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Bindr

Swiping Right vs Swiping Wrong

copyright comidacomida 2020

After Sam's father took a job with the governing board in charge of water quality, Sam had been forced to move to an out-of-the-way town which had all but ruined his life. Introverted, the Cat had great difficulty making friends. Worse than his natural inclination to be a wallflower, his family was the only Cat household in all of Wildcreek, a town populated mainly by Tigers, Lions, and a few Cougars.

It was also a highly religious town, with the primary faith being the Divine Pride; considering his family weren't Lions they didn't fit in there either, but that didn't stop his mom. Being a Maine Coon with vibrant gold fur she was quite capable of fitting in as office staff and even had the opportunity to sit in regularly on sermons. Sam's father was ultimately welcomed in as well despite being a striped Manx, but his parents were the limit to the church's tolerance; they had no desire to let a black cat into a house of god.

Sam had no control over his fur color any more than he was able to change the fact that he had inherited his father's short tail. To make matter's worse, he had heterochromia, making one of his eyes amber and the other green; all of his completely unavoidable shortcomings made him an object of scorn among those of Wildcreek and so he could do nothing but continue keeping to himself and weather the storm of the town's apathy.

Things didn't improve for him the second year the family was in residence; he was in his Senior year of high school and on the social totem pole was so far down that the Freshman often took their frustrations out on him. He was angry, but swallowed it for the sake of appearances. He was fearful, but bore it as well as he could lest his bullies make it even harder on him. He was lonely... so lonely, and even his introverted nature didn't help numb the pain of being so completely rejected.

His parents often tried to get involved in his life, especially once they finally realized how unhappy he was. They had managed to become well-received members of the local parish but, realizing that he wouldn't be accepted they knew better than to encourage him to talk to one of the priests. There was the discussion of going a town over to see if there was a social worker who could help him with his depression but what Sam really needed, he told them, was to leave Wildcreek and never look back. Having grown accustomed to their lives, neither his mother nor father took his earnest plea seriously.

Things came to a head that October on his birthday, the 31st. It was a Sunday, and he had earnestly and fervently wished that he and his parents could just spend the day at home together forgetting the rest of the world didn't exist. His mother used to bake the best birthday cakes, and his father had an excellent choice in lounge-on-the-couch movies, but they weren't able to keep their commitment. What started as a "quick trip to church for the morning sermon" turned into a full-day event due to some special guest visiting the congregation and follow-up community get-together.

They returned just before eight at night, and brought Sam two halves of different kinds of smashed sub sandwiches; one was salami and the other was ham-- he disliked both meats. Sam realized at that point, especially when they retired for the night due to such a busy day, that he couldn't even rely on his parents; he was on his own. Then, and ever-after, the Cat kept to himself even more than before, turning a cold shoulder to everyone and everything.

Sam spent the next few months finding ways to occupy his time in anything and everything that let him ignore the world. Although he'd always been a fan of technology including his computer and his smart phone, the Cat expanded his love of lonesome activities when he began reading old fashioned paperback books. The next months flew by as he immersed himself in creative fiction, which he found too fanciful, and then moved onward to horror, and therein he found his chosen genre.

By the time he'd finished devouring the entirety of the limited horror section at the small town library he'd identified some favorite authors and began looking at non-fiction biographies and articles about them, which was when he learned that many of his preferred writers often used old myths and legends for the foundation of their tales. At that point Sam doubled-down and began going through the entirety of old tales from the numerous religions of the world. Whether old, new, or ancient, any legend, tale, or religious text became yet another way to pass the time without involving another living, breathing individual.

Despite his newfound obsession, Sam still couldn't shake the loneliness, which was most likely the single driving factor that led to his interest in an esoteric ritual book that claimed, through magic, it was possible to reach out to the world beyond what the layman could see and commune with powerful forces outside the normal comprehension of mortal kind. From that point onward, Sam was obsessed with magic. Despite how silly it sounded, the Cat resoled to become a practitioner rather than just a scholar.

Less than one month until graduation, he didn't bother spending time after school going through the rehearsals for the ceremony; he didn't plan on attending anyway. There was just over an hour after he got home before his parents arrived and that was when he practiced. That Friday, however, he spread out all of the necessary components and made all of the necessary markings, took all of the necessary precautions, and spoke all of the necessary incantations. When nothing happened, Sam was convinced that success was not with his grasp, but fate determined that belief in himself WASN'T necessary.

