Pain… pain is new. I mean it is always a new experience and demons feel it only as a, well, I have no idea how to tell that story. We don’t have bodies, not really — we form matter into bodies and live there, but when the matter is no longer needed, we discard it and sometimes we move on, adapting into a new one, a freshly made infant or just recently dead or braindead, or an idiot… most of the time what we do is just opportunistically grab whatever there is and go with it, do our thing and leave to hell, not bothering ourselves with suffering. Yeah we do feel pain of the bodies we possess, we do indeed. We just don’t care. It does not hurt the demon that his meatsuit is in pain. It’s just an inconvenience and mostly a mean to an end.
This… I think she was beaten so badly, her brain just stopped working and she became a very lonely vegetable, barely breathing on the concrete floor of a stairwell. Somehow she managed to move — or was moved — into the darker corner, by the wall, leaving a puddle of blood and piss… and now also someone’s cum. I believe she — I should say: I, but it will come to me naturally, so I don’t force it yet — was pushed from at least second floor, then left for dead, then cometh for and severely beaten as if she didn’t suffer enough from the previous encounter. People are always the same, always the same. I’m not bitching about it, it’s just an observation. We make them like that with plenty of time invested in their corruption, so their so called morals are exactly as we want for them to strengthen the so called armies of darkness. I explained that idea briefly before, and it stands — but down there and at any point of history, we’re there. And here, whenever and wherever „here” is. So that friendly person who made her suffer a bit more could have been possessed as well. But I don’t think so, I smelled our own eight times out of ten in the past whatever time we’re talking about. That nice little guy was all on his own. And so was I.
I decided to try and check if I am broken, I mean if she was broken, as in her flesh destroyed and crippled, it would ruin my whatever mission I have here, after all I came here for a reason, not specified just yet, but some reason nonetheless. I should just check if I can do anything about myself. If I was to go back to hell, I would. Maybe. Maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe somehow I am trapped in this body… I tried to feel the body with one hand. The wrist is broken, I fixed it with my demonic power and sure as hell it went as a thunderbolt through my meatsuit who just, I mean me, yes, I let out a silent scream. Boy oh boy did that hurt. But it’s working, as good as new now, isn’t it. The other arm is only badly bruised, all bones intact. The head… no bumps. Not technically the truth, there are bumps, I just got beaten pretty badly, just no cracks in the jar, just some flesh swellings. Nothing irreparable. I went on: the boobs, not hurt badly. The stomach, quite a big bruise. Hips and ass badly kicked, but not damaged internally. Finally legs, one ankle… broken. Shit. That will hurt as I know it always does. This will… one, two, th—
FUCK!, I yelled into the late afternoon-ish floor minus one —I presume— darkness, when the bones did what I told them to do. Not much mana left, as I feel myself there, half-laying on the cold concrete, with what was left from the clothes of this mysterious woman I am now. Pantyhose, ripped and bloody: check. A torn and bloody leopard jacket: check. A push-up bra, totally destroyed: check. Panties… torn, peed on, cumstained, probably I also shat myself after the whole raping that happened before. I decided to let them go. There is also a piece of clothing that I suppose is a skirt, but it’s rolled on my stomach, glued with blood and probably unusable. I felt a shoe on one foot, it’s one of those shiny platform high heeled pumps, I can feel that it’s wet from, presumably, pee. If I want to walk I need to find the second one, I guess. I tried rolling myself on the floor, just to check my surroundings before I stand up and feel whatever there is to be felt after the shit being kicked out of my body. Her body. My body. Okay, I feel that better now. There is a connection already.
I found the other shoe nearby, it was peed on too. But whatever, the condition is always one of the further steps of getting dressed. I just put them on, when I heard a rather squeaky voice, saying: „nee-oh-eeh?”, or so I thought I heard. „What?” i asked into the darkness, as the story of a demon should unfold naturally. I was a woman, a well dressed one, a well dressed girl with problems, probably in need of medical attention, but now I was mostly a girl in a basement.
„I asked: is anyone there?”, said the voice from the depths of darkness of what I believe was second floor.
