Kasyn, the Spunk-Prince

A note from the writer: This is, alas, the final chapter of Kasyn, The Spunk Prince, a story that I started last summer as a masturbatory distraction and a break from some of my other writing projects. I had no plan whatsoever of what was going to happen from one chapter to the next, and I had great fun making it up as a I went along (which probably left it with dozens of plot-holes and unresolved threads…sorry!). I figured it might run for five or six chapters, maybe 20,000 words total. But it somehow blew up to five times that length. I did not know when I posted it here that anyone would actually even read it, so I was surprised when a number of readers emailed me to let me know that they were enjoying the story and looking forward to the next chapter. Though this story has reached its conclusion, I suspect that there is a future for many of its characters and situations, and I’ll probably show up with a sequel at some point.

A recollection from Barus, a grandson of Kasyn: 

I admit that I was nervous to meet my grandfather, the awesome Prince Kasyn, but I went to his chamber with eight of my brothers which comforted me, and we were, all of us, highly excited over our purpose which was to receive Kasyn’s seed so that we can bear him more sons. Imagine my surprise when he selected me as the first of us to fuck (even greater than the surprise that he looked barely any older than us). He was already naked when we arrived and I could not help but stare at his stick, the biggest I had yet seen in my short life, longer and thicker than mine and my brothers’, its head shiny and nearly purple. And I was more surprised when he did not just fuck me but first teased me with his mouth. He pulled off my harness and my jock and told my brothers to get naked as well. He went to his knees in front of me and sucked my dick into his mouth, all of it. I get blowjobs every day from at least one of my brothers, but they never manage to take it all the way into their throats, and I was so nervous and horny and excited that it’s a wonder that I didn’t cum right away. Then he pulled me belly-down onto his bed and he licked and kissed both of my holes, pressing his tongue first into my asshole and then into my vaj. This soon did make me cum—and then I did a second time when he slotted his cock into my hole and told me that he was going to fill me up, put his pup inside me. He jammed me a minute or two and then pulled out so he could change our positions. Now on my back, he spread my legs with his and put his stick back inside me. My brothers surrounded us, watching me get fucked, jerking on their cocks and waiting their turn with Kasyn. He humped harder and faster and it almost felt like his dick was getting even bigger inside me, and then he shouted at me, “I’m gonna do it, you pretty little fuck!” And then he spasmed in me really hard and I knew he was giving me his spunk. He stayed inside me for a minute, like his cock was a cork keeping his juice bottled inside my box. Eventually he pulled out and dropped from his dick onto mine a sticky blob made from his cum and my cunt-juice. He took my brother Darius next, not even needing a break. 

Taro stood over me next to the bed, jerking his dick, watching Darius get poled by Kasyn, so I sat up and sucked on it for him and made him cum. Prince Kyler himself appeared for just a few minutes. He chose Josiah, bent him over a couch and fucked him from behind, with a condom on his cock so that he did not accidentally knock up Josiah before Kasyn got to him. Kasyn did then take Josiah next after finishing with Darius and  taking a break where he encouraged us all to drink enphasmic absinthe and snort lines of narcowhirl. As the fucking resumed, two more boys appeared. I had never met them, but I knew them by reputation: first generation sons of Kasyn, Chadon and Maxon of the feared Apparatus Priapus. Kasyn, still with his dong inside Josiah, said to the newcomers, “You guys are here for some of this, too?”

“Yes, Daddy!” they said in unison and stripped out of their clothing. Hours later, it was done, and all eleven of us were pregnant with Kasyn’s pups.

From Kyler’s journal…

Our preparations for my trip to Byzantium were tiresome and needlessly tedious, as dozens of Curia bureaucrats scrambled to makes names for themselves by “assisting” their new “Holy Father.” On the second day of endless communiques about the flight route and the security arrangements, I ordered Ian and Elisha to simply take care of it, and that we would leave the next morning no matter what. The trip was already going to be tremendously time-consuming because I had assented to traveling aboard the Wand of God, the papal airship that had crawled the skies of the planet whenever previous Popes had traveled abroad. I’d resisted this at first because the mile-long dirigible moved so slowly that our flight would be two full days. But Ian assessed it as the most secure mode of transport…after one alteration: he ordered that the pilots of the fleet of guard planes that escorted the airship all be accompanied by Apparatus Priapus minders who would control these aircraft’s weapons. “We have to assume,” he’d said, “that there are elements in the Church who do not share the official enthusiasm for your ascendancy.” He imagined a dramatic assassination attempt in which the guard planes would turn their guns on the airship and bring it down with me aboard. Training the Apparatus boys how to operate these planes added a couple more days to our itinerary. 

