The Bangor Heights Hotel on New Year’s Eve: Chapter 5 and Epilogue

By S. Q. Neemie -
published November 4, 2020
4615 words

The thrilling conclusion. Will Tommy choose corruption or innocence? Can anything turn back the demons from their possession of the Bangor Heights Hotel? Who will fuck and who will be fucked? All will be revealed!

Note: Thanks to everyone who sent in suggestions and helped this story become what it is today. It took almost a year from start to finish–but in my defense, it was quite a year. Let me know if you liked this choose-your-own adventure format. If enough people do, I’ll make another one in the near future.

Tommy Brophy, poor Irish immigrant, stood at the huge double doors of Mr. Howie Bangor’s penthouse suite. Dark red light shone through the cracks of the door, and he could hear the muffled sound of infernal laughter from the other side.

In the dim light, he caught a wavery reflection of himself in the polished brass doorknob in front of him. He stuck out his chin.

“No matter what happens, you keep your decency, Thomas Brophy,” he said to himself. “No demon in the world can take your goodness unless you let him.” Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and opened the door.

The penthouse suite of Mr. Howie Bangor was set up like a Halloween carnival. Strings of lights were garlanded from the ceiling, with red paper shades that cast an infernal light through the whole room. Naked young men wearing nothing but masks swung from swings that had been screwed into the ceiling. The rooms of the suite were packed with men, many of them wearing fancy dress but just as many of them naked. All the men in the suite were engaged in some form of debauchery, whether it was casually stroking each others’ fat cocks under the tall cocktail tables as they chatted and smoked, or outright fucking in every possible combination and position on the pillows spread out over the floor. A full band was set up on a dias near a huge circular bed and was playing a bright, jazzy tune that somehow felt sinister.

Tommy stared around the room with wide eyes. To his dismay, every man he had saved that night was in the room, their eyes black, performing some depraved activity for the men they were near. There was Chef Frederick by fireplace, spanking a pudgy Ollie, who was wearing nothing but a parsley collar. Old Joe and Clarence were under one of the tables, slurping on the fat dicks of the fancy partiers who were playing poker. Elias and Ephraim were draped over a bannister, their attractive buttocks facing the party, and every man that passed by would pause for a moment to squeeze their cocks into the squirming young men, barely noticing the twin squeals of protest. On the huge circular bed, Mr. Howie Bangor, the day tycoon, was enjoying the attention of the under-chefs Pierre and Gilles, fingering their pert asses as the two Frenchman swapped spit over his girthy cock. The other under-chefs, Christien, was gleefully riding Mr. Howie Bangor’s round, handsome face, practically yodeling in pleasure as the wealthy tongue plumbed his nether-regions.

Sudden icy terror gripped Tommy’s heart. Where was Heath? If all the other men of the hotel were in the grip of depraved demons, surely the handsome young telegraph boy was in trouble as well. Heath had been the first one Tommy had saved on this wicked night, and it had given him comfort through his trials to know that Heath was safe. Now, it seemed as if there was no way that Heath had truly escaped. Tommy scanned the crowd of writhing bodies anxiously. At last he saw his friend, and his heart sank down to his toes.

On a chair that was so large and ornate it looked like a throne sat Mr. Dabrowski. He looked larger than he had in the small cellar room where he had last seen him. His eyes glowed a violent red and the cigar-smoke plumes that wreathed around his head swirled and darkened like thunderclouds. Even from across the room Tommy could see the short, fat horns on Mr. Dabrowski’s head and his sharpened incisors when he smiled. And on his lap, riding a cock so far and wide it looked almost bestial, sat Heath, his eyes blank as his hips gyrated up and down, his ass posting leisurely on the hefty prick beneath him.

Forgetting the danger, Tommy marched up to where Mr. Dabrowski sat, pushing past the crowds of naked and semi-naked men as he did. As he drew nearer to Me. Dabrowski’s throne, the man grinned at him, breathing out dark plumes of smoke.

