It's time to play the Game
Hugh might be fucked, but is the world?
Hugh adjusted his mask, groaning as his glasses steamed up. He didn’t really need either, but appearances were important. He’d never been sick a day in his life, or more accurately, any of his lives. He’d died thousands of times. He’d seen the rise and fall of nations, of empires, of heroes and villains, he’d seen people at their best, and at their worst.
Hugh Mann. It was a little on the nose, but he hadn’t been the one to pick it. It was so hard to remember his lives before. Those memories belonged to other bodies, other places. Still, what was it that he was called before? His original name? Hope. Yes, that was it. He hadn’t been a man then, or a woman, or really much of anything in the physical sense. Pandora’s box. The myth was what his story had become, twisted and distorted, now only a shadow of his true origin. So many myths had grown into something beyond the truth. From the dark, empty void of Chaos came the birth of Cosmos, the Big Bang, reality itself. The universe expanded infinitely until the spark of life reached Earth, and Gaia, Uranus, and Oceanus were born. Life bloomed into life in the seas, but so too did the newest god, Thanatos, Death itself. Single celled organisms grew into fish and reptiles left the seas to grow slowly into towering dinosaurs. Thanatos grew jealous of living creatures, of the attention given to them by the gods, so he made a dark pact with Chaos, who despised existence, and introduced a flaw into the universe. Entropy. The natural tendency of order to collapse back into chaos. Everything would come to an end. The heat death of the universe. It was Chaos who hurled the meteor towards the planet, wiping out the dinosaurs, bringing in the Ice Age. Yet, life persisted. Small furry mammals grew into apes, which grew into cavemen. It was then that Hope was born. The dawn of mankind.
Gaia punished Thanatos for his treachery, dividing his power between three new gods. War. Famine. Pestilence. Four horsemen that would bring about the end of days. With the last of his powers Death cursed Hope to live a mortal life. He’d been born first to a group of Neanderthals. They nurtured and raised him, helping him to grow to adulthood. The men died for him, protected him from wild beasts sent by Death to slay him. Thanatos had become obsessed with him, appearing to him in dreams, running his fingers along his skin. It was Death who introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh. He’d awaken, every night, to find that he had spilled his seed. The scent drove the cavemen wild. They kissed and groped him, fucking him with animalistic fury, all but ignoring the women. The cavemen taught him many new and exciting things, but their population began to dwindle as he became their sole object of arousal and desire. He’d fucked an entire species to death.
He remembered his first death. It had been cold and painful. He’d felt Death’s cold and jealous embrace. He’d lingered briefly in the underworld, but after a short while he found himself existing in another body. As long as there was human life, he could never truly die. Death’s three sons begot him seven more, the seven deadly sins. He’d been there on the day of the first murder, the day the Cain and killed Abel. Both had wanted him all to themselves. Human’s seemed to delight in hurting each other. It took almost nothing to turn them to violence.
Death proposed a series of games, scattered randomly throughout time, with Hope playing against War, Famine, and Pestilence in a series of trials. It had been a struggle, but he’d managed to save the human race from extinction time and time again. Each time it grew harder, people seemed to be destined for destruction. It wasn’t fair to see that he was actively winning any of the games, but he wasn’t outright losing. World War II had been a very bad loss for him. The Holocaust, Hiroshima, the Blitz, he’d barely managed to stop World War 1, but in hindsight, he hadn’t really been able to stop anything. It was a 30 year war. It hadn’t been the first, and he very much doubted it had been the last. The Cold War had been a gruelling stalemate. The ever lingering threat of Nuclear Winter haunted him, even now.
The Middle East had descended into a warzone with no end in sight, poverty was rising all over the world, new and horrible diseases, and even ones thought to be gone ravaged through countries. And no one seemed to care. It was far too exhausting to care.
