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Two Goats and a Donkey!

Him
An original story by George Booth

One night after work, I was alone, of course, in my house, just sitting in the living room daydreaming while the tv buzzed in the background. My house was a lovely little cottage, 2 bedrooms and one bath upstairs, living room, dining room, kitchen, laundry room on the ground floor. Nothing fancy, but perfect for me. Oh, and there is an attic. The attic is more than just a crawl space, more than just a space above the second floor. It's solid. It's well-built. And it's always terrified me. It has corners, you see. Dark corners that the single hanging bulb won't illuminate. My imagination has always played tricks with me on what might be lurking in those dark corners. Or maybe...just maybe...it was more than just my imagination. Because, you see, that's where I met....him.

On this particular evening, my daydreaming was interrupted by a bump. Or maybe a clatter. I wasn't paying attention, so I've no idea which sound it may have been, only that it insinuated itself into my reverie and was coming from upstairs. One could hypothesize that the cat had knocked something over, only I don't have a cat. So I stood up from my recliner, glanced at the wall clock to see it was 9:00pm on the dot, and then walked over to the stairway. Leaning on the oaken banister, I glanced up the stairs but of course saw nothing. With a shrug, I started up the stairs, thinking my imagination was being overly active again, when I heard a distinct thump from upstairs. Only, I was nearly to the second floor landing, so upstairs meant the attic. "Oh fuck," I thought. "Just where I wanna go." Sighing, I climbed the last few steps to the second floor, then crossed the hall over to the doorway that hid the stairs to the attic. My attic didn't have a trap door, instead there was a closet containing a steep stairway to climb. I opened the door, looked up at the attic landing, and called "Hello?" Really, Ronald, you're going to yell hello to an empty attic? I heard the word echo slightly, then I climbed the stairs. I looked around, taking in the lit part of the attic room. There were boxes and some old furniture that should have been thrown out years ago cluttering up the attic, so there were places to hide, but not a lot. The clutter wasn't quite that bad. I then started to glance at each of the dark corners. My eyes slid past the second corner, then with a gasp, I darted my gaze back. I'd seen movement in that darkness. I don't know where in the hell any courage came from in this situation, but I found myself walking towards that corner. My eyes tried to penetrate the gloom, and then, I saw it. A hand. A human hand, reaching out of the darkness. Reaching out to me. While my mind screamed at me to run, my hand, seemingly of its own volition, reached out towards that other hand. That hand that shouldn't be there. That seemingly disembodied hand reaching out of the dark. That hand then took mine, and a man, naked as the day he was born, sort of jerked out of the dark. I just stood there staring, his hand still in mine, and thought to myself how beautiful he was. And then wondering why someone so beautiful would be reaching out to me. Anyone else would undoubtedly be wondering what the fuck? Why is there a strange man hiding in the corner of my attic? But not me. No sir, not me. All I could do was stand there, grasping his hand, wondering why a beautiful man would be taking the hand of an ugly man, and staring at....him.

How to describe him? His face was oblong, with a classic strong jawline, a light frosting of scruff along the jaw and chin and continuing up around his open lips to form a mustache. He was a ginger, a dark ginger, with short hair above piercing green eyes. His nose was wider than narrow, but narrower than wide. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply through them, his mouth closing as he inhaled through his nose. It was a deep breath, almost like his first one ever, it seemed. His nude body was a swimmer's build, nice but not overly muscled, and further down was, nestled between a trimmed ginger bush and a healthy set of balls, a perfectly shaped and formed cock. But it was those green eyes that kept drawing my own eyes back. He looked at me with wonder. He finally formed a word, the first word he'd spoken, and I was taken aback by that word, for it was my own name. "Ronald," he said, his breath heavy as my name spilled from his lips, as those lips curled into a beatific smile.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "You know my name?"

A single nod. "Of course I do. I've come for you." He leveled his gaze at me. "You called for me."

My eyebrows flew up. I did what? Now remember, I was daydreaming just before I came up to the attic. And in that daydream, I beheld a man who could love me, who would love only me, who had eyes only for me, who didn't see my physical ugliness but could see into the depths of my soul and see my inner beauty, for I was sure I had that at least. Did my daydreaming somehow conjure him up? How? Why? Where did he come from? Of course, when I spoke, I had none of this eloquence. "Say what?" I asked? "What the fuck do you mean?"

