H(ot)ell Ascension
Step 1


Written by Septia.


“So, mister Ash. That, was your name, right?” you give Charlie an affirming nod, adjusting your tie while she skimmed your papers again. 
	“Everything, from what I can see, seems to, be in order, you got references, qualifications, a suit without tears,” the princess of hell said looking you over, “and, we, desperately, need more staff,” she mumbled. “And not to undermine your interests or accomplishments, but, if you don't mind me asking… you are our first every applicant, so… why?” 
	“Unlife's a tough coin to cash in. When you're sucking the floorboards of hell's hierarchy ya get a good view of all the goings-on above. Cleansings and riots start to wear on the lil' spirit a hellhound's deigned to keep.” You saw Charlie's expression wavering, thrumming on the edge of breaking like a plucked guitar-string. “But what you said on that broadcast, got my brain foldin'. As a demon born I ain't up for redemption any time this next infinity. But, if this second grade mutt could help contribute to this place, if we start lighten hell's load and get some ta see the light. Wouldn't that maybe, jus’ maybe, brighten what excuse for lives all these sinners got left?” 
	-Fnnrnft- Charlie sniffled behind your resumé, taking a few deep breaths before revealing an expression of stirred emotions. “Mister Ash, it would be an honour to have such a noble soul join our efforts. Congratulations, and welcome aboard the Happy hotel.” 
	Your smile faltered for a second. “Happy hotel?” 
	“Yeah,” Charlie beamed. 
	“I thought, the sign was-…,” you contemplated the young entrepreneur's wide smile, and extended your paw to seal the deal, “a pleasure to take part of the team.” 


Less than three steps away from walking out of the office with Charlie your fur stood on end, a perversion of reality rendered a tear through the substance of the insubstantial, untold souls shrieking in a chorus, harmonizing to a confluence of static from which a grand presence manifested. 
	“Charlie, Sweetiepie, Dolly.” 
	The Doppler effect of Alastor's voice lingered behind you as the overlord circled, tracing a finger from the peak of your ivory horns to your fuzzy eyebrow and forcing your eyelid closed. 
	“I, Literally, could not help Overhearing the goings-on you two were facilitating.” 
	“W-well, o-oh I was just about to introduce you to our-.” 
	“our new Hire you Say,” Alastor interrupted, “without involving Me?” 
	“I don't, have to vet everyone through you.” 
	“and here I thought We were Partners,” Alastor' fauxed drama with a crackle of violin-strings consuming the atmosphere of the hallway. “I haven't gone behind your back for shady Dealings yet, have I? but you go right ahead and Glen Miller your Trusted confidante.” 
	“Glen who? Wa-wait, yet?” Charlie exhaled. 
	You dusted off your shirt and cleared your throat. “Ah, come now, ‘bit harsh don't you think?” 
	Alastor kept looking to Charlie, but his presence pierced through you. 
	“Sure, Miller had some shady dealings behind his orchestra, but ya gotta pay some respects to the classics. That's not to say they’re the authority either. Everyone's heard ‘a Miller and Duke. Fewer acclaim the dulcet, sparkling tones of the likes of Earl Hines, rather than putting down the 'so called' greats.” Your stoic reserves drained in the full gaze of the radio demon. Seconds passed as the static hum burgeoned.
	“Hah. waddayaknow, the mutt's got more than Teeth in his snout.”
	“Oh, that's great, you approve of him then?” Charlie asked.
	“Oh ho ho,” Alastor laughed, until his voice distorted in pitch, “always keep an eye on Stray mutts… Ciao,” he said and departed, leaving the atmosphere… disturbed. 
	Charlie was silent for a few moments, then gestured with gusto. “I think you'll get along great.” 
	“Ah, hah, yes,” you responded, then mumbled, “like a hotel on fire…” 


~ 1 ~


“Aye, Pussy pussy, when you gonna stop hoggin' all the juice?” Angel Dust declared. 
	“I ain't dealing with your Bull,” Husker said behind the bar disk. 
	“Comon, can't blame a guy for being thirsty, especially with the workout I got myself into. And they said I couldn't take five at once, hah. You gotta relate though, dry guy like you needs all the lube he can get.” 

