Deep inside his coffin, Enash’s empty eye sockets glowed.
He had scouted out world after world from his confinement until he had decided on the one most suitable. The world called Earth had weapons beyond compare — contrivances that flew through the sky, and dropped bombs; ships that fired projectiles wider than a skull; handheld weapons that shot hard lead faster than the speed of sound. They even had weapons that created an effect not unlike his signature Fog of Death spell. As the only necromancer ever to reach the twelfth circle of knowledge, that spell was his and his alone, and it made him a little envious that dictators could gas their own people at a whim.
But the guns would be sufficient. Enash envisioned an army of zombies, armed with such weapons. Each time they fired, another enemy would die, to rise again and join the horde. The bullet holes would give them a particularly ghastly appearance. His army would sweep through the world of Amaranth, destroying puny mortal trolls, orcs, and beastkin who sought to oppose him with clubs, swords and bows. Even the magics of elves and demons would not stand in his way. By the time he conquered Amaranth, he would have a force that would be able to sweep through Earth as well. Zombies would be immune to the chemical weapons, anyway, as they didn’t need to breathe.
He yearned to watch his army lay waste to an unprepared world, to hear the wailing of women and watch the blood of his adversaries flow in the streets. To see the horrified faces of those who faced the animated bones of their loved ones. To taste souls again.
He cackled with anticipation. A mortal was assembling the other side of the gate now, dooming his world. Soon, his century-long imprisonment at the hands of the elves would be over.
He would need a body again. He had gathered the magic for it over centuries, carefully transmuting his own death mana into something that could be used to create a corporeal form, preparing for this day. He reviewed the choices he had mulled over before.
A fearsome orc body, perhaps, muscled and large-tusked, capable of striking terror?
Perhaps something skeletal, as befitting his talent as the foremost Necromancer in the history of Amaranth? That, too, would cause his enemies to quake. But no, been there, done that, and even the skeleton form had decayed in the box they had put him in.
A poncy elf? No, out of the question.
He had been born demonkind, although he had transcended that heritage. Demons were soft, compared to him. It would be like returning to his childhood.
Trolls were strong and ferocious, but they had a reputation for stupidity, and he couldn’t stand people to think he was stupid. He, Enash the great!
No, nothing from Amaranth would do. Something, then, from his new adopted home. He’d been learning about their culture. He needed something more subtle, that would disarm his enemies while he built up power. Maybe a poncy elf would work, after all. Humans seemed to like elves.
He shook his head. He knew just the thing. Not only power, but the pleasures of the flesh would be his.
What did the humans call them? Futanari. He’d been absorbing human art, and had seen several animated films featuring the cute futa girls, and they seemed to be popular. He’d have to make sure his body had a particularly sturdy spine, because they tended to be rather top heavy. Perhaps some horns? No, that would ruin the disarming effect. He allowed himself little horns, small enough to be hidden under manes of luxurious black hair.
Black like my soul, he told himself, and tittered.
And the horns would grow. By the time all of Amaranth serves me, his horns would be magnificent.
He resisted the desire to add cloven hoofs. They did give futanari shapely calves, but no. He was not one to simply stand and model, and they reminded him too much of his youth. The large, soft but gravity-defying breasts he had in mind would be sufficient to cause humans to salivate with lust. Elves and orcs too, he guessed. Perhaps they would beg to serve him, enraptured by his feminine beauty. Her feminine beauty? No. The body was just a vessel.
He didn’t want to get too carried away with the whole femininity thing. A woman’s body, yes, but with a huge penis, that was very important. Human men worried about the sizes of their penises and measured their manliness by them. And many human women, from what he could tell from some videos he’d scried, were size queens. When fully erect, his cock should cause feelings of inadequacy among humans, and yet be discreetly concealable when soft.
He laughed as he imagined fucking a woman and filling her fertile body with his seed, while her dead husband milled around as his subservient zombie. Of course he wouldn’t feel anything — zombies didn’t have emotions or much of a consciousness — and artificial bodies such as the one he was creating couldn’t impregnate anyone, but it was the aesthetics of the thing. And of course the woman’s screams would be delightful. He’d eat her soul afterward, most likely.