And I grew morose and irritable because Kasyn would not be traveling with me. It was too big a risk to have us both aloft together. And Kasyn did not want to go anyway because he had plenty of work to do at home: more potential recipients of his sperm were on the way.

We’d received word of a rare request from a group of immigrants from Venus, on their way here by aethership, and wishing to make planetfall here in our city. This boat, we were advised, carried over three hundred of the legendary arboreal “maph” boys of Vepaja Amtor, and that they wished to breed with Kasyn. “If really they are what they say they are,” I said, “then we will receive them here, and Kasyn may do as he wishes with them.” I was dismayed that I would be abroad at the time of their arrival. I instructed Doctor Phibes to screen them for any exotic diseases before passing them through to Kasyn and to get a decent set of data on their anatomy since we’d never seen any members of this Venusian people before—in fact, until quite recently I’d doubted that they even existed any longer, so shrouded in strange legend were the accounts of them.

Aboard the airship, Elisha and I were given separate and very luxuriously appointed quarters, but since I’d no intention of spending the next two nights without a sex partner, I told him he’d sleep in my bed. He’d been awkward around me since my election to the Papacy, as if his awe of the power of the Church he’d once served had reasserted itself like an old instinct. I was having none of it. As soon as we were alone in my stateroom, I pulled his mouth to mine and pressed my tongue between his lips. I could feel his misplaced anxiety, a tension through his entire body. Irritated with this, yet flushed with lust for his body, I turned him around and pressed him forward and facedown over the wide quartz surface of the room’s wet bar. He struggled a little bit and cried out that he did not “deserve” the “honor” of this attention from me. “That’s fucking ridiculous, Elisha!” I said, holding one hand against the back of his head and reaching under his kilt with the other. As I suspected, I’d have no need to strip him as he wore nothing but a jockstrap under the kilt, and I pressed two fingers against his asshole, and he gave me a soft little cooing moan. I tugged open my fly and hiked up his kilt to expose his smooth bare rump. The penetration was a little rough at first as I’d used only the slime of my pre-jac and a drool of spit as lube, but he did not protest and momentarily I was able to smoothly massage my dong in his sheath. When I was ready to get off, I ordered him to his knees and I spunked out heavily in his hair. He laughed and with both hands worked the white goo through his black locks. “Are we back to normal now?” I asked. “Yes!” he smiled widely. “All good now!”  I went down on him until he gave me his juice which I swallowed. It was like a little appetizer that reminded me that I was quite hungry and that it was probably about lunch time.

This airship—for a thing of its enormous size—felt strangely empty, with Elisha and me as the only official passengers and most of our security detail deployed to the guard planes. We headed toward the front end of the vessel, where we were told we’d find a dining room, passing down a wide corridor of empty staterooms. This section of the ship connected to the next by way of a narrower corridor the walls of which were windows allowing one to see from both sides the open sky and the very distant ground below. This, I am sure, was intended to be a spectacular feature of this ship, but all it did was make me feel extremely acrophobic, and so I hurried us down its length and into the next pod where we were greeted by a very short middle aged man in a Byzantine Guard costume who offered us a tour of the working areas of the ship. We visited the bridge—a forward-facing pod at the front-most of the ship—where a small crew of dour Byzantines tended to the technical details of the flight. We saw an engine room that was unmanned at that moment but which held the gleaming thrumming guts of the ship’s locomotion. On the way, at last, to lunch we passed through a kitchen where we spotted a very young and skinny pantry boy tearing apart leaves of basil. My dick made a mental note of him for later.

Kasyn receives an unexpected visitor…

Kasyn found it rather pompous and weird to take Kyler’s seat at Kyler’s desk, but he didn’t see a better way to receive this strange guest: Spathe, first daughter of Kyler, mother of Kasyn’s son Koth, she of the early chapters of this series of strange events. He reclined imperiously in the high-backed chair, hands clasped behind his head, osmium band crown on his head, anticipating her arrival, but he sat upright when she actually entered the room.

