Out the back

PJs didn’t risk taking the main entrance and instead went out the back door down the alley he used to take when he worked there. Who knows who might be there to stop him, either Stiletto intercepting him or any other potential people after his head. Or he guesses his chest, since that’s where the rock is.

Though on the mental mention of the rock, he started getting concerned with what it was doing to him. Sure, it’s giving him everything he wants, but at the same time there’s parts like restoring his form to a more clean and handsome look, while at the same time, there’s the bout of fainting whenever he uses it too much. He didn’t even know the nature of the rock, was it divine or infernal? Was he burning away his soul on each use? Was he bound for damnation for doing so?

Just before he could really get deeper into thought, black tendrils appearing out of nowhere spiked their tips into the wall, making him back up into the wall on reflex. Just as he was about to shout in surprise, a black clawed hand slams against his mouth, pinning him against the wall.

“Well well, we keep meeting like this. Is it just your habit to walk down alleys?”

Out from the deep shadows steps out the silhouette of Gabardine, the tendrils retreating as he kept PJs pinned up against the wall with his claw. PJs was shocked, he saw Gabardine get peppered with holy bullets, he should have passed on, surely. How was he here now?

“Surprised? I imagine you would be, since the last time we met you stole what I was after after my vanishing.”

The claw pushed harder against PJs head, the wall cracking at the points where the tips met, and yet, PJs didn’t feel like much tension was on him at all save for the initial covering. Was he…stronger now?

“Now, I believe it’s time to get it back. Hand it over, and we can part ways, like this never happened. Or…” The claw clenched harder, screeching loudly against the brick, “Well, you’re going to find out where I went, only you’re not going to get a ride back.”

PJs was in trouble, his voice muffled behind the claw covering his mouth. It’s clear that Gabardine didn’t want to talk, either PJs gives up the rock or he’s dead. Again. As of course you the viewer are aware, this could be a little difficult to do, considering where it is, but then again, Gabardine doesn’t know, so this essentially turned from ultimatum to promise of a singular option, especially since he couldn’t mumble out a wish, which Gabardine no doubt is aware would be an issue for him.

Then again, history tends to like repeating, doesn’t it? PJs thought as suddenly from just behind Gabardine, he spied a familiar blue-white glint, which reminded him of not only that incident in the last alley, but also what he did innately to survive. Scrunching his face, he willed himself to split at the jaw, and POP! The top of his head floated upwards as his body slunk down the wall and got as low as it could to avoid the incoming fire, Gabardine’s claw now going right through the brickwork in full force, rendering it stuck.

“What the fu-?!” The cloaked ghost began, but was cut off by several shots from a gun ringing out like church bells, once again giving him a few more unwanted orifices in his chest.

Looking down, he saw the punctures rapidly expand and replied with a simple, “Really? Sigh. This is a waste of tickets…” Before once again exploding into the afterlife, a clinking of coinage landed on the pavement.

As PJs landed his head onto his neck once again and sat back up, he indeed saw what he expected, the Angels, Panty on the hood of their jeep in a wide-legged firing stance with her handgun, scowling angrily, just like last time, he was saved by divine intervention. Only this time, PJs knows he’s the real target, and gulps. The way out was blocked by Angels, and the way back no doubt has Demons on the doorstep. Even if they’re useless right now, he doesn’t want to risk them having figured out how to grab him again in the time he was escaping. He’s still pretty sure they can somehow track his wishes, if they got here as well as at his apartment, then either they got great resources or they can sniff out where he’s teleporting, so it’s going to be pretty hard to run now. He doesn’t know that they can’t and are just getting as lucky as he is, but that’s beyond his knowledge at the moment. And not in the least with a gun trained on him, he feels that if he utters even a word sounding like wish, he’s going to be swiss cheese, hold the cheese.

“Alright, fucker. This time I’m not missing. Say your praye-!” The blond angel begins, but once again, PJs seem to be on a lucky streak. Divine intervention saved him, doomed him, but then the divine was intervened upon, as a beat-up car slammed right into the side of the jeep. Not that it did much, but it was enough to get both the goth in the driver’s seat and the blond on the hood to stumble and look at what just tried t-boning them.

Sticking out the window of the crumbled heap of a junker, a portly ghost wearing the phantom interpretation of a trenchcoat leaned out the car window, and yelled, “Hah! Take that, you celestial wenches! The mighty Trent will not be denied his wishing power!”

The Angels were stunned for a second, glanced at each other, and looked back towards the ghost, looking very unjustifiably smug. Panty just scowled and let out a shot into his head, sending him exploding to the afterlife, along with the wreckage that almost looked better in pieces than it did together.

