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A pair of men made their way through the nightly field towards the nearest tavern to negotiate getting cheap booze and decent sleep with the last remaining dollars they had on them. The taller man froze upon spotting something in the distance. It was a hut, seemingly without anyone residing in there and given the age of its wood, he felt pretty good with his assumption. The perfect spot for a summoning ritual. It’s got to be fate, right?
After getting settled and drinking the rest of the wine that was “borrowed” from the local market, the two slit one of their palms open and dipped their index into each other’s flesh wound, beginning to paint. Starting with the outer circle followed by a smaller one inside, the regal sigil that is meant to acknowledge one of the many Ars Goetia and finishes with six letters rotating around said sigil.
S…
T…
O…
L…
A…
S…
“Sir, are you sure this is going to work?” Asks the shorter man, cleaning the blood off his blade with a handkerchief produced from his more formal looking outfit. “That book you spent nearly all of our funds on looks nice and all but if this doesn’t do anything-”
“Worst case scenario, Moxxie ol’ buddy, this has been a waste of time and we sell this stupid book when we hit the next town! Just trust your good pal Blitzo!”
“You're terrible at negotiating though.”
“Shut up.”
Blitzo moved onto the next step of surrounding their circle with a series of light candles as Moxxie began filling the space between each candle with a carefully plucked flower, each one representing a star. The duo sat on opposite sides, looking at their work. It was a little shoddy, but looked serviceable at their first go at such a form of art.
Doubt still plagued the back of Moxxie’s mind as he bandaged up the cut in his palm. It wasn’t so much the “what if nothing comes out” as the answer coming out of his friend would simply be to try again some other time when they’re healed up; instead, what if it works? What if this gets them killed, or worse, brings out the end of days? The thought of billions perishing just for the curiosity of two fools wishing to be sated caused the young man’s breathing to become uneasy, looking to his compatriot. But before a question could form, he noticed the determination on Blitzo’s face. For all their time together, seeing him with confidence that didn’t come from the usual cockiness always felt unreal. He took a deep breath and asked, discarding every distracting thought in his mind; didn’t even need to ask anymore. Eyes closed, they began chanting.
“Saecula saeculorum, be my friend, be my friend.”
“Saecula saeculorum, be my friend, be my friend.”
The duo repeated their mantra as the red circle began to glow, flowers wilting away at a rapid pace and the flames growing in intensity. Cracks form in the floor board as pieces fall into the red void below. Tried as he might, Moxie couldn’t stop speaking the same sentence again and again. He looked to Blitzo in concern, the man was staring at the fruits of their labor in fear and amazement.
Without even a second thought, Blitzo shouted as if he were fluent in this supposedly dead language.
“O princeps stellarum, veni et corpora nostra accipe!”
Before Moxxie could even try to translate, he felt his mouth and tongue make the same noises.
“O princeps stellarum, veni et corpora nostra accipe!”
Neither had the luxury, no, the privilege to stop! The house rapidly shook and began to fall apart, but miraculously, none of the debris touched either them or the gate opening up. And from that gate emerged a being of pure black, no light to be reflected off its figure. Lengthy wings emerge from the being from another world as the vantablack substance dripped off, revealing more and more of what hid underneath.
It was an owl shaped man, standing tall and radiating a sense of both authority and, oddly enough, serenity. He donned a cape, clashing with his dark blue feathers with a shade of white that looked as if it was plucked right out of the moon, gradienting into a scarlet red that matches his suit. On top of his head laid a fancy top hat with a crown sitting upon the brim. It stepped out of the circle, and despite its large black talon gently touching the floor, Blitzo and Moxxie felt as if a meteor landed upon the earth.
It… it had to be him, right?
“So, you two must be the eager fellows who wished to summon me!” It spoke with a sing-songy tone that clashed with how terrifying and regal the creature looked.
The duo just sat there, mouths agape. One in hesitant joy, one in absolute fear.
“Y-y-y-y-y…” Moxxie couldn't bring himself to continue his sentence, his chest feeling as if it's ready to explode. Why isn't he happy? He should be happy; this is the confirmation that demons are real, that an afterlife exists, that he's going to Hell with zero chance to redeem his wrongdoings, that he'll never see mother again. He anxiously looked up at the owl, whose expression went from curiosity to concern.
“Is the littler one okay? He seems stressed.” Stolas asked after twisting his head a full 180, warranting a startled eek from the two humans.
“O-oh uh ye-yeah! Just uh. Just surprised by your entrance, which I must say was fabulous!” Blitzo compliments, cracking an anxious smile. Fuck. What the fuck even was their plan after this? Moxxie was too busy pissing himself and mentally trying every prayer to break out the journal and write down everything that had transpired and Blitzo can't write worth shit. Taking a moment to collect himself, the man cleared his throat.
“W-Well my name’s Blitzo, the o is silent, of course!”
