FSE

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The sounds of children playing carried across the park. Joyful screams, peals of innocent laughter, the occasional cry of 'Mooooommmmyyyy! Tiffany broke my Barbie!'. A group of young people were tossing a Frisbee back and forth the path, awarding bonus points if you could get it to touch the hair of someone as it went by. Triple, if you got it to swing around on a horn and come back to you. Some urban professionals were having a quick lunch in the sunshine. Meanwhile, some urban unprofessionals had cracked open the beers and were currently doing their bit to add to the compost around the trees in the corner.

It was, in other words, fucking sickening.

"I think it's safe to say this is the lowest point in our entire misbegotten existence", said the white-skinned demon. A wiry sort, he sat cross-legged atop a blanket, his head in his hands, a long whip-like tail encircled around him like a tightly-wound coil. Jerking upright, the soot-black tattoo markings encompassing most of the left side of his body seemed to dance across his scales, or perhaps it was just a trick of the light. A set of spikes erupted from his shoulders, matching two sets of horns protruding back from the crown of his head. Several smaller sets jutted from his thighs. A spiky exterior to match his spiky personality.

"Mmmfff?" enquired his compatriot, a much more imposing demon chap, as he slurped down a spoonful of yoghurt. The pot seemed positively minuscule in his giant grasp. As did everything else really. Right down to the thick black tail that snaked out from where he sat like a fleshy battering ram. He looked like he'd seldom seen the outside of a gym, such was his musculature. Which would almost explain his colouring being the mirrored inverse to his companion, right down to the chalk-white tattoo down his right side. I'm guessing there was a two-for-one offer going on or something. Save for a much more diminutive set of horns atop his head in comparison to his companion, he lacked his partner's pointed appearance.

Rat-tat-tat, went the ivory demon's claw against his teeth. It was a terrible tic. Terrible in that, when he started doing that, the pain would soon follow in others.

"What I am TRYING to say, you gluttonous mound of overtrained brawn, is that there is something wrong with this picture. Now, can you be a good assistant and spot it?" said Dee, verbosely. It wasn't his birth name. He'd chosen it for being an admirer of John Dee, black magician extraordinaire.

The black demon put down his pot gently, like a child putting down a pet, on the blanket. Next to the sandwiches and resting the spoon against the basket. Apparently, it's a picnic. He looked around briefly, serpentine eyes taking in everything.

"They're drunk? " said Vill, nodding his head toward the trees. He didn't use many words, but when he did they rumbled out from deep within him like a jet liner being revved by a boy racer. Vill was also not his birth name. He'd chosen it because 101 Dalmatians was on in the other room at the time.

THWACK

Dee's face met his palm at such velocity it was a wonder he didn't shove his snout out the back of his head. Being met with curious stares from onlookers, he tried to pass it off coolly, drumming his claw tips along his snout.

"I swear, if we weren't on assignment together and...other fringe benefits of that, I don't think you'd be able to function without me. Look around you", he gestured, waving an arm rather over-dramatically across the park, "what do you see? I see happy families playing with their overfed, terribly boring children. I see elderly people walking about with impunity. Sunshine, smiles and waggily little puppy dog farts. Most importantly, what I am seeing, you immense imbecile, is an alarming lack of people freaking out THAT THERE ARE DEMONS HERE! Where's the terror, the fear, the Goth groupies?! Where are my cherub-cheeked orphans slowly roasting on a spit? We are supposed to be terrifying them, not fitting in!"

Having finished his suitably spit-flecked diatribe, he smirked to himself, looking back to Vill for agreement. Instead, he saw the lummox engaged in an actual conversation with a crimson drake in full-on biker leathers.

"...so, do we bring something for it or...?"

"Nah, you're fine. Just a barbecue for the guys at the gym. Bring those guns of yours and I think that'll be enough for everyone", said the drake, grinning a bit too proudly at his own not-especially-great joke. Not that Vill noticed. He was grinning from pointy ear to pointy ear, his shirt seams positively groaning as he swelled with pride.

"You hear that Vill? We got invited to a barbe..."

THWACK

A white flash smacked the invite out of Vill's hand, as Dee moved surprisingly fast and had him by the hand and dragged several metres away before the card even hit the ground.

"...cue. Hey! The foo-' he began to protest, just before Dee had swung him around and up against the trunk of an oak. There was a creaking groan as the roots shifted slightly, Dee leaning right up into Vill's wide torso. Vill looked down to get a better view of his opposite number, and instead got the wrong idea. "Oh...are we doing this again? Here? Kind of short notice."

"Stop incessantly flapping your gums!" hissed Dee. The cloud seemed to darken just above them, as little arcs of sparks started to spit from Dee's mouth, dying into smoulders as they bounced off of Vill. "We are demons. DE-MONS. These people should be soiling themselves at the mere mention of our names, like Ctulhu or the IRS. But nooooo, the little master has to decide to set up shop in a world where we actually blend into the background. I saw a drake with four arms yesterday. FOUR! What kind of over-compensating pillock thought that was a viable species?"

"He said there was some family scandal way back with a black widow", interjected Vill, helpful as always.

"IRREGARDLESS!" bellowed Dee, pulling back from Vill and letting the behemoth breathe easy. "This job was so much easier in the other dimensions. What was the name of that hell dimension with the pink things?"

"That was human Earth, Dee."

"It was a hell di-men-sion! I saw 6ft tall parasites destroy a man just by conversing with him! And then they took his young from him, presumably for later feeding. What did they call that again?"

"A divorce hearing."

"See, now THERE was a place we could have had some fun. Here, we just...fit in", he spat those last two words, "with all these lizardmen and, and, and bloody Harrier jet sized wasps. That's the problem. Over there, we'd have people on bended knee, begging for their lives. I mean, not that I'd even want to kill them, but it was the thought that mattered. Here, we're just...normal. Hell, some woman called me the c word yesterday."

"Cantankerous?"

"...cute. Hell, I've seen the way some of the drakemen look at you. Undressing you with their eyes. Mind you, even a blind man could manage that, with those clothes", mumbled Dee to himself, trying to avert his eyes from the white demon's overly-skintight and...curve-enhancing couture.

An awkward paused ensued, which Vill took advantage of to sneak a scratch of an itch around his groin which had been bothering him. Which naturally only jostled its contents about a little.

"You know", began Vill, "maybe things wouldn't seem so bad here if you made some frie-"

"FRIENDS?!" spat Dee. "Friends are for lesser fools who need validation from an external force to feel better about their own lackwit decisions and lacklustre being. No, my dear dunderheaded dolt, friends are nothing more than starving leeches, waiting to latch on to the heaving teats of the nearest soft of heart and soft of head and reduce them to empty husks of their former, independent selves!"

Mildly concerned by this talk of things sucking his teats empty, Vill was defensively covering his chest with both hands, his claws sinking slightly into the copious firm flesh there.

"ANYHOO," announced Dee to no-one in particular with a clap of his hands to try and scare the beginnings of his erection at this sight away, "it stands to reason that we only have one logical means of recourse to rectify this situation. I warn you, dear V, that it may involve some of the most terrifying happenings, of terrible shapes and sizes, that we have seen this side of two fat guys making out like two seals fighting over a sausage." He was at this stage arms outstretched, his tattoo forming runes which seemed to glow slightly as they danced across his skin.

"We're going to Disneyland?" asked Vill, not quite getting all the way to the finish line

"NO. NEVER AGAIN!" bellowed Dee, yanking Vill in close as his markings suddenly flowed off of his body and pooled beneath him. They spread out from under his feet, encircling the pair. The air was suddenly muggy, and a wind was picking up.

"Oh no. Dee, I just ate..." protested Vill, dismayed and already looking a little green.

"WE'RE GOING...

* *

There was a flash of blue light, a booming noise. And a curious smell of fine mahogany. The park had seemingly been replaced with a rather musky room of great expanse. The room had clearly been the victim of some great turf war in the past and was now more or less divided neatly in two, save for the odd incursion into a demilitarized zone which constituted a chair, a table and a television.