The ritual was designed to give a conduit device known as a 'fetish' the ability to commune with the supernatural world. Originally designed to work with crystal balls or in combination with a wooden board and heart shaped pointer called a spirit board and a panchette respectively, it supposedly had other uses as well. Attempting to bring the ancient ritual into the modern age, the Cat had offered up his smart phone as the fetish. His original perception of failure was due to no obvious difference in the device but, as he sat there wallowing in his latest failure, the feline teen flipped through his apps and saw something unexpected: a new one.

Although not exactly keen on the social scene, Sam was more than familiar with pop culture, and that meant applications such as Tindr and Grindr were known to him-- in passing, at least. Having avoided any kind of social interaction for over a year, Sam had no prospects (and no real interest) in dates, especially ones that were focused on sexual hook-ups. As a virgin, he also had no experience in endeavors of the flesh, and certainly had no intention of acting on his urges; he was in a church-loving hick-town full of Lions and Tigers so there was no way he was going to come out by admitting his interest in men.

The new application, however, was neither Tindr nor Grindr; the logo was a simplified icon depicting what looked like an almost comically depicted arcane rune. Sam was interested immediately and, without thinking, opened the app. Although the introduction welcoming him as a new user gave off all the vibes that he'd expect from a dating app, the more he read into it the more he understood that an app user looking for "the one" wasn't about a hook up; somehow, in some way, he had an application on his smart phone that would match him with a demonic entity and bind them together in a soul contract!

At that point, once he gained more of an understanding over what was involved (everything looked like a more modernized version of the rituals he'd spent months learning about), he put all the prerequisite information into the application and uploaded a picture (it took him somewhere around thirty tries to get one that didn't completely suck), and then, shaking, he pressed the confirm button. Immediately he regretted it and was right about to figure out how to cancel the whole thing when the program responded, seconds later, with a long collection of possible matches.

He spent the next two days going through the lengthy list. He didn't consider himself vapid or shallow but he also didn't believe in deluding himself and the pictures (when present) really made him stop to think. First thought of course was "You don't HAVE to upload a picture?" After a stumble getting started, however, the program turned out to be easy: swipe down if the match doesn't seem like one he'd want or swipe up if it was worth pursuing. The other user would also get Sam's info and be able to do the same. If both parties swiped up then the app would let them send one message each.

Sam had taken three days to get a match, and waited another three before he could figure out what message he wanted to send. In the end, however, before he could provide a response, his prospective match, HH24 sent him one first: "Just say where it is you would like to meet, kitten. You know how to reach out."

Contact information was one of the things that 'HH24' had included on his profile, which, from Sam's point of view was a fairly aggressive move, but, after a lot of thought, Sam realized that, considering how naturally timid he was, perhaps he needed someone more forward. He took a day to consider his reply as he summoned up his confidence. Perhaps 'confidence' wasn't quite the right word. Desperation? Yes-- that was about it. Regardless, he typed in his single message reply. "Okay. Next Wednesday night. I'll call you."

* * * * *

Not usually one to leave home, Sam didn't much care for social meeting places but he had chosen the coffee shop downtown specifically because it was where all of the jocks went after their games. Sam hated the coffee shop and he especially hated the jocks; the Lion muscle-heads made his life difficult at every turn. Fortunately for him, however, they were on the far side of the shop, far away from the counter celebrating their victory from earlier that night and so they ignored him completely. One good thing about black fur, he decided: it was easy to blend in with the background.

Sam cupped the hot chocolate he'd ordered in his paws to keep them from shaking. Prying his eyes from the muscle heads, he glanced around at the other patrons of the coffee shop before taking a seat at a small table in the corner furthest from the more celebrating jocks; he didn't often go out in public. He also didn't usually do blind get-togethers via social apps but apparently he was making a lot of exceptions to get what he wanted; he was socially incompetent enough that he couldn't really think of any other way inside his comfort zone to meet someone... and an 'online interaction' just couldn't get him what he really needed.

The thin black Cat fidgeted in his seat, back to the wall as he eyed the two-dozen-or-so people gathered at the always-busy hipster hotspot; it was a Saturday night and a lot of them looked to be about his own age-- most of his classmates were probably there relaxing after the game, or post graduation practice-run. Their reasoning for being there didn't matter to them; they all hated him and he hated them all. Sighing, he began opening several sugar packets he'd snatched up from the container next to the straws and cup sleeves, emptying them into a tidy pile in front of himself while regarding his phone.