He missed eating souls.
Whatever mortal assembled the gate would be first.
I looked around my new home. The hardwood floor was pale with wear and had splintered in places, its rough surface in dire need of sanding and several coats of varnish. The wallpaper in the living room was a ghastly light green with velvet fleur-de-lis in a shade not quite olive, not quite forest green. The Linoleum in the kitchen had been poorly laid and had started to peel along an obvious seam in the middle, the countertops were a dated yellow Formica, and the fixtures old and oddly mismatched: a black dishwasher, an avocado refrigerator, and a white oven.
I put the two bags of food I’d brought into the refrigerator and cabinets and then rubbed my hands with anticipation at all the things that had made the place undesirable to most buyers. The wallpaper alone had probably knocked ten thousand dollars off the price. I wandered around, consulting the spreadsheet on my tablet and making sure I hadn’t missed anything during the pre-purchase inspection. The part of the work I looked forward to least was peeling off the wallpaper, but at least destroying the ugliness would be satisfying if time-consuming. I peeked into each room and poked into closets, noting a sticky door that would need to be rehung, possibly planed, and probably repainted. The leaky faucet in the downstairs bathroom I’d repair today. The day, after all, was young, with dawn’s early light just beginning to poke in the windows through the aluminum blinds I’d opened as soon as I’d entered.
The best thing about a house like mine was that so much could be done to make it better.
While I walked around the house, I rolled a coin through my fingers, hiding it between two fingers, palming it, slipping it up my sleeve and out again, pocketing it only when I needed both hands free.
I pulled down the attic stairs and checked them carefully before climbing up. They were in better condition than most of the house, and I suspected the attic had been rarely used by the old folks who had been the previous owners. It was a shame, in a way, that their kids hadn’t wanted to fix the place up and live in it, but it needed a lot of work and they’d probably have to hire contractors. Not everyone liked to do everything themselves.
The attic had an HVAC system that was in decent working order, and unlike kitchen appliances, no one cared what the HVAC looked like as long as it worked. I’d checked the HVAC during the inspection, and it worked fine during the walk-through, but exploring every nook and cranny of the house now that it was mine felt different somehow. In the far corner of the attic I spotted a wooden box about two feet wide and six inches tall, apparently left behind. Most people leave something, usually because they can get away with it and it’s easier than double-checking and hauling stuff away. It wasn’t worth worrying about, and I was tempted to ignore it because I wanted to get on with the work, but curiosity got the better of me. I brought it down the ladder and took it to the master bedroom where the light was better, and opened the lid. Inside was a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were made out of wood, each piece so large that even though the box was full it didn’t have enough pieces to challenge an adult. I hadn’t done a puzzle in a very long time, but I had fond memories. Something about taking something and making something better from it had always appealed to me, which was probably why I kept buying fixer-uppers. Flipping them had become a full-time job, and I loved it.
I set it aside and walked back to my van, and on my return trip I lugged in my box of plumbing tools in one hand, an air mattress and a pump in the other. I’d start the air mattress inflating and then take care of the leaky faucet. On my next trip to the van I’d get a card table and my second toolbox, and then pillows and my wallpaper steamer. I enjoyed picking up something I needed to live in the house each time I got something that would help me fix it up. I’d get my real bed eventually, but for now the air mattress would do fine. Tomorrow I’d grab more stuff from the storage locker, but there was no point in cluttering the place up with furniture while I still had to refinish the floors.
In a year I’d sell the house to someone who would love all I’d done to it, and I’d pocket enough to live off of. It was my own version of turning dross into gold, and it made me happy.
By late afternoon I’d earned a beer. I still had weeks of work to do, but I was proud of what I’d accomplished. The leak was fixed, and half the wallpaper was off. The locks on the doors were changed. I’d installed an induction stovetop with a convection oven to replace the aging regular electric one, and a new dishwasher, both in matching stainless steel. Nothing tasted better to my mind than a craft Mexican beer earned by toil and sweat. I took a few minutes to savor the cool amber liquid before taking the empty bottle out to the recycling bin.