The end they were standing in was a cluttered mass of rather archaic looking books thrown across something that in a previous life may have resembled a desk. Diagrams of glyphs and symbols hung on the wall as bookcases teetered with globes for worlds that hadn't been formed yet and sextons for skies without a night. Incongruously, there was a half-hidden signed poster of David Copperfield hanging out of a drawer. When the drawer was currently phased into this plane of existence, of course. It was a residence of controlled madness.

"...HOME!" finished Dee with triumph, the teleportation spell complete. He did his customary check to make sure everything arrived intact down there as the runes flowed back on him and adjusted back to a tattoo.

There was another, louder THUD from behind Dee. On his hands and knees, Vill was hunched over, his broad back shuddering as he let loose a thundering burp. "Ugggggh. 'porting", mumbled Vill, wiping his mouth with the back of a wide, clawed hand.

The shadow-skinned demon had arrived just about in the other half of the room. It bore more resemblance to a personal gym. Most of the floor space was taken up with a large, fairly battered and sliced safety mat. A weight rack was lined up against a wall in one corner. Every bit of steel was polished to such a degree it practically emitted high notes of cleanliness. A bench press, a squat rack, a side-table of well-thumbed fitness magazines...about the only thing missing from the general gym ambience was the smell of sweaty crotch and abominable flavour combination shakes.

Overall, it was pretty clear. Neither one was an interior decorator par excellence.

Vill's tail curled around a dumbbell the size of an obnoxiously fat kid as he rose to his feet. "I think I left my lunch in-between dimensions", he said as his tail carefully put the weight in its proper space on the rack. "And our picnic stuff in the park", he realised, his shoulders sinking. He'd liked the wicker work on that basket. He'd put hours of hard work and yards of splinters into it.

Dee wasn't listening. Looking over, all Vill could see was a white-tailed rump leading into Book Mountain.

"Mental Illnesses of the Obscure and Hilarious? No. Enthrallment, Enchantment and Enchiladas: Home Cooked Spells? No. Flex? Vill, keep your meathead manuals on your own damn side!", he shouted back, a tatty-covered magazine rocketing at Vill out of the hole he was digging. Vill caught it, and turned to file it away in his magazine rack between The Cutting Edge Weapons Review and An Illustrated Guide to KravMaga.

"Dee, I'm going to start training while you're doing...that" said Vill, taking off his much-strained shirt and unbuckling his pants.

"...Phantasmagorium Wonder Imporium Catalogue...Carnal Secrets of the Sisters of St. Belize..." Dee went on, not hearing a word.

"Ok then" said Vill, the tinkle of his belt buckle hitting the ground as he hopped one-legged out of his pants. He stood there in his boxers, tensing every muscle as he shook out any tension in his arms and bringing them together in front of him. He held his right arm with his left, the left hand held palm up and flat out. Closed his eyes, and concentrated.

The bleached tattoos began to drag themselves up all the way from his feet, crawling out along his outstretched arm. They began to mass in his palm, a brilliant white spot. But they didn't stop there. Little tendrils began to reach out beyond his body, crawling further and further away as if on an invisible flat sheet suspended in the air. Within second, they had extended three feet away from him. Contracting inward, they began to form a single, long pointed blade.

Opening his eyes, he clutched the white orb in his hand and raised the blade's point to him, testing its fidelity with a prick of his thumb. Giving a little satisfactory nod, he raised it above his head and

WHOOSH

Sliced through the air in front of him with surprising speed for a creature of his size. Twirling, pivoting, pirouetting, on one foot, slamming both hands on the floor, breaking the tempo with weighty kicks, stomps and punches...if ever this demonic bodyguard thing didn't work out for him, there was a job for him in ballet. Possibly also as a bouncer.

"VILL!"

"GAH!" shouted the startled giant, letting slip the orb. The blade immediately shot back into it and slid back to covering his tattooed side.

"I have been standing here for the past 10 minutes trying to get your attention, you colossal clot", stated Dee, one foot tapping against the floor as his tail swayed impatiently behind him.

Vill was abashed, and raised one arm to scratch an itch of embarrassment at the top of his neck. "Uh, sorry. You know how I get when I'm training" he smiled gingerly.

"Yes, sweaty and deaf to the world. Now if you're finished practising for the day you finally get to redeem your massively inflated dietary requirements, we have important work to do" huffed Dee. He swept one arm across his desk, clearing it. Tomes and sheets of paper tumbled to the floor, along with several cups of iced-over tea and a worryingly full metal swear jar.

Vill grabbed a nearby towel and gave himself a quick rub-down as he lumbered over to Dee. He grinned slightly, enjoying the small adrenaline rush he was still feeling. "Are we finally cleaning out the oveOOF" he started, until a white arm shoved a list as long as itself into his stomach.

"THIS, dear boy, is a list. A list of ingredients, objects and miscellany I will need to ensure we resume our rightful roles as malingerers of malice, denizens of the damned, terrifiers of toddlers! Get your voluminous self downstairs and gather everything on that list."

Vill peeled the sheet off of his abs. It seemed divided into two parts. The upper half was rendered near illegible from sweat. Vill quickly glanced down to see if the ink had run on him 'Oh wait, I'm black. Duh.'

"Uh Dee, this list is..." he began.

"Vill, I am sure that even you, in your infinite capacity to be an empty vessel, can manage this. Or are you afraid of losing that list? I could always just....stick it to you" smiled Dee sweetly, reaching for a stapler.

Floorboards creaked as Vill took a step back. "Ooooooook but...I don't think 'Mothman balls' is an actual-"

Dee clicked the stapler, and Vill was gone before the used staple even fell off.

***

TEN MINUTES LATER

***

Dee stood back, arms crossed, to admire his handiwork. His desk now looked like the unholy offspring of a union of science and magic, and an abusive one at that. Beakers of neon fluid were being heated over black candles. Pipettes with runes instead of measurements were held above carved oak tankards. Seals printed off the internet dotted the wall and floor. He was slightly proud of his work. Traditional, yet with a modern twist. He was tempted to whip out his phone and send a photo to Warlock Weekly. He stretched his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers and stretching and leaning back.

Vill suddenly loomed above him, upside-down in his view. "I didn't know you did yoga."

Dee twisted around to face his much larger companion. Though this was more face-to-chest than face-to-face. The big galoot's arms were laden down with dusty jars and cylinders of various colours, and size. Some were glowing iridescent, one was oozing and another appeared to be throbbing to the beat of 'Staying Alive'.

"I didn't know you were capable of doing a job properly, yet here we are", said Dee, swiping a cylinder made of cracked pottery clay. Clasping his hand over the seals at either end, he twisted...and twisted...and turned....

"OPEN...YOU...INFERNAL...BASTARD....OF....ASTRONOMICAL PROPORTIONS.....GAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!"

Losing what little rag he had, he struck the edge of the cylinder off of the desk. Repeatedly. Hollow clanking and clunking echoed back and forth. Changing tack, he yanked open a desk drawer, propped the cylinder in it and slammed the drawer shut on it with all the force he could muster.

"GAH!", he spluttered, as the drawer rebounded off the cylinder . He slumped over, propped against the desktop with both arms, head down in defeat. "Vill, loathe as I am to admit the possibility that I may be somewhat less than perfection, could you help me with th-"

KRRRRRRRRRSH

Dee's head jerked back up. Vill had one oversized black foot stamped on the shard remains of the clay cylinder, turning his heel and grinding the pieces into a fine powder, claws sparking off the stone floor.

"VILL, YOU CLODHOPPING CLOT!" Dee was on his knees, yanking a piece of parchment from underneath his partner-in-crime's foot. He hadn't moved this fast since he woke up to find Vill benchpressing him.

A somewhat-bemused Vill gingerly raised his foot , letting the tattered sheet free. "What is it?", he curiously asked, craning his head forward over his fully-laden arms. "Is it more of your secret slash-fiction? Oooh, has the Baron of Bulges escaped from the Dungeon of Ironic Sexual Desire yet?"

