This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Damien gasped, leaping upright, though the action didn't feel quite right to him. It had been too smooth, too fluid, as if his body had become light -- and just who jumped straight up onto their feet in a single motion when they had been flat out with their cheek pressed into the dirt. The last thing he remembered, as he blinked grit from his eyes and turned his head near-blindly back and forth, was being slammed face-down in an alleyway, that brute of a man looming over him. What the fuck was up with that?
But Damien had not led a good life on earth, even if he was not a man that would have seen it that way. He'd always been clean-shaven, a high-flyer in the office, a winning smile, dark hair and green eyes. He had been a man who had always been well-groomed and to say that he looked down on others would have been an understatement, but none more so than those men that liked men.
The memory rose unbidden as the blurry world around him came back into focus, a wretched city that appeared to be burning and broken, the sky a swathe of clouds and blistering with red, as if there was a fire burning up there. Yet he remembered, in excruciating detail, how he had mocked and belittled, how he had even gone after gay men, chasing them from places he frequented, nothing more than a thug dressed up in a nice man's clothing. He didn't see it that way, of course not, but the act of being cast down to hell would automatically show him exactly why he had been sent down there.
Those that ended up in hell, well...they rarely understood why they ended up there, even when the incidents and ways of living that had landed them there had been played out before their eyes. They always thought that they were right, that they were infallible, and he growled, brushing off his torn jeans.
"Where the fucking hell am I?"
"Well, sugar tits, you've already answered your own question."
Damien whipped around, one hand balled up into a fist, though the demon that greeted him, well...he was not a threat, not per se. Crystal Methin (say it quickly) grinned, a tall demon who could have looked gangly if he did not wear his skinny frame so well.
"And who the fuck are you?"
Crystal grinned more widely, his hair styled up, big and fluffy, his waist tightly tucked. A demon could look however they needed to, of course, though once they'd chosen a shape that was usually fixed for them. The stronger demons in hell, of course, could shapeshift and, generally, he stayed the fuck away from those. He was just there to torture the fresh meat that was tossed down from Earth, the scavenged scraps of the wretches of humanity. With blue fur and a skinny figure that commanded attention, there was a perpetual smile on his sharply angled face, not appearing human although he was, decidedly, humanoid. Silver slices of markings highlighted his blue fur, though he didn't have a tail or anything that anyone could notice.
"It's Crystal Methin, Crystal to you. How do you do?"
He bowed, wide and sweeping, a long trench coat style jacket falling to his knees, not revealing anything, but how tight his waist was, all belted up. His limbs were long and lean and he grinned toothily, his teeth sharp enough and obviously so that Damien took a step back, hesitant.
"What... I'm in...hell? That's not right! I shouldn't have died! I should be in heaven! I don't belong here!"
He stomped about with a snarl on his face, twisting his handsome features into something rough and grotesque, showing the hatred and vileness that, previously, had only laid within.
"You've made a fucking mistake, do you hear me?" He bellowed, red in the face, jabbing his finger at the sky. "Take me back -- I'm not done up there yet! I don't fucking belong down in this fucking pit! You arseholes!"
Crystal watched it all with a grin on his face, though, sooner or later, the show had to go on. It was supposed to be torture, after all, for Damien, not him.
"Well, toots, there ain't too much I can help you with, down here in little ol' hell," Crystal lamented, or at least pretended to, brushing one hand back through his fluffed-up hair. "You're a sinner and, honey, the lottery ain't been kind to you. You're one of us down here now and you better fucking get used to it!"
Damien hissed through his teeth, torso tipping forward, both hands clenched, shaking with fury.
"Why are you talking like that?" He practically snarled, though he already knew, hatred boiling and roiling in the pit of his stomach. "You... You're one of them, aren't you? You've been fucking sent here to torture me with your twinky fucking pansy ways!"
Crystal, who had been picking his teeth with the tip of a fingernail that was more like a claw, started, appearing affronted as he pressed one hand to the fluff of his chest.
"What? Me? A latent homosexual?"
He collapsed back on the ground as if he had fainted, one arm cast over his head, dramatic to a fault. His other arms, other than the regular two, took that chance to appear, three pairs in total crawling over him, ripping his clothes off, down to sparkly, purple and blue lingerie that appeared as if it would have been more at home on a lady than him. That was, of course, at first glance. Anything that Crystal Methin purchased down in hell with their favoured currency was put towards his outfits and feeding his addictions, which could be indulged however he liked in hell, considering that he was a demon and all.
"I'll give it to you straight, cutie, since that's the way you seem to like things. You're not gonna get out of hell now, you're dead. Dead, dead, dead. You got it? But I'm gonna give you a grand ol' welcome to hell, show you a real good time!"
Crystal smirked, showing his teeth, advancing step by step, though Damien held his ground, trembling, his fists raised. It wasn't at all like getting into a brawl at the pub -- but the fucking homo was going to really try to punch him up?
"Don't you dare come fucking near me, fag!" He snarled, though fear laced his words. "You belong here, cunt, but I fucking don't!"
"Oh, darling, that's where you're wrong," Crystal crooned, his voice as smooth as silk. "I was born here. It's your life choices that tossed you down into this pit with me. But they always said I could queerify the straightest bastard on the planet -- so let's see about the latest bastard in hell then, shall we?"
It was not something that Damien was allowed an option in. Crystal laughed and sashayed up to him, making a kissy-face and swinging his hips. His hands were apt to wander, sliding down the man's body, squeezing and groping, laughing at his slight bit of a belly and showing him the barely non-existent bulge in his jeans, though those would not be required for much longer.
Damien flinched, breath catching in his throat, heart racing. Sweat even pooled under his armpits, darkening his clothes and soaking the hair to be found there.
"Oi -- get off!" He would have loved for his voice to not be as shaky as it was. "I didn't say... No, I don't fucking want this, you're all the fucking same, sex demons. This only proves that gays belong in heeeeeeell!
He yelped and squealed as his cock and balls were groped through his clothes, massaging and fondling as if Crystal already had him eating out of the palm of his hand.
"Oh, honey, you ain't seen nothing yet. But you're going to have to put out this less than fine arse down here too..." He pursed his lips, surveying Damien's body as if it was suddenly something that could be changed. "Think I'll give you a hand fixing that, but this torture is going to be suuuuuper fun for me!"
The demon knew his job and knew his role: after all, he had been doing it for eternity. Time had little meaning in hell and he went from one sinner to the next, lusting and fucking, taking his pleasure however he damn well pleased. That might have made him wrong, but fucking in hell was practically the same as getting coffee back on earth: totally expected.
Still, he spun Damien about with a smirk, his teeth showing, hair ruffled by a hellish breeze. There was no one about, but that suited Crystal just fine, taking the spoils of corruption in hand as he smacked Damien's backside. The man groaned and held up his hands, dizzy and off-balance by how he staggered, yet Crystal only saw that as an opportunity.