Over the wooden picket fence that separated my new home from hers I spotted a neighbor watering her garden using hand nozzle, and I waved. She was a pretty woman about my age, mid-thirties, with a svelte figure and medium blonde hair, wearing a tank top and shorts. She waved back, set down her hose, and walked over.
“Hey there,” she said. “You buy the place?”
“Yep. I’m Abel Thorson. Nice to meet you.” I rolled a quarter absently through my fingers.
“Kathy Knightley,” she said. “Nice to meet you too.” She looked at my hand, and I realized what I’d been doing. “What’s that?” she asked.
“This?” I said, holding it up so she could see that it was an ordinary quarter, and then folding my hand around it. “Nothing at all,” I said, showing her my hand was empty. It’s an easy trick, but sometimes the easiest ones are the best.
She laughed. “Clever. Whatcha gonna do about that fence?”
“This one we’re talking over?”
“Yep.”
I grinned. “Repair it. It’s got some solid parts that I think are okay, but obviously a lot of it needs to be replaced eventually. Might be a few weeks, though, because the inside needs a lot of work too. Unless the bad fence is causing you trouble?”
“Weeks? That’s not too bad, unless you don’t want my dogs getting into your yard. They like to run through that spot where there’s some loose boards. They’ll bark, but they won’t bite unless you’re mean to them.”
The two dogs were barking and playing roughly with each other not far from where she’d put down the hose, but I wasn’t worried about them. They weren’t very big, and looked like Boston Terrier mixed with something else. I could easily believe they were friendly. “They don’t have any trouble finding their way back again?”
“No, they usually only want to be outside for a couple of hours before they run back in,” Kathy said. “That one is Roxy, and that one is Rover.” S~eaʀᴄh the Nôvel(F)ire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
She’d have to tell me several times before I knew which was which, because they looked identical from this distance. They probably came from the same litter.
“Then I don’t have a problem with it if you don’t. Seems a shame to cut the size of their play space in half, but I’m afraid I do need to fix the fence eventually.”
She gave me a funny look. “I was afraid you wouldn’t fix it at all. Sometimes I have a hard time getting them to come back when I want them, and I don’t want to chase them into your yard.”
“Well, if you need help corralling them, I’m pretty good with dogs. Just give me a holler. But I also give you permission to enter my backyard, if it’s to get the dogs, until I get the fence fixed.”
She smiled at me and glanced over to where she’d left the hose. She’d gotten what she’d wanted out of the conversation, I imagined, and now she wanted to finish what she was doing and so did I. She was cute, and I felt some attraction, but I doubted it would amount to anything. I was only a temporary neighbor. She didn’t have a wedding ring on, though, and if she wanted to make a lonely night less lonely, well, I wouldn’t say no. But there were complications to dating a neighbor. I’d never been what you would call a one-woman man, and when I discovered there were other people into polyamory I used that community as my dating pool. Less drama that way. Right now I didn’t have anything serious going on, just a couple of friends with benefits, one local, one back where I’d moved from in Boston, but I still didn’t need a jealous neighbor. “Well, I left the steamer heating,” I said. “I should probably get back to work.”
She gave me a confused look, but nodded and went back to her hose. I realized she probably didn’t know what I meant by a steamer, but I wasn’t going to chase after her to explain.
I liked to work on the wallpaper in bits, since it was my least favorite job. Spend an hour doing that, then work on something else. It’d all come down eventually, and then I’d paint the wall a nice neutral color. I didn’t think I’d want off-white if I ever intended to stay in a place for good, but it made the realtors happy. No one loved it, including me, but hardly anyone hated it either.
So I did a run to the storage locker to get another load of supplies. I had to move out of the old place before I could close on the new one, so I’d shipped everything out from Boston. Last night, I stayed with my friend Sandra. It was nice to share a bed with her, but I was glad to have my own place again.
