Author's note:
This is very silly, doesn't contain a whole lot of sex and is certain to offend a great deal of people who make the mistake of taking it seriously.
Very fun to write, though :)
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When Aziferal walked into Hermanarz' office his boss was pistoning into the new secretary, who was bent over the desk while her boss used her waist-length hair like a rodeo rider uses reins.
"Yes, what do you want?" the head of Acquisitions growled, without interrupting his rhythm.
"The Highest Court handed down their decision," the chief project officer replied, staring appreciatively past the young secretary's contorted face to where her substantial breasts were flattened against the desk and completely exposed from this angle by her human-leather bikini top.
"And?" Hermanarz stopped in full penetration and stared wrathfully at his subordinate. "Well?"
Aziferal couldn't stop himself tittering. "We got the Muslims!"
"WONDERFUL!" The senior demon's bellow broke the eardrums of three sinners who had been seconded to the typing pool next door.
"Let's hear the details!" He returned to his pumping, but even more vigorously this time, making the secretary grin maniacally and her fingers start to curl, her talons gouging grooves into the surface of the desk.
"I quote," Aziferal said, then adopted the sarcastically officious tone always used to refer to the highest beings who sat on the Highest Court, "'This Court finds no substantive reason why the religion of Islam should be counted as adequately distinct from the existing Judeo canon, and, with reference to the fact that the founding prophet Mohammed identified with the Judeo theology, and that Jesus Christ has a place in the Islamic order, places the religion solely within the Judeo hierarchy, alongside the Christian branches and sects. Therefore, all Islamic afterlife operations are ordered to consolidate with the Judeo Heaven, Purgatory, Limbo and Hell'.
"We've got them, sir!" Aziferal repeated with a gleeful cackle.
"FANTASTIC! That'll put us way ahead of our expansion quotas!" The damned souls in the typing pool, who were shakily wiping off the blood that had trickled from their rapidly healed ears, screamed in added torment again.
Hermanarz pulled out of the secretary, making her snarl in disappointed rage, and flopped back into his chair, his penis waving like a naval cannon. He had stayed at the Academy to pursue post-graduate studies in lust, which had ultimately lead to an upgrade of the succubi/incubi program and fast-tracked him to his current position as a second-tier executive under Himself, and his cock was not only permanently erect but so huge that only demonic magic made it possible for him to enjoy the odd damned soul.
He sat back and rubbed his hands together. "Now," he said. "The work is just beginning!" He stopped, suddenly. "Have the Mohammedans been granted leave to appeal?"
Aziferal cackled again. "No! They asked, and were told that any appeal in this case would be purely vexatious as the Court was convinced that no possible grounds for any other decision existed. The Mohammedans weren't half annoyed!"
Hermanarz laughed, a sound so thick it bounced off the basalt walls and knocked dust off the ceiling. Next door, the damned souls felt their eardrums burst, their bowels evacuate and their bones crack, simultaneously.
"Maybe some of them will end up as clients, if they don't behave themselves!" A second thought struck him. "Won't those pious bastards Up There get annoyed! We might get some of them, as well! But on to business. Lithilir," he continued, pointing to his enormous phallus, "Get that mouth busy. We shan't be needing you to take notes."
The interning succubi, who had been straightening her human-leather bikini button with all the signs of extreme sulking, her whip-like tail lashing from side to side like a cat two heartbeats shy of gouging its owner's eyes out, brightened up and dived on the manager's cock, her mouth opening wide and then grotesquely wider to accommodate it.
Aziferal could just see, past the edge of the desk, the succubi's neck distend like a snake swallowing a pig as she deep-throated, then her chest widen like a reverse corset. To get a decent stroke going, she had to grasp Hermanarz's scrotum and pull herself back and forth like a rower.
Hermanarz magnanimously waved a hand and sent his desk scuttling over to one side. "Have a go," he invited his subordinate.
Aziferal had to swallow to prevent his saliva corroding the floor, and stepped forwards, hiking up the polynesian pareo he affected in the office. A greed demon, his spindly frame and huge, leering mouth were his most prominent features, but all demons have a plastic physiology and he stretched his cock until it was long enough to suit Lithilir's existing stroke, pulled her bikini bottoms to one side again, considered briefly, and then took her arse, settling in comfortably.
"Now," Hermanarz said, all business, as the slender demoness settled into a steady rhythm between them, "we're going to have to be bloody careful they don't try anything, and will have to vet everybody. You'll need to liaise with Inhuman Resources about all the new staff we'll get - they'll all have to take a couple of demotions, of course, and be on probation for a decade or two, and we'll need to start building new punishments.
"I don't know how they do it now - I'll need a report on that - but I imagine you'll be able to use some of the new damned souls who are coming on as staff - devils, I love sexual perversity - and that reminds me, we've got a new batch approved so we're passing them around upper management for a year or two before finding places for them. I'll send a note to the holding pens to make sure you get first pick, you deserve it."
"Oh, thank you, lord!"