Kasyn noted that she looked like one of the nektonic witches, clad in a severe business suit with shoulder pads that formed epaulets, her platinum hair pulled back and up into a spiraled bun. Suspecting that this appearance was intended as an overt form of intimidation, Kasyn stood and leaned forward over his desk and said, “This is an unexpected pleasure, Miz Spathe!”

“You may dispense with the formalities, Prince Kasyn,” said Spathe. “When you fathered my son, you started something that now consumes our world. And I am here to tell you some important information.”

Kasyn settled into the chair and beckoned her to reveal it.

“My sisters and I conducted a seance. It was successful.”

“Indeed!” Kasyn frowned. “But what does that even mean?”

“We saw many things, impossible things, but real nonetheless. We saw the impending blast from the A-Star and what it might do to our world. And we met Seth! Not our Seth, but Kyler’s. Kyler’s father. Actually, it was his transaetheric remains that we met. He drifts in a sort of afterlife in a liminal space between our world and a world of pure aether, and he spoke of you, Kasyn!”

“Me? How would he even know about me? He’s been dead for decades."

“He told us that he predicted you—predicted you in the sense that your creation provided a possible solution to the puzzle of what will happen after the beam from the galactic core and how we will survive and adapt.”

Kasyn felt a chill pass through him from his head downward through his feet. “He foresaw me? By looking into the future?”

Spathe smiled. “Oh Kasyn, there’s so much more to this. In a way, he actually created you! Created you to fulfill your purpose.” Kasyn said nothing, though he was wondering if Spathe was tripping on some kind drug. “Do you recall Blue Radical’s explanation of how your balls were altered and why your sperm produced such…unusual offspring?”

“An exotic supernatural tissue-analog,” said Kasyn, “was grafted into my nuts. Blue said it came from some kind of poltergeist that had raped a bunch of boys in a boarding school, but later it was somehow captured and destroyed by a Cult Cthulhu exorcist.”

“Kasyn, listen to me closely.” Spathe leaned forward. “That entity, which Blue Radical called a transaetheric gay punk poltergeist, was a manifestation of Seth!”

Kasyn kicked the floor and made his desk chair roll backward a couple feet as if Spathe were a stinging insect. “Are you fucking mad? Do you know what you are implying? That my sperm is somehow merged with that of a man who’s been dead for thirty years and who was my husband’s father but is now some kind of fucking ghost! And that this dead man somehow very recently orchestrated all of this specifically to make me a one-of-a-kind super-breeder! This story has taken a really ridiculous turn, Spathe!”

“Two of a kind, actually,” said Spathe. “Don’t forget about Jaustin Moss, his copies of your balls spilling sperm into winged boys on Mars.”

“I need some time to process this.” Kasyn sighed heavily and pulled himself closer to desk again. “I am going to proceed on the assumption that your information is faulty, the result of a mind-bending hallucination that you chicks had after snorting ten or twenty lines of narcowhirl and emptying a bottle of enphasmic absinthe, and then work my way back from there.”

Spathe rose to leave. “You can doubt it at your leisure for now, but Doctor Phibes may have something to tell you later.”

“What?”

“He is looking for bits and pieces of genetic information, perhaps even unexpressed genes, in the DNA of some of your offspring. If I am correct, he will find echoes of Seth.”

I don’t think I’m going to tell Kyler about this until he gets home, Kasyn thought. He’s got enough big things on his mind…

From Kyler’s journal…

Lunch was extraordinarily pedestrian and lacking in flavor, consisting of a thin parsnip soup, a chicken salad sandwich and a green salad with some herbs in it, and a singularly bland vinaigrette. It concluded with a plate of pale biscuits that both Elisha and I ignored. The server who attended our table seemed baffled when we asked for prosecco to enjoy with this mediocre meal, but he eventually brought it in the form of two tiny bottles resting in an ice bucket. The server was required to do this three more times, and I became concerned that we’d deplete the entire ship’s stock before this voyage ended. “Make a note,” I said to Elisha, “for the next time we travel abroad that the ship must be provisioned much better!” And I vowed that if we ran out of wine before we reached Byzantium that we would be stopping in Iberia or Rome for a restock. 