So, Hugh, as he was now called, found himself in the midst of a pandemic. Pestilence had claimed the lives of millions. Almost 4 million, the last time he had checked. What had astounded him the most was how stupid people were, how greedy and selfish. Pestilence had introduced a concept that Hugh had never really encountered before, fake news. It spread like an insipid poison, ignorant, idiotic fools gobbling it up. A gluttony of easy to digest media had rotted their brains, the real famine was that of common sense and reason.
With every incarnation Hope seemed to find himself smaller, and weaker. The world was a truly horrid place sometimes. Still, there were times of joy too. He made his way around the corner, seeing a woman chatting with a young man that was stocking the shelves. There. A little piece of kindness in the cruel world.
“I don’t want rocket, I want arugula!” The woman screamed.
“Ma’am, once again, rocket is arugula” the man said, gritting his teeth.
“Don’t you give me attitude! I’ve been a shopper here for years!”
“Ma’am, this store has always called it rocket. It’s been that way for at least five years”
“I want to speak to your manager! I won’t be treated this way!” she screeched.
The woman slapped him hard in the face and he stood in stunned silence. A manager walked around the corner, drawn in by the commotion.
“What seems to be the problem here?” The man asked.
He was a small, rotund man, with black, beady eyes. Hugh hated him implicitly.
“This man was very rude to me! I told him that I only wanted to buy arugula and he tried to lie to me, saying that it was the same thing as rocket! I’m no fool!”
“Of course, we’ll fix his mistake right away. I’ll take you up front and we’ll get this problem sorted. Brent, you’re fired!” the snivelling creep said.
“What have you got to say for yourself?” the woman sneered.
The man cocked his head to the side, pulling off his mask. A wicked, twisted grin appeared on his face, and the manager and customer looked frightened.
“It’s time to play The Game” the man said, turning to look at Hugh.
Icy cold dread rushed through Hugh’s veins. So soon? He turned and ran. The only way to avoid losing was to avoid playing. A large, dense crowd seemed to form out of nowhere, pressing tightly against him. They all stood still and perfectly silent. An announcement went out over the loudspeakers.
“Attention customers, it’s time to play The Game”
Hugh struggled to worm his way through the crowd, falling to the ground as he escape their tight embrace. He scampered to his feet and fled the store, bumping into a pair of large, imposing police officers.
“What’s the hurry Hugh? It’s time to play the Game” the two cops said at once.
The same twisted, nightmarish grin appeared on their faces. He heard the sound of hooves, and turned to find a man riding a large white horse.
“Come along now Hope, we’ve got a Game to play. Now, don’t pout, I know I won last round but they’ve invented some vaccines. Maybe, if you win, people will actually take them. Have you seen my work in Australia? A plague of rats. An inspired choice if I do say so myself.”
Pestilence smiled warmly, reaching down and hoisting Hugh onto the back of his horse as if he weighed nothing. The ground opened up before them. He had no choice, the Game was afoot.
The Underworld was a cold and unwelcoming place, comprised of a series of twisting tunnels that had been torn through the bowels of the earth. The entered into a large cavern, with an ornate stone throne sitting in the back. The climbed down from the horse, which vanished into the heavy darkness. A tall dark figure stood up, his black hood and cloak swirling around him in the place without air. Hugh felt the familiar sensation of home. It was always, always exactly how he remembered it. He’d seen buildings rise and fall in the world above, but here, everything was comfortingly still. Death approached him, placing a small kiss upon his forehead. The kiss of Death. The Game was starting.
Pestilence turned to him, his form shifting his appearance. He took the form of a skinhead with bleached Levi’s and cherry red Doc Martins. He tore his shirt to shreds, revealing a tattoo on his navel of the biohazard symbol.
“Nothing quite like remembering the classics. HIV really should have ended them, you know. Zika, H1N1, they just didn’t pack the same punch. Covid, now that might just be a game changer.” Pestilence said dreamily.
Pestilence stepped forward, spitting in Hugh’s face. His head went fuzzy and he giggled dumbly and the man pulled him close, passing his saliva back and forth between them.