“Well, lad,” he boomed, “it looks like your courage was up to the task, after all.” Tommy could see a glow like hot coals deep in his throat whenever he opened his mouth.

Tommy scowled at him, putting out his bottom lip. “You lied to me,” he said.

“Did I,” said Mr. Dabrowski. Heath whimpered slightly as he began pressing himself down again on the fat pillar of the demonic cock splitting his asshole.

Tommy stamped his foot. “At least let Heath go. He’s innocent!”

Mr. Dabrowski chuckled darkly. “Now, that’d be cruel, Tommy-lad. The boy needs cock–fat, juicy cock in his quivering hole. I made sure of it.”

“I need it,” echoed Heath dully as he bottomed out on the impossible girth, grinding his pale asscheeks into Mr. Dabrowski’s pubic hair.

Tommy looked at his absent-eyed friend and then around at the scores of fucking men all around him. For a second his bottom lip trembled and he felt like giving up. There didn’t seem to be anything he could do against the power of Mr. Dabrowski and his infernal minions. He looked back at Heath, whose pale skin glowed against the backdrop of the dark clouds of smoke and Mr. Dabrowski’s shining eyes. Other than the blank stare, Heath was just the same as he always was, thought Tommy. He had to still be in his mind, perhaps screaming and scared as his body repeatedly fucked itself on demonic cock. And, if Heath truly needed that cock, then…

Tommy stuck out his chin. Undoing his belt, he shucked off his demon-made tuxedo pants and tore off his shirt and jacket. Naked as a jaybird, he climbed up into Mr. Dabrowski’s outsized lap, stroking his red-headed dick as he did.

“Yes,” breathed Mr. Dabrowski, sending thick clouds his way. “Give in to your depravity.”

“I’m not giving in,” said Tommy resolutely as he positioned his own ass near Mr. Dabrowski’s crotch, lifting up Heath’s legs so he could slide beneath him. Heath continued to push himself up and down, his legs moving freely. Tommy gritted his teeth and slid his rapidly stiffening cock against Mr. Dabrowski’s huge shaft. “But if my friend truly needs cock, then he should get it from someone who loves him.”

Mr. Dabrowski scowled. He opened his mouth to say something, but just at that moment Heath pushed down enough that he encountered the head of Tommy’s cock pressed up against Mr. Dabrowski’s pillar. For a second his blank eyes clouded and a small line appeared between his eyebrows. Then Heath began pushing down harder, and in no time his ass-lips had slid over the red head of Tommy’s cock.

“Jeepers,” panted Tommy as his friend’s asshole magically stretched to accommodate the two dicks suddenly wedged in his ass. “That feels really good, Heath. Really good.” Tenderly, the young man brushed Heath’s dark hair from his eyes. “Do you really need it, Heath? Honestly?”

“I need it,” moaned Heath quietly.

“Enough of this,” puffed Mr. Dabrowski angrily, but Tommy ignored him. Watching Heath’s face carefully, Tommy began to slowly fuck his friend, the underside of his cock gliding along the glistening length of the demon cock stuffed in Heath’s ass. Heath began to moan softly and started blinking, losing his blank stare.

“That’s right, Heath,” grunted Tommy, burrowing his face into Heath’s neck and breathing in the smell of the telegraph-boy. “You can wake up. Tommy’s fucking you. Everything is okay.” The tight grip of the ass around his cock was driving him crazy, but he bit his lip hard and willed himself to keep up a steady pace, praying for sensitivity for every flutter of Heath’s assmuscles to tell him how to deliver what his friend was desperate for.

“No!” rorared Mr. Dabrowski, and in one movement he seized Heath’s waist and pulled the young man off both their cocks with a pop that could be heard over the sawing notes of the jazz band. “Now, listen here, you motherfucking mortal,” he wheezed at Tommy, “I know how corrupt you are at heart, and there is no way you’re going to take my prize away from–”

There was a sudden, loud CRACK and the jazz band played a blaring, sour note. Mr. Dabrowski leapt up, startled, and dropped Heath who tumbled into Tommy’s arms. In mid-air the telegraph-boy reinserted his ass onto Tommy’s cock, his sphincter tightening to a fistlike grip around Tommy’s rock-hard member. Heath wrapped his legs around Tommy’s back as they rolled to the floor, Tommy pistoning his hips into Heath as they fell.

