As Zac watched Marchosias chase Andras out of the room yelling how he was going to strap the owl to the breaking wheel, he couldn't help but smile. Sorry, Andras, he thought. I know you were supposed to keep me from running into that Amdusias guy, but no one could ever keep me from the Wolf Daddy. It’s just fate. It’s magnetic attraction. Gravity.

  However, this train of thought did bring up a good point.

  “Hey Bune,” Zac questioned, “how can a demon be a unicorn? Aren't unicorns like, even more pure than me? Don't they cure disease and neutralize poisons or something?”

  Bune looked over from where he was directing a few spirits in fixing up the large, Kool-Aid Man-shaped hole in the wall where Skarg had made his dramatic exit not even fifteen minutes ago.

  “God created our demonic forms as a curse and a joke,” the Left Head said, quickly looking back at his work.

  “Amdusias was an angel of healing before the Fall,” the Right Head added, not looking at Zac. “The unicorn form is to constantly remind him of what he once was. We have been marked forever. Tainted.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Nock said, picking at a piece of dirt under his nails. “I'm fabulous.”

  Zac looked over at Nock. The lion looked once again like the pampered king, his fur gold, his mane voluminous, his armor shining. “I do appreciate all the time you put into your make-up,” Zac said thoughtfully, “but I do think your all-natural look is much hotter. It’s scary sexy.”

  Nock looked aghast. “Ever since I began my regimen, the others have respected me so much more! The suit makes the demon, you know.”

  Bune laughed, a dry sound. “We all know who you are, Sabnock.”

  As the pampered lion man began wailing about the dragon not understanding the benefits of contour and proper mane extensions, something in Zac's mind began nagging him to stop staring at the hunky demons and think for a second. Amdusias was a unicorn. Unicorns were creatures who were so pure they cured disease. And the hunky lion man before him had the Detectable Plague.

  “Nock!” Zac shouted, cutting off the cosmetics clash. “Would a unicorn-skin condom work?”

  Bune finally looked at Zac with both heads, horrified. Nock looked at Zac, contemplating.

  Before either could voice their opinion on the absolute horror that would be a unicorn-skin condom, Halphas entered the room. The harpy eagle demon looked a bit winded and on edge, his feathers slightly ruffled.

  Bune’s heads turned to the eagle, immediately beginning to grill the Earl on why he wasn't in attendance for Duke Amdusias's visit.

  "Oh, I hate that guy," Halphas said, aggressively tucking his white tank top into his cargo pants and fixing the brim of his camo hat. "Don't tell me, he was singing again, wasn't he?"

  "Of course he was," Bune lamented, his hands fluttering in agitation. "And I needed to sing right back at him to make him leave."

  "It was awful," the Right Head said sadly, drooping low. "My ears are stained terribly."

  "Ha, sucks to suck, Buney-boy," Halphas sneered, trying to sound tough as he leaned against the table. "Maybe if you just grew some nuts you would have just bit him to death. You know the Captain would give you a commendation for that, right?"

  "I'm not a glutton," Bune said with a huff, turning back to his work patching up the Kool-Aid Man hole in the wall.

  "I have four more testicles than you do," the Right Head added sharply over its shoulder.

  "Yeah, but they are little baby girl testicles," Halphas said, puffing out his chest to its maximum, feathery expansion. He snapped his fingers, summoning himself a massive protein shake in a poof of black smoke and grey down feathers. "Not big, badass eagle balls."

  Halphas took a swig, his boast dying off in his throat as he noticed Zac staring at him with an unreadable expression. The eagle choked mid-gulp.

  "I... I didn't see you there, new guy."

  "So, big badass eagle," Zac said sweetly, taking a slow step forward, his eyes locking onto Halphas's beady ones. "Care to explain what happened in the Trojan Horse?"

  "You uh, woke up before I could make you beg me to stop, I guess," Halphas said, immediately starting to chug his drink.

  "Oh is that what happened," Zac said, taking another step closer to the apparently very dehydrated demon. "Because I remember it a bit differently."

  Nock and Bune watched intently.

  Halphas finally had to take a breath. "You know how the human brain is," he said, snapping another drink into existence and putting it to his beak. "All mushy living cells, it's bound to make a mistake every once in a while."

  Zac walked quickly up to Halphas. "Are you a pigeon?"

  Halphas fully choked on his drink and spat it out everywhere. "Cough! What makes you… cough, think that, cough-coo-cough! I'm an eagle!" Coo. He coughed out a piece of bread. "Just look at me! An eagle!"

  Zac wiped the soggy, half-digested piece of sliced bread from his shoulder and yelled, "Just tell me the truth! Am I never going to see eagle dick?!"

  Nock and Bune grimaced in pure vicarious cringe from watching the second-in-command of the warband being sexually questioned by a scrawny human who was half his size.

  Halphas spewed protein shake across the table, the liquid dripping off his beak and onto his meticulously ironed camo pants. His eyes were wide as he looked at Bune and Nock, then back at Zac, and in a voice that was just a bit too macho, he said, "What do you mean? Did I sex you so well that you have amnesia? Haha... coo."

  Zac, once again wiping himself clean, crossed his arms. "Was that before or after the part where you had a panic attack and exploded into a thousand pigeons?"

  "Oh, you must have been dreaming," Halphas said, looking around the room with frantic eyes. "Isn't the Avatar such a joker, guys?"

  "It's not a joke," Zac said flatly. "You built up my expectations just to rug pull me. I've been fantasizing about what your dick looks like since you nearly shot me with your crossbow when I first arrived! Is it long and pointy? Is it thick and short? Is it pronged? Is it colorful? Do you have balls above the shaft? Do you have some weird fist-like dick that's bulbous near the tip?"

  Halphas’s beak hung open. "You saw it last night in your dreams when I totally dicked you into a state of insanity! Bune, Nock, the virgin has lost his mind!"