“I thought I’d take it easy on you this time, no boils or pustules to dig through, just a nice, clean game”
Hugh turned to look at the table, surprised to find his old board game Operation. It was one of his favourites as a child. The cartoon man and the strange little shapes you had to pull out with a small set of tweezers without setting off the buzzer. He glanced down, surprised to find that half of the pieces had already been removed.
“The game is simple, you sit on my lap while I pound away at you with this premium slab of god cock and you try to remove pieces, every time you mess up, it’s my turn, and you fuck yourself with my dick while I put pieces back in. When you cum, the game is over, and we’ll see how things play out. If you cum fast enough, you might even win.”
Pestilence bent him over, feverishly licking at his hole, probing with his finger, and liberally applying fresh spit until he was ready to get fucked. He couldn’t really feel anything. The strange numbness was seeping up inside him.
He squatted down, feeling the heavy fullness of a large cock, but very little of the pain or pleasure. He felt a little jolt when Pestilence’s cock struck his prostate. He reached for the tweezers and the god began to gently lift him up and down. The first part came out easy. As did the second. The third was more of a challenge, but Hugh managed to get it done. Pestilence picked up the pace. Hugh went for the Funny Bone and Pestilence shoved him down hard. He felt a jolt of pleasure and flinched slightly, setting off the buzzer.
“Wow, a few more rounds like that and disease might be a thing of the past.”
Hugh knew that he had to work hard to get Pestilence to make a mistake. He thrust himself down hard, again and again. The pleasure was intense. A startled gasp escaped his lips as he opened his eyes and saw that the god had already undone all of his progress. Hugh picked up the pace as a ragged, desperate moan escape his lips.
“Oh, look at that, a new strain?” Pestilence moaned in his ear.
Piece after piece fell easily into place. He wanted to sob when the final piece slid into place. He was lost in lust. A trickle of drool was running down his chin as he writhed in pleasure.
“The anti-vax community is staging a mass boycott” the god whispered huskily.
Hugh came with a roar, splattering the board with his cum. The bright led light on the patient’s nose shone brightly before the whole thing short circuited.
“Tough luck kid, it looks like countries all over the world are starting to lower all of their safeguards. How long do you think it will take for the vaccine to stop working? People are such filthy little things” Pestilence moaned.
Hugh felt the god’s hot, wet seed flood inside him. He felt the familiar rush of power. Human’s just couldn’t compare. Leave humans to fuck in their own filth, Hugh needed more. Pestilence kissed him on the nape of the neck and plopped him down on the floor, making his way into the darkness.
Next came War, a massive, towering mountain of a man, who grabbed him and pulled him close. He smelled of sweat of musk, the heavy, heady aroma made Hugh giddy.
“Why in the world do we ever let you leave, little one? What do you say, do you want to be a Prisoner of War?”
Hugh said nothing. He wasn’t entire sure, in that moment, that he didn’t.
“Now, my challenge is simple, a test of wills”
War motioned, and a large golden rope appeared on the floor.
“A favourite game of mine, Tug of War” War said with a warm smile.
“You can’t be serious. I’ll never win that”
“Not alone, no. But this is a test of wills, not strength. Choose from among history’s humanitarians and philosophers, poets and artists. Think of anyone that will assist you in your struggle.”
Dozens of spirits appeared before him, Plato, Socrates, Galileo, the list was endless. War motioned to the shadows and warriors emerged. A caveman, a Spartan, a knight, a celtic warrior wearing a red kilt, a man in a Confederate soldier uniform, and a young, strapping marine. One by one the humanitarians and artists submitted to the powerful men, their protests silenced by the sound of them slurping on large cocks. His heroes and idols, all of them reduced instantly to cock hungry sluts. They fought and shoved, desperate to get as much dominant dick as possible. Hugh really couldn’t blame them, the cocks looked delicious.
