True Mephisto

…

Bright lights cracked on, forcing Mephisto to raise a hand to see. The roar of the crowd thrummed through his stiff cock as if it were a dowsing rod pointed at a boyband’s mosh pit. His heart beat a rapid percussion in his ears and moisture pearled on his skin - the anticipation was getting to him, so he set his feet and clenched his cheeks.

This was a first for Mephisto. He was in front of a live studio audience.

Into the blinding circle of light stepped a man so large he had to be in charge. His prodigious belly undulated with each step, and one hand mopped futilely at his brow with a crusty handkerchief. With the other he swept a cheer from the crowd, turning slowly so as to keep a mouldy top hat the colour of seaweed perched upon his slick head.

The fat newcomer shouted, “Ladies and gentlethings, welcome!” More cheers, and a thrown pair of soiled panties splatted on the floor. He eyed them with a lick of his chapped lips, then continued, “Tonight we celebrate a new challenger to our humble little game. He once slept with a cyclops and a dust mote on the same day - and everything in between! The forest nymphs call him ‘Baba Yaga, The Bootyman’ out of the fear that saying his real name will cause him to appear. He’s a demon after my own heart. That’s right, I present you the son of Satan himself - Mephistopheles!”

The crowd cheered even harder, of course, and more soggy clumps of underwear pelted the stage. The host, a creature that called itself Harvey Bargainsquirts, stepped aside with a wide grin on his face, as if he could already see the ratings Mephisto would bring - not that he wasn’t already popular. He was known for pressuring young starlets into sex in exchange for gigs, and that kind of thing went over very well here in Hell.

Harvey took centre stage again and addressed the main camera-witch. She’d been lost in Mephisto’s dreamy eyes, so she hurriedly stirred her cauldron back to life in order to broadcast Harvey’s pockmarked face into every stagnant pool, seeing stone, and shiny bauble with reception throughout Hell.

“Let’s get on with the game! The rules are simple; three walls, three holes. Defeat all three to become our new champion!” A crew of underfed goblins carried three whitewashed wooden walls onto stage and propped them up in a half circle around where Mephisto stood. A fist-sized hole had been cut into each at hip height, and only fathomless darkness looked back when Mephisto stuck his eye to one. “Without further ado, let’s play: WALL! OF! GLORY!”

Naked this whole time and eager to make the most of it, Mephisto took his swollen member in hand and lined it up with the first gloryhole. With professional trepidation he fed it into the hole until his neatly trimmed bush scored the paint.

Nothing happened - for a whole second, then teeth. Lots of teeth, and all razor sharp. It bit down on his length like a mousetrap on a lesser penis. Again and again it gnawed, until Mephisto felt something snap; a tooth, evidently, because the creature quickly changed strategy from gnawing to thrashing on his cock like a dog with a squeaky sex toy.

Mephisto squared his buttocks and through the power of his abs levered his meat to crisp attention. Teeth glanced off his little soldier’s helmet and a mighty vein throbbed a drumbeat as he went to war. With a flick of his hips and a grind of his pelvis he thrashed back. Once, twice, thrice, and the vice grip of teeth slackened. He added a slight squat to his gyrations and soon the creature was spinning around his full-of-cum fulcrum like a streamer on a fanblade. The teeth slid slowly down his length until, with a sullen yip, they were thrown free of his victorious cock.

The crowd roared when he pulled away from the first gloryhole. He brushed some powdered tooth and lime-green spittle off of his member, then took a theatrical bow. The roaring increased and Harvey was forced to intervene. “Cerberus, down just like that!” He snapped his fingers. A nail popped off and went flying. “He’ll be dizzy for a week, but that’s the point of having more than one head - you’re used to seeing double!” He swept back out of the light, and finished ominously, “I wonder what waits behind hole number two, how about we find out…”

Enthused by the challenge, as well as thoroughly engorged, Mephisto stepped up to the second hole and fed his eager member inside. Half way in something yanked on his dick, and eight inches later his hips slammed into the white wood. Whatever had a hold of his cock was not playing around, which was far from his personal preference in these situations.

The bulbous tip of his member protested the tug much more emphatically than his fibrous root, which was still half lodged in the gloryhole proper - and suddenly Mephisto knew what held his precious dangle. A glance at Harvey’s stupid grin confirmed as much. By some diabolical feat of occult engineering they’d connected the other end of the gloryhole to a point far out in real space, and his cock was now caught in the event horizon of a black hole.

Well, Mephisto had never fucked a region of spacetime before.

He began with a slow thrusting motion, just enough to feel the ripple of time dilation caress his cock. It was truly an odd sensation. The deeper he sunk into those gravitational folds the more they tugged and squeezed, to the point where he seriously worried that his sensitive prick might buckle under the pressure. But then he’d drag back out and all those time-delayed sensations would crash back over him like a sexy little sine wave, stoking his lust to levels that were beyond his understanding of mathematics to explain.

Needless to say, he only lasted ten minutes before he came. And boy did he come; he shot enough Mephisto-brand lotion into that black hole that he could have doused the coals of Hell themselves if he had a mind to, and didn’t enjoy the screams. Slowly but surely the pull on his prick lessened as the black hole gunked up like a clogged drain. Soon it was all but gone, and he whipped his cock out to the delight of the crowd.

Harvey stumped back into the light and addressed the crowd, his pasty face set with ecstatic cheer, “They’re going to have to re-write the textbooks for that one! They’d better not include a picture though, or they’ll run out of ink! Ha ha, that’s just a little penis humour.” He winked one bloodshot eye at the camera-witch. “Okay, onto the last hole! I think he’ll find this one more… agreeable.”

Mephisto’s refractory period was measured in contented moans rather than minutes, so he was already back to full mast when he approached the final gloryhole. This time he showed no hesitation when he thrust his gloating member through the wall. He immediately realised the truth of Harvey’s words when he was met with a sudden tight, hot resistance.

With a little effort however, and a quick splash of spit, he was through - and at long last, inside of himself.

…