  "Is it perpetually slick and wet from hiding under your feathers?!" Zac yelled over the eagle. "Is it twisted like a corkscrew? Is it detachable? Is it flexible like a tentacle? Is it internal? Does it have secret muscles that would let you punch me from the inside? Is it like a pyramid, all sharp and angular? Or is it boring and shaped like a human’s?!"

  "Detachable?!" Halphas squawked. "What does that even-"

  "Does it start small and inflate when you get it in me?! Is it flat?! Does it have four heads and you only use half at a time so your refractory period is over by the time you blow your load so you're ready to go again right after?! Does it have a drill tip?! Is it armored?! Does it explode when you use it?!"

  "IT DOES NOT EXPLODE!" Halphas yelled.

  "WELL HOW WOULD I KNOW?!" Zac yelled back. "You're not even an eagle, are you?! And now I'm going to have to start thinking about what a pigeon dick looks like! You totally rug pulled me!"

  Halphas sputtered, looking like he was about to lay an egg. Zac looked back at Bune and Nock, who were now very much trying to appear that they had not heard the conversation, Bune inspecting the ceiling with intense interest and Nock polishing a smudge on his gauntlet that wasn't there.

  "I was promised eagle dick," Zac said through gritted teeth. "How can I trust anything? Is Bune actually a two-headed humanoid brontosaurus? I just got over learning Nock was covering himself with makeup to keep himself from being too sexy, now I have to totally reevaluate the butch dad rankings."

  "You are very kind, but everyone finds a majestic golden lion with great hair much more appealing," Nock said, smoothing his mane.

  "I am a dragon," Bune said.

  Zac looked back at the previously mute demons. "That's not the point! He lied to me! He catfished me! I ordered big buff military eagle cock and I got served something different!"

  Halphas looked mortified. "Stock doves used to be totally badass," he whispered, his voice small. "War messengers... but the only message that humans remembered was the one that told them the war ended... even though they carried the message that started the war too." Halphas looked at Zac with ashamed eyes. "I'm the Earl of Violence, and stupid humans made me into a symbol of peace! It's total bullshit!"

  The eagle-man turned and power-walked out of the room, his wings sagging.

  Zac closed his eyes and put a hand to his face. "Wait, Halphas..." He reached out a hand to the retreating avian.

  Before Zac could call out that he was an equal opportunity monster fucker (as long as the monster was humanoid, hot, tall, and hung), a hand on his shoulder made him look back.

  Bune shook his heads and muttered, "It's lesson time, Avatar. Time to learn."

  "Oh fuck," Zac said. "I forgot about stupid learning."

  The atmosphere in Marchosias's demonic library was usually one of oppressive, dark academia, but today it just felt exhausting. The towering shelves of petrified wood and the floating globe-lamps did little to hold Zac's attention, and even Bune seemed unusually distracted, pacing in front of the chalkboard with a sluggishness that suggested his emotional bandwidth was completely tapped out.

  "The messengers are what most humans think of as angels," Bune’s Left Head droned on, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. "They look like humans and are actually often mistaken for squishy, weak humans until their holy nature is revealed, either by their wings unfurling, their beautiful, resonant voices, or even halos appearing over their heads."

  Zac nodded absentmindedly, hunched over his desk. He was sketching out a new drawing with the blotchy quill. It was supposed to be a majestic, muscular eagle to commemorate Halphas's big reveal, but the beak was too short and the eyes were too round. It looked a bit more like a fiercely muscular man with a pigeon head. Zac frowned at it. Still kinda hot, actually.

  "Next, there are the Seraphim," Bune continued, not bothering to look back to see if his pupil was paying attention. "They are from the highest order. They are beings of pure holy energy held together by six wings. Two wings cover their face, two cover their feet, and two, of course, are for flying."

  "Did the simulacrum look like one of them?" Zac asked, tapping the feathered end of his quill against his chin. "The REPENTANCE thingy, or whatever killed the doberman demon?"

  "No. That mechanical monster had all six wings on its back," Bune sighed, a puff of tired smoke escaping his nostrils. "Why something would need three sets of wings just to fly makes absolutely no sense. It defies aerodynamics."

  "It appeared to be some odd, mutated messenger," Bune's Right Head chimed in, sounding equally weary. "At first, we thought it might be some hybrid with a Cherubim."

  Zac half-looked up from his buff-pigeon masterpiece. "Like Skarg's cute little otter baby?"

  "No, not like Skarg's legions," Bune sighed again, pinching the bridge of his snout. "Cherubim are guardians. They bear the divine throne, draw the holy chariots, and stand at the intersection of heaven and earth."

  "They are incredibly powerful," the Left Head said, finally turning to look at Zac. "They possess four faces: human, lion, ox, and eagle. And they have four wings completely covered in eyes."

  Zac finally looked up fully, his quill pausing. "Four faces? That sounds like something out of, I don't know, some Indian religion. Can you imagine how hard it must be to find a comfortable position to sleep if one of your faces is always getting smothered by your pillow?"

  "You learn to adapt when you have multiple faces," Bune said flatly, the two heads looking at Zac with deadpan synchronicity. "And they never sleep."

  "Does the lion head get hungry when the ox head gets a bloody nose?" Zac mused aloud, genuinely curious about the biological logistics of a holy chimera.

  Bune let out a loud, drawn-out groan that echoed up into the vaulted ceiling. He turned back to the chalkboard.

  "Finally, there are the Ophanim. They are quite the unique heavenly existence." Bune's Left Head began drawing overlapping circles on the chalkboard with quick, agitated strokes. "They appear as wheels within wheels, covered entirely in eyes, and are able to move instantly in any direction."

  "What," Zac said flatly, dropping his quill. "You're telling me there are angels, fire angels, four-faced angels, and holy fidget spinners?"

  Bune stopped drawing. He stared at the chalkboard for a long, silent moment. Slowly, he placed the piece of chalk on the tray. He raised two of his four hands and aggressively rubbed both of his faces, letting out a muffled sound of utter defeat.

