37

[Author's Note: There is a partial spoiler to the ending of my story Consumerism in the final chapter of this release; 37.]

Leveling Up

My Wife's Infernal Sodomy Adventure

23. Starter Home

The sound of machine-gun fire blares out of my television speaker. I lean forward from the plaid armchair, raise Remy's gold plated diamond encrusted Uzi up to my face, squint down its iron-sight, aim at the television and mimic the recoil as if I were firing the gun.

My wife enters the room and approaches me before setting down a copper mug.

I look down at the limes bobbing around, tilt my head and scratch my chin with the top of the barrel. "What's that?" I ask.

"It's a cocktail," my wife explains with a nod of her head. "I feel bad about what happened to you. From now on, I'm going to treat you to nice drinks. No more vodkas over ice."

"If your mouth doesn't burn when you drink it then what's the point?" I ask as I drop the Uzi on the table next to me with a loud, dull thud. I pick up the mug, scrape ice, and sip her drink. "It is good though. Thank you honey. Look, don't blame yourself. It's my fault for picking that place. I should've taken you somewhere more classy."

Her lips pucker with moisture, her body trembles, and eyes display a fanatic shine. "H-hypothetically..." she says as she nods her head. "If you were to. Well, lets say. Do it all over again. H-how... How would you do it different? Y'know. Like so you don't end up getting stabbed."

My cock throbs in my pants as I recall in vivid detail my wife walking on her hands on Remy's sleazy floor while he fucked her. No, we can't keep doing this! The way he blew his load inside of my upside down wife. It was supposed to only be a one time thing! That cocky grin on his face when he looked over at his box of cigars while his load festered in my wife's used pussy. I put my whole family in danger and almost died. My body feels heavy and my stomach sinks. What if we did it... just one final time? "W-well," I mumble. "Last time you wanted an alpha guy. That's very subjective. To those guys at the club, their view of the alpha male is the guy running all the rackets. Remy. So I guess I'd ask you. What do you view as alpha?"

She hesitates, scratches at her neck, and tilts her head. She is also trying to resist it. The urge. Finally, she responds, "Well, I've always fantasized about what it would be like. Having sex with a really rich guy."

Ouch. She had to go there. Well, I guess I'm not surprised. I imagine her on her knees in an luxurious high-rise apartment. Some guy in an expensive suit. She unzips and pulls it out and her mouth is watering. He offers to buy my wife whatever she wants so long as she does as he says for the rest of the night. All while I shuffle through the tie rack at Goodwill. I shiver, my stomach knots, and cock throbs. "Rich huh... Well, there is that place downtown. The speakeasy you need the password to get into. Where they LARP like its the 1920s and sell overpriced moonshine. It's mostly hipsters and douchbags that drink there. But whenever I go there's always a couple of corpos skulking around."

Her eyes light up.

"I mean, just speaking hypothetically," I say and bite down on an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, hypothetically," she responds and swallows a nervous laugh.

24. Chevron Parking Lot - Evening

"Do you want it or not?" the young man complains, sighs, raises his eyebrows, and fiddles with his cuffs. "The price is steady. I'm appearing on a podcast in twenty minutes. Hand over the cash or I'm leaving." The man, known only to Thalsyn by his internet moniker

The Patrician

, is dressed in a formal black business suit, white shirt, and colorful tie despite appearing barely over the age of eighteen. He is white, spectacled, thin, cleanshaven, and his fluffy blond hair hangs long behind him ending where his shoulders begin.

Thalsyn's eyes scan across the parking lot. It's dark, empty, and smells like motor oil. A crisp breeze blows and an empty bag of chips crinkles in the cool wind. The young man barely has any muscle mass on his scrawny frame.

"Don't even think about it," the Patrician warns, pulls back the right side of his suit jacket, and reveals a revolver tucked into a tactical holster. "I pack heat wherever I go. My grandfather didn't lose his left arm in Viet Nam for his grandson to die in a shithole gas station. Not at the hands of some grease-ball thug." The Patrician spits on the ground before barring his teeth.

Thalsyn scowls, flares his nostrils and shakes his fist. "I'm not the type of guy you want to threaten," he says.

The Patrician stares stone cold as his right hand grips the handle of the revolver, still holstered on his hip. His eyes narrow.

