MAKER'S SANDWICH
Lucifer was jogging vigorously. He was swooshing past other runners. His surroundings were blurry. His body was soaked in sweat.
He was trying to use vigorous exercise as a way to put out off his mind the blurry events from yesterday until last night.
The blurry nights used to just come to him once a week. However, as time passed on, he started having these psychedelic episodes more often. And these would span a day. And then he would forget everything when he wakes up the next day.
When his body was fully spent, he returned to his house. He sat down and started damping a towel on his sweaty body.
He entered the kitchen. He was very hungry.
Then he found a sandwich on the counter.
He scratched his head. He did not remember preparing food before he went out.
But the sandwich looked good and tasty. So he took it and ate it.
Then as the flavors burst in his mouth, the memories and suggestions started flooding in. After the last swallow, he became docile.
A man entered the kitchen from another room, "how do you like your sandwich today? Are you full?"
Lucifer nodded, "yes Maker, I am full."
Three months ago, after his jog, he found the Maker who offered him a sandwich after his run.
And since then, he had become Maker's mannequin.
"Ready to be sandwiched by clients?"
"Yes Maker."
Then two burly, naked men walked in the room. One fucked Lucifer's mouth, the other fucked his ass. Lucifer's muscular body quivered as he served his master through this two men. He would always be willing to be sandwiched in the name of Maker.
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