I ate dinner at my card table while sitting on a folding chair, and then spent another hour on the wallpaper before deciding I’d done enough for the day as the sun started to go down. My arms were the good kind of tired, and I wanted to get an early start on the day tomorrow, so I planned on lying in bed reading until I fell asleep.
I realized I hadn’t brought my e-reader or a paper book, so unless I wanted to make another round trip to storage, or read on my phone, that wasn’t happening. I debated working more, but that was foolish. I’d just be that much more tired tomorrow. If I made the trip tomorrow, I’d have the energy to load the new refrigerator, the belt sander, and some of the other things I needed into my van. My stage magic props were still in storage, too, so I couldn’t practice. But I wasn’t ready to fall asleep.
I remembered the puzzle. A puzzle sounded like a good way to relax. I couldn’t tell how big it would be when it was finished, but I doubted it would fit on my thirty-inch card table. I knew once I got started I’d want to finish it, if not today then at least before putting it away, and that meant that I didn’t want to do it on any of the wooden floors I intended to sand and varnish. Finally I decided to take it down to the half-finished basement, which I’d fix up before the year was out but was low on my list of priorities for now. As a single guy, I didn’t really need all the space this three bedroom house with a full basement had, and while I wouldn’t mind sharing space with a woman someday, they’d have to be someone who didn’t mind moving about and living in half-finished houses. And someone who was open to poly. So far, I hadn’t met that special someone.
I sat cross-legged on the floor as I pulled thick wooden pieces out from the big box and sorted them into edge pieces and others. The plain box had no picture on it to indicate what the end result would be, which added to the mystery. Each piece was as big as my hand, and the size of the pieces seemed to indicate a children’s puzzle, but the colors were mostly blacks and grays with occasional hints of blue, hinting at a sort of gloominess that appealed to a previous self. I’d gone through a goth phase, and while it didn’t seem “me” right now, I still had fond memories of stomping to heavy music with dark lyrics. Each piece had the appearance of having been painted by hand, probably with oils, and then varnished. I appreciated fine craftsmanship, and the amount of work that must have involved made me even more eager to put it together.
Enash put the finishing touches on his spell, and the new body coalesced. Then futa Enash pushed at the coffin lid, cracking it open before taking a breather. He cast fire spells to light the ancient torches set in sconces on the walls. When he had reached the sixth circle, he gained the ability to transform death magic into other elements, and could cast the rudimentary spells of other spheres. The mausoleum began to glow with a dim light.
The soul of the mortal would unlock the wards that stopped him from leaving the mausoleum.
He waited, rubbing his hands with anticipation. It was nice to have hands again. He was tempted to explore his new curvy body, but it would be embarrassing to be jerking off the moment the mortal tried to come through the gate, only to discover that the spell Enash had woven meant that only one of them could continue to exist. One body, two souls, one master: Enash!
Enash cackled again. Foolish mortal! Was that a cliche? Well, it sounded good, anyway. He said it again. Foolish mortal!
He didn’t bother with clothes. He would take them from the mortal. With such bouncy breasts, and such a large penis, he had nothing to be ashamed of.
With a thought, he summoned the system display.
Enash
Species: Demonic Futanari
Class: Necromancer
Level: 12
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 8
Intelligence:22
Wisdom: 4
Charisma 10
Health: 20
Mana: 12,372
Endurance: 30
Experience for Next Level: N/A, requires breakthrough.
Innate Demonic Ability: Dimension Step.
Spells: Death Fog, Greater Curse, Create Vampire, Embrace Death, Animate Multiple Greater Undead, <more>
He considered reviewing his numerous spells, but his new sexy body was making him horny. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have a cock, and other parts of his body he had never possessed. It was pleasant, but very distracting. Perhaps he had chosen badly.
Perhaps he had time to rub one out before the mortal finished the gate after all. Just quickly.
But no, the puzzle he had sent into the world beyond, one piece at a time, was almost assembled. The time was nigh!
Enash allowed himself one more “Foolish mortal!” and a cackle.
He pushed the lid the rest of the way off the stone coffin. It broke into pieces as it clattered to the stone floor. His patience had paid off. Freedom was at hand, and tyranny would follow!