	Husker grumbled under his breath. “Damn, Alastor taking advantage of hard swindling folks for stupid charity.” 
	A glass slid across the counter. 
	“Give you a’ Beelzejuice & brimstone to go,” you said, coming up from the counter to mix the drink.
	“Ah, yeah? What makes you think I'll walk away?” 
	You smirk, pouring and holding out the cocktail. “Cuz I love to watch ya leave.” 
	“Hrrfh,” Angel Dust huffed, “flattery's only getting you so far,” and proceeded to snatch the glass out of your paws, “But alcohol gets you over the finish line,” he said, starting to chug saunter off with a sway to his hips. 
	“Hey, what makes you think-.” Husker began. 
	“One drink to pay for some peace of mind, seems fair to me.” 
	The sinner demon scoffed, then smacked his lips. “Makes me think of this one guy back in Vegas,” Husker began. 
	“Wanna tell me more,” you say picking up another glass, “stories get more interesting when told through the bottom of a drink.”
	“Hah, you got a deal,” Husker said taking the glass, “maybe you could tell me where a hellhound got those damn horns from too?”
	You huffed a snicker. “Maybe sometime.”


Over the days you put your skills to use; cleaning, renovating, aiding Vaggie with the decor plan. Little as you knew about decorating, she still appreciated having a wall to bounce ideas off of. Over the weeks there were stories swapped, laughs had, and only a frugal number of immolations. Everything was flowing on smooth. Just like you had hoped. 


