sufficiently warmed he took my hand out and led me to the couch.

He removed his jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt and threw it off. His lightly muscled chest was smooth and very white, with just the scantest trace of hair. He sat on the couch and pulled me down onto his lap, and I nuzzled my head in the crook of his shoulder.

This felt so right, like being wrapped in my favorite blanket. I pressed my palm to his chest as he kissed my mouth. I realized that during our first encounter he never kissed me on the mouth. How tender it was, and then it made me wonder what it would be like to lay with him as a woman. It was such an enticing thought that I immediately became hard.

"You really want to know?" he said, with a vaguely surprised tone of voice. I nodded. He unzipped my jeans slowly, as if he would break what was inside, and tugged them off of me. Then he laid me back on the couch with my hips resting on his lap and he spread my legs, and felt between them, right behind my scrotum.

And then with his fingers he began to prod. The pressure was suddenly unbearable and I flinched, crying out, but with his other hand he squeezed my leg tenderly and made me relax. The pressure grew and grew, my muscles tightened, until I felt skin tear. In a sudden moment of clarity I wondered if this was how a woman felt when she lost her virginity, when the hymen snapped. My hips writhed in his lap.

Suddenly the pressure was gone, the painful pressure, but I felt a different kind of sensation – it was similar to his finger pressing against me just a moment ago, but this, this was sweeter and milder, like a warm humid day. My whole groin vibrated with a lulling electricity, and I realized, how slick it felt down there, and how smoothly he was moving his fingers in and out of me. In horror I wondered if he had torn a wound into me and used my own blood for lubrication. I gasped.

Looking down, I was stunned, as if waking up from a dream and seeing that the laws of nature no longer made sense. There between my legs, I couldn't see my hard, erect cock. Though I still felt sexually aroused and would have expected my cock to be at its stiffest and standing up straight, this new sensation was mild, more spread out within my pelvis. It was like butter melting over the surface of a warm pan.

Instead there was the littlest mound, with delicate hairs, and I saw Thon's hand working expertly just beyond the mound. I looked to his face and saw it pale and his lids half-closed. I could tell this magic trick had taken much of his energy. But he was pleased.

He faced me now, with a mild smile, and took his fingers out of me. How wonderfully tight my new orifice had closed in on itself as he removed his fingers, and instantly I missed the pressure inside. He brought his fingers, slick and shiny with my own fluids, up to my chest, and began to massage my nipples. With both hands he squeezed hard at the pectorals, gathering up the flesh greedily, as if kneading dough. I'm not a meaty person, slim, in fact, almost spare, like a girl, and I marveled at how he made me feel so fleshy. In fact at that moment the flesh seemed too thick. So I looked down, and gasped.

He had fashioned two breasts out of my boy-skin. There were, in place of a flat chest, two plump and round breasts, supple under his grip, and now with so much energy spent his grip loosened, his hair tumbled down onto my stomach, and he laid his head on me, panting and limp.

After his breath slowed, he mustered the last bit of strength he had left and carried me, his pretty new bride, to my bedroom and we fell asleep together, my face stuffed into the fragrant crook of his neck.