Moxxie’s anxiety abruptly ended when hearing that sentence. An Ars Goetic demon summoned from the very pits of hell itself is here and that’s what you went for!?
The demon responds with a hearty chuckle and claps. “How adorable! How about I call you Blitzy then! Oh such a fun little name!”
…huh.
“Oh, and that’s Moxxie, my assistant!” Blitzo pointed towards the more formal looking fellow who began nervously smiling by the time the owl twisted his neck back to face him. He gave a timid wave. “It’s his first time seeing a demon.”
“You act as if you’ve done this before.” spoke the owl, shifting into a more relaxed sitting posture while floating in the air. He wasn’t wrong, but he still looked famili-
No.
Is that… actually him!?
It was a raging inferno, circus folk laying around as their bodies were consumed by flames and screams silenced by falling debris. Every firework had been fired off all because a young Blitzo tripped and let go of a torch during his juggling act. It’s interesting how fire can spread so fast, thanks to the ringleader neglecting to invest in circus tents made with asbestos.
He would have joined the others in their infernal demise, mourning his freshly deceased mother, but it seemed that fate had other plans in store. In the violent fire and oppressive smoke stood a creature, just a little under the kid’s height. They looked like they were adorning an owl costume, but none of the flames and smoke bothered them at all. The stranger beckoned the boy to follow and before the clown could even process what had happened, he found himself a safe distance away from the chaos with no owl-shaped being in sight.
It was from that day on that Blitzo had a reason to keep living. He wanted to see the owl again. Suffering years of shitty jobs, breaking hearts, stealing funds, being thrown in and breaking out of jail with a cell mate who refused to go back to his home, befriending said mate after discussing the occult for countless hours, purchasing tomes and reselling the ones that offered little advice… Oh so many sacrifices were made, and it had all culminated to this: the owl prince casually chatting with his summoners.
Moxxie wouldn’t call himself a nonbeliever despite everything in his life that had transpired. He was raised by his mother, often recounting stories of demons. They were never about how little Moxxie must behave or else they’d get him; instead, they were more focused on the lessons they had taught to humanity, even if it meant paying a price at times. Her favorite involved a young owl boy, who commanded the stars and flora. When she had disappeared, Moxxie had already known that father had enough of her fairy tales distracting his son from being a proper man of the mob. But even after the factoid of “demons are not real” was being drilled into his mind, Moxxie would have very clear dreams every once in a while. It was of that owl, always welcoming and willing to listen to the boy's woes. As years went by, the owl had grown with Moxxie, becoming that very same tall man in front of him at that moment.
Even in death, her stories were what kept him going. Moxxie played the role of a good boy well, even if his father’s definition was more focused around skulduggery and violence. On the day he was meant to be made into the family, Moxxie ran away as far as his legs could carry. The very next morning, he found himself imprisoned after stabbing an officer in an act of paranoia when forcibly woken up in a neighboring town’s alley. But his life wasn’t over.
His cell mate was an odd man. Called himself Blitzo with a silent “o”. Moxxie had been hesitant to lower his guard thanks to every relationship he had been nothing more than artificial just to look good to his father. But it didn’t take long for them to establish a bond after the young man mentioned a dream he had after his first night in jail, something that Blitzo also had. It was of a regal looking owl, sitting next to them in an open field during a clear night. The enigmatic being looked down at them and said nothing, and yet it was trivial to understand this form of unspoken language.
“Find me.”
It only took a few days for the two to sneak out of the dingy jail and run towards their new lives as occultists. But while his friend was in it to understand the secrets of the world, Moxxie, despite fighting with every fiber of his being to suppress such a thought, only wished for two things: for the demons to make his father suffer and to be free from this cruel world, for nothing can be more hellish than Earth itself.
Both men were deep in thought when the sound of the prince flipping through the pages of his grimoire, muttering to himself snapped them out of their retrospective. Moxxie timidly spoke, fearing that any word could make their visitor instantly turn against them.
“S-sir… what are you looking for?”
“Oh, just the spell you two were wanting.”
Blitzo and Moxxie looked at each other in confusion.
“We didn’t though, your highness!” replied Blitzo “We just wanted to ask a few questions and send you back on your merry way!” Well it was a bit of a lie as he couldn’t stop staring at Stolas’ thick thighs; and from the looks of it, Moxxie wasn’t immune to them either.
The prince sighed as he reached his destination and shut the book. “I’m pretty sure what I heard from both of your mouths was ‘O princeps stellarum, veni et corpora nostra accipe’. Am I not wrong?”
Before either could answer by saying they didn’t even know what and why they said it, both felt the language translate in real time as the words came out of the enigmatic being’s mouth.
O prince of the stars, come and take our bodies.
