Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Waxing Carnauba
Title: Limbo
Part: Chapter 00 - Bad Dog
Universe: Limbo
Summary: A brief introduction to the town of Limbo, and our protagonist.
Keywords: nosex, magic

   ----OBLIGATORY PREAMBLE---

   This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real events that take
place in the near future are completely coincidental.  I swear to you, I'm
totally not working on bringing about ArMEGAddon (that's every apocalypse
in history, all at once).  For realsies.  Pinky swear.

   Also, I'm not going to be adding the 'magic' tag to all my shit--I
figure, if you've read this chapter, you have a pretty good idea of how the
Limbo universe works.  Repeating it would be redundant.

   This is primarily a story that follows the 'organic process' stream of
writing, which means it could end up containing kinks so kinky that there
isn't even a term for it--or it could be all snuggles 'n cuddles.  That
said, there are monsters, magic, masters, mistresses, and mind control
involved, so related themes might pop up.  If you think to yourself "This
is about to turn into something I really, really don't dig", then feel free
to skip ahead a few paragraphs (or skip to the end of the chapter).

   This is a work-in-progress.  I will update my preambles if/when I get a
Limbo website up, but in the meantime, keep posted to my ASSTR for updates.
Also, feel free to send questions, comments, suggestions, marriage
proposals, death threats, fan mail, hate mail, or exclusive offers for
penis enlargement and 'f4k3_r0|e><e$' to waxing.carnauba at gmail.com.

   ----END PREAMBLE.  YOU CAN STOP SKIPPING NOW.--

   Prologue - Bad Dog

   Speculating exactly why it started is pointless.  Everyone who had been
guessing at the details beforehand got it wrong.  There wasn't a magical
date of any real significance.  Nobody was lifted to the heavens before
they came.  And what confused most were that they didn't come from any one
place.  For some, the Earth cracked open and unspeakable horrors crawled
out.  For others, the skies parted, and the death rained from above. 
Others still simply materialized out of thin air.  Those who still had
electricity after the first wave read reliable sources from around the
world reporting of some emerging from the ocean while others formed
themselves from pools of blood.  The best anyone can figure, it was every
single mythology that was ever believed, all coming true at the same time.

   One thing's for certain: The dead awoke.  Most of the flaming-sword
heroes who returned were still capable of remembering who or what they once
were, leading us to conclude that so did the monsters.  Souls one, ten,
even twenty thousand years departed returned to the world, twisted by ages
of self-righteousness or self-hatred, as the purest forms of what they
believed they truly deserved.

   Most of them were human once.  Most, but not all.  Gods themselves came,
too, somehow created by the belief of their long-dead subjects.  And while
belief made them real, reality made them mortal.  The carnage was
legendary, for lack of a better term, and it was only a matter of time
before the common, living human being was driven to ground.

   Thankfully, `to ground' is where I lived before the carnage.  It was a
reasonably small town, for the most part; a blip on the radar of the
greater monstrosities, and therefore spared any major event.  The name of
the town prior to the invasion is inconsequential.  The signs at the town
limits now read "Limbo".  And frankly, I believe that's as good a name as
any.

   But the start is not the best place to begin my story.  Everyone knows
the start.  What I tell you comes over a decade and a half after 'the
start' had been decimated by roaming packs of the returned.  After
stragglers from those packs settled in, forcing most of us into a life of
hiding and scavenging.  After hopes for any real government were long-since
abandoned.  After small pockets of pseudo-governments emerged as rumors of
distant closed gates and giant walls, mortared with unwelcome bodies. 
After all, this isn't the story of our damned world, nor that of Limbo
itself.  This is my story.

   My story starts when my roommate's story ends.

   I had left as the sun rose to search for supplies, and came back to a
broken-in door and a lot of blood.  I readied the bat I hoped I'd never
have to use, and walked in the living room to find--well, John. 
Everywhere. On the walls.  Draped over the television.  Hanging form the
jaws of the hairless, sinewy dog that growled lowly as it watched me enter.
The only place John wasn't was on her.

   I'd seen many of these dogs around town.  Vicious beasts that usually
hid during daylight hours, attacking mostly strays and garbage cans.  But
I'd never seen anything like her.