War handed him one end of the rope and grabbed the other. Hugh hoisted with all his might, stunned to see War immediately start to lose ground. He couldn’t believe it, he was winning. War inched closer and closer to the line until his toes were touching it. Suddenly, the man stopped, try as he might, Hugh couldn’t get him to budge. His eyes widened in fear. War had only been lulling him into a false sense of security. He’d given him false hope. He lurched forward, slamming into War’s firm abs. In an instant, Hugh was one his knees, War’s large cock breaking free of its restraints. The soldiers had nothing on the god. He could feel the jealous and greedy gazes of his fallen heroes boring into him. The world didn’t need any more talking. It needed action. Hugh opened his mouth, allowing War to slide all the way in. Hugh’s eyes rolled back into his head. He didn’t need to talk, he didn’t need to think, all he had to do was worship the god before him. War moaned in delight, squeezing Hugh’s shoulders.
“People have always struggled, always turned to violence. It even turns brother against brother, pushing them to the point of bloodshed. Cain and Abel, Remus and Romulus, William and Harry, but you didn’t hear that from me” War whispered, conspiratorially.
Suddenly War stopped and stepped back, Hugh obediently followed, crossing the line without a care in the world. War skull fucked him violently, viciously, thrusting into his throat like he was a simple fleshlight. He didn’t give a fuck about the victims of war, of the plights of refugees. He just wanted to pleasure he was feeling to last forever. War roared, shooting his load down Hugh’s throat. He felt warm. He pulsing feeling of power was growing stronger by the second.
“The Cold War is heating up again, I hear” War taunted, nibbling on Hugh’s ear.
He gazed up dreamily at the god, giggling dumbly. The world was fucked. Just like him.
War caressed his cheek before a large, fat man appeared before him. Famine. Every bad crop, every ounce of wasted food found its way to the god’s hungry maw. People were so wasteful. Maybe a few years of hardship would teach them the lesson that they needed to learn.
“What game are we going to play?” Hugh asked.
“I was going to suggest Candyland, it seemed fitting somehow, but between wars, and disease, and natural disasters, and just regular human wickedness and stupidity, so few people actual starve to death anymore. The greatest famine of all now is apathy. Nobody cares anymore. The world has gone to shit and people just go about their lives”
Famine manifested two, greasy, enormous burgers dripping with cheese, sauce, and bacon fat.
“Nothing you do matters if no one else is willing to put in the work. Let’s just eat and call it a draw. What’s the point of even trying? You might win, you might not. Who even cares?”
Hugh relented, taking a bite of his burger. A draw was better than a loss. It was better to do nothing than risk making things worse. Famine let out a loud belch, rubbing his furry gut. He was so full that it hurt, but he forced himself to finish it. He’d feel awful about wasting food.
He climbed to his feet and made his way towards Death.
“I have to go back,” Hugh said simply.
“The world you return to will grow even worse than the one you left. New terrible diseases, more pollution, more natural disasters, more social, political, and racial unrest, more fear, more bloodshed, more senseless violence, more injustice, more sorrow, the full effects of the Pandemic haven’t even begun to reveal themselves to you. Nothing you do, nothing you say, no connection you make will have any impact on the destiny of the universe” Death said calmly.
“I can’t leave them to suffer, even if I can help just one person, even just a little, then I know I made a difference. All rivers lead to the sea, but that doesn’t mean we can’t take the scenic path.” Hugh said.
“See you again soon, Hope” Death called after him as he climbed back up.
“I certainly hope so,” said Hugh with a smile.
Hugh climbed out of the hole, finding the shelf stocking employee smoking a cigarette. He went to talk to him, only to be stopped by paramedics pushing a gurney with the horrible woman on it. They loaded her into the ambulance and rushed away
“Hey, what happened?” Hugh asked the man
“Apparently, she’s allergic to arugula. She ate some to prove she hated rocket” the man said.
“Are you ok?” Hugh asked.
“Yeah, my boss just got fired for embezzling money from the store so I guess I was never really fired. He never filled in the paperwork. The head office promoted me instead”
“That’s great news! Things are really looking up!”
“Just who are you anyway?”
“Hugh, but people call me Hope.”