Prince Abaddon, an Erotic MM Drama (part two)
The Prince of Hell commands from his throne while the scribe of Heaven explores the new world.
Hello, it is I, Stinksnort, goblin servant of His Majesty!
While my king is busy with scribble-scribble, I've been told to write today's post. I will tell you what has been happening.
The scary mommy dragon is not trying to attack my leader anymore. She is nice now, and doesn’t bite him as much. Things are so good, he is no longer hiding in the pantry (he does that sometimes, but said not to tell anyone, so forget I mentioned this).
But there is sad news, heartbreaking, the worst thing ever!
My friends Toadstool, Toadstool, and Toadstool don't want to wash the dishes anymore. They're going "on strike". I know what a strike is: it's when a goblin hits another goblin over the head with a big stick.
My wife goes on strike at me every time she's mad.
I miss her.
Toadstool, Toadstool, and Toadstool say they hate washing cricket smoothie gunk from the blender pitcher every day, and the king has been drinking so much coffee lately. (I keep trying to steal some, but every time it comes out of the machine, he grabs it right away).
They say His Majesty has a problem where he drinks a mug, stirs in some sugar with a spoon, and drops it in the sink. I say,
“that is not so bad”, but then they explain:
The king likes a lot of sugar in his coffee. He takes his cup to the counter and adds a spoonful, mixes it in, and drops the spoon in the sink. He takes a sip, grabs another spoon, sprinkles in more sugar, and drops it in the sink. By the time he's done with one mug of coffee, he's tossed in six or seven spoons.
I'm not surprised. The King is smart, but he gets distracted and forgets what he's doing. Coffee makes him calm enough to get some scribble-scribble done, but he’s always done such strange things. For example, he has graced us with the privilege of doing the weekly laundry, but he often comes back from the wash-wash room yelling about sock-stealing laundry demons.
One time, I followed him so I could see the sock stealers. He was loading the washer with great, regal pageantry, but then he got distracted by his notebook halfway through and wandered off. When the laundry cycle finished, he threw everything into the basket and brought it back upstairs.
He put the basket on the couch and started throwing our clothes into piles, but then a bug crawled up the wall. He went over to take a peek and the next thing I knew he was narrating for the creepy-crawly, saying,
"The astounding Lord Beetle, adrift from his estate, did set out to seek his fortune in distant lands."
This went on for a few minutes. He does this a lot, but never before had I thought about how it affects his laundry duty.
Anyway, he noticed a spot on the wall and tried different methods to clean it: window cleaner, lemon juice, toothpaste. I realized he forgot about the laundry.
Hours later, he started putting the socks away in strange places: under a stack of letters, in the cookie box; he even stuffed one into my spare hat.
The next day, he wanted to go out but couldn’t find any socks to wear with his boots. He started shouting about the sock-stealing demons, insisting he would declare war on them if his property wasn’t returned.
I won't tell him the truth; it would hurt his royal feelings.
Sorry, I have to stop talking about real-world things. My King has handed me the next part of the story. I'll start transcribing it now. I hope by the time I'm done, I'll have figured out a way to help my friends.
***
Abaddon's eyes narrowed as lord Malratha approached. The demon was leader to seventy legions who wore a copper crown upon his grizzled head, and had eagle wings, elongated limbs. He went down on one gnarled knee, and in a raspy voice, said,
"Lord Abaddon, ever since the events of Hell's recent civil war, Archduke Beelzebub has grown particularly bold. I do believe he wishes to ensnare several members of my armies and add them to his own."
Abaddon frowned. Such behavior was commonplace in Hell, but these attempted power grabs had increased tenfold since Satan left the abyss. The prince recalled the moment the former king departed. Complete anarchy had reigned, with every two-bit warlord emboldened to try and conquer his neighbor.
Abaddon used his reputation as a high-ranking angel of Hell to gather his own forces. He had experience from his time fighting in the civil war of Heaven, and used his knowledge to guide his armies against the other would-be kings.
In that ancient conflict, he'd sided with Lucifer. It had been a terrible mistake on his part, but he’d been an idealistic figure who believed deep in his heart (back when he had one) that the other angels of Heaven would choose freedom, not realizing until the war was almost over that most of his brothers preferred to wear a comforting set of chains.
