Perhaps it had no master, but a beast loose in the world without a master to control it was a prospect too frightening to consider. Perhaps that was why we were studying that particular hell beast. Whatever the reason, it was clear to me that we were studying it to prepare for the final battle.There were other signs that the Apocalypse drew near. One was when the fire-haired demonling was captured by the gods for study one night soon after my clawing tree was erected. They cast spells to control it so that it couldn't change into its true form with cloven hooves and horns of a ram.To plant the seeds of terror into the hive-mind that connects all demon kind, my prowess was shown to it time and again that night as I was pitted against a tethered feather-twit that jumped and bounced before me. The godling resurrected the twit after each of my victories to show the most foul imp the power of her goodness, and each time the flutter-twit came back to life I brought it swift death, for I am. I pulled up the quilt, turned to my side and took it in my hand. It felt like a fire-heated ax handle, and I hoped Chrissy would keep her promise soon. I waited as long as I could, trying to calm myself, thinking of other things, but lust filled my mind so I stumbled down the hallway, my shirt tented out before me, looking in bedrooms until I found hers at the front of the house.Raindrops pattered at the window as I stood beside the sleeping girl, so calm and lovely, pulled my shirt over my head, glanced down at my jutting ram which was pointed up toward the ceiling and rolled in beside her. She awoke and we kissed as I mounted her, and the swollen head of my morning gift from the gods pushed its way between her tender lips, stroking up and down her narrow trench. She reached between us, clasped the blood-hot piece of bar iron as best she could, and looked up at me."I can't," she said very clearly, squeezing as hard as she could as I lunged forward. "Oh please," she sobbed as I bent.
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