"I am sure I haven't the faintest notion of what you're prattling on about", stated a half-listening Dee, his eyes scanning the written lines on the scroll. "Excellent! Despite your best efforts, this is exactly what I'm looking for. Place the jars on the table. I have a summoning ritual to perform!"

Displaying a rather nonchalant attitude to possible magical weapons of mass destruction, Vill trundled over to the desk, and spread his arms across the top, letting the jars fall and rattle to a stop. He straightened back up and clapped his hands together, shaking off the dust. His broad chest was stained from various oozes, looking like a particularly crappy rainbow had vomited over him. Curiousity got the better of him. Carefully twisting his thick neck around to see if Dee was watching, he grabbed one of the jars off the table and sneaked a peek at the label.

"Man-Drake Root: Enhance Your Physique To Be The Best Drake-Man You Can Be! Suitable for all reptilian consumers."

Eyebrow raised, Vill picked up the next jar.

"Ooblek Essence: Go With The Non-Newtonian Flow!"

"Uhhhh....Dee?" ventured a quizzical Vill. "What's Non-Newtonian mean?"

"It means several years of Harvwarts Academy were wasted on a sports scholarship like you", came the reply from behind his burly shoulders. "Now, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you kindly get your burgeoning buttocks back over here!"

Dee had pulled open a wardrobe filled with rolled up rugs. Each rug was designed to summon a specific one of their demon brethren. Very old-fashioned, it was the demonic equivalent of using a landline. Perusing the labels on each one, he yanked out a crimson rug and unfurled it on the floor. A large glyph was woven into the pattern. Circles within circles, bordered by letters in a language that required two tongues to speak. And an empty border around those.

"Now, stand within the innermost circle", instructed Dee as he walked to the centre of said circle. Vill soon joined him, standing back to back. He knew the routine by now. This was a summoning.

"Please don't be Crab People, please don't be Crab People," he mumbled to himself over and over. Not that the Crab People were an evil race. Friendly chaps, firm clawshake. He'd just had a bad experience with oysters many years ago and was completely put off all forms of crustaceans.

Dee cracked his knuckles and held out his tattooed arm. The tattoos shifted from pigment to shadow as they scurried up his arm. He placed his hand on the mat, as the arcane art left his arm and spilled out across the mat in a circular ripple, filling the empty border. Beyond the borders, the room seemed to fade into darkness.

This was not what Vill liked to see. As a precaution, his own tattoos started to shift down to his palm, just in case. "Deeeeeee....is this someone we should be bothering?"

"Stay quiet, V. Let me do all the talking. I'll be using words with many, many syllables."

There was a soft hissing noise coming from all around them. Smoke had starting billowing forth from the glyph border, obscuring what little vision they had left of the room beyond. A deep rumbling started, so deep they could hear things vibrating from the force. The jars on the desk, furniture skittering across the floor, Vill's pectorals unintentionally bouncing.

Dee stretched his wiry,bleached arms wide. "I seek audience with Gaurdion! It is a matter of gravest import! Will you accept the charges?" he shouted into the swirling smog.

Suddenly, a large shadow reared up from within the smoke. It towered above even Vill, humanoid in shape but with a body clad in shadow and eyes of blood-red. Vill broke out of his stance, twirling around in front of Vill to shield him and raising his arm up. His black tail crossed in front of Dee, preventing him from coming forward and ready to push him back if need be. An ebony white bow formed in his palm as he drew back an arrow of the same substance with his other hand.

The shadowy colossus spoke in a voice that gargled gravel. "WHO DARES SUMMON GAURDION THE GIGANTIC? DENIZEN OF THE DEMON WORLD, MASTER OF MAGIC AND ah shit! Cut, cut, cut!"

Suddenly, the room filled with light. Dee and Vill threw a hand up to cover their eyes from the sudden glare. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they realised they were suddenly surrounded on all sides. Vill paced back and around Dee, covering him from any possible angle of attack as he scoped out the room. Then, he untensed the bow as his eyes begat an unusual sight.

"What the..."

A rather rotund imp in a leather jacket and chinos was sitting in what looked like a high deck chair, clasping a megaphone. "Cut! Strike the set, reset for next take. We have 15 minutes people! Come on, COME ON!" All around them, imps of various sizes scurried about. The vibrations that had shook the room stopped as power was cut to the giant fan machine. The smoke quickly disappated as the flame bars and smoke generators were quenched.

"Deeeeeeeeeeee...", began Vill, utterly lost as to the situation they were in.

The gravelly voice spoke again. "You'd better have a damn good reason for summoning me during working hours, you alabastard!" it huffed. Vill turned back to face it. Two cranes were holding up a giant sheet of what looked like glass. "Alright boys, take five", the voice commanded. The cranes pulled up the sheet of glass and the towering giant disappeared, to be replaced by a demon of much less intimidating size. He stood somewhere between Dee and Vill, both in height and build.

"Smoke and mirrors, boys, smoke and mirrors", the demon smiled as he approached the pair, tossing on a dressing gown to cover his nudity. Well, Vill presumed it was a smile, it was hard to tell when the demon had an external skull for a head. He was a charcoal grey in colour, silvery-grey body hair trailing down his abdomen. A row of spikey, brilliant white bone protruded from along his clavicle, down from his chest to his groin and along his waistline. Producing a phone of spectacularly crass taste from his dressing gown, he resumed a previously-paused conversation.

"False alarm, I'm back. Now listen, we had a deal. You got your reputation restored, you got to be adored by the greater public, you have a hit TV show and I'm telling you that you have three more years before you die in a tragic naked bongo incident."

Adopting the closest thing to a friendly, non-ironic smile he could muster, Dee stepped forward to meet this Gaurdion. "I see someone's still working in the Demonic Apparitions department", smirked Dee, thrusting a hand out to shake this golem's hand.

Gaurdion looked down disdainfully at Dee's offered hand. "Do I KNOW you?" he said.

Dee slowly clenched his hand into a fist and withdrew it. He was unused to being talked to in this manner. "Well, no, but a friend gave you a high recommendation in the area of potions and hexes. It would be of profound help if you would assist me in a matter I have been in need of some help with."

There was another pause as Gaurdion sized Dee up, casting a narrow slit of an eye up and down. "Matthew, I'll call you back. Something small and annoying just came up. COFFEE!" he suddenly shouted, to nobody in particular. "WHERE IS MY DAMN COFFEE?"

Dee was momentarily at a loss. He looked back to Vill, only to receive a gigantic shrug of the shoulders. Distracted by the smell of food, Vill sauntered over to the source. A buffet stand for the staff, presided over by a dumpling-shaped demon of indeterminate gender, shape and size. "So", Vill clapped his hands, "what's good?"

THUD. "Escussi, sir."

Startled back to attention, Dee looked down at what had just bumped into his leg. A small imp brushed by him, holding a flat piece of cardboard on top of its head. It came to a stop before Gaudion, and curtsied before whipping away the card. The top of its head appeared shorn off and hollowed. Steam billowed out from inside, and the aroma of coffee wafted out from it. It clambered up on to a table and hooked its arm like a spout.

Guardion lifted the imp by the arm and quaffed a large gulp from its head. He swirled it about his mouth before swallowing and looked none-too-happy about it. "I said DECAF!" he said forcibly, before tossing the imp over-shoulder. The yelp of someone being scalded quickly followed.

"Look", stated Guardion. "You interrupted me at work. I'm supposed to be the face of demonic intervention across multiple dimensions. College Satanists trying to get someone to do their dirty work? I show up and, with a little assistance from the crew, terrify the living daylights out of them. But that's usually after they've been on my radar for a while. Now, today I get summoned with VERY little notice. By YOU, a fellow demon. I'm a veritable one-man show. Director, actor, scriptwriter. I have to go to wardrobe, make-up, pick a script with the manager, remember my lines, and it turns out it's just to get my help with some trivial, piffling little thing?" Guardion narrowed his eyes, shooting daggers at Dee. "What, did you not have my mobile number, or did you just want to make a big song and dance to impress your brutish friend over there?"

