Story Prompts/Ideas - 1. Demonic Dentistry

The first thing I noticed was the god damned odor. I frowned, my arms occupied with bags of groceries, and struggled to enter my tiny apartment in New York.

"What the fuck is that?" I mumbled as I kicked the door shut. I walked through the living room, my nose wrinkled and sniffing. I walked behind the back of the couch, not bothering to flip on the light. I knew the layout well, and the meager light from the mounted fixture on the side of the apartment complex that shined through the window was plenty enough.

"Sulfur?" I pushed my bags onto the bar counter. My thoughts centered around calling the super of the building. There had to be a reason for the almost overpowering scent of what could only be described as brimstone.

I flipped on the light in the kitchen. A cheesy, mushroom risotto was on the menu for the night. A friend who swore by the Instant Pot finally convinced me to purchase one, and my first recipe in the machine was one he raved about.

"All right, Tim." I unpacked my groceries. "This had better be…"

The sound of movement in the living room made my head come up. I waited for a moment. I had to have been hearing shit. I had just walked through the room and unlocked the door to enter. There was no way anybody else was…

"Unnnngggg." A groan from the living room startled the fucking shit out of me. It was a wonder I didn't screech like a twelve-year-old girl at a sleepover watching Friday the 13th movies. Instead, I almost pissed myself and stood stock still, eyes wide.

I stared, horrified as a dark, humanoid shape sat up on the couch. I could see what appeared to be a bare-chested man sitting, swaying a bit on the furniture. But, there was something off about his profile.

I pulled my biggest chef knife from the wooden block. Somehow I held it steady and stepped around the edge of the bar splitting the kitchen from the living room. "Buddy, you're in the wrong…" My words stopped as soon as I stood in front of him. Now I could see exactly what the universe had decided to throw into my path on that night.

He blinked at me, an addled glassy look in his yellow, dilated eyes. His skin was a dark, deep red - almost black in the gloom. His hair was stark white, short, and full on his head. Two graceful, thick, black horns swept up and forward, jutting through his hair. He was muscular, naked, and decidedly male. His pubic hair was just as white as that on his head and framed a thick, flaccid cock.

I stood, gaping. The creature grimaced and put a hand up on the right side of his face. He closed his eyes, and frowned in that universal sign - he was in pain.

I'm not exactly brilliant, even at my best. Instead of pulling out my fucking phone, and calling the police, I just stood there. I stood there while this demon, or whatever the hell he was cradled his jaw and groaned.

Finally, I got over the fact that my visitor was not at all human and I cleared my throat. I knew he wasn't any threat to me. The only thing he had done was sit there and grunt in pain.

"So." I heard how calm my voice was and it surprised me. "I'm Wayne. You, ah, you're in my apartment." I looked down at the knife in my hand. I felt a little silly threatening my unexpected guest with it, and I put it down on the bookshelf beside me. "Did you mean to come here?"

That glassy stare again rested on my face. He shook his head. The demon swallowed and pointed at itself. "Ghankan." Then his eyes widened. I felt an immediate connection thrum between us. This thing had just told me his True Name. In a lot of superstitious writing, a demon's true name gives whoever knows it power over that being.

Well, I wasn't a believer. Not until that moment.

"Okay, Ghankan." The big, addled demon shivered when I spoke his name. Instantly I knew the circumstances behind his situation. Even demons occasionally needed dental work. Drunk on painkillers, Ghankan had teleported himself into my apartment instead of his lair.

And that's how I became the master of a 4,500-year-old demon with a toothache.