"Look, I understand," Thalsyn says with a nod of his head. "Kin, clan, family, it's the most important thing." He looks around the gas station and it is filthy, strewed with trash, everything layered in car exhaust, spent syringes, junk food wrappers, and profoundly ugly. A drug addict is passed out on a bench and roaches crawl over the nearby trash bin. Not even in Hell itself could one find such bleak scenery. "I'm sorry."

"Just pay him the money," Elizabeth complains and crosses her arms across her chest.

Thalsyn does as she says, provides $900, and the Patrician leaves and now Thalsyn holds it in his hand. An old, ornate, brass compass intricately carved over the portrait of a large breasted, nude succubus. "This will lead us to her," Thalsyn declares. "Now we just need to wait for something to catch his attention. Lohrnihr."

25. The Blind Pig Speakeasy

My wife's heels clack against the asphalt as she walks alone in the dark grimy alleyway. The supposedly secret entrance to the speakeasy is in the back of a loud and busy restaurant. She is alone. We both agreed. Less likely to be drama without me there. I'm nearby though. If something goes wrong.

She descends the stairs to the basement speakeasy and the bouncer, dressed in a snazzy pinstriped suit awaits her. She wears a tight low-cut black dress, matching heels, colorful makeup, and a tropical floral perfume rich in orchid and ylang-ylang. When she arrives at the bottom she addresses the bouncer, "Rosary."

He raises his right eyebrow.

"Oh, wait, uhm I mean... rosebud," she responds.

He steps aside. My wife enters and her ears flood with the sound of many people talking loudly over alternative rock, drinks clanging, and liquor glugging. The walls are paneled in decorative rock, the granite white and black bar shines, the air smells like cologne and alcohol, and the floor is rock tiled. The tables are wooden and rustic looking and candles are everywhere. A large crowd is assembled around the bar where men dressed in old fashioned pinstriped gangster suits pour drinks for hipsters. Behind them is a long and colorful display of many different rare and exotic bottles. I hate this place because everyone orders cocktails so it takes fucking forever to get a drink.

My wife's heels clack against the tiled floor as she approaches the crowded bar. As she does, another woman, busty, in a black and white Prada blouse and stockings approaches also clacking holding a red wine glass in her hand. As she approaches my wife sees it gleam. The massive diamond on her left hand ring finger.

"I'm Judy, District Manager of Central City's Vanholt corporate office!" the woman yells as she extends her right arm towards my wife. Her large breasts hang out of her blouse as she leans forward.

My wife blinks, hesitates, and shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you!" she yells.

"I got the perfect guy for you tonight!" Judy assures with a wink. "A chief executive. Of a pharmaceutical company no less! He's visiting Central City for a conference. I'll need you to entertain him. Show him a good time. I've got a promotion riding on this. If you do well, there'll even be a bonus!"

Wendy feels hot, frowns, and bites her lip. Vanholt, she's heard of them before. Mostly not good things. "They're one of the ones..." she begins. "The vaccine during the pandemic." Her eyes blink, widen, glow, and she nods rapidly. "He ran one of those companies!?"

Judy hesitates before laughing awkwardly. "Well, he is the chief executive of the psychiatric drugs division..." she says, coughs loudly into her her hand, and quickly continues, "but he's still very rich!" She grabs my wifes hand and guides her over to an empty table and the two sit down together.

A chief executive? My wife must be thrilled. She's probably so sick of it. Tried of her old man the poor ass.

"It's how I got my big start!" Judy yells and smiles wide. "Doing what you do! Ever since, I've been climbing right up it. The corporate ladder!"

"Leveling up!?" my wife asks, tilts her head and rubs at her chin. My wife fantasizes of a life where she does not live in my shadow. A corporate executive people respect and fear. Wealthy with plentiful resources for our soon to be born son.

"Exactly!" Judy replies. She raises her glass to her lips, sips wine, and wiggles her right eyebrow. "You're going to make so much money! This type of guy likes it rough! That sort of service. We have no problem paying premium for it!"

An arm reaches across the table and drops three shot glasses down on the table causing glass to clink. Wendy looks and sees an slightly older man dressed in a gray vicuña wool Kiton suit. His face is handsome despite the presence of two large scars and his torso is narrow in the waist and broad in the shoulders accentuated even more-so by the expensive jacket. His cologne smells rich and luxurious like smoky wood. He stares at my wife's exposed cleavage, nods his head, and smirks.

"This is him!" Judy yells, nods rapidly, and grins. "Brad Bentley! I got someone fun to hang out with us! Uhm, what's you're name again?"

"Wendy!" my wife yells back.