  Without another word, the dragon butler turned and headed straight for the heavy wooden doors.

  "Lessons are over for the day," Bune muttered, not looking back.

  "Already?!" Zac cheered, pumping his fist in the air. "Is it time for lunch already?! Oh man, I could totally crush some waffles right about now!"

  Bune silently walked out of the room, leaving Zac alone with his thoughts, his appetite, and a very ripped pigeon drawing.

  "Hey, wait up, Bune!" Zac shouted, jumping up so fast his chair tipped backward with a clatter.

  He scrambled out of the library, his leopard-print footies sliding slightly on the polished floor, and looked up and down the corridor. It was completely, utterly empty. The flickering torches cast long, lonely shadows against the gothic arches.

  "That's odd," Zac thought, scratching one of his fleece ears. "Where'd he go?"

  He took a few steps down the hall, peering into the gloom. "Hey, Bune? Did you have to go poop or something? I can just wait for you here if you've got the runs!"

  No answer. Just the distant, ambient groaning of the demonic keep settling on its foundations.

  Zac crossed his arms and leaned against the cold stone wall to wait. And wait. As the minutes ticked by, the hallway seemed to play tricks on his eyes, the perspective warping like a camera trick so that the corridor looked like it was actively stretching longer and longer the more he stared down it.

  After thirty minutes of standing alone in the spooky, stretching hallway, Zac started to feel a bit dumb.

  "He ditched me," Zac muttered, blinking in realization. "He actually just straight-up left me alone."

  His eyes widened. The implication finally set in. "Oh. Am I free to do whatever I want now? Fuck yeah. I'm gonna do some bad dog shit and finally have some fun."

  He pushed off the wall, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he marched down the hall, ready to unleash chaos upon the Broken Antler's pristine headquarters.

  Ten minutes later, Zac was not having very much fun.

  He wandered aimlessly, the harsh reality of Marchosias's monastic lifestyle crashing down on him. There was absolutely nothing to do in this giant, obsidian halfway house.

  He mentally ran through his options. He could go to the dining hall, but Halphas was definitely avoiding him… or worse, plotting revenge for the pigeon-shaming incident. If Zac asked for food now, he’d probably just get served a raw Bicorn head or a bowl of gravel.

  He could take a bath or a shower, but both of those options currently resulted in him losing several layers of his epidermis. His skin was still tender from Private Ami's barnacle-brushing and the near-fatal boiling in the caldarium.

  He could try to find the other demons to hang out with, but they were all currently avoiding him or nursing their wounded egos. Skarg was probably still frozen in a block of his own shame after getting muzzled by a camel. Andras was off brooding in the shadows because his dog liked Zac better. The only one who didn't seem actively upset with him was Nock. But Zac had a sneaking suspicion that Timon and Pumbaa would be a bit salty about being cast as disposable extras and brutally minced into pork sausage just so the lion could impress a human in a dream.

  Zac sighed heavily, the sound echoing down the never-ending corridor. His leopard tail drooped, dragging limply on the stone.

  "I guess I was a bit of an asshole to Bune yesterday," he mumbled to the empty air. "I really shouldn't have made light of his hoarding addiction."

  A sharp pang of genuine guilt stabbed through his chest, entirely bypassing his magically suppressed fear reflex to poke directly at his conscience. Bune had literally broken down crying in front of him. The dragon had admitted how hard he was struggling, and Zac had just brushed it off because he was too focused on his own blue balls.

  And the others... Bune had said Marchosias was trying to help all of them.

  Zac leaned against a suit of armor, his mind drifting to the Captain. Marchosias was so tired all the time, so grouchy and burdened. Even though that perpetually exhausted, stern energy made him top-tier in the butch dad rankings, Zac knew the wolf was hurting. March didn't seem to know how to smile. The only time Zac had seen him even slightly honest, slightly unguarded, was when he was just waking up from a nap, blearily kneading Zac's sides like a big, sleepy puppy. Zac still didn't know why the wolf was voluntarily celibate, why he pushed everyone away, but he was actively trying to help prevent Bune from relapsing. That was honestly really beautiful. It was the kind of deep, tragic nobility that kept March at the absolute top of the hottest-in-the-house list, even ignoring the fact that salt-and-pepper wolfmen were already Zac's most cherished trope.

  Then there was Bune. The dragon man was a fussy neat-freak to be sure, but maybe all that cleaning, all that obsessive organization, helped distract him from the literal hunger for gold that threatened to consume him. Bune had saved Zac from getting maimed countless times already. Zac honestly didn't think he would even be sane right now without Bune's constant caretaking. The butler was usually the first face (or faces) Zac saw in the morning and the last he saw at night. He even took time out of his own day to try and teach Zac things. Even though Zac hated school, he knew Bune probably didn't put 'teaching a non-receptive, hypersexual human' at the top of his list of fun things to do.

  Zac groaned, rubbing his face as he thought of Halphas. The buff, nerdy eagle who seemed so cocky and confident. The guy who had conjured Zac coffee and waffles on demand, who had actually managed to convince Zac to work out a bit. Halphas was so insecure with himself that he was literally projecting a magical illusion 24/7. He had some sort of severe avian imposter syndrome; he hated being a pigeon.

  Zac felt another deep, sharp pang of guilt. "And I said I wanted eagle dick every single day," he whispered, horrified at his own past behavior. "Of course he wouldn't be honest that he was a pigeon. He probably thought I'd call him a gutter bird like the others did. How the fuck did I not get all the hints? It's like everyone was explicitly telling me he wasn't actually an eagle."

  Zac's mind drifted to Andras. The owl wasn't hiding his appearance; he was hiding his emotions. The corsair was so obviously suffering from severe avoidant attachment style that Zac didn't even know how to begin to break through the bird's walls. The only thing in Hell that Andras seemed to actually care about was Goremaw, and the doggo wasn't talking. From the moment Zac saw the owl practically piss himself and dissolve into shadows just because Zac said ‘I love you,’ he knew the owl wasn't the heartless bad boy he claimed to be. He was just terrified of getting close.