He remembered a sunny day in the months before the ancient war. Abaddon had stood in a flower-strewn glen, singing alongside the first grasshoppers of spring. As he drank in the beauty of the new life blossoming at winter's end, he heard the sound of reed pipes on the wind.
He'd looked around and been happy to see Satan, whose countenance back then had the playful nature of a faun. Abaddon smiled warmly and approached him. A group of grasshoppers hopped along, springing through the grass behind him. His horned friend smiled, reached out, and kissed him.
In that moment, Abaddon hadn't understood what Satan was doing, but he'd known instinctively it was something taboo. He'd shivered, overwhelmed by all manner of delicious sensations as those soft lips lingered against his. Satan then whispered in his ear,
"Lucifer has shared such rapture with me. Let me show you what Heaven has kept hidden from us..." Satan had slid his hand along the front of Abaddon's robe until it came to rest on his loins.
Several minutes later, he had Satan pressed up against a thick tree trunk, thrusting into him with a wild abandon that surprised even himself. A barrier within him had broken. The angel of spring felt his first moment of carnal satisfaction, and knew he could never return to the life he’d once known.
Lucifer seduced dozens of angels, revealing his vision of sexual liberation. A fear fell across Heaven, a terror that the Morningstar’s dream of carnality would transform their kind from the servants of man into lustful, orgiastic beasts.
In the end, Lucifer, in his defiance, had given the Creator the sign of death, signaling the events that would lead to the war.
In the end, he and Satan were the only rebellious angels willing to accept the inevitability of Lucifer's loss. Both had switched sides at the last minute. They were never allowed back into Heaven, but allowed to rule over Hell.
Abaddon was stronger than Satan, but the goat-legged angel charmed the Archangels with his talent for playing musical instruments, and was given the mantle of kingship. Along with the title came the full backing of Heaven, provided that Satan kept Hell's sinners and demons under control.
Satan chose Abaddon as second in command. For thousands of years, he had ruled Hell with an iron fist, until-
Abaddon's face remained stern, but internally, he smiled wickedly, remembering the day he'd first caught wind of his former friend’s forbidden tryst with an angel of Heaven. Upon learning of their dalliances, Abaddon had alerted the Archangels above. Once Satan lost the backing of Heaven, he had no choice but to abandon his kingdom forever.
The locust angel's piercing gaze darkened as a series of unwelcome memories swept through his mind. He recalled the many nights he and Satan had spent in his former superior's bed. In those moments, hidden away from the prying eyes of Hell’s citizens, Abaddon had not merely been a servant, but a master. He'd left the king of Hell broken and defeated by the ecstasy he'd provided again and again,
And yet, whenever they were in public, he had to pretend he hadn't repeatedly watched Satan quivering with delight at his touch, begging him for more...
Malratha's rasping voice jolted him back to the moment.
"Lord Abaddon, what shall I do about Archduke Beelzebub? Should we retaliate? Our situation is dire, but I will not act unless you will it." Abaddon nodded and replied,
"There must be some among your ranks who are more of a hindrance than a help..." Malratha frowned. Abaddon continued,
"Pretend you've called a truce of appeasement with Beelzebub. Send the worst members of your armies to him as tribute. Give each of them a glowing recommendation. I know Beelzebub, he'll snatch them up within seconds. His new recruits will be so utterly incompetent they'll sabotage his legions from within, you'll destroy his forces without losing any of your competent soldiers."
Malratha tapped his crown with a long-nailed finger, considered the idea, and replied,
"Very good, sir. I knew you'd be a good leader."
There was a sincerity in the demon's voice that might have touched Abaddon, had he any warmth within him, but the Prince merely waved him away and waited for his next subject.
***
Rideriel traveled the mortal realm, sometimes on foot, and other times by wing. He traversed a windy, snow-covered mountain, unaware of the freezing death that would have seized hold of him, had he been a being of flesh.
Occasionally, he'd pass a curious goat scaling the rock walls with its deft hooves. At one point, Rideriel came upon a small, isolated village, but the humans within could not see him, and so, due to a combination of loneliness and aimlessness, he left the wooden cabins behind and kept moving.