Later that afternoon, Elisha went on another exploration of the ship and returned to our quarters an hour later with that kid that we’d seen in the kitchen. Upon seeing me, reclined on a chaise in the living area, he fell first into genuflection and then fully into prostration, arms outstretched, his belly nearly touching the floor. A religious boy, I thought. We’ll soon cure that.

“Get up!” I ordered. I rose from the chaise and stepped toward him. He rose, but just to his knees, eyes full of awe and terror, and I added: “On your feet, boy! Stand up!”

The youth obeyed, but he kept his eyes downcast. “Holy Father…” he intoned.

With two fingers, I lifted his chin and made him look me in the eye. “No need to be so formal here, kiddo. I asked you here to relax with Elisha and me. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I am not worthy!” he said. And I slapped his face—not hard, just enough to get his full attention, and I was rewarded deliciously by the bright flash of anger in his dark eyes which showed me that he was not a total Church zombie, that he still had some free will left in him. 

“You’re more than worthy,” I said. “You wouldn’t have any way of knowing this, but before all this ‘Pope’ nonsense got started, I was a regular patron of the ‘unworthy’ boys, the poor boys, the dirty boys, the fucking filthy boys. You are entirely mistaken if you believe  that your imaginary lowly social status makes you an unsuitable companion for me.”

“My Lord…” he began, and I slapped him again, this time a little more gently than the first. I told him to call me Kyler, and I did so again when he hesitated. Finally, he smiled and called me by my name. Then he said, “Is the part, then, where you want me to take my clothes off?”

“Do men ask you to strip often?” I wondered. Elisha, standing behind the boy, smirked and undid a couple clasps of his own waistcoat. 

“Often enough.”

“But you’re very young.”

He shrugged. “I have two older brothers. They broke me in. Then sold me to the Church.” 

A slave. “What’s your name?”

“Nothing,” he said, and then, “yeah, that’s literally my name: Nothing. I have to explain   that every time.”

“Seriously?” said Elisha. “Did your parents hate you on sight or something?”

I thought that remark to be rather cruel, but Nothing delighted me by spinning around to face Elisha and issuing to him a growly “Fuck you!”

Elisha laughed and apologized and said, “But, yeah, it is time for you to take off your clothes. We want to see that body naked, boy.”

“What if I won’t do it?” said Nothing, a little tremor in his voice that he was clearly trying to force an octave lower.

I was impressed with this sudden rebelliousness from a boy who’d just a few moments before prostrated himself before me. My dick was really impressed with it. 

“You can either strip yourself naked now,” Elisha said, “or we will do it for you.”

In my mind—admittedly sodden from drinking prosecco all afternoon—I was already prepared to adopt this boy. At the very least, he’d be released from his indenture to the Church whether or not he cooperated with giving us his ass right then. 

Nothing tugged off his outer clothing which consisted of his short-sleeved kitchen jacket and his checkered pants and his clogs. He stopped when he was stripped to his briefs—bright blue and slight—and I could see then that while he was perhaps a bit too skinny now, he’d probably fill out decently after a couple more years and a better diet; and despite his skinniness, his asscheeks were fat as ones suitable for a much chunkier lad, and his dick-bulge was full. I reached forward and snapped that waistband. “This too,” I said.

His penis was a stiff slender boy-wand tufted with a collar of black pubic hair, its head enclosed completely in lividly veiny foreskin. “You wanna see mine?” I said.

“Yes, Kyler!”

I undid the fly toggles of my knee-length pants and let them drop to my ankles. I wore nothing underneath, so my prick rose free. I pointed it at Nothing’s belly, and he immediately grabbed onto it with both hands, the instinctive response of a sweet young fag when I show him my cock. He pulled down on my skin and slicked his fingers with my precum. Elisha had shed his clothing and he pressed close against Nothing from behind, arms clasped around his chest, swaying gently against him, probably rolling his prick against the kid’s spine. I dropped, knees to the smooth wood floor, and examined Nothing’s cock more closely. I took a lick, running my tongue first over his fuzzy ballsack and upward over the bottom of his rigid stalk. I skinned back his arrowhead and saw (to my delight) that he was not an overly clean lad: I spent a few delicious moments licking away the scrim of cheese that glazed his shroom, and he cried out sharply, a sweet blend of pleasure and astonishment, as I lapped wetly at his glossy cockhead. As I did this, taking my time, Elisha reached under Nothing’s crotch and squeezed his sack. The combination of the nut-squeeze and my lollipop-licking on his dirty knob was evidently more than the boy could bear and he sobbed out a loud “oh my god!” and his sweet-salty semen spat and bubbled over my tongue and lips and chin.