  And then there was Nock. Zac sighed heavily. The lion was hiding himself too, but he wasn't ashamed of his species; he was ashamed of his body. Feline body dysmorphia. How a literal demon could hate looking demonic was beyond Zac, but he felt a profound ache for the lion. He had an incurable, magical STD and was so deeply ashamed when Zac saw him "without his face on" in the pool that he had actually crawled away and called himself worthless.

  Zac started to walk again, his leopard-print slippers making no sound. The endless stone halls of the keep seemed darker now, the silence heavier and more oppressive than it had been.

  Finally, there was Skarg.

  There was no way, absolutely no way, that Amdusias had been telling the truth. The nude, barbarian wendigo could not be the Demon of Love. He was all testosterone, all machismo, all blunt, primal lust. He was a force of freezing nature.

  But... Zac thought, chewing on his lower lip. That little baby otter demon...

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  It was so much different than Bune's spectral maids or Nock's bug-infested living armor. Even Halphas's homing-pigeon recruit, Cher Ami, made sense for the Earl of Violence (messenger pigeons were vital in historical warfare). But the cherub? The cute, squeaky little flying otter that had run right to the caribou to report about the battlefront? That wasn't the kind of creature that would serve a demon of ice or cavemen. It was the kind of creature that would serve a Disney princess. Or a god of springtime mating.

  Zac shook his head, a blush creeping up his neck. Shit. Skarg made me orgasm so fast when he dream-fucked me. I didn't even touch myself. Maybe he actually IS a professional lover.

  He thought back to the scene in the war room, how Skarg had completely lost his mind, yelling and running through a solid wall just to escape when Zac and the others had heard his true nature sung aloud.

  He is ashamed of being the Demon of Love, Zac realized. Does he think it isn't manly? I guess it does seem like an odd power for a high-ranking demon of Hell to have. If his whole identity is built around being the biggest, baddest, coldest brute in the Pit... being outed as the 'smashing chauffeur of passion' would ruin his entire tough-guy image.

  Zac stopped walking, feeling a sudden, physical wave of nausea wash over him.

  He didn't know anything about his new roommates. All he had done since he arrived was sexually harass every single one of them. Sure, they had played along, mostly, they were demons, after all, and lust was their native tongue. But looking back at the past few days, the picture shifted.

  The Broken Antler warband wasn't filled with terrifying, unstoppable monsters. It was filled with sad, broken men who were all deeply, profoundly emotionally compromised.

  Am I the asshole? Zac thought. No, it's the ancient demons who are wrong.

  That total dick, Ose. He had brought me here under completely false pretenses, promising me a glorious afterlife filled with hot anthros who would totally gape me. I've been holding up his end of the bargain! Ose never said I would have to remain a pristine, untouched virgin to do this job!

  Zac clenched his fists. An old, familiar feeling began to build, a hot, prickly pressure behind his eyes and a tight, aching lump in his throat. He looked around the empty, stretching corridor, his eyes landing on the closest door.

  "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have opted for generic poor people Hell," Zac muttered, his voice trembling. His mind flashed back to the chaotic descent into the Pit with Skarg on their lunch date. "There were so many damned souls getting railed by minotaurs down there. So many screaming while getting gang-banged by goat demons..."

  He marched up to the heavy wooden door. "I'll just die again. And then I'll tell that bitch leopard the contract is void. I'll jump into the void leech pit and get my do-over."

  He squeezed his eyes shut, threw the door open, and ran into the room blindly, expecting to plummet into a bottomless shaft of toothy worms.

  Instead, he just kept running. He ran for much longer than he thought he would before his slippered foot caught on an uneven flagstone. He tripped, flailing wildly, and crashed hard onto a floor covered in dry, scratchy hay.

  The heavy, pungent smell of sulfur, damp earth, and raw animal dung hit his nose.

  Zac groaned, rolling onto his back and peeling his eyes open. He wasn't in a bottomless pit. He was in the infernal stables.

  He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around. The massive cavern was cast in deep shadows, but he could see the inhabitants in their reinforced iron stalls. And they were all looking at him.

  But it wasn't with the predatory hunger they usually displayed. It was with fear. And disgust.

  The Bicorns whinnied nervously, stomping their hooves and backing into the furthest corners of their pens. The Giant Vespers shuffled higher into the rafters, wrapping their leathery wings tightly around themselves to block him from sight. The terrifying Arachne-Strider spider skittered backward, retreating behind the thick wall of silk it had spun to keep him away.

  "Well, fuck you too!" Zac yelled, his throat feeling unbearably tight.

  Tears finally spilled over his lashes. "I didn't want to be here either! I should be alive on Earth still! Living my best life... going to my shitty job... and avoiding cleaning my shitty apartment... eating shitty processed food..." His voice cracked, trailing off into a choked, wet cough.

  He scrambled to his feet, angrily wiping his face with the fleece sleeves of his onesie. He sniffed loudly, his chest heaving as he breathed in the dusty stable air, and glared around at the cowering monsters with accusing eyes.

  "At least you all get groomed!" Zac shouted through clenched teeth. "I was in a pen too, and I didn't even have anyone to scrub my fucking back!"

  The demonic beasts all aggressively avoided his eyes, looking at the floor, the walls, anywhere but the crying human in the leopard pajamas.

  Zac looked around furiously, his vision blurred with tears, until his gaze finally fell on the low-walled pen near the back.

  Leonardo, the Pygmy Aspidochelone, was sitting exactly where Zac had left him. The massive, jagged snapping turtle was looking back at Zac with ancient, unblinking, pitch-black eyes.

  "And you, slow ass!" Zac shouted, pointing a shaking finger at the reptile. "I thought I was going to get some badass Ferrari to ride! And you're just a fucking joke!"

