He introduced himself with a thought, but no words.
"I am an Archon, of Purgatory," it thought. And as soon as it was thought, he looked disturbed. "How did you pull that truth from me?! What power do you wield?"
But she realized something: he was handsome, and exotic, and better than the alternative. And so she, in her weak of heat, invited him. And when he put the mask back on, she tore it off, broke it in half, and threw it away. It burst into a cloud of smoke, as she rode the archon's long, black member, slick and shifting inside of her. And when his fangs let to forked tongue, she took it in her throat and gagged, pleasured beyond relief. And when he was done, tired, and in pause, she tore off her shirt and demanded more. Next she knew, she was riding him, and feeling on top of the world. But in a flash, she was on the stairs, having an orgy – being had by a bald Hawaiian senator, an old judge, and a billionaire mogul – whilst their wives watched. And she, unable to stop herself, or move, sucked the old judge off and let the senator slide in. She loved giving head, and it seemed to matter more in that moment how she did so than who it was to. And for however small, weak, indignated, and defenseless she felt, she saw that she was twice their size – and stronger than them to allow it than they were to have given it.
Then, she awoke to laughter, and saw that she was surrounded by jackals, hyenas and coyotes, all laughing in tandem, celebrating and singing for her having been raped, defiled, and bruised in the ego. When she shrugged at them, denied them her retaliation, they grew angry.
"You did what you did to me, I assume," she said. "And so did they. But they're judged for it, being violent; not I, for having been harmed. And I've done nothing wrong."
At that, they grew angry: with a stupid smile on their faces, they took a needle, and injected her with a serum – soon, she was viral, fevered, and tattered with worms of the brain. And they cackled and laughed, chopped her up, and put her body in bags – then tossed it out back, behind the manor, in a ditch on the other side of a ravine.
When Brody saw herself next, she was looking in a mirror, and slowly becoming Aurson herself – her hair grew thin and brittle, her face changed, and her body swelled to twice its size. Her belly ballooned, her hands became smaller, and her cock shrunk by a couple of inches. Worst of all was the bone of her skull where she'd been struck, in which she felt rotten, broken marrow, like it had been wrong her entire life and she was only just now seeing it – her bone disorder, or maybe disease, had already spread long ago... from hips to head. In it she saw fractaled Wumpets, as if an accursed spell was trying to miscure her into the wrong person. And when she fought it, she felt hypnosed. And it was horrid, and it made her break down and cry. She wanted to scream, but all she could do was leave the room. She fell through a trap door, and feel into a bright light.
She found herself floating as a perspective without body, outside and above the trees, then over the White House. She floated down into the building, and watched as people poured in. Then Aurson, in a presidential address in Washington, said to the public:
"The thing with shemales is, you gotta grab 'em in two places at once. It's very difficult, to wrangle 'em. They're better off in prison, they can get raped there by their own kind. I hate doing it myself, I'm not into queers. I love beef prices and e.coli on salad, God Bless America. God Blessed it... once. He's blessing it all the time, really, even the whores. Make America Grade A, that's what I always say. I would rape all kinds of people, though, even blacks and spicks. Chinks. I've raped many people. Young women, boys. Children. Mostly girls, and boys, as I believe God intended. One day, I'll go door to door, take off my adult diaper, and commit fantabulous sexual violence against every man, woman, and child in America, then Mexico, then Greenland. And they'll thank me for it, they really will. They love me down there in Mexico, they call me Chizzbit Hog Jerky – y'know, those little cheese puffs, Chizzbits. They always tell me, 'I should be hung out to dry'. I believe in that, I really do. I'm tough to chew y'know, it's a talent."
Brody found herself alive again, in the crowd, a reporter. She had only one question to ask:
"Why did you do all those things to those people? Those children? Why destroy America and then claim you're saving it with your pants full of shit?" Well, that was three questions, and another one took their place: "Do you honestly think anyone wants you when they can get raped by someone better?"
She was surprised herself to have said it, but he was monstrously offended. Speechless, his mouth gaped, ever slower- and he spat a sickly bolt of lightning at her microphone. Then he transformed into Bretasmodeus, and tried to summon a storm – but Asmodeus, a higher demon or devil himself, picked him up and ate him.
Asmodeus the powerful and lustful; twenty-six feet tall, strong with massive horns and tan greyish skin, and a ten-foot cock barely concealed by a brown loincloth, said to her:
"He will never taste revenge, for his tongue is dull. A cold dish is wasted on those who cannot chew. Go for the throats of predators, not their laughingstock. Only then will you drink the blood of those you crave to drain."
And then the reporters turned on her. Each fatter than the last, they wore masks of Wumpet, of Asmodeus, and somehow, of Old Wally. The archons seemed to be trying to bother her, by choosing faces from her mind. They lunged at her, tore off her clothes again, and shocked cocks in her face and draped their testicles over her head. They made her taste their labian loins and sweaty glans, and she began to enjoy herself and the thrill of it... until they shat at her feet, and pissed all over each other, which ruined whatever joy Brody could scrape from the violation. Then one of them pulled out a lawnmower, as if to mow the White House lawn... and pulled the cord, so they could run over her body, minding nothing of whom or what she was sucking or being fucked by... and she was chopped again feet-first, into a mess of body parts. And when she screamed, she awoke again – this time for real. But when she realized all at once what her torture had been, and sobriety and wake gripped her mind like a vice, her eyes bloodshot wide and her guts seized so hard she couldn't puke. Brody sat there, frozen, in dread. She wished she had never woken up at all... or that she had died, instead.