I sucked from his tap the end of his load and fed myself the spillage, fingers wiping my chin and into my mouth. “Are you always so eager to give up your milk?” I wondered.

“Oh, god, Kyler!” he moaned. “No one has ever…done that to me before!”

I gazed up at him, enjoying his fleshed post-cum complexion. “You’re not quite as experienced as you indicated?”

“Only in giving service, not in receiving it, My Lord! Kyler, I mean!”

Elisha, still caressing the boy from behind, observed: “I hope, however, that he will be stiff and ready to shoot again while we are buried in his pussy.”

“Why not guarantee it?” I said.

Elisha got my meaning, and Nothing watched, perplexed, as Elisha found his messenger bag and found within it an Erec-T hypospray. “What is that?” said Nothing, wary.

“You’ll see,” said Elisha. “In a second, you’ll feel like it’s been a week since you spilled your cream.” He cupped Nothing’s balls and blasted them with the drug. The kid gasped, amazed at the instant and aching return of his hard-on.

Myself, not being a teenage kid eager for first and quick experiences, I decided that a lot more pre-fuck play was in order. Certainly I intended to breach and inseminate this boy’s gut, but I was in no hurry at all. Basically, I had all the time on Earth since I’d all but finalized in my head the decision to keep Nothing as a member of my family, and I felt certain he’d agree to it.

“Let’s get him high,” said Elisha. Intrigued, Nothing watched Elisha spill out a tiny glassine envelope of glittery narcowhirl dust on the bar counter and cut it into lines with a tarot card. “You done this before?” he asked the boy.

Nothing shook his head. He said, “Will it keep me awake too late or leave me hung over? I have to be back at work at 4:00 am.”

“No you don’t,” I said. “You’re off tomorrow. In fact, you don’t even have that dumb job anymore. You’re staying with us.”

“In that case…” Nothing grinned and said, “I’ll do whatever the hell you want!”

Elisha produced a short pink straw and snorted the first line, showing and explaining the technique to Nothing, who understood it immediately and quickly inhaled his first hit. 

The three of us sucked up the rest of it, and then another round, and downed some more prosecco. And then I ate Nothing’s ass for a while, for so long that Elisha became impatient with me. I let him take the first turn, thrilled with the carnal beauty of these boys throbbing together, Elisha’s pole encased between Nothing’s thighs, Nothing moaning against Elisha’s fuck-thrusts, and eventually Elisha pulling out and spilling his copious Jaustin- sized spunk-load all over the boy’s belly.  I replaced him quickly, nudging him aside, jabbing my own dong into Nothing’s cunt, but lubing up first with a smear of Elisha’s cum. Nothing, suddenly very verbal, egged me on: “Fuck me, Daddy! Harder! Really fucking hard!” The boy was probably more high and drunk than even I was at this point—his slender frame not carrying much mass to suck it up—and I was mindful to not take him too seriously. Yeah, I did dick-stab him pretty hard, my shaft frothed with his ass-juice and Elisha’s cum, but not too hard, not so crazily as to accidentally injure him: though his rump-meat was thick, his ass overall seemed almost too small to take rods like ours, but the longer I thrusted and the faster I went, the happier Nothing seemed. He shrieked and spilled his sperm just as I lost mine inside his slot. 

We carried on like this for a couple more hours, then ordered a late dinner sent to my quarters, and eventually settled down for sleep, Nothing naked in bed between me and Elisha. Sleep eluded me, however, and I eventually decided to get out of bed and go to the sitting room and try to call Kasyn. It would be a few hours earlier there. He answered immediately, his pretty face filling the screen of my tablet. “How is the life of a Holy Father so far?” he said. “Flying to Byzantium on your gilded airship?”

“Where are you?” I wondered. He pulled out his image a bit and let me see that he was on the veranda outside our bedchamber. 

“Are you alone tonight?” he asked.