  Leonardo didn't move. He didn't blink. He just stared.

  "YOU SUCK!" Zac raged, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "I DON'T WANT A MOUNT WITH TRAINING WHEELS!"

  Despite Zac's screaming, the Aspidochelone still did not react. It was a literal stone wall.

  That pushed Zac over the edge. He rushed over to the paddock, grabbed the top of the iron gate, and clumsily vaulted over it, landing heavily in the dirt right in front of the beast.

  He marched right up to the dangerous, razor-sharp beak that Bune had warned him could snap a sailor in half.

  "Come on then! Eat me, stupid turtle!" Zac sobbed, throwing his arms wide open. "I know you're probably dying to eat something that isn't tossed to you! You're a wild animal! Use those demonic instincts and just end me so this fucking nightmare of being blue-balled can end!"

  Leonardo slowly blinked at Zac.

  "ARGHHH!" Zac wailed in a fit of absolute, unrestrained rage.

  He began kicking at the hay, sending clouds of dust and straw flying into the air. He grabbed the empty feed buckets hanging from the low iron fence and hurled them across the stable. He marched over to the heavy stone water trough and, with a scream of adrenaline-fueled effort, managed to flip it over. Hundreds of gallons of stagnant, sulfur-smelling water flooded the paddock, soaking the hay and splashing up to his knees.

  "I HATE HELL! I HATE HELL! I HATE HELL!"

  Zac rushed around the pen, throwing a full-blown, category-five temper tantrum, stomping in the puddles and kicking the fallen buckets again for good measure.

  Through it all, Leonardo remained completely motionless, a jagged boulder ignoring the frustrated chaos swirling around him.

  Zac's emotional breakdown eventually ran out of steam, the fiery rage cooling into a cold, heavy despair. He slumped down onto the floor, sitting directly in the puddle of muddy, wet hay, no longer caring about his onesie or his dignity.

  "All I wanted was hot demon dick," Zac sobbed into his hands, his shoulders shaking. "And I got sent off to demonic conversion therapy camp instead. Why did you do this to me, God?"

  There was a slow, grinding sound of stone on stone.

  Zac lifted his head. Leonardo had finally moved. The massive Pygmy Aspidochelone was slowly, methodically walking up to where Zac was sitting.

  Zac looked up into the turtle's pitch-black, ancient eyes. He sniffed, trying to blink away his own tears, but they kept coming.

  "Good," Zac whimpered, tipping his chin up and exposing his throat. "Just bite my fucking head off. Be a good boy and eat me. I'm done with this bullshit."

  Leonardo stopped right in front of him. The massive turtle slowly opened his jagged, razor-sharp beak wide, revealing a dark, fleshy gullet.

  Zac squeezed his eyes shut. "Just do it right," he whispered, bracing himself. "I don't want to wake up needing a face transplant."

  He waited. His heart pounded a slow, resigned rhythm against his ribs.

  He heard the terrifying, bone-crushing SNAP of the turtle's beak.

  But he didn't feel anything.

  Zac peeked one eye open.

  Leonardo wasn't looking at him. The massive turtle was happily munching on a small pile of assorted, bloody meat chunks that were resting on the floor right between Zac's splayed legs. They must have spilled there when Zac had tossed the feed buckets in his rage.

  Crunch. Squelch. Crunch.

  Zac blinked a few times, staring at the turtle. Then, a fresh wave of heat bloomed in his chest, rising up into his throat until it finally overwhelmed him.

  The dam broke.

  Zac started to cry. It wasn't a delicate, single-tear-rolling-down-the-cheek kind of cry. It was an ugly, gasping, full-body sob, right there in the middle of a muddy puddle mixed with minced paladin meat.

  He lunged forward and threw his arms around Leonardo's thick, scaly neck, burying his face against the cool reptile skin. He coughed, choking on his own snot as his suppressed emotions crashed over him like a tidal wave against a poorly constructed levee.

  "I'm the youngest one here!" he sobbed, his voice raw and broken. "I should be the one having an emotional crisis, not the demons! I'm the one who died! And now I'm expected to be their tool! A cure for addiction! A spy! Someone to boost their fragile fucking egos!"

  He wailed, the sound echoing mournfully in the cavernous stable. "Oh yeah, I totally won't get mad that they have been lying about who they are and dressing up in a mech suit of pigeons! I totally won't be pissed that they act like assholes who are too cool to be honest! We are all in Hell! So why the fuck are they hiding?!"

  He could feel Leonardo’s throat working as the turtle continued to methodically munch on the spilled scraps, completely unbothered by the human clinging to him. Zac hugged the massive beast even tighter, finding a strange comfort in the creature’s solid, indifferent presence.

  "I'm the one who never got my first kiss," Zac gasped, his voice hitching as the deepest, most painful truth tore its way out of him. "I never got my first date. I never got to feel young love. If I was honest when I was alive... I would have been beat up. I would have been fired. My family would have disowned me."

  His fingers dug into the thick folds of Leonardo's skin. "So I hid it. I jerked off so much in secret just to keep my hormones under control so I wouldn't accidentally get worked up and hit on a coworker! So I wouldn't stare at the guys at work! There was no way I could be honest! But Nock? Or Halphas? Who the fuck cares if they don't look beautiful, they're fucking demons! Rich, royal, fucking demons! They can be whoever the hell they want to be!"

  Zac pushed his face harder into the Aspidochelone's leathery neck, feeling his own tears and snot smearing against the scales.

  "I didn't even want to find human guys hot," he confessed, the shame burning hot in his chest. "I didn't want to slip up and get outed. But after so many years of consuming hot monster-men smut... I realized I couldn't even get off to human porn anymore."

  Zac let out a pathetic whimper as a fresh wave of choking tears poured out of him. "I'm a fucking freak. And I couldn't even escape it, either! Everywhere I went, I had to be online! I couldn't get rid of my computer or my phone! I couldn't block the sites where I could find it because a new one would pop up the next day!"