Flabbergasted, Dee flailed around mentally for a response, but Gaurdion beat him to the punch. "So, no, I will not be helping you out for this titanic waste of time and effort on my part. Good day to you sir, and fuck you and the guy you rode in on." With that, Gaurdion turned on his heel and went off.

Vill sauntered up next to a slack-jawed Dee, having finished gawping at all the activity going on around them. He took a sip from the mocha coloured and flavoured imp he'd picked up at the catering stand. "What did he say?"

That snapped Dee out of it. Fury burned within him, but a cold fury at that. He permitted himself a slight, saccharine grin.

"Oh nothing, Vill", he said, loud enough to catch Gaurdion's ear, "I guess Guardion really HAS become the pampered primadonna I'd heard about."

Gaurdion stopped in his tracks. Without even turning around, he started backing up at frightening speed towards them, before turning around and jutting one claw under Dee's chin? "WHAT...did you say?"

"I said that you were a pampered prima donna wh..."

"Not THAT!", interrupted Gaurdion. "You mentioned Vill. Black guy, white tattoo, same species as you?"

Vill leaned in sideways, interposing himself between Dee and Gaurdion. He gave a little wave. "Er, hi!"

Guardion took a step or two back, and gave Vill the same once over he'd given Dee. "No way.. VILL! Hah, good GOD man, you got jacked!" Gaurdion gave Vill a playful punch to the shoulder. " I haven't seen you in years, man!"

Slowly, glacially, a look of dawning relaisation lit up Vill's face. " Gaurdy? Oh my god, hi! I haven't seen you since college. You're looking sweet, bro."

"Thanks, man. Well, had to get rid of the pudge, you know. When you're in public relations and visitations, nobody's going to be scared of a fat demon, right?"

"Hah, totally. What weight you at?"

"About 220-30, give or take. Geez, you got swole. Last time I saw you, you were too embarrassed to wear a sleeveless shirt in the D&D Club LARP, and now you're topless..oh, sweet tats too."

Shock of Vill having a life outside of himself wearing off, and weary of talk so infused with homo-erotic testosterone it was about two innuendoes away from public indecency, Dee cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Vill. Dee knew when he was on a lost cause personally, and when to take advantage of others.

"So. Now that you two gentlemen are fully reacquainted, perhaps we can talk business?"

Gaurdion broke off from comparing biceps with Vill, though he may as well have been comparing oaks with redwoods. "Hmmm...well, friend of a friend and all that. I'll hear you out. Talk quickly."

After much intense negotiation, Dee and Vill were back alone in front of the desk-cum-altar.

"Did we really have to go through all that just for Eye of Newt?" enquired Vill, as he plopped one last jar on the desk.

"I don't know. Did you have to take his number?" pointedly asked Dee.

"We're getting the old D&D Club back together," beamed Vill, missing the point in spectacular fashion. "I think I still have my character sheet for the Lv60 Bard-barian. And he might let me do a guest-bit on an appearance he's doing next week."

"Oh boy! And afterwards, he might even let you suck his-"

"Balls, I forgot to ask him when it was."

"Enough!" snapped an exasperated Dee, already unscrewing lids and portioning out their contents into bowls. "Time for us to truly live up to our demonic heritage! No more will we be confused for reptilians with skin conditions in this blasted plane of existence! I want these people to give us the respect we are due! We will be the terrors in the night once more!"

"Cool. Can I go get something to eat? I need to carbo-load."

"....yes. And get me a hand blender."

Dee prepared 6 tall beakers for the potions. He julienned the eye of newt and put equal portions into each one. To this he added two shots of Best-osterone, a sprig of Blade-in-Thorn and a dash of sugar. For flavour, of course. To this, he added sundry ingredients to each container so that each one became a different concoction. Finishing with a slight, prideful flick of the tail and smile, the desk was now festooned with half-open jars and spilled liquids oozing across the countertop. There was a slight sizzling sound and an acrid smell in the air which would normally be a hazard to most, but a sign of a job well done to Dee.

"Got it!" boomed Vill from behind him, blender in hand and chicken leg in mouth. He'd changed into a pair of cycling shorts and a tight short-sleeved shirt i advance of his next trainout session. On a typical day, he'd go through more wardrobe changes than your typical pop starlet.

"Huzzah, finally a task which has proven itself to not be beyond you!" said Dee, taking the blender from him.

WHHHHRRRRRRRRRRCHUCK

A quick blast to each beaker completely mixed the contents. Each one was now a milky, cloudy suspension. Satisfied, Dee stood back from the desk and began to pontificate.

"Now, my gargantuan galumpfing go-fer, what you see before you is our step to reclaiming our rightful place as demons most despicable and despised! What you see before you," and with this he waved his arm across the beakers before them both," are brews to better yourself. While I am clearly in no need of assistance in attempting to improve on perfection, YOU, dear boy, are in dire need of a more intimidating presence!"

Dee paused for Vill to bask in his inventive glory.

"URRRRRRRRP", belched Vill, nonplussed, a piece of chicken skin dangling from the tip of his snout. "Oh, excuse me. Sorry, go on."

"Quite", replied Dee. "I've prepared three for each of us. Your trinity will craft for you a body of terrifying oddity, one in which the beyolder of your visage will surely go mad, shrieking into the night or becoming a Wall Street analyst. Whereas what I will be partaking will merely enhance my already superb characteristics."

"Um...I like my body but...ok, I guess" agreed Vill with some degree of trepidation. His people-pleasing ways would be the end of him. "Will it be permanent?"

"Alas, no. Biology abhors such magical interference with what we think it should be and will eventually reassert it to be the way it is. Still, for one as well-versed as I in such matters it would be a mere trifle to refresh our supplies."

"Well...ok, if it's not permanent", Vill agreed. "So which ones are mine?"

Dee looked down at the desk. At the identical beakers, with their identical contents, with their identical lack of labels or distinguishing marks.

Foresight and proper planning were often mere niceties to Dee, but on this occasion it would have been preferable to think ahead.

"...this one?", hesitantly offered Dee, picking up the beaker closest to him and proferring it to his guinea pig.

Vill took the beaker from Dee. It seemed so tiny in his black mitt. He brought it to his nose and sniffed at it, instantly recoiling from it. It smelt like his gym equipment that time he forgot to wipe it down for a week.

"Do I have to say magic words? Or some ritual dance? OOH, do we have to light candles?" enquired Vill once he regained his composure.

Dee just sighed and threw his pale arms up to the sky before slamming both palms on the desk. The jars rattled once more. "For the love of...did you pay ANY attention in class? This is all chemical reactions and imbued properties of chaotic chance, not some...some cackling crone over a pot or hippy pagan looking for an excuse to expose their flabby bits to the great outdoors at the Equinox!"

"But I though you liked me getting naked outdoors?" Vill asked.

"DRINK THE DAMN POTION!"

"OK, ok", mumbled Vill in agreement. He looked straight down into the murky liquid. "I hope it's not tentacles", he thought, as he pinched his nostrils closed with his claws and chugged it back into his mouth. He swirled it around his mouth for a second before gulping it down. "Not bad actually."

Looking up, he saw Dee was not where he had been. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Deeeeeee", ventured Vill, "where'd you go?"

"Pay no attention", came the muffled voice from the wardrobe with a long white tail sticking out of it, "this is merely a precaution. I am documenting this from a safe distance."

Vill went to walk over to the wardrobe, but had barely taken two steps when he had to pause to scratch an itch under his chin...

Scrtchscrthscrit

...then his head...

Scrtchscrtchscrtchscrtch

...and soon, all the way down his back.

SCRTCHSCRTCHSCRTCH

"Dee, w...was one of t...nnnghhh, that feels better...did you use itching powder?" he managed to say while scratching furiously at his head, chin, elbows, back...an insatiable itch was building up but confined to certain areas of him.

The heavy oak wardrobe doors creaked open. Venturing forth with camcorder in hand, Dee came up to Vill and forcibly held the bigger demon's hands down by his sides. "Hold still, you vertiginous oaf! Let me see what's going on here. For posterity."

"But it iiiiitches..." Vill squirmed and shuffled about like an impatient toddler trying to hold on for the bathroom.