Although Sam occasionally glanced up and around at his surroundings, he kept most of his attention on the cell. Even as his fingers made lazy circles in the sugar, spreading it out and drawing lines through the granules, most of his attention was on the app that was open; it would hopefully lead him to 'The One', and, after spending so much time alone, friendless, and without any possible prospects, 'The One' sounded exactly like something he needed. It had been a long road to that point and, even though things were moving quickly after reaching out to HH24, Sam found himself impatient for once.

The Cat continued to use his right paw to scroll through HH24's personal data for what was probably the hundredth time while he continued making little circles and symbols on the faux wood surface of the table with sugar. Sighing, Sam looked down at his dark brown robe, lacking any other adornments. "Man... maybe I should have worn a tie?"

Eventually he turned off the Bindr app and put his phone away; it was time to make his call. Completing the arcane runes in the sugar, Sam spoke the words. "Vos es invocavit."

The lights in the coffee shop flickered and everyone in the lounge paused. Even the football team's celebration noise dimmed as they looked up and around, murmuring to one another. A moment later the electricity went out entirely, and all was silent. Sam glanced around, finally comfortable since the spell had succeeded. Everyone was frozen in place; and it felt good to be alone again. A small red flame moved toward him, however, making the Cat realize that he wasn't as alone as he had thought.

The eldritch ball of fire floated through the air before coming to rest on the chair opposite Sam. The moment it touched, the little wisp of light burst into a momentary conflagration and then went out entirely. Left in its place was an imposing creature, easily seven foot tall comprised of living black ash and motes of fiery red embers. Two heads emerged from its neck, both gazing at him; four eyes the color of lava. It was a creature of hell: a dog. A Hellhound.

The left head who spoke. "You must be Blackcat20, or, Samuel, if you prefer."

Even as Sam sat staring at the otherworldly beast the right head quickly added "We like your fur color."

The Cat sat stunned for many long moments; demons came in a number of styles: Birds, ish, Rodents and, of course, Dogs. The latter were by far the most dangerous and yet, despite himself, it was a Hellhound that Sam had summoned. The demon was massive in the way that Sam was demur; the Hellhound was muscled while the Cat was a twink. The teen offered a feeble attempt at a smile, accompanied by an uncomfortable giggle. "Yeah... I uh... thanks. Black, right? I guess we... uh... share fur colors."

The left head continued as if Sam hadn't said anything. "We have known many summoners, but this is the first time we have been summoned in so public a place."

The right head cocked to the side. "We're used to more private events... but we're not opposed to a little exhibitionism," it winked at him "if that's what you're into."

Sam blushed profusely but he pushed the discomfort aside. He had trouble figuring out which head he was supposed to be looking at and found himself switching his gaze back and forth between them but, despite his discomfort of the situation, he was naturally a curious individual-- despite the old adage he couldn't help himself. "When... I saw your profile I was a little surprised-- I thought Hell Hounds have three heads."

Both heads glanced to one another; Left grinned wickedly, while Right's was a little more impish-- Sam knew there was a difference. It was Right who responded. "Oh... we have three heads, kitten... but you can't see the third one cuz we're sitting right now."

The Cat lost all words at what had to have been some kind of flagrant flirtation, but, fortunately, Left continued the conversation. "Samuel... you have yet to explain the pact you propose, or why you chose this place."

Sam's mind popped back to what he'd spent months learning; the left head had gotten straight to the point-- a pact. He had to prove his willingness to serve an otherworldly patron and that involved a gift. Letting out a deep breath, the feline gestured around the room and the two-dozen people frozen in place. "You said in your profile that the pact required a sacrifice..."

Left looked to Right, who looked back to Left. Left spoke first. "I believe we have finally found a mortal who understands..."

Right winked to Left, then looked back to Sam. "It's not easy to impress him, you know. You're off to a good start, kitten."

Sam tried to banish his fear. "So... you accept?"

Left nodded, an errant rivulet of glowing spittle leaking from between his sharp teeth. He licked his muzzle and announced. "Yes. We have a Pact. Your Service shall be ours, and our Power shall be yours. So it is agreed."

The sugar on the table blackened and then blew away on a nonexistent wind. The Hell Hound's left arm reached out and ruffled the head fur between Sam's ears. "Off to a good start, kitten. We're gonna enjoy having a mortal like you in our service."

The coldness Sam had spent so long cultivating melted in that instance; he had done it! He had his otherworldly patron, and he no longer had to fly solo. Despite fighting to maintain his composure, the Cat's voice cracked as he spoke earnestly "I just don't want to be alone anymore."