Hermanarz magnanimously waved off the gushing thanks. "You deserve it, I said! Now, can you get me a draft of the initial attack plan by, say, close of business next winter solstice?"
Aziferal didn't even need to consider - late at day, if unable to sleep, he had been sketching down proposals and ideas for many seasons as they waited for the final Highest Court decision to be handed down. "I can give it to you mid summer."
Hermanarz's obsidian eyes glittered - he knew exactly what his temperamentally greedy and restless project officer had been doing - but he said "Make it winter solstice. If it's better, it's better. And you'd best get to it. Take a couple of souls to help and if you have ideas, drop them on Lithilir's desk any time.
"Take her back, before you go."
Chest bursting with pride at this unexpected reward (not literally, although he had several cousins who had mastered the trick), Aziferal pulled out of Lithilir's arse, aimed and fired. In contrast to human physiology demons don't climax but they can cum at any time and thick, ropey strands of yellow gel burst from the end of his penis and slammed into the back of Lithilir's head, her neck, all over her back and down to her arse.
When he was satisfied, he grabbed a thick handful and shoved it into the succubi's cunt, pushing it up as far as it would go (succubi feed on sexual excreta, and demon cum makes a tasty snack in any orifice, or even absorbed through the skin, which was happening even as Aziferal watched) and then extracted his hand with some difficulty, Lithilir not wanting to let it go.
As he left, Hermanarz was humming a triumphal funeral dirge as his desk scuttled back into place, and as the vaulted doors to his office boomed shut close on Aziferal's waddling heels they cut off the manager of acquisitions saying "Another month of that and then I've got some letters to dictate."
When he got back to his office, Aziferal went straight to the head of his research department, opened his mouth and then noticed she had a new footstool. "Bel," he asked, "who is that?"
The obese gluttony demon looked up at him over the tops of her half-moon glasses. "New acquisition," she said. The soul she was resting her cloven hooves on was curled into a tight foetal position, sobbing, and repeating a mantra which Aziferal thought was "No, it can't be," which was understandable but lacked much as an explanation.
"He was a misogynistic, rapist skinhead who beat up women who were too fat," she explained with satisfaction, digging one hoof into his floating ribs to punctuate the sentence. "He can't accept that the Jews were fundamentally right and they gave him to me. Easiest punishment we ever devised, I reckon."
"You may be right, at that," Aziferal mused. Even the most deluded sinners came to terms with their situation fairly quickly and needed help to suffer, but he supposed there were still people so stupid and inflexible that mere existence was going to do it. Still, it cut down on the demon-hours needed to run the place and Accounting would be chuffed about that. He shook himself. Work to be done.
"Bel," he started again, "I need a report on the complete operations of the Islamic Hell. We'll leave it to Intake to review all inhabitants of the whole system. How soon can you get that to me?"
Bel gave him a smug look, which would have given most still-living humans nightmares. "Tomorrow," she said. "We just need to get it printed. We're running short on human vellum. We did a complete profile when the court case started."
"Bel, you're amazing," Aziferal said, honestly impressed. "Get the flayers working overtime if necessary and you have authority to use any extra sinners you need to get enough vellum. One copy each for myself, Hermanarz and the library. Sooner than you can."
When Aziferal left his office suite, Bel was reaching for the phone with the gleeful anticipation of the true professional.
#
In typical infernal fashion, Inhuman Resources was all the way across the vast, sprawling and labyrinthine Hell complex from their close colleagues in Acquisitions.
Demons weren't allowed to make their existences easier by exercising their powers of translocation inside the premises (remember where we are), so Aziferal commandeered a buggy pulled by two damned ponygirls dressed in crotch-high leather boots with horseshoes on the base and ankles forced into painful near-straightness, harnesses strapped to their hips, arms zipped into sheaths behind their backs and sturdy bits in their mouths.
Aziferal relaxed on the human-leather cushions as a stunted demon with long arms wielded a bull whip, and relished the delightful background aroma of mingled, discordant suffering as he was pulled along, the two ponygirls radiating an aura of perverted enjoyment that wafted back over him like perfume.
Aziferal had never tired of enjoying the Highest Court decision which had, in light of the ruling on Heaven setting the moral flavour of all actions (the now infamous "Killed for God" case), made the enjoyment of punishment secondary to the fact of the punishment being administered. It was that ruling, which had divorced the emotional experience of divinely-ordained punishments from the intent, which had allowed perverts to serve as staff in Hell and allowed the staff to feed off them.
In his more philosophical moments he had wondered just what the heaven the divine all-father had been thinking when he made the experiences of the flesh more important than the experiences of the soul, but he had done so furtively in case the demented old bugger caught on and corrected things.
In line with established practice, the journey to Inhuman Resources took an eternity. In consideration of the necessity of ensuring maximum torment through efficient governance, Aziferal reached Inhuman Resources in only a couple of hours and hopped out of the buggy with only a year's worth of stiffness in his back.