"Be STILL!" bellowed Dee, his tattoo springing to life and leaping from his body. Wrapping itself around Vill's thick wrists, it held the struggling demon's arms to his side.

At the bottom of Vill's snout, and along the underside of his jawline, a row of small, coin-sized lump were growing at an alarming speed. Dee paced around his friend. Thanks to the tight fit of Vill's shirt, he could see a similar row of larger lumps forming along his spine, from the base of his skull down along the top of his tail. Two large ones were forming on either elbow, with two slightly smaller ones along the forearm underneath. A whole cluster of them were forming on the crown of his head.

KRRRTSCH

Narrowly ducking out of the way, Dee dove out of the way as Vill backed up into a bookcase. Shelves rattled as the case lifted off its front feet .

"VILL! Control yourself, you thundering blundurbuss!" bellowed Dee as Vill began squatting and standing, scraping the middle of his back against the edge of the bookcase.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH so much better" sighed Vill, eyes closed in something akin to bliss, still scraping at his elbows and legs. Another cluster of smaller boils was developing across the expanse of his chest, with a row of similar ones trailing down between his abs.

KRRRRTCHKRTTTCHKRIK-

Coming to a sudden stop, Vill opened his eyes. Leaving his scratching for a moment, he reached around to his back as best he could with his limited mobility. He felt around for a moment, before seeking assistance.

"Uh, Dee...I think I'm...stuck?"

"Stuck. On a bookcase. How does one even accomplish a task of such Herculean levels of ignominy?" muttered Dee, mainly to himself. He stepped around the now-resumed-scratching Vill to see how he could possibly have stuck himself on...

"Huh, that's new."

Wood shavings from the case crunched against the cold stone floor underfoot, as Dee reached in between Vill-flesh and case. Out of one boil had protruded a large, chalk-white spike. Wrapping a talon or two around it, Dee gave a quick, sharp tug.

"OW! Dee!" protested the owner it was attached to. Definitely a part of him, it appeared Vill was growing spikey accessories across his body. Leaning back, Dee moved to the front of his captive specimen and applied gentle pressure to a boil on Vill's chest just above the neckline of his shirt. A clear, white solid mass was visible within it.

Vill looked down, and quickly frowned. "Aw no, is it acne again?"

Pushing harder, the tip of the spike began to protrude through the flesh. No blood, no pus, just the simple slide of a two inch spike to the external surface. Two inches long, and pointing diagonally down from his chest, Dee ran his hand vertically down. Remarkably, there was some slight give to the spike, his hand continuing on uninterrupted as it glided over the mass.

Vill's pecs gave an involuntary twitch. "Is this r...really the time for that?"

SCHRRRIP

Fabric stretched and tore around the growing spines of his back. Vill was now sporting what could be mistaken for an ossified beard. Two larger spikes jutted from either side of the corners of his snout, the gap between filled with their smaller compatriots. Three gleaming ivory towers of bone stretched further from each shoulder.

"Oh calm your incessant whining", admonished Dee. " And cease it your puppy dog eye routine too. Put them back in the jar before they putrify. Hmmm, I wonder...can you feel this?" he enquired, flicking one of the emerging knee-spikes with a talon.

THWOCK

Dee bit his tongue. Not intentionally, mind you, but the sheer force of the non-spikey portion of Vill's knee connecting with the side of Dee's features gave him little choice in the matter. Crimson drooled from the corner of his lips.

"SORRYSORRYSORRY!" gasped Vill, "REFLEXREFLEXREFLEX!" There was a wrenching tear as the timber shelving of the bookcase gave up the ghost, a small spray of splinters showering his spiked shoulders. Bunkering down, he assisted his concussed companion to his feet.

Massaging his jaw with one hand, Dee steadied himself against the wall with the other. Physical contact ill-suited him. While waiting for the world to stop shifting diagonally around him, he cast an eye over Vill. Two massive horns atop his head, pointed back away from him, many smaller ones around it. The same repeated along his jaw. Shoulders like pointed pauldrons, a chest of clustered spires and a trail of thorns leading down his abs to his...

"Ok, enough of that" thought Dee, shaking himself to his senses. "Not exactly terrifying so much as it is...alternatively attractive", mused Dee out loud, "but I suppose you'll mildly discomfort those against piercings."

Finally, Vill had stopped scratching at himself and was gingerly feeling these new accoutrements. Pricking his thumbs against the tip of his greatly-exaggerated horns, he quickly jammed his thumb in his mouth. He looked down and pulled his shirt out from his torso. "Awww, I won this shirt from the radio" he complained, the fabric rent asunder around his chest, shoulders and back. "Dee, should I...I dunno, sand down the points on these?"

"Absolutely not!", ordered Dee, "...the angle-grinder is out-of-warranty. And what's wrong with spikes anyway? They are a clear indicator of asharp intellect...though by all appearances of you, exceptions must be made." Dee was rather senstive to any slight against his own pointy parts. The white demon was already at the desk, applying the most rigorous selection test he could think of to figure which beaker was safe for him to take. "...miny, mo!", he finished, as he roughly swiped a beaker from the desktop. "It may not exactly have been the result intended, but I will not have you butchering my hard work and efforts!"

Idly running his oversized fingers down his thorny treasure trail, Vill gave a little start. "OH GOD, THERE'S A TENTACLE, THERE'S A...oh. Uh, never mind, false alarm."

Dee arched a brow. "Vill, it is reassuring to find that no matter what quirks of the anatomy I may visit upon you, you will remain as blissfully ignorant of yourself as ever." He gave the beaker a quick swirl or two. Effervescent bubbles quickly dissipated.

He pinched his nostrils shut and downed the solution in one, tossing his head back. Licking his lips, he couldn't quite place the taste. Multiple sensations tickled his tongue. But he felt fine, apart from a slight feeling of pressure building in his... "Oh no."

Struck by a crippling stomach cramp, he doubled over and fell to the floor behind the desk, out of Vill's sight. The black lummox was too busy attempting to piece together the damaged wood shard on the bookcase to take much note. Dee was in agony. He could feel his stomach distending, bubbling, groaning. Grasping at the desktop, he tried to raise himself to his feet, but the pressure was too much. A calamitous crescendo was approaching. He felt as though he was going to burst, explode into a panoply of colour and light. He had so much terror to give to the world, so much porn on his DVR to watch! A truly ignominious endi-

"BBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP!"

Vill turned to face Dee and flashed him a thumbs up. "Woooooah. Nice."

The belch echoed and reverbed. It was a burp turned all the way up to 11. The bass to it rattled Dee's own eyeballs. But the pain was gone, thankfully. A great feeling of relief and, peculiarly, lightness replaced it. Wiping his mouth on the back of his free hand, he got to his feet and did a quick inspection of his own'personal' inventory. He didn't feel any different. No larger, no stronger, no protrusions, no intrusions. No extra limbs, no fiery breath, no multiplication. He was starting to feel jipped.

"Well, clearly one cannot improve on perfection such as I", pronounced Dee grandly, his eyes shut as he wallowed in his own prideful opulence

"Aw nuts, I wanted a huge dick. Mmmmmm. Diiiiiiiiick."

One of his eyes shot open like a shutter had been loosed, squarely afixed upon Vill. "VILL!", sputtered Dee, "now is not the time for you to be projecting your base desires upon my frame! I would appreciate it if you would refrain from such carnal declarations vis a vis me."

Vill bore a look somewhere between perplexion and bafflement. He had been far too busy trying to count his new spiky accoutrements to notice Dee's pantomime performance until now. Ever since the albino anarchist had turned fighting over the remote into a protracted three-day detente of war across several hell-realms, Vill had learned to tune him out. He turned to face his ashen associate. "But I.."

"Mmm, I just want to stick you to a wall and..."

"VILL!" bellowed Dee. Black shadows leapt across the air from his arm, snared Vill around his waist and yanked him towards their owner. "What has got into you?!" demanded Dee. Despite towering over him, hands clasped together in prayer by smokey black tendrils, Vill was still as several hundreds pounds of warm, mushy putty in Dee's hands.