  He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to force air into his burning lungs.

  "And now it's a thousand times worse," he sobbed. "I'm in Hell. I'm surrounded by my deepest sexual shame... and I'm still getting turned down. I'm still alone."

  Zac cried until he couldn't breathe, his wails slowly subsiding into quiet, exhausted hiccups. The silence in the stables felt heavy, pressing in on him from the shadows.

  Then, he felt a shift.

  Leonardo had finished eating the meat scraps. The massive Pygmy Aspidochelone slowly lowered his body, his plastron settling into the mud. He tucked his legs slightly inward, and with a slow, grinding sound, he extended his neck and rested his heavy, jagged head directly into Zac's lap.

  Leonardo didn't blink. He just sat there, looking up at Zac with his beady, pitch-black eyes, a solid, unmoving anchor in a sea of emotional wreckage.

  Zac leaned forward, resting his forehead against the turtle’s jagged shell, and closed his eyes. The surface was coarse and unyielding, like resting his head on a rough-hewn cinderblock, but right now, it felt grounding.

  "I miss my family. I miss Earth," Zac whimpered, his voice muffled against the stone-like carapace. "I should have just come out when I realized I was gay. Even if it was against their religion. Even if they disowned me... even if they hated me. I could have been true to myself. I could have had my same shitty life, but I wouldn't have felt so alone."

  He let out a shaky breath, the cold air of the stable biting at his damp cheeks.

  "By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I didn't even know how to talk to someone else about sex. I didn't even know what a relationship was supposed to be like." Zac's voice grew faint, cracking under the weight of his own regrets. "No matter how people roleplayed online on chatboards, or how they sexted over dating apps... when we tried to connect in real life, I just felt like I was a broken loser."

  Leonardo shifted slightly, his massive, rocky head nuzzling deeper into Zac's lap with a slow, deliberate pressure.

  "And now I'm in March's therapy office," Zac whispered, his tears finally running dry. "And everyone here is just as fucked up as I am."

  Zac's voice faded off into the quiet hum of the infernal stables. The adrenaline and the emotional purge had drained whatever energy he had left. He went limp, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep right there in the mud, using his demonic, man-eating turtle mount as a very uncomfortable, very steady pillow.

  ...

  The sun-dappled side of a rocky mountain basked in the warmth of a perfect, cloudless afternoon. A gentle breeze rustled through vibrant green pines, carrying with it the cheerful, melodic trill of mountain bluebirds. A small, winding dirt road snaked its way up the steep incline, picture-perfect and inviting.

  Zac was skipping along the path.

  He bounded upward with a joyful, springy step, laughing as he played in the beautiful weather. Two thick, perfectly braided golden pigtails bounced against his shoulders with every skip, tied off with dainty red ribbons that fluttered in the wind. He didn't question the hair, or the sudden idyllic alpine setting. He was just vibing.

  Zac stopped mid-skip, his nose twitching as he sniffed the breeze.

  "Oh shit, is someone cooking waffles? Fuck yea," he said cheerfully.

  He abandoned his skipping and followed his nose, letting the rich, buttery scent of toasted batter and maple syrup guide him off the main path. He pushed through a thicket of bushes and came to a sudden halt.

  Carved into the sheer rocky cliff face was the horrible, gaping mouth of a cave. It didn't look like a natural geological formation; it looked exactly like the maw of a massive, subterranean beast. Jagged stalactites and stalagmites jutted from the ceiling and floor, interlocking perfectly like rows of razor-sharp teeth. The cheerful birdsong abruptly died at the threshold, and the air bleeding out from the darkness was significantly colder, carrying a damp, ominous chill.

  "Hmm," Zac thought, a bubbly, unbothered smile spreading across his face. He cupped his hands around his mouth, took a deep breath, and yelled into the dark.

  "Hey! Is there anyone in there?! I smell waffles and I'm starving! All this frolicking has really worked up an appetite!"

  His voice echoed down into the pitch-black depths. He waited, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  There was no answer from the spooky death cave. Not even a rustle.

  "Well, alright then," Zac said, giving a carefree shrug. His hunger easily overrode whatever proper etiquette existed for breaking and entering into a terrifying monster lair. With his golden pigtails swishing behind him, he marched right past the stone teeth and disappeared into the gloom.

  Zac walked through the cave, which seemed like it had been carved into the mountain by hand. It was quite easy for him to skip along since the ground was perfectly flat, with no jagged rocks to catch his feet. The deeper he went, the more the natural sunlight faded away behind him, swallowed by the thick, heavy silence and the encroaching dark.

  "Do do do," Zac hummed to himself as he noticed the flicker of firelight ahead of him. "That's lucky. It's pretty dark in here."

  He approached an odd sight: a massive, polished wooden dining table sitting right in the middle of the cavern, surrounded by lit torches in iron sconces. But Zac's mind was not giving too much effort to thinking about the logistical weirdness of a formal dining setup in a creepy dark cave. His mind was laser-focused on one thing.

  Waffles.

  Zac looked across the table. There were three plates, each with a waffle resting on top, neatly laid out with polished silverware and folded cloth napkins.

  He leaned over and took a deep sniff. "Mmmm, that's the good stuff."

  Without a second thought, Zac immediately ran up to the first setting, grabbed the waffle with both hands, and tried to take a huge bite out of it.

  CLANG.

  A sharp jolt of pain ran through Zac's jaw, rattling his teeth. "Yaow! What the-"

  He pulled the pastry away from his face and looked down at it. It was a waffle, complete with perfect square grids, but it was made of solid, heavy, 24-karat gold.

  Zac unceremoniously dropped it back onto the table. The fine china plate shattered instantly under the immense weight of the gold waffle.

  "NEXT."

  He shimmied over to the second plate, picked up the waffle, and, once again, took a huge, unhesitating bite.

  His teeth sank in. It was soft, squishy, and room-temperature. Zac's eyes went wide. He convulsed and aggressively spat it out.