Panty sighed and readjusted her aim down the alley, and…found that her target had somehow vanished. “Aw what the shit now?” She yelled, aiming every which way of the alley, taking random potshots at any shadow he might be hiding in. Stocking was looking around on the road, to see if he snuck by them when they weren’t looking, but no signs of a sprinting ghost nearby either.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Panty declared, shooting everywhere and trashing the alley to almost a pile of rubble, “If that bastard managed to wish-teleport again, I’m gonna make that prick eat his own dick!”

“Ugh, calm down, bitch,” Stocking piped in, “We can’t find him if he did, so we’re going to have to wait until we get some info on this asshole. Let’s just head back to the church until geekboy gets some intel, I guess. I’ll order some cake from Doordick and you can fuck the delivery driver or something to calm you down.”

Panty made an idle shot at the dashboard in response, the bullet ricocheting into the backseat into an unsuspecting Chuck who now could get a breeze through his eyeball. Eventually, she growled in annoyance and hopped into the driver seat, kicking Stocking into the passenger seat as she does so.

As they drove off, they didn’t notice the pieces of ghost under the framework of the jeep, stuck to the bottom for dear life that they don’t see him as they drive off. Under his breath, he mutters out, “I wish that guy has the best afterlife he can get for saving me like that, wherever he turns up.” And glowed green for a brief moment, waiting for the drive to end and the Angels leave so he can sneak off without them noticing.

–––

Meanwhile, in Hell, it seems that proper paperwork was mysteriously shuffled around, and a Mr. Checotay’s papers were filed to live in the Archdevil Chateau, the most luxurious place in all of the Abyss only reserved for the top Demons.

Trent found himself on a comfy as hell sofa, within a living room to what he could only assume to be a mansion. He looked around, baffled at what he saw. The red and black and gold of the room illuminated by the burning fires of the outside, really only said one thing: He was sent to Hell.

Still, he admits for Hell it was pretty cozy. Though interesting decor as he notices a blank portrait hanging on the wall. Idly, he imagined that he was on it. All of a sudden, the ink on it surged to life, and now his ghostly image in a finely tailored suit smiled down at his own real visage.

He couldn’t believe it. He just imagined it and it happened. With a thought, he imagined his favorite margarita in his hand, and lo, it was to be, a wide-brimmed glass of the stuff appeared between his fingers. It seems that he gets to have whatever he wants now!

Now the real test, imagining a sexy-ass Demon in a tiny maid outfit, dusting the place and obeying every word.

“What the-? Where am I?” All of a sudden, a busty red-skinned babe of a Demon with long purple hair in a ponytail with slicked back horns appeared before him, bent forward and dusting the coffee table with a feather duster, showing of acreages of cleavage tucked barely inside a frilly black and white bikini and tiny apron around her waist, looking shocked at her surroundings as she continued to dust.

She looks up with a scowl at the ghost. “Who are you? There’s no way you’re the owner of this mansion! I’m only supposed to serve the ruler here! I’m Apron, and I demand you tell me what is going on!” She yells indignantly, as if she wasn’t wiggling her wide hips as she dusted the place.

Trent said in reply, “Well, I think you’re now Boobsy, and you’re going to do whatever I say, because I DO own the place, you silly little bimbo~”

With that, a dog collar appeared around her neck, the heart tag reading “Boobsy”, the o’s all in heart shapes. Her face morphs from elegant features to cutesy and heavily made-up, with garish pink makeup, wide eyes with long lashes, and plump lips.

“H-hey, what’s the big-?” But before she could finish, she swivelled herself around, shaking her ass back and forth, yelling out, “Oh please fuck Boobsy, Master! Boobsty is such a stupid little maid, Boobsy needs a good fucking to think straight!” She says behind gritted teeth.

“You got the right idea, Boobsy, so hop on!” Trent undoes his facsimile of pants, and shows off his ghostly wang. It was nothing impressive, just around five inches or so, but it was raging hard, and eager to be stuck in a red lady.

Apron gasped as she found herself flung towards him by her ass and landed on his lap, wiggling along as he tugged her panties down, exposing her snatch, which with a simple thought, was gushing with need, despite how Apron felt with the whole situation. Still, she flung her plump ass downwards, impaling her exposed pussy onto the turgid shaft in a mighty stroke, taking it all in. Trent frowned slightly as she pumped herself up and down slowly that Apron was only growling out her annoyances, but with a thought that was easily rectified, “Oh yes! YES! Master, you’re soooo big! It makes Boobsy want to- to- Awoooo! Arf arf! Boobsy is a horny biiiiitch!”

Apron could only grimace as she’s forced to yell out ridiculous things, Trent laughing along and enjoying the pleasure of this Demon fucking herself against her will against his cock for a long while. As she pumped faster and faster on top of him, and had her turn around so he could spray his ectoplasmic cum all over her snarling face, he could only wonder what good thing he did to deserve this paradise.