"Cheers!" Brad yells as he grabs one of the shotglasses and moistens his mouth.

My wife hesitates. "I don't drink!" she lies and avoids disclosing that she is pregnant.

Judy frowns, fidgets, and sweats.

Brad's face pinches together and his mouth grimaces and releases a long sigh. "This is your idea of someone fun!?" he complains and crosses his arms over his chest. "This place is so lame! Full of hipsters. Is this seriously the best Central City has to offer!? Where are we going next? Karaoke?!" He snorts loudly.

Judy visibly sweating flares her nostrils at my wife, breathes nosily, lifts her chin, and shoots an icy glance. "I have a great imagination, sir," she defends. "If you don't like this place. I'm sure we can figure it out. Something entertaining for the two of you. Don't worry. She's not going to disappoint." She stares at my wife and clenches her two hands together.

"Ok, let's leave immediately than!" Brad yells before sighing. "Come on, I paid for these drinks!"

My wife remains silent as Judy and Brad grab two of the three shot glasses off the table. They both tip glasses up and towards their mouths. As Judy sips, she winces, clenches her teeth, and grimaces. "This is over-proof rum!" she objects as she clinks her empty shotglass against the table.

Brad snickers lowering his shotglass to the table revealing he'd barely sipped from it. "Indeed!" he responds. "And you're going to finish the next two since your little friend doesn't drink!"

Judy stares at the two shotglasses and breathes heavy.

26. Downtown Bodega

The front door of the bodega chimes as I open it and exit out into the dark city sidewalk. The paper bag crumples inside my hand. I grab the tab of the Coors banquet tallboy and it clicks, hisses, and finally pops and my mouth moistens. My legs plod against the sidewalk, the summer night temperature is mild, and it smells like car exhaust and beer.

27. City Street

"We got ripped off," Elizabeth complains, grips the steering well, and sighs. "You're telling me that's who you fucked? That homeless man!"

Thalsyn hesitates, squints, and shakes his head. "He's not homeless. Look at how big his muscles are. Someone living in the streets wouldn't get enough protein in his diet to look like that." He sighs looks down at the compass and then back up and out the passenger window. It's gotta be her. There's some illusion being used."

Elizabeth raises her right eyebrow and smirks.

"Look, I'm an incubus!" he says, blushes and rapidly blinks. "Nobody knows it better than I would. The difference between an asshole and a vagina. Whatever it was I fucked that night. It's female. Most likely a demon from another clan. How she appears currently. That must be the illusion. I guess we're about to find out. She's headed into that city park. I don't like involving you in something dangerous like this. But I may need your help. Whether demon, fey, or who know what else, she's probably not going to go down easy."

28. Misty Grove Park

I wend down the dark stone cobbled park path through the foggy air. It's breezy, trees rustle, leaves blow, and the sound of summer cicadas is omnipresent. I crinkle the paper bag in my hand as I sip malt, the subtle hint of hops, and the carbonation fizzes. Through rays of moonlight I trek and ponder thoughts of my wife doing god knows what depraved acts right now with a much wealthier man. That urge inside her. Its the same as mine. I know what it wants. Her doing the dirtiest things imaginable. Perverting our marriage and rendering it a profane parody of the sacred relationship it ought to be. My ribs squeeze together and my cock throbs in my pants. We can't keep doing this. There must be a way to stop it.

I hear a twig snap behind and swivel fast. I blink, my jaw drops and I tilt my head. Standing behind me. Its him. That guy who fucked my wife. Not Remy, the other one. Has he been following me? How does he even know who I am? Everything that's happened to my wife and I. It all started after he fucked her. Our physical transformations, my increased strength, the heightened hedonism, and especially the insatiable perverted urge. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

"Enough with your fucking games," Thalsyn threatens. "Reveal your real self and confess!" Thalsyn transforms from human to his true form and crosses his clawed arms across his chest. "What intentions did you have? When you fucked me. Did you think you'd get away with it? This is the sort of thing my whole clan will go to war over. Declare your affiliation immediately!"

I gasp, step backward, feel cold sweat all over my body, and I shake. "Y-your... a demon?" I ask, blink, and tremble. "T-there's some misunderstanding. I'm just a normal guy. A humble history teacher from Evergreen High School."

"Stop lying!" Thalsyn shouts, flares his nostrils and growls. "Normal school teachers don't use illusion magic. They don't seduce incubi. You can't even keep your stupid story straight. First it was the dorky math teacher. Now its the humble history teacher. Enough bullshit, give answers!" He roars violently as a stiff breeze causes tree branches to strain against the wind.

