Nov 21, 2019 1:48 PM
some herbs go to hell
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–oh.

"What's the price of a soul?"

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"Well, it depends on the soul, of course. Different sellers might ask different prices. But one of the services we offer is the assistance of experienced negotiators to help you get the best deal on your soul."

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"Or someone else's?"

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...now, that's an interesting idea.

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"Kyou," she says, warningly, but she can't manage much fight.

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“Certainly,” she says, smoothly. “We’ll be happy to help facilitate any purchases you wish to make.”

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Buying back their souls. Staying forever. He has a card with his name on it – his name – and they barely blinked about it. The guy who was behind him in line is in for arson at least, and something about his name sounded...really familiar. This is already kind of a lot to take in.

That doesn't stop him from wandering ahead and peering through the double doors into the game room.

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The game room appears to be a casino, dark and velvet-lined, just dim enough to highlight glowing neon signs and the blinking lights of slot machines. Inside, golden-eyed demons mingle with, apparently, humans; no one is quite nude, but there are varying states of undress represented, ranging from the buttoned-up to the borderline indecent. Waiters with small discreet horns or luminescent tattoos carry platters of drinks smoothly through the crowds. One sign, shining orange, shows a gyrating nude figure and an arrow and the words:

BOYS

GIRLS

&

MORE

The far side of the room is quieter, less populated, more formally dressed; there are card games there, with demons dealing, and roulette, and maybe other things he can't quite see. The side of the room close to the entrance is filled with slot machines, lights spinning, sounds playing. It's almost all humans pulling the levers; demons lounge here and there, leaning against the machines, chatting humans up or just watching.

It takes a moment, in the dim light, to notice that the slot machines are ... not quite standard. The closest one, in place of any kind of standard controls, appears to have a large, faintly glowing dildo mounted at waist-height, sticking out horizontally from the machine, with a helpful label reading SUCK HERE. A little farther off, a woman is astride a projection from a machine which appears to be designed for exactly this purpose, wrists and ankles fastened in place spread-eagle, and whimpering softly. Another machine, currently unoccupied, looks suspiciously like some kind of commercial milker; at still another, a man appears to be trapped with his dick in a hole at the front. (His screams are quite audible.)

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Holy fuck.

This is the kind of place you get to when you off yourself, then. And drive too fast.

He's transfixed.

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Another soul approaches behind him, peering over his shoulder,

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and immediately stops having expressions. His eyes flick down the line.

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Joy.

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Some demons are watching them back, through the double doors, with degrees of interest varying from casual through lascivious to predatory.

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He looks back over his shoulder.

"–are all the machines like this?"

Rather than apprehensive, he sounds hopeful.

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"We try to maintain a variety of offerings for our customers."

For instance, there's that man strapped down on hands and knees being fucked relentlessly by an enormous dildo on a piston. And that cross between a waterwheel, a wheel of fortune, and quite a lot of paddles. And that woman who appears to be playing an arcade game where the controller is a dildo, which is inside her.

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–okay he's gonna figure out the prizes later.

He breaks away from the rest of the group and heads straight for the rows of machines.

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Jeeze. At least try to pretend you're being coerced.

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This man appears to have just won an overflowing pile of golden coins from a machine that involves exciting amounts of electricity! This woman has three dildos in her, and all of them are getting slowly larger as the wheels spin! This machine ... can really only be described as whack-a-mole, except with dicks instead of moles, and the holes belonging to the player!

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...electricity is definitely his speed.

He can wait for that one to be free. Especially with that kind of payout – what is he even going to be paying for? His soul, he guesses? Who the fuck knows.

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The man scoops up his winnings, staggering a little; after a moment, the coins disappear, and the sleek black card he's holding pulses with golden light for a moment.

The reels of the machine show hearts, lightning bolts, gold coins, flames, arrows, and a scattering of other symbols, shining invitingly. There's a coin slot, with odds printed above it (1:1.07), and beneath it diagrams clarifying the use of the attached apparatus -- a dildo, a collar, four cuffs, and a set of nipple clamps, all gold-colored and shining.

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...this is gonna be fun.

(His eyes dart around the room, briefly, taking in the demons and humans nearby.)

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He looks at the coin slot.

 

He looks at his card.

 

...okay, so if he just – taps it? Maybe?...

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As soon as he wants to, it's quite obvious how to withdraw coins from his account.

They appear in his hand, heavy and golden.

 

(Nearby, a pretty golden-eyed man in nothing much more substantial than ribbons leans against a column, examining his fingernails contentedly; a woman pulls the arm of a slot machine and, as the reels spin, the dildo inside her begins to fuck her.)

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...nice.

He pushes one coin carefully into the slot and then unbuttons his shirt, gazing up thoughtfully at the machine.

Collar first. Then – he wonders how high the tension is set on these things – clamps.

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They're tight enough to smart; not more than that.

The collar clicks shut but doesn't lock. He could still back out.

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