His journey eventually led him to a dense, green forest. Something about the thick, shadowy interior made him uneasy, but he chided himself, thinking,
I've yet to see anything in this world that can harm me. Why be so cautious?
He wandered into the sprawling greenery. The forest was eerily silent, save for the wind rustling through the canopy above. He murmured to himself,
"It's just as well."
A sudden growl froze him in place. Several wolves emerged out from the underbrush. As they darted past, they glanced up at him, but concluded he wasn’t a threat, and carried on without giving him a second thought.
Curious, he spread his wings and followed them from above. The pack moved swiftly through the snow. He wondered at their cause until he saw their target.
The elk was a spectacular creature, immense in form, and proud in its bearing.
The wolves circled the enormous beast. With a vicious snarl, the largest among them leapt toward its throat. The elk slashed at the wolf with its antlers, but another tore into its flank, causing it to stumble. Without a moment's hesitation, the pack fell upon it. The ensuing carnage horrified Rideriel. He cried out in fear, fleeing as quickly as his wings could carry him.
As he rushed through the air, he caught sight of a cave beneath the thick roots of an old tree. The shock of witnessing the sudden act of brutality compelled him onward. He descended swiftly, landing at the mouth of the cave.
Rideriel collapsed inside, tears streaming down his face. He curled into a ball, covering himself protectively with his wings. He had never known any world but the beautiful, orderly realm of Heaven. The angel now felt more alone than ever.
He heard a faint whisper from outside. Rideriel couldn't make out the words at first, but the odd, strangely gentle voice gradually grew louder, until he heard it softly call out,
"Brother, cease your crying. I'm an angel like you. Please come out, I’m lonely as well."
Rideriel recognized the voice as angelic, but something didn’t feel right. He wondered if it was one of the fallen who'd sided with Lucifer. The scribe was created long after the conflict, but he'd read field reports detailing the madness of the ancient earthbound angels, and dared not venture outside.
But then he thought,
It's just as likely he's like me. I'm technically fallen, but I never gave our Lord the sign of death, nor sought his overthrow. I only fell because I was...
The memory of his sin burned through his mind. A tear fell down his cheeks as he murmured,
"I was made wrong."
He rose to his feet, stepped outside...
And immediately regretted his decision.
***
Hell's scarlet sun dipped behind the iron mountains. As the final visitor departed the throne room, Abaddon retreated to his chambers. He closed the door behind him, and paused, briefly considering the gravity of his position. An entire kingdom could fall if he made a single misstep. He'd dreamed of glory and authority for centuries, but still found himself unaccustomed to his new position.
He removed his armor piece by piece. Soon, he stood naked, save for his ornate codpiece. It bore the image of a black, diamond-encrusted locust, inlaid with the finest rubies. Satan had given it to him centuries earlier as a symbol of the desire Abaddon once stirred within him.
A flood of bitterness overtook him as he looked down at the ornament cradling his sex. He tore the jeweled attachment off, seized it in one hand and crushed it to pieces.
He continued studying his reflection. In his eyes, he saw a shameful truth staring back: despite his immense power, in Satan’s court he had swallowed his pride, playing the role of a subordinate to his own lust slave. The locusts responded to the intensity of his emotions, swirling around him, with the hum of their many wings serving as a chorus to his despair.
Abaddon bit down hard on his tongue, letting the pain overwhelm him. The agony of the sharp sting controlled his vicious, maddening emotions. Refreshed by his suffering, he stepped out onto the balcony, looked out over his kingdom, and thought,
His shadow shall haunt me no more. I will carve my own legacy, may Satan be damned for the devil!
He smirked, spread his wings, and vanished into the night.
***
The most wonderful news! Now that I have finished copying the King's words, I made a genius plan to solve my friends spoon dilemma!
I’ve dug through the royal junk drawer and found all the pieces needed to give His Majesty a super special royal sugar spoon! You see, I have taken the shiniest of all the spoons and used a small chain to hitch it to the handle of his coffee pot!
Oh, glory day! My friends will be so happy, no longer will there be towering spoon mountains in the sink!
I have shown my idea to Toadstool, Toadstool, and Toadstool. They say it is a good start, but there is still the matter of the cricket smoothies. I took out the sponge I won during our last card game and offered to help. My friends agreed to end the strike, and we both got to work. The kingdom is saved!