~ 2 ~


“Shnnrraakk phoooo, shnrnakrk, phooo…” Husker snored into a a bottle. Slumped over behind the counter. A couple bottles of 'not-so-cheap-booze' strewn around him. Late in the witching hour, he was knocked out cold, the hotel silent. Poor fella needed the drinks, Angel' had gotten in his way a couple too many times earlier in the day… Seeing him snoozing, hearing him purr, it was adorable to see the scrappy old sinner so… helpless. 
	With a few strides you were by his side. Inside that drunken mind lay so much wisdom, shame the old sinner was beginning to lose his capacity to make use of it. Well, wouldn't be a problem much longer. -Zrrrtsc- The zipper to your pants draped down with a silent rip, paws rummaging to pry the enlarged hatch open, nursing the bulge resting within to peek forth. One paw back on Husker, swivelling him around on the seat, once away from the counter his upper body sloughed like a rag doll, disturbing his snoring for a moment. 
	“Shh… Stay quiet, don't wanna spoil the surprise now do we?” you said whilst guiding his head to watch your lap. “We can be gentleman about his ye? Just stay put…” you threaded the feline head through the wide fracture of cloth, to the awaiting pillar of flesh just behind… -Chrlrlpth- the outer folds of pink skin gave off a soft squeal as the feline's head bumped into it. -Chrhrgl- -Cwrghhrl- Slowly the folds of tissue spread, warping, crawling over the felinid snout with the butter of a steak polishing a windowpane, -Chrrlpstht- the pit of your cock gaping in the face of the slumbering sinner, plying over his face, and smothering his snores as it shuffled along to engulf his face.
	“Shnnhhrrak, Psshoo. Snnfgmmgmgmmg. Mfmmwmgfoo.” 
	He fit like a glove. A surge of excitement bolstered through your spine, the sinew of your shaft stretched and massaged around Husker's face, crawling over his ears, embalming them into the folds of your meat and -Chrrlptsha- sloughing onwards as you fed the demon’s shoulders in past the zipper. “Smnfffss, hooey,” you panted out, letting your tongue lull free. The sensation was electric. Both paws on Husker's back, shuffling forwards, his wings brushing against the cloth’s draping of metal, jagged teeth of the zipper's maw, devouring him into the cock’s esophagus. -Shfrlplgh--. -Crrlghtptch- The tension, feeling like your dick was near bursting around the seams as it inflated with the form of the grol' grump. The tension raging through the roots of your mast to the threads of your spine, thrumming your nerves. 
	“Gnhshahghgahs-.” Husker snored into a snort down there, behind the black suit pants, in the budding bulge beneath the fabric. 
	“Easy… mfn, we're in no rush, you and I,” you whispered. There would be no distractions. Alastor had his arms full dealing with a confrontation form Vox, the air was clear and silent. “There's no rush,” you panted again, “I plan to enjoy this, mmf, and so will you, mf, eventually…” you pant and step forwards. -Chhlslpttrrlpt- The creaking crinkles of shaft lube slathered Husker's coat as his upper body fades behind the zipper, into the enraging pants, thrust down the gently throbbing meat. Peaceful, invigorating… jolts of satisfaction blossoming through your member. This was it, the beginning of a hellhound's victory. Breathe in, breathe out, the mast peeks out a touch from the zipper, just to withdraw as you shuffle forwards, draping over Husker's back as he slotted in through your cock… Every stretch of flesh jiggling with tension to temper your urges, the satisfaction, for so long, and now indulge, it made your coat stand on end, goosebumps in waves down your frame from the sinner sliding in, swallowed by your zipper. 
	“You asked about my horns? Guess I owe ya some story. They ain't mine, from an-, genuine imp ivory,” you huffed under your breath, gnawing on our lower lip. First one to showcase them my abilities to the fullest. Boy, was he a sonnoffaswine, punctured my throat, but he, all worth it, just taught me to be more careful, pick my moments. We'll go so well together… mfmfs getting you promotion huh, moving on up from co-worker to cock-worker…” you huffed under your breath, sweat beading, saliva trailing down your tongue. -Shhrllrpth- -Slsptthhs- The demon's hips wedged through the shaft, Husker's presence dominating your dick. Clenching your fists, your paws growing white. 
	"Ssnhhrrka, phreeeow..." -Clrlpthsnptht- Within, Husker was tugged along in a perverted peristalsis, drawn along the sleek, stretch of cock-meat, head nearing the base, nearing the knot. Whiskers caressing the walls, tickling the surface of sleek sinew. The whole mast vibrating. 
	“Mgnghn paha,” you pant out, spittle dropping as the pulsing membrane clamps over the bartender. 
	The knot -Chthtmp- swelling, plush flesh inflated with blood and excitement, bunching up around Husker's face, kneading in to engulf -Glrpghcht- “Mgng, mwphg, mpuhr?” he mumbles, slowly opening his eyes, to a dark embrace of humid, canine incarnadine. 
	He reaches for a bottle, finding his arm pinned, the pressure pumping around him. 
	“Mfnhuh… Ash…” 
	“Mrmmf” you grunt. 
	“Ash?” Husker grunts. 
	“Aah hell…” 
	“Ashe, what the hells gone into your maggot-rotten head? I knew you were a no good, son of a mother-.” 
	“Mfmg mwmpgh mhmpahm,” Husker's resistance was muffled a -Sclpth- squirming drone, and now your dick was getting going. His frame worming and shuddering to and through, stretchy, bulging, warping, playing your nerves in a cacophony of pleasure. Was this how it felt to jam your dick up a washing machine and then cram it through an electrical socket? Your mind was racing a mile a minute. 
	“Mmg nagppah Aafnngph easy, fffmseayese…” you huffed out, folding the kicking and flailing legs up past the zipper, like cradling them past the reaches, and drawing up the zipper over the gratuitous bulge -Zxllrrrlpt- it closed, sealing Husker's fate to yours, had there ever been a more satisfying noise? 
	“Omaha, ooh yes, we're almost there,” you stumbled back to the wall, grasping your chest to feel your heart palpitating, though not nearly as much as your dick was. Down below you saw the burgeoning bulges of Husker rise and flail, swell and dip as they sailed to and fro over your pants, the swollen cock trawling him inwards, smoothing the disruptive bloats under the blanket of dickmeat. 
	“You traitorous bitch, get me the hell out of here,” Husker shrieked as his head passed the kneading embrace of the knot, -Shgthoght- -Clspht- drawn deeper into Ash's embrace, the slick phlegm over the walls draping across his form as he was slurped down. 