“Elisha is with me. They gave him his own stateroom, but I made him sleep with me. We have someone else here, too.”

Kasyn grinned, eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah? Some sweet churchy boy?”

“Sort of, but I think we’ve broken him of that nonsense. In fact, I think he may be our new son. I may adopt him.”

“Oh good!” Kasyn said, laughing. “Just what we need: more sons! May I see him?”

“Sure.” I got up and headed back to the bedroom. “He’s sleeping, so be quiet. I’ll show him to you and then come back out here, okay?”

Kasyn kept quiet while I let him see Nothing, placidly sleeping next to Elisha, one slender forearm draped over Elisha’s illustrated bely. I returned to the outer room and he said, “Oh, he’s very cute! Hey, I have something similar that I can show you. You wanna see?”

“Of course!”

He passed through the veranda door and approached our bed where he showed me, sleeping there and spooned together, a trio of lads, all with a skin tone of the most peculiar greenish cast, almost like tarnished copper, and thick tangled hair of a much darker green as to be nearly black. “Amazing!” I said. Kasyn shushed me and walked back outside. When he got reseated out there, I asked, “Are those real Venusians?”

“Treehouse boys of Vepaja Amtor,” said Kasyn. “There’s like four hundred of them in town—not all here: Ian rented a bunch of flats and hotel rooms for most of them. These three are the first I have met.”

“I like how you say that: that I have met!”

Kasyn grinned. “The first three that I have met, and I think they are now probably pregnant. I gave them big whacks of sperm a few hours ago.”

“Good boy.” I leaned into his image as if to kiss him through the glass. He puckered his lips and I mimed spitting upon them and he giggled. I said, “Hey, do not neglect to have the doctor monitor them. They are a new thing in our world.”

“I know, Kyler! Worry not!” Still smiling, he seemed to squirm in his seat and he said, “You horny, baby?”

“For you, always!”

“I’ll jerk off for you. Will you do it for me?”

And, of course, we did it for each other, positioning our screens so that we could see each other pulling on our bones. Just that—watching each other—would have well sufficed to soon make us both lose our juice, but what actually did it was what we said to each other, which was various forms of come home soon, and I’ll be home soon, and I love you, and I love you so much…

Meanwhile on Mars…

On the day that some religious people on Earth called Ash Wednesday—the same day that Kyler was to address a Papal convocation in Byzantium—Jaustin Moss decided that he needed the afternoon, and maybe the whole next day, off. That morning he’d fucked his sperm-snot into eleven more Martian angels, whose bellies would soon swell with new Jaustin-pups. I’m actually tired, he mused, eating lunch with Radon. He wondered how necessary his impregnation service even was anymore given that at least some of his first-generation sons were able to preg each other. Math, he thought. Exponential propagation of the Kasyn genes is almost assured now.

“Penny for your thoughts,” said Radon, gazing across the table at his uncommonly quiet boyfriend.

Jaustin shrugged and gulped down a mimosa. He slid under the table and gave Radon a blowjob and then he took a long shower during which he had this thought: The reason for all of this is in that book. I need to read some more.

Jaustin dried off but did not bother to dress. He wasn’t going anywhere the rest of the day and Radon preferred him naked anyway. On the same table upon which they’d eaten lunch, Jaustin put on his reading glasses, spread open his copy of The Exegesis of HPL, and the page that lay open at random said this:

Thro’ the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,

Past the wan-moon’d abysses of night,

I have liv’d o’er my lives without number,

I have sounded all things with my sight;

And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.

I have whirl’d with the earth at the dawning,

When the sky was a vaporous flame;

I have seen the dark universe yawning,

Where the black planets roll without aim;

Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.

I had drifted o’er seas without ending,

Under sinister grey-clouded skies

That the many-fork’d lightning is rending,

That resound with hysterical cries;

With the moans of invisible daemons that out of the green waters rise.

I have haunted the tombs of the ages,

I have flown on the pinions of fear

Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages,

Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear:

And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.

I was old when the Pharaohs first mounted

The jewel-deck’d throne by the Nile;

I was old in those epochs uncounted

When I, and I only, was vile;

And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle.

Oh, great was the sin of my spirit,

And great is the reach of its doom;

Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it,

Nor can respite be found in the tomb:

Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom.

