"When you see the daemon, mate with the daemon" - old M'n saying

Hank let out a yawn.

This, as it turned out, was not a smart thing to do while showering. His half asleep body had started to drift forward, the hot spray not yet doing its duty of waking him to the world. Jets of water entering his throat, though, did. With a spitting cough, he jerked his head back, right hand going to the tiled wall. It would be just his luck to slip, lose his balance, fall, and crack his head open. That would be a great way to go, wouldn't it? The guy who can cut back on the field on a dime, who nobody can tackle, dead because he slipped in the tub. The jokes about how he should have worn cleats would be all over the school in hours.

"White boys can't stand."

OK, that one would be funny.

With a smile, Hank grabbed the soap and began lathering. He wasn't the best athlete in the school, let alone beyond. His scholarship in the fall would be academic, not athletic. Still, his father had been right: three years of football had toned his body like you wouldn't believe, and the girls were all over him. When the hotties couldn't land the current football God, which this year had been Rich, they were more than happy to throw themselves at one of the surrounding lesser athletic demigods.

"Mmm, Lina..."

Hank's soapy hand gave his cock a slippery once over. Lina was the new girl. Short. Sexy. Japanese. He'd never really had a chance to indulge his Asian fetish, but tonight would be the night. And, with luck, tomorrow night, and countless nights to come.

God, she'd better not be a prude. Or giggle.

Moving his body a bit, he let the spray rinse him off. He wasn't one for long showers. He was awake, he was clean ... time to get on with his day.

Hank's hand was half way to the shower knob when the tingling started. It began at his feet, in his heels and toes. Almost as if they were asleep. He paused, confused. It wasn't like he had been standing in one spot for hours or something. Hot water still pelting his skin, the feeling was rushing up his legs. As it passed his hips, rising up his torso, Hank took a step back in fear. Who ever heard of someone's chest falling asleep! Even his cock was tingling, and not in a good way. Was this a heart attack, or something? The blood not getting to most of his body? What the hell!!

It reached his head. He could feel it behind his eyeballs ... they, too, began to tingle.

Colors exploded before Hank's eyes. The blue of the bathroom became oranges, yellows ... the feel of spraying water vanished, as did the feeling of anything under his feet.

Hank was ... he didn't know. He couldn't move. He knew that. Something pressed against the front of his body. Around his body. It was almost like he was going through a membrane, or thick cobwebs.

Or Jello. His senses were really failing him here.

The universe flashed.

He was standing.

That, at least, was a very welcome state. He could feel cold stone beneath his bare feet. Or was it the bathroom tile? He looked down. No, it was black stone ... and, hey, he could move his head! Cool! Things were looking up! Speaking of which, he should.

A small alien creature was on its hands and knees before him.

Hank was on some sort of round stone dais, maybe a foot off the ground. The floor around the dais was also stone, irregular grey bricks polished to a shine. The room seemed to be square, walls of a rough cut stone, like something out of a medieval fantasy movie. So, really, did the creature. It was ... furry. White fur, short, shinny. A big bushy white tail stuck up from its butt, reminding him of nothing so much as a squirrel, curling up and over (but not quite touching) its back. The thing was big, for a squirrel, but maybe only four feet tall. Its head was down, two rounded ears on either side pointed towards him. What was the face like? A part of him, the part that didn't want to just get the fuck out of there, wanted to know...

"O, come thru, Lord, I sumon u, O, come thru, Lord, I sumon u..."

It was chanting. In English. BAD English, with a heavy accent. He could barely understand the words. The voice sounded female, though. Real female, not Alvin and the Chipmunks high pitched female. It ... she ... it was like she was chanting a spell.

Hank's eyes widened. He looked down. He was inside a chalk pentagram. Squirrel Girl there had summoned him, like a Wiccan calling a spirit! What the hell? Those damned spells never worked! He should know, his sister hung with some self proclaimed teen witches, and they couldn't even get simple love stuff to work out! He kept telling her it was all bullshit, but no, Robin kept telling him they must just be doing it wrong. Eventually, they'd get it right.

It seemed like this creature had.

Hank took a step forward. Or, at least, tried. While he could move, inside his little pentagram, there was something blocking him. Some invisible force field. He tried again, raising a hand. He felt nothing, but something was there.

He wondered if mime's felt like this.

Hank's movements finally caught the attention of squirrel girl. She looked up. Her face ... well, it was the face of a squirrel. Two black, almond shaped eyes lay on either side of a long head, ending in a black nose. Her eyes widened, clearly in surprise. Gee, SHE was surprised?

"Who are you?" Hank's voice clearly startled her even more. She sat up. Now he could see that, despite being a squirrel, she had two rather nice furry breasts. Her body wasn't exactly curvy, but then she was a squirrel. He could see some of his more desperate friends hitting that after a few beers.

She wasn't answering, seemingly too ... well, like a squirrel in the headlights of an oncoming car. Scattered on the floor around her, Hank saw open books, stylized drawings of humans surrounded by strange text, and the occasional bold English phrase. Almost, again going by what he had seen of his sister's stuff, as if English was the language of magic. Hmm ... he looked down. The chalk pentagram was surrounded by two circles, inside of which were English words. At his feet, they said, "HOLD". Same to his left. Looking to the right, he at first saw the same word ... then blinked. No. It said, "HOID". Hoid. She ... He looked back at Squirrel Girl, who hadn't moved.

She had made a mistake.

Slowly, not wanting to hurt himself if the invisible wall was actually there, Hank stretched out his right arm. It passed the boundary of the pentagram with ease.

Squirrel Girl's eyes doubled in size, mouth dropping open. Not hesitating, Hank stepped through the opening, off the dais onto the stone floor.

He took stock. He was still nude, and a bit wet from the shower. His cock was hard and curving up, whether still due to thoughts of his date tonight with Lina or because of some furry fetish he hadn't know about, wasn't clear. He began walking slowly towards her.

"I said, who are you?"

She trembled. Hank continued towards her. He didn't think she was dangerous. She looked ... young. He didn't know how he knew that, but if she was human she'd probably be in her teens. Again, not much different than his Wiccan sister. Hank stopped a foot in front of her, six inch tan cock bouncing in front of her face. Her black eyes were fixed on it, shaking decreasing as she became adjusted to his presence. Hank saw her black nose flair, as if smelling his dick. Slowly, her head lifted, eyes seeming to drink in his large, muscular form. Hank folded his arms over his chest, waiting to see what she'd do.

"Lord..." For a moment, Hank thought her choked reply had been a curse, until he remembered her spell had been about summoning a 'Lord'. So ... he was Lord Hank at the moment. Cool. He nodded to her, which seemed to calm her down even more. Her eyes dropped to the ground between them. "Lord, I M Shia." Hank saw her quickly glance at the pages around her, right hand quickly flipping forward in one book. "Servant of She Who Saw." Shia stopped at a picture spread over two pages.