Left eyed him carefully, the Hell Hound's right arm reaching out to grip his head powerfully, Sam's muzzle resting in the palm of the enormous paw as its index and middle finger pressed against one side of his jaw and a strong thumb pressed against the other. "We wish to see you cry, Samuel... show us how much you desire our favor."

The Cat knew that it was a bad idea to show weakness in front of a demon but, whether it was due to the Hell Hound's command or his own inability to build up his resolve after a chink in his armor had opened wide enough for him to admit his insecurity, Sam found himself crying and it was far more than a single tear; within moments he was bawling. He lost track of exactly what happened after that but, suddenly, he was in the arms of the Hell Hound, face buried in its massive, chiseled chest.

A large, firm paw stroked the back of his head and Right's voice spoke against the top of his head. "Shh... you're not alone, and you don't have to be alone, kitten... that's why you summoned us, isn't it?"

A heavy muzzle came to rest on his right shoulder as Left added "Enough sniveling, Samuel... we do not desire you to ruin the moment."

The Cat hiccupped his sobs to a stop and he blinked his eyes several times in an attempt to get the tears to stop. Whether his willpower succeeded alone or was aided with some kind of compulsion from the Hell Hound he didn't know, but he found Right's words of comfort and Left's words of reproach to be simultaneously helpful in their own way. Once he fell silent the Hell Hound held him out at arm's length and Left looked him up and down. "Good. Very good. You will be a fine vessel for our might."

Sam knew the term, but was surprised at how direct Left was. "Your vessel?"

A powerful heat coursed through the Cat's body, almost reminding him of summer when going from inside an air conditioned house into the midst of 100+ degree weather... but the heat didn't hit him in the face causing him to sweat; it went far deeper, and left him almost shivering at how cold the coffee shop was. Even the hot cocoa sitting on the table seemed only tepid. A smile split Right's muzzle as it drew near Sam's pointed ear, and the Hell Hound whispered an obvious double entendre. "So, kitten... can you feel us inside you? Do you like it?"

It took only a few seconds for Sam to realize what it was that the heat represented: it was power. The Cat's body was thin and not particularly tall; he was not athletic or particularly coordinated and nothing about his pact had changed that, and ye the had never before recalled feeling so strong in all his life. Almost as if reading his mind, Left declared "Not all strength can be measured by sight alone, Samuel..."

Right's muzzle parted and a broad black forked tongue extended, licking the Cat from collar bone to ear tip. "So, kitten... wanna help us reap some souls?"

Glancing around the coffee shop, Sam watched as the summoning magic finally came to an end and reality caught back up to them. Nobody in the coffee shop realized that anything had happened or that they had been frozen. His ignorant classmates continued ignoring him, and the muscle-headed jocks continued their celebration. His anger stoked the fires inside of him and Sam smelled smoke as his paws clenched at his sides. Almost as if by reflex, the teen raised one in front of his face and he opened his fingers, calling forth the fires to manifest in his palm... and they did.

Left leaned down, looking over his head at the fire which had been summoned. Two large paws gently gripped either shoulder. "Good. Very good, Samuel. Are you ready to begin the sacrifice?"

Gazing at the hell-gifted ball of balefire, Sam grinned; he was no longer powerless. "Yes, m'lords."

* * * * *

It took less than five minutes for Sam to immolate everyone within the coffee shop who had wronged him; he could have done it in less than a minute but that would have lessened the act, both for the enjoyment of his new lords and his own personal sense of satisfaction. He had spent his entire time in Wildcreek as a victim, slave to the whims of others, bullied, ignored, and despised. Things were about to change: he would no longer be bulled; he would no longer be ignored; and he would despise them twice as much as they ever did him.

Emerging from the burning coffee shop, Sam smiled at his success. Left and Right joined him; Right seemed to be enjoying himself with his tongue hanging out of the side of his muzzle, contentedly panting with glee while Left's expression was much less joyous. It was, in fact, almost... dejected. The Cat was immediately worried. "What's wrong?"

Right glanced at Left then back to Sam. "Wrong? Oh... don't worry about us... we're just upset that you let the barista go."

Sam knew the customers in the coffee shop; they had been his classmates. They had been horrible, and they deserved what they got. He didn't know the Ocelot who worked behind the counter. She was probably somewhere in her mid-20s, and she had been kind enough to him and served him his drink without issue. He had nothing against her. "She was in the back when I summoned the hellfire. She didn't see anything so I didn't have any reason to kill her."