Thro’ the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,

Past the wan-moon’d abysses of night,

I have liv’d o’er my lives without number,

I have sounded all things with my sight;

And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright…

Jaustin slumped back, as if pushed away by the book. Radon peered at him. “Are you all right?”

Jaustin shuddered and wrapped himself in his own arms. After a moment, he said, "I was going to say that we need to try to call Kasyn on Earth. But it doesn’t matter: I bet he already knows everything.”

In Byzantium, the final Papal convocation…

Kyler, eschewing the traditional vestments of the Pope of All the Church, wearing instead his simple formal kit of waistcoat and kilt (though topped by his osmium crown), reigned over the assemblage in the grand cathedral, the physical center of the Church’s power. He was amazed at how silent the hundreds of cardinals were when he said these words:

“I have come here for one purpose only, and it is to inform you that our ‘Lord is Come’ but not in the way that you are used to thinking of it. First, we will have an audio-audio-visual aid…”

Behind Kyler, a vast screen lit up and he showed them something that seemed like this..

The sense of a vast body of water swamping deeply over buildings and roads…

The sense of a sun rising and then blacked out by an eclipse, the corona flaring redly…

The literal sight of a maw of roiling black and grey clouds swallowing stars…

A burst of light in the aether? A supernova?…

A powerful beast, blackened in silhouette, rising against a red sunset, unfurling its wings…

The notion of a mangrove forest flattened under a sudden sheeting rain-gail of blood…

From space, a view of the rim of the half-lit Earth melting toward the terminator…

A titan—a rogue planet?—shattering the Moon…

“This!” Kyler boomed, “is the End Times that you predicted in your millenarian religion, or as close as it’s ever going to get to that. But it will not be so bad, my children, because Our Lord Is Come. By which I mean that your fabled ‘Second Coming’ of the Messiah has already happened in the form of Our Lord Prince Kasyn the Sublime!” 

Astounded that he was greeted with neither protest nor open derision, Kyler added, “Your mission is completed —glory and praise to Holy Kasyn!—and I now pronounce our religion’s mission finished and this Church forever dissolved!”

And that was just too much for the Church regulars. It remains possible to find video clips of the boys of Lord Kyler’s Apparatus Priapus invading the cathedral and taking under arrest every single one of the cardinals, and even shooting and knifing a few who were not sufficiently cooperative.

On the lush surface of the Moon…

Seth, the son of Kasyn and grandson of Kyler and great grandson of Seth the Elder, with his brothers arrayed around him, peered into the eyes of an orchid boy. He said, “Do you know why we are here?”

Said the orchid boy, “We’d begun to wonder what was taking you so long to arrive…Kasyn Junior.”

Seth laughed and said, “Our flight was weird. To say the least. There are only nine of us. How many of you are there?”

The orchid kid shrugged. “Maybe three million, give or take.” He slapped Seth’s belly. “So you probably need to get started, Earth-boy.”

Seth pulled close the orchid boy, inhaled his Moon-funk and assured him that they were there to work, and to work hard, and for as long it would take.

Slightly later…

In the weeks that followed Kyler’s convocation at the Vatican in Byzantium, nothing particularly disruptive happened. Kasyn was intrigued by the way the Church seemed to just wither away, vacating its own power, and the way in which its adherents seemed to be not much bothered by that, the way their gaze turned from Byzantium to a new Holy See. Vast masses willingly turned away from their old customs and toward the new thing: Kasyn, radiant in his fecund power.

Tonight he lies in bed with Kyler, both of them spent for the moment by their vigorous fucking. Quietly, they lie there, passing a smoke back and forth, enjoying the chill of their sweat and cum cooling on their skin in the night breeze coming in from the open veranda door. Eventually, Kasyn says, “So…what happens next?”

Kyler laughs and pulls his husband closer. He says, “I don’t know, but I can’t wait to find out.” Eventually they sleep deeply and, for once, dreamlessly.