“I love you,” whispered Heath in a drugged voice into Tommy’s ear, and even as they were pulled down by gravity Tommy found there was enough time to smile.

They were inches away from slamming into the parquet flooring when suddenly they stopped, suspended magically in the air. The two naked young men barely noticed, staring into each other’s eyes as they moaned softly and thrust against each other. And then, miraculously, they began to rise until their pale, fucking forms were five feet off the ground.

Mr. Dabrowski looked at thim, his glowing mouth hanging open. “By the beard of Satan–” he began.

There was a loud CRACK and suddenly there was a person visible in front of them, a large, dark-skinned man with flowing dark hair, his massive arms supporting the two young men who were moaning with pleasure as Tommy’s dick explored Heath’s responsive ass. The man was wearing a brilliant white robe that was open in the front, revealing a broad, muscular physique and an enormous drooping cock that swayed almost to his knees. Growing out of the man’s back were a pair of snowy white wings, which he unfurled as he stared down Mr. Dabrowski.

“LOVE WINS,” boomed the angel.

“How dare you!” screamed Mr. Dabrowski. “This is my dominion and my prey! I am the master here! You have no authori–”

The angel blinked at him with terrible, bright eyes. Suddenly, every curtain-rod in the room fell to the ground in a metallic clatter. Despite it being midnight, there was a bright white sun in the sky outside the Bangor Heights Hotel, which flooded the penthouse suite with light. All the demons in the suite screamed in agony at the piercing light, and began to crowd toward the huge double doors. Before they could make it, however, another angel rose from the floor, with the same bull-like physique as the first, his blond hair bound with a silver circlet. He held a flaming sword in his hands.

The dark-skinned angel blinked his eyes again, and the wall-length windows of the penthouse suite shattered. A sweet, summery breeze blew into the exposed room, and seconds later an army of angels came flying out of the center of the white sun, their fat, exposed cocks dangling down as they swooped into the penthouse suite and began fighting the demons.

Mr. Dabrowski cursed as he saw his work being undone. An angel swooped down and plucked Ephraim and Elias from where they bent over the bannister. With a kindly smile, he wrapped his enormous arms around each boys waist. Twisting like a gymnast as he flew a loop around the room, he slid his huge, now-straining cock, into Ephraim’s narrow ass. He gave the young man three solid pumps of his dick and Ephraim shouted “Oh!” in a happy voice as his cock went off, spouting through the air and splattering onto the panicked demons below. The minute the white sperm shot from his dick Ephraim lost the blank look he had had, and he blinked and smiled. The angel kissed Ephraim’s cheek and then swung his hips around to perform the same operation on Elias. In no time at all Elias was popping off his own hands-free cum.

Chef Frederick had gotten tired of spanking Ollie and was fucking him gleefully when the angels arrived. A thickly muscled arm snaked around his neck from behind and the next thing he knew an enormous cock was splitting his German cheeks and burrowing deep into his virgin ass. “Mein Gott!” roared the chef as his insides were rearranged by the heavenly sausage.

“EXACTLY,” boomed the angel fucking him from behind. Chef Frederick blinked, coming back to himself. Ahead of him, the chubby Ollie, still wearing his parsley collar, was oinking deep in his throat as a massive, Chinese-looking angel tenderly fucked his throat. The angels on the bookends of the kitchen-staff fuck pressed Ollie and Frederick together, and in no time at all three cocks were emptying into hot, grasping holes while Ollie was spraying the floor like a cum-keg that had just been tapped. Frederick, the blackness of his eyes disappearing as he creamed into Ollie’s pillow ass, collapsed forward. “Ich bitte Sie,” he said as he wrapped the still-twitching Ollie in his arms. The angel feeling Ollie his cock stepped back and Ollie, whimpering, tried to lick the last drops of angel-cum from the cock as it pulled out of his throat and mouth. His mouth still open, he looked at Chef Frederick’s concerned face. Then, with an impish grin, Ollie kissed the chef full on the mouth, and it wasn’t long before Frederick’s super-taster tongue replaced the angel cock in Ollie’s mouth.