   Her beauty was horrible.  Her body seemed covered in what was almost a
form-fitting carapace, but with dark-colored nipples poking out of her
pert, perky breasts.  Her face was smooth and beautiful, forming the sharp
jawline and high cheekbones of a model, but smooth where nose and mouth
ought to be.  Above the gentle bump of her brow line were a pair of black
horns that curled up along her forehead, more for aesthetics than any
practical purpose, as far as I could tell.  But the feature that caught me
most off-guard were her eyes.  The sockets burned a deep, fiery red, and
when I stared into them, I felt my bat lower, and my jaw go slack.  An
overwhelming urge to drop to my knees and give myself to her washed over
me.

   I'd heard the stories.  Both before and after the fall.  But I'd never
seen a succubus with my own eyes.

   I don't know exactly what happened next.  Maybe something primal, beyond
my crumbling reason, kicked into gear.  But out of the corner of my eye,
the dog lunged.  I heard its ungodly roar, but it sounded as though it were
coming from miles away, through a paper-cup telephone.  But somehow I
reacted.

   The next thing I knew, my wits were about me, and the dog was dead.  My
arms ached and my bat was covered in bits of the creature's skull matter. I
slowly looked back to the succubus, expecting her to kill me with the
twitch of a pinkie, or, if she was feeling merciful, take over my brain,
rip off my pants, and literally fuck the life out of me.  Then, at least, I
would know how the hell that happens through the smooth-crotched carapace.

   Instead, she simply stared at me silentely.  No loss of control, no
mystical forces crushing my bones to sand or whatever (I'd heard they had
some incredibly destructive powers, but hadn't heard anyone actually say
what they were supposed to be).  She just watched me as though
contemplating her next actions.

   "How did you do that?" The voice came clear as day, even though she had
no mouth.  It didn't seem to come from anywhere, though; it was
just--there. It took half a moment of thought to realize that wondering
where it came from was absolutely ridiculous, as she'd just fucked the shit
out of my mind a moment earlier.

   I looked down at the remains of the dog, lifted the bat, and weakly let
the business-end drop into the puddle of brains with an impotent plop.

   "You resisted.  Tell me how."

   I looked back to the bat, then to her.  I wasn't sure if she could read
my thoughts, but if she could, she didn't move to defend herself.  The
notion of attacking her seemed absolutely ridiculous, and I let the bat
fall to the floor and shrugged.

   Her eyes shifted.  Not in location, or in color, but in tone, if that
makes any sense.  The flaming orbs seemed more at ease.  "I've yet to meet
a mortal who could do such a thing," she said.  "Tell me, can you do
anything else?"

   "Are you going to kill me?" I always imagined, placed in a certain-death
situation, I'd find myself begging, groveling, or haggling for more time.
Defiance was completely new to me.  I suppose certain death brings out
hidden parts of you.

   "Answer me."

   "I can juggle and stir-fry."

   She stared at me, her gaze now cold and silent.

   "I can also do this," I added before kicking my feet out in a
half-hearted jig.  The me I had known--the me who had spent the past decade
hiding in a basement apartment with my roommate, living off of the scraps
left by my dead neighbours or haggled from my live ones--watched this
behaviour in abject terror.  But as it watched my actions, it shrunk
further into the recesses of my mind, fading into vapour, a necessity that,
now that I was fucked regardless, was no longer necessary.

   "Do you not fear me?"

   In all honesty, at that instant, I didn't.  My anger had bought me just
enough time to shrug off the stages of grief and just slip into acceptance.
"If you wanted me to, couldn't you just make me?"

   At this, her eyes actually grew content.  Almost happy.  "This is true.
Your insolence confounds me, though."

   I looked around the room.  "You expected to get on my good side?"

   "My pet certainly did not."

   I gave the dog's body a weak kick.  "I don't think I got on his, either.
So what does that mean between us?"

   Her head craned slightly downwards, moving for the first time since I'd
entered the room, to gaze at the creature.  "I suppose it means you owe me
a new pet."

   I thought about asking for clarification, but I knew damn well what she
meant.

   Her eyes moved back to me.  "There are many ways out of this situation.
One of them involves you keeping your life.  The others--well, you know
what they say.  Hell hath no fury."

   "Do you have a name?"

   This gave her pause.  "Nyx will suffice."

   Interesting.  It actually had never occurred to me that some of the
monsters would have a shadow of their human selves inside them, but `Nyx'
clearly hesitated.  "You can't make me wear a leash."

   "After how my last pet behaved, I can't guarantee that."