A little epilogue, in the year 1999…

Kasyn recalls this: I think Kyler and I fucked for a week almost non-stop, not able to get enough of each other’s dirty sweaty bodies. One morning he came five times, never losing his boner and never taking it out of my ass in between each time he jizzed. “An awesome effect of the drug,” he’d said. We’d invented a new drug in his bathroom by cutting together cocaine and mothrum with a yellowish powder that he said was the dehydrated semen of a quintet of incestuous brothers on the island of Mu, boys with balls the size of grapefruits and dicks thicker and longer than my forearms. “An order of priests,” Kyler said, “attend to these huge-dicked freaks and milk their balls for this special cum.” I asked him how he'd got hold of it. He had, like, a giant fucking box of it! He told me that acolytes of the cum-boys of Mu were in Saint Louis now, spreading their power. “They gave this to me because they trusted me to know what to do with it, and because I proved to them that I had seen the coming of the aether!” This sounds, of course, fucking nuts when I just say it like that, but we were high as kites when we’d had this conversation. We named our creation “narcowhirl” and Kyler decided to add a little bit of gold edible glitter to it so that it didn’t look too much like plain coke. This glitter was all over us. Our noses—our whole faces—glinted with it. It was on our nipples from when we sucked on and bit at each other’s, and it was in my pubes right on the spot where Kyler’s nose pressed when he deep-throated my dick. The inside of my boycunt would have probably sparkled like a fucking disco ball if you could have gotten a light inside it somehow because Kyler dusted his dick with it and gave me a rectal hit. Aside from snorting it, we figured out that we could smoke it as well, and one evening I watched Kyler, with incredible care and patience, tease all the tobacco out of a bunch of clove cigarettes, mix that with the glittery narcowhirl and roll fat joints of it. One time, we decided to both cum in a wineglass. We added the drug and a couple shots of vodka and a couple little splashes of our piss to our cocksnot and we drank it.

It was when I was under the effect of that special drink, that I truly started to understand the awesomeness of what Kyler had hit upon, and the truth of the coming Aether Age. I let him draw on my body with black Sharpies the characters of his Cthulhist ouija. He spat into my navel and around it he very carefully inscribed a series of words that I could not read at first. He’d written them backwards: he told me to look in the mirror. When I did, I could read this: CAN YOU REPEAT THE QUESTION?

It was that night, when we’d been in Kyler’s bed a few hours sleeping off our binge, that my awakening came to a sudden and terrifying climax. I seemed to wake up, as if from a dense and hot dream, but I was no longer on my back in bed next to my naked boyfriend but rather floating in the air above him, crouched, as if squatting in space, tipped forward a bit looking down at him. I said his name, and he woke up. I could not tell whether the look on his face was terror or joy, and his fat dong was not stiff for the first time in days, but he raised himself up, to his knees on our filthy fuck-stained sheet, raising his head to my feet, eyes wide, and he folded his hands like someone praying in church, and he said this thing: “I knew it. That you would be the one, now and forever!” And he cried, and somehow I settled back to the bed next to him.

Later that morning he expressed his belief that our message had reached through the aether into the future and that we had successfully warned our far-future counterparts about their impending disaster. “But for them to understand it,” he said, “we need to keep doing our part in our own time.” He pasted the verses of a macabre poem into his ever-expanding draft of The Exegesis of HPL Then he sent a few emails and AOL instant messages and soon brought to his loft the local priests of Mu, the ones who’d given him the base for narcowhirl. I was surprised that they were all teenagers like us, four boys and two girls. I was even more surprised when all six of them dropped to their knees, heads bowed and hands folded, when they saw me.

“This is Kasyn,” Kyler told them. “The aetheric spunk-prince that we were promised by the Outer Gods. He is now, and he is forever, and he will save the world!” A few moments of silence passed, and Kyler asked, “Do any of you now doubt it?”

The sextet traded glances among themselves but quickly reached their consensus: they harbored no doubt. I, on the other hand, was full of it. What the fuck were these people seeing in me?

“But you know what this means, right?” said one of the priest boys, a Latino-looking kid with an amazing pompadour. 

“That we proceed with The Plan,” said one of the girls.

Another one of the boys said, “We’re really doing it then? We’re going to split the Order?”

“A temporary schism,” said the other girl, whose name I later learned to be Magran. “Perhaps a mere thousand years if Kyler is correct. Your new Cult and my witches: together in our own ways paving the path to humanity’s best destiny.”

“But what,” said the pompadour boy, whose name I later learned to be Elisha, “of the Church? It will change and get even more fucked-up, and it will always be in our way!”

Kyler shook his head, and smiled. He said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of that shit someday.”

THE END?