A crowd of demons had encircled Old Joe and Clarence, roughly and desperately fucking them from every angle in the hopes to restore balance to corruption in the suite, since they couldn’t escape. Old Joe and Clarence were suspended off the ground, being held up by the support of dozens of demonic dicks, pushing into their mouths, their asses, the soles of their feet, their ears. The two dead-eyed men were knocked back and forth as the demons piled on, clumsy in their efforts to maintain their wicked dominance of the men only moments before.

Old Joe and Clarence began to moan and wriggle under the demons, their hips humping backward into the cocks fucking them, their mouths sending pleasant buzzes into the demon cocks jockeying for position in their mouths. The demons grinned at each other at this evidence of their nefarious plans working. Suddenly, however, Old Joe and Clarence began to rise up off the floor. The demons lost their grins as they realized that two angels were coming up from the floor, their holy lips sealed around the two men’s fat cocks, gulping gracefully as their talented throats sent wave after wave of pleasure up the two men’s dicks. At last the angels stood before the demons, their heads pointed up, the two men balanced on their cocks inserted down the angels’ throats. Old Joe was the first to come, blinking and shuddering as he simultaneously woke from his possession and poured what felt like gallons of cum down his angel’s gullet. Clarence came half a second later, shouting, “Shee-it!” as his muscular ass clenched against his cumming into the handsome angel’s face. Still swallowing, the angels’ own cocks burst with a torrent of hot, sanctified cum that soaked the demons surrounding them. Every demon that got a blast of angel-cum disappeared in a tiny, acrid puff of smoke. Soon, the angels stood alone, kindly helping a rubber-legged Joe and Clarence down to the ground.

Mr. Dabrowski stared around in fury. His demons were gone–fled or banished by angel cum. On the great circle bed, Mr. Howie Bangor was on his hands and knees, getting fucked by a swarthy angel while he gleefully sucked on the bouncing cocks of Christien, Pierre, and Gilles, who were each riding their own angel cocks in a semi-circle in front of him. Mr. Dabrowski ground his teeth. His corruption had been thwarted, and it was all because of that meddling Tommy.

He turned to the angel who was still holding the young men, watching them with a proud smile as Tommy continued to fuck Heath with a foolish, happy smile on his face.

“Okay, you’ve won,” seethed Mr. Dabrowski. “But I still have my due. Give me the boys. That’s all the payment I’ll ask.”

The angel looked down again, watching Heath gently tremble as Tommy bottomed out in his needy ass. For a second he looked like he was considering Mr. Dabrowski’s words. Then he looked back at the demon with a hard stare.


Mr. Dabrowski paled. The angel barked a series of short, sharp commands in a strange language, and all at once there was a host of angels clustered around Mr. Dabrowski. Seizing him, the angels quickly ripped off his stained wife-beater and open trousers. As Mr. Dabrowski squealed in protest, one angel roughly popped his beefy cock into Mr. Dabrowski’s ass from behind. Mr. Dabrowski yowled and used his own demonic powers to propel himself off the invading cock, but that just drove him through the air to the next angel, who seized him by the thighs as he sailed past and used the force of Mr. Dabrowski’s flight to angle his own cock up the demon’s rectum. With an agonized yelp Mr. Dabrowski popped off that angel’s dick, only to find himself sailing into another glistening, holy fuckstick.