Left let out a bland 'ha'. "So you need a reason now, do you, Samuel?"

Right craned his neck, bonking the side of his head against Left's. "Give the kitten a little credit; he sacrificed more to us than any other summoner has since the middle ages... so he doesn't want to kill EVERYONE... we still think he's great, even if he has a tiny little flaw like sympathy."

The Cat regarded the Hell Hound; both heads looked right back at him. Behind them, the coffee shop had reached full conflagration status and he was confident that staying around probably wasn't the wisest thing to do. "I think we should probably get moving."

Left nodded. "Yes. That is not an unwise idea, Samuel... but first..."

The Hell Hound's right paw gestured in the air, rotating at the wrist like a magician doing a trick and, just like said performer, the demon created what looked like a burned up cigarette butt out of thin air. Right continued to be all smiles, noting theatrically "Ah yes... the dangers of smoking."

The spent butt disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and Sam somehow knew innately that the investigators inspecting the crime scene would find it, and trace the horrible tragedy which caused the death of nearly two dozen teenagers to someone's thoughtless use of cigarettes indoors. His train of thought ended immediately as the Hell Hound walked past him, right paw gesturing onward even as Left stated "Come along, Samuel... no use dawdling on the sidewalk when there is so much left to accomplish before dawn."

Sam lingered only for a moment, then quickly picked up the pace, jogging to catch up to the Hell Hound. "Dawn?"

Right reached out with a left paw and tussled the teen's head fur. "The pact is still new. We can only stay with you from dusk until dawn."

Of course, the cat reminded himself, he knew that! Cursing his slow brain, Sam stepped into a rhythm beside the Demon, two steps for every one of the Hell Hound's. They walked in silence for two blocks until a realization came to Sam. "I'll need to get home soon... my mom and dad don't know where I am."

Left's follow up question didn't just lack tact; it lacked any semi balance of sympathy. "Do you truly believe that they care where you are, Samuel?"

It was a straight forward question, and one that Sam honestly felt he knew the answer to; of course they didn't-- to them he was only an afterthought. However, before he could provide the answer, a small part of him deep inside realized that if he were to say it aloud then he would be unable to go back and change his mind. They were his parents. They loved him... didn't they? They were a family and, even if they were so wrapped up in their new lives to realize how miserable he was, they were related. That accounted for something... didn't it? Surely they cared.

Right apparently took his silence as agreement. "It's okay, kitten. You only need us anyway. We're your everything. That's why you summoned us in the first place, isn't it?"

The Hellhound stopped, about-facing so they could look at one another and then, only then did Samuel really bother to look at the sum total of everything he had summoned; the demon dog was an obsidian Adonis! HH24 was well over seven foot tall, and had the build of a strongman. He was massive, and chiseled, and everything that Sam used to admire physically about the football players in the locker rooms when he was sure they weren't looking. Only the Hellhound's perfection made them look like feeble wanna-be pretenders in comparison.

Left scowled. "You're staring."

Right, on the other hand, smirked confidently as he placed his left paw on his bare hip. "You like what you see, Kitten?"

Sam had been staring... and he had been staring inappropriately. Moreover, the Hellhound was very VERY naked... so naked that he could clearly see the only non-black fur on him, which was a treasure trail of fluffy, blood red cascading down from the demon's belly button to parts positioned below. HH24's groin was a forest of blood red and nestled within it was a giant sac of crimson velvet which hung heavy thanks to the two, oblong baseball-sized orbs within. The demon's testicles weren't the only thing to catch the Cat's eyes however; a massive, scarlet sheath stood thick and stalwart, nearly as big around as Sam's wrist and from opening rose the pointed tip of a member as black as the Hell Hound's fur.

The Cat found himself hypnotized, unable to look away at that sneak peek of just the very tip of the raven-hued member, glistening faintly in the streetlights. It was Left's voice that finally broke the trance-- that, and the Hell Hound's right paw, which reached down to palm the massive sac, causing another few centimeters of obsidian shaft to slip free of its fuzzy sleeve. "Perhaps you would care to put off returning home for a time in favor of some other... activity?"

The Cat had no more arguments and just nodded at the demon, adjusting himself within his jeans. "Uh... yeah. That-- that's... probably a good idea. I'll just... follow you then, m'lords."

Right grinned. "Good boy."