"You called for me," he repeated. "I heard you call, and I came through that." He pointed at the dark corner behind him with a thumb over his shoulder.

"What? How? What do you mean you came through that?" I raised one eyebrow at him. Showing him I meant business.

"It doesn't matter." He waved his hand dismissively and reached to take my hand, the hand he was already holding, with his other hand. My right hand was now sandwiched between both of his. And he was, of course, still naked while I was dressed in a grey Queensryche tshirt and a pair of Levi 501 jeans.

"But...." I started to say, and that's when he stepped forward, released my hand, and just drew me in for a full body hug. As I felt the warmth of his skin through my clothing, anything else I had planned to say vanished. I relished that hug, that closeness of flesh, and all reason abandoned me. I tilted my head so I could search for his mouth with mine, and when our lips touched, shivers ran through my body. I melted into him and just for a moment I thought I was going to have a spontaneous orgasm. The sensation of him was that intense. Somewhere in the back of my mind, alarms were going off, but I was too much a part of this to pay any attention to them. My fingers traced down his spine while his gently ran up my sides. I felt myself drifting away, my mind relinquishing control of myself to him. To....him.

That thought stopped me cold. I pulled back from him, but his lips chased mine and tried to maintain contact. I brought my hands up to his chest and forcefully pushed him away from me. "Wait, wait, I can't do this. I don't know who the hell you are or why you're in my attic!" My outrage bubbled up. "Who are you? What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

He smiled. The universe could dance in that smile, but I refused to let myself be drawn back in. It was rough sailing, ignoring that adorable grin, but I managed to navigate those treacherous waves and just glared at him. "Answer my questions!"

The smile faltered, then he sighed. "I've already told you, I came when you called. I felt your need and I came to fulfil it. That's all."

I rolled my eyes. "That's all? Dude, that's a hell of a lot to swallow!" I glanced at his pretty cock as I said that and almost derailed myself. Yep, it would indeed be a lot to swallow! I raised my eyes back to his and cleared my throat. Twice. Get a grip, Ronald! "Where did you come from? How did you get into my house? What's your fucking name!?"

He pursed his lips at me, then said, "My name is Pucc. I live...elsewhere. I got into your house through the portal behind me. This attic has many portals, and it's through this one that I felt your call, your pull, your need. And I figured I'd answer the call." He pronounced "Pucc" like "book" but with a "P" instead of the "B".

I tilted my head to one side, similar to the way a dog will when he's trying to figure something out. "Ok. So I'm still daydreaming, or more likely, I fell asleep and I'm full blown dreaming. Man, this is some dream. Yep, I need to wake up and get back to reality." I then attempted several times to awaken. Pinches, biting my tongue, stomping my feet, you name it. All for naught, as nothing changed in the room. Well, other than Pucc looking at me like I'd lost my damn mind. And maybe I had. "Ok, so I guess I'm not dreaming. If that's true, then...fuck, then you're a demon or something?" Great. I just kissed a demon. The dark depths of my mind started singing, "~I kissed a demon, and I liked it!~" Jesus Christ. Oh. Well, maybe I do need to call upon the lord!

Pucc laughed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his sexy throat. Ahem. In his throat. I can't give in to a sexy demon, damn it! "Demon? I'm no demon, Ronald! Granted, I'm not exactly....human....either, mind you. But I'm just here to make you happy."

I snorted. Big time. "Make me happy? What the fuck? Why would you care about my happiness? And if you're not a demon, and you're not human...then what?" I started to recoil away from him, from this...this inhuman being, this...this what? Spirit? Demon despite his protestation that he's not? Cthulhu? My mind snorted at that. It's bad enough that there's an intruder in my house, possibly one from another plane of existence, and here I am trying to make him the biggest, baddest Lovecraftian elder god? Before my mind could invoke any other possibilities, Pucc reached out his left hand to gently stroke my cheek.

"I heard you call. I came to be with you. That's all that's important." That touch on my cheek and that gentle voice...I sighed and felt myself giving in.

"Ok." That's all I said, all I could say, all I felt I needed to say.

