Apostles of Doom

Mount Doom: Late Sixth Period

Reggie stood in his room, turning, twisting and flexing in front of his full-length mirror, trying to determine the best possible poses to showcase his absolutely stunning muscle development. He was, he had to admit, incredibly handsome and gorgeous. More than he could have ever dreamed of being in his old life.

He was so incredibly beautiful he often found himself just looking at himself lustfully, or gently caressing his own arms, legs and every other inch of his hunky purplish body. He was a walking, talking, living, breathing (when he needed to talk, at least) sex machine! The perfect embodiment of male sexual perfection!

To add to that, he had been learning all sorts of new positions and maneuvers designed to please his partners from his accursed mistress, the bodaciously built black beauty, Merit-Ptah. He was the perfect lover, or would be once she finished his training. And that, right there, was the problem! He was not training! He had not seen his bootylicious babe of a mistress in several days, not since she had freaked out about learning that he was on a first-name basis with her boss. Well, her god rather, but he was pretty sure it was the same idea. He hoped that hadn’t offended her. He could not imagine that it would have intimidated such a strong-willed woman.

Reggie sighed. To say he was feeling frustrated, meaning sexually frustrated, would be an understatement. Things were worse now than they had been on Earth, where he had literally gotten no action that wasn’t his own! He had gotten so accustomed to the all-night love sessions with Merit-Ptah that he was now feeling this giant passion hole at the center of his being. He’d have called it a case of “blue balls,” but his were already a really dark purple, so that might not have made sense. Of course, that expression made no sense either; was it blue from cold?

He shook his head, frustrated at his unmet needs. Of course, he had to admit, it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting any action. Sure, there were a huge number of really hot and horny D’Orcettes or Lady D’Orcs or whatever they were called, and they were not at all shy; anything but! He was routinely groped by them while walking down the corridors. It was quite fun, and sure, he probably made love to seven or eight of them a day, but that was not the same. Plus, that only accounted for what? Eleven or twelve hours out of his day?

Sure, he was learning quite a bit from the Lady D’Orcs. They were incredibly strong, so doing things like making love standing, or upside-down in a handstand, was pretty cool. As was sex on the wing above Mount Doom, but he just felt like something was lacking. Hell, he had even played around with a couple of those demon attendant guys at the Doom Spa! He had never seen himself as gay or bi or anything, but hell, it had been fun. Just not as fun as with his accursed mistress. He really missed her.

He wished there was some way he could make her summon him. He knew that it wasn’t supposed to work that way, but he wished he could. He longed to follow that binding link coming out of his chest, follow it right through the Astral Plane to Merit-Ptah’s house. Reggie closed his eyes, imagining how he’d do it.

Just like in his dream-loving sessions, he would follow the link through the crazy lights until he saw her sleeping form. There, resting in her bed, sound asleep, her more-than-ample bosom slowly rising and falling under her nightgown. He would sneak into her dream bedroom, lift the covers at the foot of the bed, and slide upward towards her warmth. He would nestle in gently and softly, his tongue reaching out to—

“Reggie!” he heard Merit-Ptah exclaim. He glanced up to see her sitting up, in her dream, and lifting the bed covers to peer down at him to see what was going on. “What are you doing here?” She seemed surprised.

Reggie felt hurt, and he knew it must have shown on his face. “I missed you, my dearest mistress. I needed your warmth, your love, your passion!”

Merit-Ptah blinked a few times, and suddenly her expression softened with love. “I’m sorry, my pet. I did not mean to neglect you. Let me make it all better…”

Reggie grinned at her from under the covers with unfettered joy, and an incredible amount of lust.

The Inferno

Sir Samwell was passing by the officer’s mess on the way to his cabin when he noted that Wing Arms Master Heron was alone in the mess, going over numerous documents spread before him on the table. This might be a good information gathering opportunity, Sammael thought to himself.

“You are working late,” Sir Samwell said.

“Late? I have no idea how one determines time in this place,” Heron replied, looking up as Samwell entered the small room.