I look for a makeshift weapon but see none, swallow hard, cross my arms across my chest, and stagger my stance. "I'm not lying!" I plead and nod my head rapidly. "I don't know why you think we had sex. You and I never did anything. For some reason that makes no sense to me. You are somehow mistaking me for my wife. She's the one you had sex with, not me! I'm a history teacher and she teaches math."

Thalsyn's lips press together into a slight grimace, his nose wrinkles, his left claw scratches his neck, and he swallows. "You have to be lying," he ponders and holds up some object in his right claw but its too dark for me to see what it is. "This detects demonic presences. It's a compass. And its pointing straight at you. So it makes no sense. If I fucked your wife. It would have lead me to her. Not you. In other words, you're entirely full of shit."

"I-I... I can explain it," I promise in a shaky voice, frown and clear my throat. "I-it wasn't my proudest moment..." My stomach knots and legs go weak. "After you fucked my wife. I went down on her that night. Oral sex. And yes, I swallowed some of the stuff inside of her. Look, we were bored so we wanted to try something kinky."

Thalsyn's eyes widen, mouth opens, body sways slightly, and he hesitates. In a shaky, doubting voice, he responds, "You're telling me. You ate my ancestor. The patriarch of my clan. The demon lord cheated out of his proper title as one of the great leaders in the history of Hell. A beloved hero I and my spawn worship as a god. And you're saying you ate him out of your wife's dirty used vagina? Because you were bored!?" His voice roars.

My ribs squeeze and my throat feels thick. It was just supposed to be a one time fling. "Look, I'm not trying to steal from your... clan or whatever," I rationalize. "Whatever this is I have inside of me. I'd love to get rid of it. You can take it back. What remainder is in my wife as well. We just want to be normal people again. Teachers. Without all the drama."

Thalsyn's neck cords, body sweats, and he extends out the fingers on both of his claws. "Then lay down on the path," he says with a growl. "Let me tear you to pieces until I can fish out my seed from your intestines. It's the only honorable thing for you to do at this point. Sodomy is celebrated in Hell. But acting as you did. You're no humble teacher but a disgraceful scumbag. Don't worry, I will kill you to right this wrong."

A weird smile forms on my face and then shifts to a smirk. The sensation in my ribs dissipates and I feel a sense of warmth throughout my body. The way he talks to me. Very disrespectful. Especially after I let him fuck my wife. He really ought to be knocked down a few pegs. I thrust out my chest, cock my head, and jut my chin out. "You act like my wife and I knew about any of this shit," I defend. "Obviously we didn't. This is your fault. I teach sexual education to teenagers. Basic concepts of it seem lost on you. I always tell my class this. Doesn't matter if your a man, woman, or whatever. Your wallets should always be like the slave ships departing at the beginning of

The Odyssey

. Absolutely full of Trojans."

Thalsyn's body shakes, skin mottles, nostrils flair, and he roars. "You fucking faggot!" he screams and lunges at me and swings his right claw. I dive to my right side as his clawed hand slices a wooden park bench in half, sounding of piercing metal on wood followed by a deep cracking thud. Bats screech and scatter above and I smell wood and smoke. "Is this some sort of fucking joke to you?!"

I set down my beer, raise my fists, crack my joints, and continue to smirk. "I just felt something weird," I taunt. "I think it was your dead ancestor. Or maybe just a fart. I did have beans for lunch today." I chuckle.

He lunges head first. I try to dodge, fail, and his curved horns smack hard into my stomach with a loud thud. My body tumbles, hits the hard stone park path, right hand clutches my midsection, mouth tastes iron, and I retch blood before breathing heavily. He is strong. Far more so than Remy and his goons.

He rushes me while I'm on my back and I scramble to get up. He dives down with his claw aimed at my throat. I roll and it strikes the pathway next to me with a sharp and metallic scrape. As I stand, my knee thrusts into the exposed stomach of his bent over body causing him to gasp before I scuttle back and skew my stance while keeping my body fluid and in motion.

Thalsyn sighs. "You're not even a demon," he complains. "A mere mortal. You've made a mockery of me, my clan, and Lohrnihr. Turned us into one giant joke. Well, you won't be laughing much longer. Not when I'm through with you." He vaults at me, lifts his right claw with its sharp jagged nails extended, and aims at my vulnerable neck.