Pucc pulled me into another embrace, kissed me tenderly, then somehow picked my ass up into his arms! I am not a slender guy by any means. Even if he had the muscles of Hercules, he should have strained and grunted lifting my heavy frame up. But no. Not even a twinge. He picked me up like I weighed nothing and then proceeded to carry me down the stairs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and just let it happen. Hell, with the kind of strength he was demonstrating, what else could I have done anyway? We reached the bottom of the stairs and he stepped into the hallway. He turned to the right and took me into my bedroom. Funny how he seemed to know which of the two bedrooms upstairs would be mine. He maneuvered me through the doorframe and over to the queen-sized bed, where he gently laid me on top of the comforter and then silently slipped onto the bed next to me. So, here I was, in my bedroom, lying in my bed with....him.

My bedroom was fairly large, with the bed in the center of the northern wall, a nightstand on each side. Along the eastern wall, there was a long dresser with a half-circle mirror, a window with four panes in each of the top and bottom parts, then a highboy chest of drawers. A 50" tv hung on the southern wall between two landscape paintings. The western wall had the door on the southern end, then an antique gentleman's dresser, another landscape painting, and a Victorian parlor chair under the painting, near the bed. Nothing fancy, just a bedroom. And within that bedroom, on the bed, Pucc sat up and started to remove my clothes. With all the supernatural crap that had already occurred, I'd half expected him just to snap his fingers and make my clothes disappear. How silly of me! Although I by now had no doubt he could do exactly that. I sat up while he removed my shirt, and as he did, he kissed my belly, then each nipple, and as the shirt went over my head, he stopped there, basically blindfolding me with my shirt, and then he began nibbling on my throat. My breathing quickened, as this was my absolute favorite thing for a guy to do to me. Ok, second favorite. Maybe third? It was in the top ten at any rate! He stopped nibbling and pulled the shirt off my head, pushed me back onto the bed, then his hands went for the buttons on my jeans. He popped each button open, revealing my red and white checkered boxers underneath. I lifted up my butt from the mattress while he slid my jeans over my hips and down my legs, tossing the jeans with the shirt onto the parlor chair. He left my boxers on for the moment and rolled over, pressing his lips against mine while his hand stroked my left inner thigh. The next several hours are a bit of a blur, but he proceeded to make love to me like no man ever had. He was gentle and patient, given to occasional roughness that was not unwelcomed, and I can remember at least two orgasms that he gave me. With the first orgasm, my mind decided to sing a few lyrics from a Tori Amos song, "~I want to smash the faces, Of those beautiful boys, Those Christian boys. So you can make me cum, That doesn't make you Jesus~". The second orgasm was even more intense, and my mind only screamed through that one.

Afterwards, I lay in the bed, in his arms, satisfied, feeling loved, feeling like I belonged to someone, feeling like I mattered. My head was on his chest, and I could hear his beating heart. It slowly dawned on me that I wasn't hearing the usual "lub-DUB" sound of a regular heart. I heard instead a "lub-BOOP-DUB" sound. The fuck? If I needed further proof that Pucc wasn't human, here it was. I pulled my head away from his chest so I could look into his eyes and asked, "Ok, I need to know exactly what you are."

He smiled. "I'm your lover."

"I'm being serious, Pucc. I need to know." I stretched my right hand up to trace his jawline with my index finger. "I need to know what I've fallen in love with."

He took my wrist in his hand, moved my tracing finger to his lips to kiss it, then said, "You've fallen in love with me. That's all you need to know."

I sighed, not happy with that answer, but understanding that's all I would ever get. Resting my head back on his chest, I fell asleep. Almost immediately I started dreaming, and the dreams were nightmares. I dreamed I had been entombed upon an island, on the highest mountain of that island, and that my tomb stared out over a vast purple ocean. The sky was green, the sun was red, the grass was yellow and the jungle trees were orange. Even in my nocturnal terror, my thoughts were only of what hideous being could have created this terrible color combination. It was scarier than the fact my dead and rotting body lay in that tomb under that alien landscape. I slept, but I didn't rest.