"It wasn't me! I swear! I was thinking about counting and numbers! I...I...uh..." Vill trailed off. He was staring down at Dee, but his gaze was clearly set much lower than it should.

"My face is up here, you priapic porcupine!" spat Dee, violently wrenching Vill's gaze towards his face with a fierce grip.

"But", interjected Vill between smooshed cheeks," your mouth is down there."

Releasing his grip, Dee followed Vill's line of sight. Down, down, down. Across the middle of his stomach, where the pain and pressure had been, were two rows of what appeared to be shiny pointy, interlocking horns. Reacing down, with a slight tremor in his hand, he hesitantly went to touch them when-

"Mmmmm yeah, bondage that giant sex muffin" came the voice which came from the spikes which had parted to reveal the caverbous mouth and fulsometongue within. No, not spikes. Teeth.

"GAH", shrieked Dee in a pitch normally reserved for finalists of musical shows, jumping back. His tattooed shadows returned to him, depositing Vill to the floor in an unsightly lump. "What...is...THIS?

Picking himself up and patting down his bruised buttocks, Vill gave Dee the only answer there was. "It's a mouth, Dee."

"I CAN SEE THAT!" shrieked Dee. The mouth was licking it's 'lips', the large black tongue tip tickling the underside of his chest. Swatting it away, Dee stuffed the tongue back into him. "Would you STOP THAT?!"

"I taesht lok finilla lickrish" it blurted out. Vill nodded in agreement. He loved vanilla liquorice and all the other sweet things in life. The clang of chin spikes against chest spikes soon made him stop, as tiny little sparks flickered in and out of existence. Making a mental note, he vowed not to do that again around anything explosive-y.

Using a hand to hold his mouthy midriff shut, Dee flailed around on his desk. "Where's my damn copy of "Mystical Maladies: From Verbose Vaginas to Warbling Willies" when I need it?" he said, over the muffled mumblings of his second self. Books and scrolls were tossed over-shoulder at alarming speed.

A thought occurred to Vill. "Dee...why was it talking about sex stuff all the time?"

A thought occurred to Dee. A toe-curling, stomach curdling thought. Or it would be, if he could accurately place just where his stomach was now displaced to. This mouth was a hotline to his subconscious. It...it couldn't be. And yet...further experimentation was required. He let go of his mouth.

"I wonder if I can fit my dick in my mouth from here", it announced to all and sundry. Dee rammed it shut as the tongue started to work it's way beneath his waistline. Well, that was one way to verify matters. Mortified embarassment and dread consumed him. He hadn't been made a fool of like this since that time the master insisted the two bodyguards re-enact classic animations for his amusement one blacked-out evening. He had made a terrible, terrible Beauty to Vill's Beast.

"It...it's clearly brain-damaged in a way that only the denizens of the fleshier parts of the internet superhighway are", obfuscated Dee. "Such base matters! I mean, I am far, FAR too superior to be thinking about such things." His torso began violently objecting to this, but was drowned out by a swift punch.

"Owwwwww. That...was not thought through" winced Dee, shaking the pain from his hand while rubbing his bruised stomach. "Vill, fetch me an aspirin. And a localised anaesthetic. That ought to shut me up." No reply or aid was forthcoming. "Vill?"

He opened his eyes to find Vill chugging back another beaker., pinky claw extended daintily. "What, in the name of Ed Bundy, are you DOING?"

Vill carefull placed the beaker down with both hands, like it was liable to trigger any number of rolling boulders and temple traps if handled improperly. "Well, you said the effects would wear off eventually right? So, the sooner we get them done, the sooner they wear off?"

"HIC"

His gigantic dark frame gave an involuntary jump. "Ugh...sorry. I drank it too HYOCK fast, ugggghhh" he explained. He patted his upset tummy...only to find that things were not as they were.

"Uh, what HOC what's going on?"

With every hiccup, his stomach began to ever-so-slightly swell outwards. Rock hard abs bloated out with every involuntary spasm. Rather like watching a water balloon fill, his stomach seemed to pulse outwards with each HYOC, HIC and HYRK. His abs seemed to be quickly losing definition, as if sinking back into their fleshy surroundings. The treasure trail of bone spikes that had lined between them were being forced further and further apart, as this expanding dome quickly approached soccer ball size...

HIC

...beer keg si-

HYOCK!

...car tire size.

"Uggggh", groaned Vill, " I think I'm getting the siccups now." He peered down over his now-pointed pecs, to be greeted by the sight of a black mass jutting out from him. "Aw man", he moaned petulantly, reaching around to examine it, "and I just started cutting, too." Dragging his claws over its surface, he found this newfound gut to be perfectly solid and smooth, save for being being studded with the occasional spike. Starting from just underneath his chest, it jutted out a good half a foot in a concave slope, casting his groin into permanent shadow. Somewhere down there, some tiny bacteria wearing an end-of-days sandwich board was probably feeling quite vindicated right about now.

"Uh, Dee. You've been awfully quiet", said Vill, still enjoying the not-entirely-unpleasant sensation of weight this podgy protuberance was giving him. Ideally, he'd have liked another two or three centuries of lifting weights before having to settle for the powerbuilder look but it wasn't entirely an unappealling look for him.

Dee had retreated behind the desk, the better to hide the...effect Vill's changes had had on him. "W-well, my podgy partner, it's no superfluous maw, but then, what can compare to the majesty of such a thing in this world of ours?"

"IWANNALICKLICKITLICKI-"

WHURK

Dee had thrust himself towards his desk, ramming the top of it into his chatty colon and forcing it to bite down on wood to silence its secrets. Splinters rained down as sawdust

"Ignore that, it's..pfah, I can taste the mahogany..it's nothing", Vill began. Then, he gave a lop-sided little smirk. "Hmmm, perhaps this change of yours is more than it appears. Tell me, do you feel any cravings, perchance?"

Vill scratched his firm gut absently and wracked his brain. His brain kicked the query to his stomach, which sent the message on to his pancreas. His pancreas clearly had no idea what to do with this message, so re-directed it to his mouth. "Uh...bacon?"

"Any UNUSAL cravings, you doughy dolt?" Dee shot back, a muffled laugh coming from down below.

"Well, I kind of want to go lift some weights now..."

Dee clucked his tongue like a mother hen. "Now Vill, a man in your position shouldn't be getting up to any strenuous activity.", said Dee with a chalky smirk. "Remember, you could be lifting for two..."

Somewhere in Vill's spacious noggin, a realisation slowly dawned. "Am...am I pregnant?!", he exclaimed, clasping his gut firmly. He was no longer sure if what he was feeling building was gas or tiny little kicks. Either way, he wanted it out now.

"Well, one never does know how these potions will affect one individual. So many variables to consider..." Vill was nothing of the sort, of course, but Dee was not one to let such a chance go to waste. Just last month, he had convinced Vill that Black Friday meant any black-skinned creatureon this world could saunter around naked in public. He'd made a tidy profit selling the footage to a rather unseemly corner of the web, and spawned a short-lived Dick Friday meme.

DRIPDRIPDRIP

The soft splash of liquid against rock interrupted Dee's pleasant reminiscences. An even worse realisation dawned within the cathedrals of his minf. "Did...did your water just BREAK?! I'M NOT CLEANING THAT UP!"

A soft splatter atop his foot derailed his train of thought, killing dozens. Unless there was a veritable waterfall gushing out of his pudgy partner-in-crime, the source of it was likely much closer to hand. Peering down, tiny rivulets of liquid snaked through the channels in the wooden and dripped over the edge. Tracing it back to its source, he found that his attempts to silence his talkative tummy by giving it wood, so to speak, had rattled the potion-containing beakers to such a degree that previously minor cracks in two of them had gone all the way through. Their contents had seeped out were now currently congealing on the floor.

"Vill! Fetch me a mop, lest we leave this unattended and find ourselves overrun by musclebound dust bunnies and amorous amoebae!" ordered Dee, before yanking his second tongue away from the spilled concoction. "I will staple you to my leg if you don't keep me to myself."