  Splat. Slightly chewed, raw, bloody meat sprayed across the table and the silverware.

  "What," Zac sputtered, wiping his tongue with the back of his hand, "who ordered waffle meatloaf?!"

  He looked down at the offending meal in his hand. Stamped directly into the middle of the raw meat waffle was the distinct silhouette of a Bicorn. Zac frowned in disgust and dropped the high-protein faux breakfast food back onto its plate with a wet, squelching slap.

  Finally, Zac approached the third and final plate. He was much more cautious this time. He leaned in, looking at it closely. He sniffed it. He poked it with a finger. It yielded with a satisfying, crispy crunch.

  Finally, he took a hesitant, tiny bite.

  Zac's eyes went wide.

  Nomnomnom!

  Zac basically unhinged his jaw and devoured the rest of the waffle in a single, inhaling breath.

  "Perfect," he said wistfully as he picked up the provided napkin and daintily patted at his lips. "The blueberries even tasted fresh."

  Zac stretched his arms high overhead, his golden pigtails lifting with the motion, and let out a loud, satisfied burp. Immediately after, his stomach gave a deep, familiar rumble.

  Zac smiled, patting his belly. "Nothing like a post-breakfast poop to get the day going on the right foot."

  He looked around the dimly lit cave, and, as if by dream magic, a sturdy wooden door materialized in the rock wall, complete with a tasteful, hand-painted sign that read: Lavatory.

  Zac nodded in approval and skipped over to the door. "I'm glad March has instructed his creepy, sentient keep to begin labeling the bathrooms. Total lifesaver."

  He pushed the door open. The inside of the cave bathroom was surprisingly sparse. Zac didn't really mind that the dream hadn't rendered much in the way of decor; all that mattered was that there were three distinct choices of toilets lined up against the far wall.

  Zac strutted up to the first one, grabbed the hem of his newly-manifested leopard-print sundress, hiked it up, and sat down on the rim with a confident huff.

  He instantly jumped straight up into the air.

  "COLD!" he wailed, rubbing his goosebump-covered thighs.

  He looked back at the throne. The entire toilet, the bowl, the tank, the seat... was completely made of solid, unyielding gold. It was ostentatious and aggressively un-ergonomic. Zac shook his head in disgust before waddling a few feet to the side to take a look at the second option.

  He paused. The second toilet was an engineering marvel, but not in a good way. It was outfitted with multiple heavy-duty handlebars, leather foot straps bolted to the floor, and what looked suspiciously like a five-point racing harness draped over the tank.

  Zac frowned deeply. "Nope. I am not strapping myself in to take a shit. That's just asking for trauma."

  He waddled a bit further along until he saw, luckily, that the third toilet seemed completely, blissfully average. White porcelain, a standard plastic seat, and a normal flush handle.

  Zac smiled, hiking his sundress up again, and popped a squat.

  "Ahh," he sighed, relaxing his shoulders. "Just right."

  After his post-meal pushing, Zac stepped back out into the main expanse of the cave, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn.

  "All that pooping really tired me out," Zac declared to the empty cavern. "I think I'll take a nap."

  He began to wander a bit deeper into the cave, peering through the gloom to find where a bedroom might naturally occur in a subterranean rock formation. Suddenly, a helpful, glowing wooden sign popped into existence overhead, a bright red arrow pointing around a bend in the tunnel.

  Alright, Zac thought, shrugging. This is an awesome cave, so why not trust it?

  He followed the sign, stepping into an alcove where the wall-mounted torches seemed to be magically dimmed, casting a soft, sleepy glow over the area. He rubbed his eyes as he looked across what were apparently three very distinct options for sleeping.

  The first 'bed' was exactly what he expected at this point: a massive, towering pile of solid gold coins, chalices, and jeweled crowns. It looked incredibly expensive and incredibly uncomfortable.

  The second bed was... concerning. It was an oversized, adult-scaled wooden crib, complete with high wooden slats, a pastel-colored mobile of spinning demons hanging overhead, and a disconcertingly thick, crinkly mattress pad. Zac shuddered and immediately looked away.

  The third bed, however, was a beacon of hope. It was a normal, human-sized bed with a thick, fluffy comforter, a mountain of plush pillows, and crisp, clean sheets.

  Zac shrugged. "Let's just cut to the chase."

  He skipped over the gold pile, gave the weird adult crib a wide berth, and threw himself face-first onto the third bed.

  "Ahhh, just right," he sighed, nuzzling deeper into the warm, incredibly comfortable blankets and letting the sleepy darkness of the cave take over.

  But, as soon as Zac's eyes closed, he heard heavy movement echoing from deeper within the cave. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Zac quickly pulled the fluffy comforter up over his head, curling into a tight ball. Scary monsters can never find me here, he thought, employing the universal childhood defense mechanism against the dark.

  "Someone's been sleeping in my bed," a deep, growling voice rumbled, vibrating through the mattress. "And he's still here."

  With a violent whoosh, the blanket was torn away, leaving Zac exposed on the sheets in his leopard-print sundress.

  Zac let out a high-pitched shriek of fear, crossing his arms over his chest as the torches in the cave suddenly flared to full brightness.

  He blinked against the sudden light, rubbing his eyes before slowly looking up.

  There were three Bunes standing at the foot of the bed. Not three heads on one body... three entirely separate dragon-men, each distinct and towering over the mattress.

  The first Bune, the one with the features of the Left Head, was outfitted in a pristine, sharp black tuxedo, complete with a bowtie and a silver pocket watch chain. He looked every inch the refined, wealthy gentleman.

  The second Bune, the Right Head, was dressed in a neatly pressed tweed suit with leather elbow patches, adjusting a pair of reading glasses on his snout. He looked like an austere, slightly disappointed university professor.