The angels began to play an improvised game, passing Mr. Dabrowski back and forth across the circle, seizing and fucking him as he came by, and then popping him off to their well-hung companions as Mr. Dabrowski cursed and twitched in the air. For every divine pecker he was screwed by, Mr. Dabrowski grew a little smaller and a little redder, and in no time at all he was a miniscule little imp with a disappointed face and red horns, his tiny, rose-colored ass barely able to stretch around the angel-dicks tormenting him.

At last the angels grew tired of the game. The head angel, still holding Tommy and Heath, handed the two young men to the nearest angel and joined the circle. Seizing the imp Mr. Dabrowski from the air, he rammed the demon in one slamming movement onto his wide, heavenly cock. Mr. Dabrowski’s eyes went wide as the angel’s dick speared through half his body. The angel seized Mr. Dabrowski by the ankles and pulled them tight to his body, locking Mr. Dabrowski on his angel-cock. With a steely look in his eye, the angel stepped up to the nearest shattered window, pointing his Dabrowski-clad cock at the city.

“FUCK,” boomed the angel, and then grunted. Mr. Dabrowski howled as the head angel’s cock began unloading oceans of cum directly into his stomach from below. The imp’s stomach began to bloat as it was filled with hot angel-jizz, expanding Mr. Dabrowski until he swelled like a blister ready to burst. Soon, tiny hot sprays of cum began hissing into the air where Dabrowski’s ass pressed against the angel’s pubes. The imp Dabrowski began to shake like a pressure-cooker.

“I BANISH YOU,” said the angel, and let go of Mr. Dabrowski’s ankles. The demon exploded off the angel’s cock like a firecracker, shooting miles across the sky, his ass spraying divine seed over the city as he rocketed away from the Bangor Heights Hotel.

“You haven’t heard the last of meeeeee,” he wailed as he disappeared as a red speck into the sky.

The head angel turned back to the angels and mortals still in the penthouse suite. The angel holding Tommy and Heath was singing to them. The two young men hadn’t noticed anything that had happened, they were so lost in each other’s eyes and the glory of their first real fuck with each other.

“LET US BLESS THIS PLACE,” said the head angel. The other angels smiled and drew near. They clustered around the angel holding Tommy and Heath, pressing close together so that soon the two fucking young men were bouyed up simply by the bodies of the angels huddled around them. The angels began to rub Tommy and Heath with their exposed cocks, humming together in a divine choir, their fat, hefty cocks leaving bright glistening trails across the boy’s skin.

Tommy and Heath didn’t care–they didn’t even notice the angel-cocks snuggling next to them. “I love you, Heath,” whispered Tommy as he tenderly fucked the telegraph-boy’s ass, a fat angel cock ruffling his red hair.

“And I love you, Tommy,” said Heath, squeezing his asshole around Tommy’s cock, two angelic cockheads rubbing on either of his blushing cheeks.

“I think I’m going to–” grunted Tommy.

“Golly, me too, I’m–” moaned Heath.

“We’re gonna–” said the two young men together, and then Tommy unloaded into Heath’s ass, just as the young man writhing on his cock spent his own load onto Tommy’s stomach. The angels rubbing the young man smiled with satisfaction, and their hard angel cocks began spouting, drenching the boys in wave after wave of hot sanctified ball-snot. Tommy and Heath laughed as their vision was clouded by the white cream, rolling over and over again in a infinite universe of white creamy warmth as their bodies convulsed with orgasm after orgasm in a seemingly infinite loop. Over and over they came, rubbing each other’s bodies, doused in angel-cum, simply happy to be with each other and away from demonic influence.

Around them, the white, cum-saturated world got brighter and brighter, and suddenly it was too bright to see as the two young men’s orgasms creschendoed together. Brighter and brighter with each roll, brighter and brighter until–


“Well,” said Mr. Howie Bangor in a thick Scottish accent, “that was a right wild night, wasn’t it?”