Vill had been inspecting the floor underneath him for signs of water damage. He was terrified that if he had indeed broken water that he'd be forced to pay for it. "But what about my water? Should I get a new one from the fridge?"

"You are no more pregnant than you are an intellectual giant as opposed to merely a physical one! Now get me the damn mop, before my hand finds the nearest, heaviest throwable object!"

There was a slight rustle of the sheets on Dee's desk with every heavy footstep as Vill trundled off towards the door. He propped himself under the frame with one hand to get through without gouging horn-tracks in the doorway, his sizable black gut just barely clearing past. Dee watched Vill cope with his new shape and size and made a mental note to force Vill to sleep on the floor and never take the top bunk again.

One solitary beaker remained intact. The potion had begun to set at this stage, and was now in a semi-viscous state. Reluctant to be endowed with a blathering bottom, Dee was weighing up his options for this sole survivor.

"Perhaps the inky ignoramus had a point. The sooner done, the sooner mended", he thought. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with both hands. "No, best not to tempt fate. He can take the chances. Let him be a centaur, or develop a second head, or have nipples for hands and five arses." He licked his lips. "Hmmm. What tastes minty?"

"Mmmmmmmmintyyyyy-freeeesssssh"

It felt like someone had poured ice-cubes down the back of his soul. Dee opened his eyes to find his superfluous mouth licking it's lips, the emptied beaker rolling around on the desk. "What have you DONE? You traitor, you usurper, you...you DICK!"

DRIPDRIPDRIP

"Oh for...VILL! WHERE'S THAT DAMN MOP?" Dee shouted, feeling rather nauseous. Yet, there appeared to be no further liquid on the desk. The previous spill had pooled away from the edge, and the last beaker had been drank drier than an off-licence on the last day of college.

He walked around the desk to see if any other spills had occurred.

SQUELCHSQUISHSQUELCH

Wet squelching followed him around. Looking back, he saw pools of white liquid in the shape of footprints trailing behind him. He must have stepped in the spillage from earlier.

"Odd, I don't recall being so clumsy as to step into it. And I do not feel wet"

He bent down to inspect the nearest pool. Resting on his haunches, he dipped a finger in the footprint. The white liquid stretched up with it, a consistency akin to treacle. His feeling of nausea intensified just looking at it. He had never been one for ooze. It was the texture of the thing that rankled with him. Like a hot snot enema.

"Mmmm. Tastes like vanilla liquorice" spoke his stomach. Lapping at another footprint, it clearly couldn't get enough of it.

"You disgust m...wait. Vanilla liquorice?" Dee looked at the viscous footprint trail. The trail that he had left behind. The trail that tasted like him (allegedly).

"Oh no", he murmured quietly to himself. It was then his jaw fell off and exploded in awhite spray of of ooze...

BLOOOOSH

....and he collapsed into a puddle of goo.

Displaying the timing that he was renowned for, Vill chose just now to squeeze himself back into the room. Bucket in one hand, mop resting over one shoulder, he loped over to where Dee had been. Spreading quickly over the floor was a vast expanse of white gloop.

"Oh man. I need a bigger bucket."

Kneeling down, he prodded the puddle with a claw. It seemed like a liquid but reacted more like a solid to being touched. Wracking his brain. Vill was sure he had seen something like this before on the computer. He snapped his claws. "Oobleck!" he said, beaming. Standing back-up, he hefted the mop off his shoulder with a flourish. "Heh. Oo'll be bleck",he smiled to himself, and jabbed the mop into the edge of the pool.

BLORP

Several small bubbles erupted from within it. Small, angry bubbles. Amused by the sound, Vill pushed the mop into it. Harder. Larger, angrier bubbles. It was like watching a lava lamp throw a strop.

"Hey Dee!" called out Vill excitedly, "come down here! I think I've found flubber!" He knelt down again, poking at the puddle. Gleefully, he prodded and poked and smooshed it under his massive hands. Oblivious to the mass rising from the puddle. Elongating steadily, dividing into five spires, joining one larger arm-like mass. Moving closer and closer to the edge of the puddle, like a shark approaching its prey. Closer and closer until....

WHACK

A pure-white, most definitely solid arm had risen up and slapped Vill across the chops, knocking the great galumph back on his ass. The arm collapsed back into ooze on impact,pieces falling into and rejoining the pool.

"Ow! That hurt!", he said, hurt. Tingling, his cheek throbbed slightly from the slap. This was a very familiar sensation. Almost as if he had regularly experienced this bef-

"DEE!" exclaimed Vill, scrambling forward on all fours and peering into the pool. "Oh my god, what happened? You're so....out-of-shape."

Bubbling anew, a rudimentary mouth formed with great unease. "Vill...you are...so...bluuurrffgh" it burbled, and the mouth was gone again.

Reaching in, Vill carved a crude smiley face in the goo with his claw. Partially out of boredom, partly to help. The mouth moved. "Hard to...make shapes...get....help", it sputtered before slipping back into formlessness.

"O-ok, Dee. I'll get someone you just...stay there", said Vill. The puddle didn't move but bore an air of heavy condescension. "Yeah, like that."

Crossing uninvited into Dee's half of the room was usually a poor judgement call that would lead to what Dee had termed corporal 'funishment'- "YOUR punishment, MY fun!"- but these were desperate times. Vill headed straight for the extensive rolodex of contacts Dee kept handy. Not out of need, but if he happened to be of a mood to prank call someone who had damaged his fragile ego, they were handy to have. Embossed business cards, engraved bone pieces, tanned leather, what looked suspiciously like a hastily-scribbled phone number with a lipstick kiss on a diner napkin...Vill was flipping through them at an alarming rate. He paused briefly and considered contacting his sister for help. But then, Ish was a very busy professional apocalypse planner, and she had recently had to let her fifth horseman go. No, she had enough on her plate. Best to carry on.

"Ah, here it is!" said Vill, plucking a rather glitzy looking card from the desk.Yanking his cell phone out of his pocket, he punched in the number carefully. He'd pierced too many phones in his time to be rough with them.

RING RING RINGclick- "This had better be very important, I'm having dinner with the biggest thing in demon showbiz. Mainly because he's so damn fat we'll have to film him in Imax", came a very familiar, gravel-gargling voice.

"Gaurdy! Gaurdy, it's me, Vill-" he began.

"Vill!", purred Gaurdion down the line, "good to hear from you....admittedly, sooner than I expected but I can swing by after work if you wa..."

"Oh, er...cool, but I actually need some help. One of the potions Dee talked to you about isn't...well, isn't sitting well with him." Vill covered the phone speaker and looked back to the shallow puddle that was Dee. The smiley face had become a frown. The likeness was uncanny.

"Oh. HIM." Barely bothering to disguise the disdain in his voice, Gaurdion continued on. "Well, I did warn him that newt's eye could have some random side-effects unless taken as a suppository. Hell, I thought he'd like that sort of thing!"

"Gauuuuurdy", pleaded Vill.

"Fine, fine", caved Gaurdion, idly twirling the phone cord around one of his claws. "If you want to negate any of the effects, you need to return him to a baseline physical form. Basically, you'll need one mandrake root for detox, 500ml Fountain of Youth Distilled (I recommend the sparkling ove rthe still, the bubbles are lovely) and cocaine."

"...and cocaine", repeated Vill, writing this down.

"WAIT! Wait, sorry. Not cocaine. Hah, wow, I HAVE been in showbiz too long", chuckled Gaurdion. "Sugar. Sugar for taste. Not cocaine, ok? Cross that out and don't mention that to any one who blogs."

Crossing out cocaine, whatever that was, Vill hastily scribbled sugar over it. He was a surprisingly neat and tidy writer for someone who was taught disembowelment over definite articles. As his hidden collection of first edition Jane Austens would attest to. "And this will return him to normal right?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "...well, normal is such a RELATIVE thing when dealing with people like us, V. See, this will wipe the slate. Yes, he will eventually get back to the Dee we know and loat...love, but there's going to be a week or two readjustment first."

"Oh, alright. I don't have much else to do. See you around."