	“Cmnf phaa, co-come on ye, we can be amicable…” you huffed out, streams of jolts rummaging through your jewels as they began to swell… the bulges of the dick siphoned and stored in the inflating orbs. -Chnngh- Gradually gobbling up the bloats pried in the fat demon dick to bloat the flap of the suit, swelling out one ball each to sag down the respective pants leg. “Mmgh gmpghah… th-that's it. Ain't it just, mmf the time you think of settling d-down, thinking of the grand fm-ffuture we'll have, oooohf balls you are thick…” you stumbled over your own words as the tension is enveloped by your balls, shaft slowly sinking back in size over Husker's paws, and as the balls bloated -Cbbgrllwrlch- you slid down the wall, anchored by your sack to the ground -Cddmmfpth- and the burden they lugged.
	“Mphaa, mmgpaha…” you mouth with your maw wide, tongue drooping, and arms slumped by your sides.
	-Cbhrtbthg- -Cbbhthhg- Surges of stimulation roar over your sack as feet, pawprints, and elbow bulges swell and were constrained by the onyx fabric. The furious punches marked across your swollen jewels, shifting and budging your lap to and fro against the ground. Lips curving up in a smile, fangs glowing in the sparse dim of night whilst your paws trace up along the perimeter of your Husker holder, brushing into the taut, jostling flesh and quivering whenever a jab met with your paw pad to knead it back down in soft swirls. “There you are, all for us. Everything you are about peeled away to its core to ascend…” 
	“What in the seven rings are you yapping about, you two faced gutter gremlin?” Husker shouted, struggling to deliver a blow to the juicy walls around him. -Csllpthrtch- and drawing back his hand to find it riddled with tethers trailing back to the membrane, vines of desaturated phlegm webbing him to the surface. The heat was sweltering, sweat drooping down his face, scraping it up, he see’s the same discolored white. “You gotta be kidding me.”
	“Its begun, hasn't it? You sound like that imp now, hund's mndf, be a worry, cat's love some good 'ol milk, don't they now?” 
	“Screw you, I'm not a cat.” 
	“Aah, fms, you don't have the luxury to choosing that, now do ya? Come here with whatever form ya stuck within, but I… I'll offer you that luxury, that the choice to fmsm, becomemfm, be part of the grand plan…” 
	“The hell you on about”? he shouted, muffled by the walls throbbing and contracting against him, a steady rhythm of moist meat caving in, massaging his fur with clotting, hellhound yogurt -Chrlrpth- -Pllsppgth- -Dgglpghtch-. “Ah hell, ah can't die here, I've got way too many debts ah-…” Husker stopped himself, expression growing inquisitive. “Just spit me out, you pansy mutt.” 
	“Hey, hey,” you say, cupping your palms underneath the cloth bloated balls, lifting them up to -Bwwnghnga- let them clap to the ground in a jiggle of pudding churning within, pads draping and groping, leaving trenches in the wake of the groping massage. “It ain't like I can kill a sinner demon. I ain't no angel… Cuz I'm gonna, M-thtpathw-” he lifted and groped them back down again, you slowly knead away at the space within, compacting and clenching, squeezing the air out as it crammed and -Ghrbbgha- churned, “I'll keep you right close to me… and together, we'll be so… so much more than those flying TV four faced freaks… Just think about it, ya ain't gonna mfms, absolve yaself of yer sins anytime soon… but together, we… will ascend… We'll be the next Cerberus, no, bigger, they will be begging at our knees. How'd ya think the balance of hell would shift, when a hellhound's crowned the top of the pile?…” you preached with the backdrop of -Chrhpg-ga- -Grgplgh- -Pghrlrpthaht- of your sack mulching and macerating the sinner into a pulp of essence, struggles to wind down as the sack deflated, slimming back to a melon sized rustling down your pants. “We'll be unstoppable, the first step to domination…” you muse, breath caught in your throat as the rising crescendo of plateaus churn and slosh throughout your scrotum and dick… 
	“Mfmm pha. haa… do we, have a deal?” you hum. 
	-Chhrgrlrlpth- The sack churns in response as the slush of clotting doggy dairy dunks and droops in the doming dunes. 
	“Eh, I'll accept that answer…” you muse. -Chhrlrphghht- Your sack shrinks, a rush of vitality pierces through your organs, from your sack to the depths of your spiri. It serenaded you in thrums of desperate struggles. To you, it was the fluttering of a butterfly's wing; majestic, admirable, and frail… Husker's essence subsumed to your will, incorporated, absorbed… 
	Your breath began to pick up as your whole ribcage thumped. The energy spiked out through your sides, rending broad cleaves in your coat. tempered and cooling against your torched skin. Teeth gritted to hold the searing sensations spreading over your back. “Gnnyyigh gaah.” you huff out, doubling over, clenching your horns for stability as… -Krlphthtwp- With a tear of spiritual force, manifesting under your skin, ripping through the seams of your suit, was a pair of scarlet wings. In an aura of crimson spreading wide to envelop the wall behind you: an angelic visage. 


When you gathered your breath again, seated to the wall, the feather-shroud retracted, folding inwards upon itself, until they vanished. You scaled off your jacket, and shirt, panting as you stared down at your coat: broad scarlet streaks of fur melded in with your deep ashen grey coat, a remnant and reminder of Husker's presence. 
	“Pha. Right, making a note, next time, clothes go off first…” you panted, feeling over the torn holes lined down your suit. “Bit of a rough start, ey, old timer?” you mused and closed your eyes to survey the essence of the molten felinid's mind, soaking in its wisdom. “But we'll work well together… promise you thaa-aaht, ooh Mann,” you huffed out, shaking your head, the rush of memories and experiences of the sinner streaming through your synapses, “you'd been through a whole lot… paha… Get why you drink,” you mumbled, clenching your fist. “But think we'll manage…” you took a moment, breathing, acclimating to the warped physical and ephemeral physique. Tongue, cradling your lips. 
	“Speaking of next time…” The night was still young, soon we'd approach the witching hour, where a certain Vaggie would have to come deal with a disturbance in the basement, down the halls beneath her room, where no one else would interfere.