It didn’t feel like it was manipulated by any demonic forces or by the hands of fate, but instead, it felt as if it came from a desire stronger than even their true motives: they wanted to be loved. Blitzo had no family and Moxxie had no friends. They had a few flings over the short time they’ve been together, but both were afraid to approach the other for something more intimate. Neither wanted to deal with heartbreak again, so why bother? At that moment, Moxie and Blitzo made a face that hasn’t been expressed in such a long time:
Understanding.
“I must give you two commendations. Nobody really asks for this kind of gift; usually it’s wanting power or for me to go on some rampage as if I were any of my more barbaric brothers. But what’s done is done, as you both have paid the price for my arrival and I only wish to take what is due.”
His talons snap.
Before they could even ask what that meant, the humans both felt an unexplainable pain in their hands, making them each take a look at what could be causing so much pain from such a meager cut. Their faces displayed dread.
Right when the two were about to touch the bandages drenched in red, it began to unravel and plop onto the floor with a wet thud. The cuts that had once been contained gushed out blood like they were fountains, but instead of following the discarded cloth, the blood and pieces of viscera began to envelop both men, with Stolas watching in simple glee.
Blitzo anxiously looked at Moxxie, who was in a full blown panic attack now. Moxxie couldn’t bring himself to recite his favorite musical numbers nor glare at the dumbass for another one of their plans falling apart in real time, only shrieking in terror and pain as he curled into a fetal position to shield his already broken psyche.
“Hey! L-Leave Moxxie out of this! This was all my idea! Just ta-” Blitzo couldn’t even finish his demand when Moxxie’s screaming had been thoroughly silenced, his entire being coated in red. Lips trembling, he looked towards the prince using arcane magicks to pick up the red figure that was once his only friend in the world. The owl looked to him not with any malice, only sympathy.
“I apologize, Blitzy. The transmogrification process is always much more horrific to your eyes than what the written word says, but please understand.”
The world was becoming dark red, with Blitzo screaming his own heart out for all of this horrific nightmare to end. But he couldn’t even hear himself anymore, not the sounds of his own ichor overtaking him, not the intensening roar of the circle. The only thing he could hear plain-as-day as the prince reached towards what he was owed.
“This is for the better.”
-
Time had little meaning in Hell. A day in there could be a century on Earth or vice versa. But it didn’t matter to Stolas, nor the two imps laying with him in the large plush bed. The soft blankets had an ebb and flow of color to them, shifting hues as constellations are born and fade away. He always loved watching his two little imps look at the pretty colors. Surrounding the bed were various plants never seen before in the mortal world, giving off a series of calming aromas.
The morning Hell sun’s ray of light shone past the stained glass windows onto their nest, causing the prince to awaken from his slumber. He looked at his two pets (though, he’d argue that they’re his husbands) and gave them a gentle pet upon their heads.
“It’s time to wake up, darlings.”
Moxxie was the first to awaken, looking up at the owl. He was, much like his past life, the shortest of the three. His ivory white hair was pleasant to the touch, and the feeling of hands combing through it made him purr in glee. He nuzzled up against Stolas’ cheek.
“Good morning, master.” mewed Moxxie.
Blitzo was a little more tricky to wake up, always pretending to be waking up only to fall back asleep. Stolas chuckled and responded to his little trick by tickling the “sleeping” imp’s nipples, making the trickster respond with a more sensual moan. It never fails to make the both of them happy.
“Mayhaps we can give you a little incentive?” Asked Stolas, sitting straight up and exposing the lengthy cock between his legs. Moxxie joined in by crawling over to Blitzo’s half-erect penis and began to gently rub it, kissing the head every other second.
The tall imp's moans became louder at the sound of his cock being swallowed by his partner and the thick meat being shoved down his gullet from Stolas. He clawed the mattress, a trivial transgression as it'd restitch itself shortly after; handy too given the pair's penchant for play-fighting as their master would watch in glee. No matter how fierce and visceral the fighting would become, the owl's magicks would put them back together again.
Stolas couldn't stop thrusting his member into his pet for the erotic heat had been in effect, not even caring that Moxxie stopped to easily slide Blitzo's lubricated rod up his large ass. The sight of his pets mating had never gotten old. Two sweet and obedient little imps willing to serve their god for eternity.
Ejaculation soon took hold with all three bellowing out a lustful moan in unison. After a few pumps, Stolas and Moxxie pulled themselves out and nuzzled against Blitzo.
“You did good, my sweets.” Praised Stolas. He could already feel himself grow aroused once more seeing the pair's cum inflated middles. But breeding had to wait, if just for a few meager hours. With a snap of his fingers, a pair of collars appeared around the imps’ necks. One was decorated with the most adorable red bowtie, the other a red sphere with a cute skull motif.
“Come my beloved pets, let us see what today has to offer.”
Octavia groaned as the sound of her fathers’ morning sex had woken her up from sleep once more.
“Fuck, I seriously need to move out.” were her first groggy words that day.