"See you then. And Vill? Really, you could do SO much better."

BEEP

Putting his phone away in the pocket, Vill quickly ran through what they had in stock. Stock inventory was largely his responsibility, so he had a good idea where everything was. Last time Dee ventured into the world to purchase anything, he wound up owning Lichtenstein for a fortnight.

"Ok, mandrake root's in the cellar, Youth water's in the fridge and sugar's in the kitchen. Dee, I'll be right back. Just...think solid thoughts ok?"

Vill could have sworn he saw an angry-face emoticon take shape. Squeezing through the door and heading upstairs, he quickly gathered all the ingredients and chucked them in a blender. A pinch of sugar would do given Dee's preference for the sour, acidic and bitter tastes in life. One quick blast and it was ready to go.Putting a tiny novelty parasol on top, Vill rushed downstairs with the jug, destroying many stairboards on the way, and dashed to the puddle he called his friend.

"Ok, Dee, just drink...this...oh", Vill said, realising that this may prove a little more difficult than he had anticipated given Dee's current lack of orifices. Luckily, Vill had prepared for this and rammed a funnel into the thickest part of the gooey mass.

"Well...bottoms up..if you still have one" toasted Vill as he poured the jug contents down the funnel and into the pool. Standing up, he backed away and tossed the jug and funnel away. Quickly, he manifested a white shield out of his tattoos. Hunkering down behind it, he cautiously peeked out from the side of it to keep an eye on things.

The pool was bubbling still, but now the bubbles sounded more like horrible vomiting. Retreating inwards, the pool began to shink, as a mass began to grow within the centre of it. Realising an explosive detonation was now looking unlikely, Vill unshielded himself, his tattoos returning. The mass was quickly assuming a shape more befitting of Dee's glorious former self. But something was off. Vill was certain he hadn't physically grown any taller during today's activities, so the only other reason things could seem so much smaller would be if they actually were...

"Oh", he said.

* * *

Two days later

* * *

Glorious sunlight beat down upon the park. It was hot enough to split the rocks, if several reptilian folks weren't currently sunbathing atop of them.Scents of freshly mown glass and much less fresh deodorant wafted gently on the breeze. A loved up couple of ferrets were busy tryingto stick each other down each other's pants in what they thought was seclusion. Spread out on his back, Vill had his hands crossed behind his head and was enjoying the day.

It was, in other words, fucking glorious.

Gradually, the effects of the potions had been wearing off. He was a little bit less spiky, and the gut had deflated slightly. Somewhat expectedly, the changes had done little to terrify the local populace. If anything, he'd been beating off interested strangers with a stick. Though he did keep the number of the gator with a gut as big as his own. He'd liked the way it felt when they hugged themselves together and he figured he may as well take this body shape out for a spin. For refernce, you understand. But right now, he had agreed to meet someone here.

Someone leaned over him, blocking out his sunlight. "Well. I must say, that is a look that is astonishingly suited to you" spoke the bony silhouette.

"Guar!" exclaimed Vill, jumping to his feet. Little clods of dirt remained stuck to the spikes on his back, staining his shirt. Embracing his old friend, he patted Gaurdion on the back. "Aw man, thanks for coming but I can't stay long."

"Damn, and I brought the 12-sided dice and everything. I even managed to track down the rest of the club. I think Abeddon said he was going to try and make it...oh, speak of the demon, here he comes." Gaurdion pointed behind Vill. Excited, Vill turned. It had been decades since his D&D guild had met, and now here were two of them. A heavy hand clasped his blackened shoulder. "Vill! Wow, you've...changed", smiled the demon, his voice like boiling treacle..

Well, Vill presumed it was a smile, it was hard to tell when the demon had a face like a magma fissure in a vaguely draconic rock-face. The rest of him was covered in a craggy dermatitis, his back hunched and mountainous. Similar to Gaur in build and height, he was like a cliff roughly hewn into a human shape by an insane, blind sculptor who didn't understand the concept of proportions. Thick, long arms gave a lolloping gait to his step, like a gorilla. Burning rivulets of magma ran down from his eyes and down his face, along the contours of his chest and torso.

"Aw man Abed, you haven't changed a bit!", said Vill, brightening up substantially and carefully making sure his bare clawed feet were well away from the dripping magma currently scorching the grass. Abed had been their dungeon master way back in the day. And, Vill had to admit, he looked a lot better since his volcanic acne had cleared up.

"Viiiiiiilllll! VIIIIIIIIILLLL!" came a shrill, high-pitched voice from the direction of the playground.

"Look, sorry guys, but duty calls," chuckled Vill. "Come over to my place at about 10. But keep it down, Dee needs his sleep."

Waving to each other, Vill briskly walked off to the playground with a noticable pep in his step. Abed turned to Gaur. "Isn't Dee the one you said had to start over?", he asked.

"Yep", replied Gaur. "That Vill has the patience of a saint. Especially since he has to go through all of this with him again. Why he plays so dumb around him, I'll never know. So, sushi?"

Reaching the playground, Vill found himself walking in on an unusal scene. Or rather, he wished that it was an unusual scene, but given his lineage he knew what it was when he saw it. Several young of various species were arranged in a pentagram shape in the sandbox with connecting lines and runic sigils patterned around them. The children seemed supplicant in prayer, heads bowed towards the figure standing at the centre of this impromptu baccanal. And in the middle stood a young child. His long white tail finishing the last connecting line of the sigils. Reptilian in appearance.Chalky white skin and a black-tattooed arm.

Dee.

"Viiiiilll!", whined the young Dee. "I'm making a blood sacrifice to get me back to my proper age but none of these stupidheads wants to be it. Tell them they have to! Tell them!"

When Gaur had mentioned starting again from a new slate, he meant right from the beginning. Just after being recorporeated from the goo, Dee had been a veritable newborn in stature. Rapidly aging his way through infancy , Vill had found himself playing father to a partner who still retained his memories and personality, but with a childish innocence and honesty he had long since left behind.

Vill folded his impressive arms and stood in front of Dee. "Alright now Dee, I think you're getting tired and cranky. I think it's time to go."

"Ffffffffiiiine", whined Dee, untying the sacrificial lamb, who quickly ran off to find her ram father and tell on him. "Not like I was going to use ALL her blood", he pouted, cleaning the dirt from under his claws with a rather overly-ornate knife half his own height.

"And give me the ritual knife. No more cutting off limbs." Vill held his hand out, waiting for it to be handed to him.

"But he was a lizard! They'll grow back, he won't even miss them!", he sulked. "Fine. But I want to go up! Up! Up!"

Rolling his eyes, Vill tucked the knife away in his belt, knelt down to pluck Vill up and tossed him over his broad shoulders, piggyback style. "Watch the spikes, now."

"Yes, DAD", dripped Dee with sarcasm.

Realising he'd forgotten something, Vill turned back to the several kids, frozen in place within the pentagram. " Oh right", remembered Vill, wiping one line of the pentagram out of place in the sand with a flick of a spiked tail. As if suddenly released from captivity, the children ran off screaming in all directions. "He's really quite nice once you get to know him!" Vill called after them.

"This is why you don't have any friends, Dee", said Vill, feeling his partner's weight sag upon his shoulders. No reply was forthcoming. Turning his head slightly, he saw Dee struggling to keep his eyes open. Nodding away, Dee was slumping forward on Vill. A few minutes passed as they walked to a more secluded section of the park.

"Vill?", Dee sleepily mumbled, as he slowly cast the teleportation tattoo spell.

"Yes, Dee?" The sun was setting now, an orange haze beginning to settle across the city skyline beyond and ahead of them as the shadowy runes danced on the ground around them.

"I don' need other friends. I jus' need you. I like you just the way you are." A white whip-like tail was gently curling around a much sturdier, trunk-like one.

"I know, Dee. I know", softly replied Vill. " And hey, when you're back to normal, we'll try again to be scary, evil demons! How does that sound?"

"'kay", Dee mumbled, barely audible as he slipped peacefully into the land of nod. Vill permitted himself a small smile.

There was a flash of blue light and a booming sound. And there they went.

Home.