„I am here, if that’s what you’re asking”, I answered and I felt the dryness in my mouth, the numbness of my chest and heard the accent. I’m in New York, at least I am from New York here.
„Are you okay?” the voice asked, sounding a bit concerned. I almost saw that round face of a five feet four little bookkeeper, spending all of his days in numbers, letting his clients smoke cigars in his office, cigars he’ll never be able to afford. I might be a woman but I am a demon nevertheless. Rule number one, be a demon and have fun. Rule number two, remember that you’re a demon and no strings attached.
„Fucking far from okay”, I answered, as this was technically both the truth and a big understatement. „Wanna come down and check out yourself?” I added, as looking up towards the rooftop windows that flooded-ish my face with dusky light and kept my speaker in the shadows made me feel dizzy.
„Did you— did you fall down there? Is that blood?” Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first detective, I thought, and this wasn’t entirely my thought, so there might be some sort of brain activity involved in this body, or this sort of sass came with the bod. I never know, this either happens or doesn’t and there’s no rule for it.
„Before you ask—h”, my throat went dry as a desert nun’s cunt and I needed to try to produce some saliva before I continued. „Before you ask, the floor stain is both my blood and whatever other fluid my body released when I was dropped down here. Also I don’t know where this particular here is”. I managed to see a little sparkling light on the wall which I took for a brain concussion and or eye cornea malfunction, and it happened to be a small light on a lights on switch. It took me three attempts to figure it out, it was an old conical turn-twist with ceramic head so my numb fingers were unable to grasp it but then they did and hell yeah I saw myself with my own eyes! I was a fucking mess. The clothes I felt as bloodstained and stinky pee-cum-blood-wetty, were also dusty, the heels I was barely able to somehow creep on, were scratched and bloodied, my jacket… I looked like I— I looked like exactly what happened to me. Like I was dropped from a significant height, beaten, kicked and raped, the last thing probably at least twice in the last day or so. But whatever. I managed to grab a handrail, it was rather fancy, and pulled it so I sort of climbed the first step. I remember all the ankle bones when I took that first step up, and I felt that soon enough I will continue walking on all fours. Probably won’t be able to protect myself if a horny doberman comes and fucks my bare ass. And about that… I finally managed to unroll that miniskirt, but then again, it was a rather small difference as it only covered about half of my ass. And it wasn’t a small ass as children have, or what historians depict of a Virgin Mary. Who, by the way, sucked the meanest cock in the whole universe back then and that’s why she was chosen by that poor sucker Joe to be his wife. She literally sucked him dry and then got pregnant by the first ever in Palestine artificial insemination. That poor boy’s dick was barely functioning and it truly is a miracle that she was able to deliver that boy to the world. Yeah… where was I? Ah, yes, the stairs. My conversation partner went silent, probably because he went downstairs ninja-quiet and when I was gathering my strengths to climb the third step, he was there, standing right in front of me, standing in full pride of his five feet four. And a bowtie.
„What happened to you?”, he asked. I decided to speak the truth and maybe some other halftruths later, but now I needed mana. So…
„I don’t remember anything except the fight with that shiny bastard”, I said, absolutely oblivious of what did it sound like. Fuck that.
„Do you remember your name?”, he asked, and yeah I remembered my name, sure, but this is New York… ah, what the hell. He’ll probably think that I’m Jewish or something.
„Asta”, I said, deciding lastminutedly on a halftruth, technically and figuratively speaking.
„As in Astrid?”, he asked and didn’t stop looking at me like I wasn’t a damsel in distress, for fucks sake, trying to climb the step number five.
„Yeah, whatever”, said the body automatically when I was searching for an answer. „Are you here to help me or were you just going down to assess the impact of my head injury bleeding on your concrete flooring to write me a penalty notice paid by next Friday?”
I sighed. „Why did you come downstairs?”
„I, uh…” he hesitated. „Do you need help?”
„Yes, damn it, I need help”, I said irritatingly, as the body was apparently feeling right now. „now be a nice boy and offer me a couch, a tea and maybe a pair of panties”, I said.
And that’s how out story began.