The mortals sat naked in a circle on the cum-thick, parquet floor of the penthouse suite. It was oddly warm, despite the fact that the penthouse’s windows were shattered and the month was January. The men who had survived the night were catching their collective breath. Old Joe and Clarence sat together, their shoulders touching, with Elias and Ephraim on their laps. The kitchen staff were sitting together too, with Chrestien rubbing Pierre’s feet and Ollie leaning his head on Chef Frederick’s shoulder. Tommy was sitting crosslegged on the floor with Heath’s head in his naked lap, happily stroking the telegraph-boy’s dark hair.

“I suppose,” said Mr. Howie Bangor after a while, “that we had better start the year right, eh? Chef Frederick!”

The chef straightened. “Ja, mein Cheif?” he asked.

“You showed great skill today, even under a demon’s spell,” said Mr. Howie Bangor. “Such a fine skill shouldn’t be hidden in the basement. I’m going to redesign this hotel with a restaurant at the street level. I would like to make you head chef of that restaurant. With my reputation and your skill, it will soon be the best restaurant in town. Do you agree?”

Frederick’s eyes widened. He flushed and nodded.

“Only one stipulation,” said Mr. Howie Bangor, wagging a finger at him. “I want Ollie to always look at plump and happy as he does right now. Can you accomplish that, do you think?”

Frederick looked at Ollie, who blushed. “I’ll stuff the little Ferkel till he is fat and happy,” he said. “If he will let me, I will stuff him from both ends, ja?”

“I guess so,” mumbled Ollie, blushing even deeper and ducking his head to hide his pleased smile.

“Very good,” said Mr. Howie Bangor. “Now, Old Joe. It turns out I need a new chief of maintenance for my hotel. How would you like the job?”

“Me, sir?” said Old Joe. “But–”

“It’ll be a big job, Joe. I’m planning on rebuilding this into a truly modern hotel, one that will stand on the skyline for ages. I’ll need your advice on every aspect of the plan. You’ll be my right-hand man. What do you say?”

“He says yes,” said Clarence with a grin. Old Joe nodded.

“That’s settled, then,” said Mr. Howie Bangor. He turned with a smile to Tommy. “And now, Tommy.” “Please don’t fire me, sir,” said Tommy, gulping. “I did my best to help, and I really need this job.”

Mr. Howie Bangor laughed. He stood up and walked over Tommy and Heath, crouching down so he could look Tommy in the eye. His generous cock brushed the floor.

“Fire you, my boy?” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You are the hero of the day. You should be carried through the streets in a parade for what you’ve done here today. However, since explaining to the authorities just what happened here–” He glanced around the cum-soaked room ruefully. “Well, I expect they won’t understand. But that doesn’t mean I can’t reward you.”

He put his hand on Tommy’s head. “My boy, you deserve my entire fortune. I’m too much of an old tycoon to just hand it over, but it would be fair and square if I were to make you my heir. In fact, I plan to adopt you, if you’ll have me. What do you say?”

“Jeepers, me sir?” Tommy gulped. “Golly. Um–yes, I would. Like to be your son, that is. Geez. I didn’t expect–”

“No, of course you didn’t,” said Mr. Howie Bangor, ruffling his hair. “Well, that’s settled. You’ve made this chubby old rich man very happy.” He glanced down at Heath. “What do you say, my boy? Do you want to get adopted too? I can’t give you my fortune, but I just bet that Tommy here will take care of you.”

Heath’s eyes widened, but then he looked troubled. “But if Tommy and I are brothers, can we still–?”

“Absolutely you can,” said Ephraim and Elias at the same time, and then blushed.

Mr. Howie Bangor laughed a deep, fruity laugh. “Well! Boys, I feel like 1930 is going to be the best year yet for me. I feel like celebrating. Do we have any champagne?”

“Right away, sir!” said Tommy, moving Heath’s head gently as he leaped to his feet. “I brought it up last night.”

“I knew you would, Tommy,” said Mr. Howie Bangor with a smile. “But go ahead and begin to call me ‘Daddy,’ my boy.”

Tommy grinned and saluted, and then scrambled away to to fetch the champagne while the rest of the men laughed.

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