  The third Bune, the Middle Head, was a walking fashion disaster of aggressive wealth. He wore a lurid purple suit coat with ridiculously frilly white lace at the shoulders and cuffs. Around his neck hung an absurd number of heavy gold chains and medallions, clinking noisily with his every breath. He looked like a grotesque caricature of a jealous, hoarding miser who had robbed a Renaissance fair.

  Zac looked between the three towering, suited dragons, his pigtails drooping slightly. "Is this the part where I run away?"

  "YOU WILL NEVER RUN!" the Middle Bune roared, leaning over the footboard, his heavy gold chains clattering against the wood. "YOU ARE MINE NOW!"

  "As if you do not already run from every mess you make," Right said, pushing up his glasses with a scowl. Then, his voice shifted instantly into the frantic, high-pitched tone of a deeply concerned babysitter. "Where did you even go? We've been looking for you everywhere! The keep is under double lockdown now, and the Captain has been pulling his fur out in worry!"

  Left gracefully took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Zac, resting a hand on his knee and holding the other out hesitantly. "Are you okay, Zachary?"

  Zac nodded dumbly. His brain was struggling to decipher the logistics of the situation. Were there three separate dragons, or was this one dragon with three distinct personalities operating on a split-screen dream server? Having them all talking at him at once was a bit tricky.

  "TELL ME WHERE YOUR PHYSICAL BODY RESTS AND I WILL COME AND CONSUME YOU!" Middle bellowed, spit flying as he licked his chops. "WITH FAVA BEANS! SLURP!"

  "If you are in the keep and not in your room, you might be in danger!" Right wailed, pacing nervously. "The locks and warding magic are for your own good, Avatar! Remember, shark cage!"

  Left waved his hands at the other two, a silent command for them to quiet down. He looked back at Zac, his golden eyes filled with genuine regret. "Zachary, the way I treated you today... I did... I am... I want to apologize for how I-"

  Zac didn't let him finish. He sprang up from the bed, his golden pigtails flying, and dove directly at Left.

  Left gave a high-pitched yelp, throwing his hands up to protect his face. "Ahhh! Not the penis attack again!"

  "YES! I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU!" Middle roared enthusiastically, stepping forward and eagerly adjusting his crotch.

  "We don't have a tactical robe to net him with this time!" Right shrieked, looking around frantically for something to throw.

  But Zac didn't attack anything below the belt. Instead, he wrapped his arms fiercely around Left’s neck, burying his face in the crisp lapel of the tuxedo. All the heavy, crushing emotions from his breakdown in the stables suddenly surfaced once more, washing over him in a warm, aching wave.

  "I'm so sorry, Bune," Zac mumbled into the suit fabric, his voice thick. "You shouldn't have to apologize to me. I was a total sex pest."

  Left blinked, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air before slowly, gently wrapping around Zac's back.

  Right stopped his frantic pacing, his jaw hanging open in utter shock, his glasses sliding down his snout.

  Middle let out a deep, rumbling purr, rubbing his hands over his own belly. "Yes... and I will exterminate your lust. Get in my belly."

  Left hesitantly hugged Zac, his touch gentle despite his claws. "No, you are not at fault. You were right to be upset with me. I have been treating you like my own therapy device, not allowing you to have any autonomy."

  "But he is so fragile!" Right cried, wringing his hands.

  "BUT HE IS SO FUCKABLE!" Middle roared, lunging forward.

  "BE QUIET!" Left snapped, his voice echoing with authority. "Don't you get it? When we were in the throes of our addiction, we had no autonomy. We were slaves to our desires... to the constant urges, needing to know where the next coin was coming from, feeling that sickening feeling that we needed more and more and more. We were not free. Just as we have not allowed Zachary to be free."

  Right pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. Middle growled and turned away, fidgeting with his golden necklaces, clearly uncomfortable with all the introspection.

  Left turned back to look at Zac, his expression softening. "I know you have urges. It is not your fault."

  Zac hugged Left again, tears falling down his face. "But I shouldn't have been such a prissy bitch about it! I didn't spend any time to get to know you, and even when I found out, I still used it against you in an argument because I was frustrated."

  Left patted Zac's head soothingly. "It's more than alright. That bastard God has cursed all humans of a certain age with a similar pathological hunger. But instead of gold... you all desire to rub your naughty bits against each other."

  Right nodded his head sagely. "God did not want to have to hand-make every human, so he installed a self-replication protocol."

  "YES! YOU ALL WANT TO FUCK AND SPREAD YOUR TASTY SEED!" Middle said, whipping back around to gaze at Zac hungrily.

  Zac wiped away a tear. "Do you really mean it? Is being a weirdo horny freak not just something I have to deal with? It's the way God made all humans?"

  Left nodded and hugged Zac back. Right wailed dramatically and joined the hug, wrapping his arms around both Left and Zac.

  Middle ripped his shirt off, buttons flying everywhere. "THANKFULLY! NOW LET'S GET TO THE GOOD PART!"

  Zac smiled as he felt Middle's hands begin to reach under his sundress. "I'll try not to be such an asshole, Bune. I'm really sorry. It's a good thing I got to have a little talk with Leonardo. It really helped me settle some of my baggage from when I was alive."

  "That's more than alright, I forgive you," Left cooed.

  "Wait," Right said, pulling back slightly. "Who's Leonardo?"

  Middle panted in Zac's ear, "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you're getting triple penetrated, you thirsty little thot."

  Zac leaned back into Middle, his breath growing heavy as he felt the lustful dragon man's large hand begin to squeeze his ass. "Oh, you know, Leo. My turtle."

  "THE ASPIDOCHELONE?!" Right and Left yelled in unison. "YOU'RE IN THE PEN WITH HIM?!"

  …

  Zac shuddered awake, the smell of the stable filling his nostrils.

  He looked around, blinking in the dim light. Leonardo was still asleep on his lap, his massive, rocky head pinning Zac’s legs to the muddy floor.

  Zac groaned and scratched the turtle's head. "Leo, my legs are asleep. Get off."