My eyes opened when the first tendrils of sunlight came through the eastern window. I was on the right side of the bed, but I was quite alone. No sign of Pucc in the bed, nor anywhere in the bedroom as I sat up and looked around. Frantically I leaped out of bed, taking note that it was 6:00am from the bedside alarm clock, dressed quickly, then stepped out into the hallway. The doorway to the attic was closed and he wasn't in the hallway, nor in the bathroom or the other bedroom when I poked my head in to search. Finally I turned and went to the attic door, opened it, and looked up the stairs. The light was not on, but the sun was streaming through the ventilation grid. I climbed the stairs, but didn't see Pucc in the attic. I thoroughly searched those dark corners, although how I thought a full grown man could hide in those shadows I'll never know. I was quite forgetting how he had come to be in the room in the first place. Shrugging, I turned and went down the stairs, then went down the other stairs to the living room. The tv was still on from last night, so I shut it off, dropped the remote back onto the coffee table, and turned to go into the dining room. Still no sign of him. That left either the kitchen or the laundry room. I ignored the laundry room and entered the kitchen, and there, still stark naked, stood my hero at the stove, frying up some eggs. "Good morning, Ronald," he greeted me.

"G-good morning, Pucc," I said, trying to figure out exactly what had transpired in the last 9 hours. "Where did you get eggs?" I knew for a fact there were none in my house. I'd been meaning to go to the grocery store for some, but had been putting it off. I didn't care that much for eggs anyway.

Pucc shrugged. "Oh, you know, here and there." I frowned. What the fuck did that mean? "I hope you like them scrambled." He pointed to the kitchen table. "Have a seat, they're ready." He deftly slipped them from the small frying pan onto a plate that also contained bacon resting on a paper towel. I stared at the bacon for a moment, wondering how he dared to fry bacon in the nude? As I sat at the table, he set the plate in front of me. "Eat up, you probably worked up quite an appetite last night, you insatiable beast." He winked at me as he plopped his nude butt onto a chair opposite me. I had picked up a fork and was about to eat, but at those words, I dropped the fork back onto the plate with a clatter.

"Uh, speaking of last night...." I started, "...I'm still not comfortable with how you came to be in my house. And I really need to know what's going on." My eyes bore into his, willing him to answer me this time, to solve this little (little??) mystery for me. He only winked at me. "Enough!" I shouted. "Enough evasion! Give me a goddamned answer!"

"Didn't you enjoy last night?" he asked. "I thought you did. It sure seemed like you did. You moaned quite a bit and you certainly made a big enough mess a couple of times. Didn't you like my company? Didn't you enjoy the pleasure I gave you?"

I slapped my hand onto the table, startling myself in the process. I don't normally make aggressive moves like that and it scared me to do so now. But I set aside my fear and just screamed at him, "Answer the damned question, Pucc!"

His easy smile seemed to mutate, to change, to grow sinister. A laugh erupted from his lips, a laugh that would have made a lesser man empty his bladder. I, unfortunately, was a lesser man, and I peed all over myself and the chair. "I thought you would be smart enough to figure it out from my name," he said, leering at me. "Pucc. I'm a pucca. I've been watching you for some time, waiting for the opportunity to come into your life. And last night, you gave me that opportunity." His smile changed from sinister to downright creepy as fangs emerged from his lips, as his eyes changed from that beautiful green to a sickly yellow, his pupils becoming long vertical slits, his perfect hair and scruff changing from ginger to sooty to grey to charcoal, becoming just sprouts and islands of hair all over his head. His body changed too, the skin becoming a greenish-grey, his fingers becoming claws, his torso changing to something slithery and scaly and thinner. I was grateful I couldn't see what changes were occurring to his gorgeous cock. That would probably have pushed me over the edge. Wait, I can see the edge. I'm heading for that edge. I can feel my sanity slipping away from my mind. Sanity...sweet sanity...it's not all it's cracked up to be anyway....

And as fast as it all happened, the world snapped back into place, and it was just Pucc and me, sitting at the kitchen table. He was Pucc again, nothing sinister about him. And I was me. Ronald. Happy and content, sitting in that kitchen, eating breakfast with the man who had come to change my life. I'd never have to feel ugly again, never again be told that I'm ugly. Sitting in that kitchen for all eternity, with a shattered mind, without a care in the world, just happy that I was with Pucc for eternity. All eternity. With....him.

George