The old man, me, Gabriel, and Michael. That was it at the start. Poof!’ He threw up his hands and showy sparkles fell. ‘There we were, floating in clouds endless and white, the sky only a little paler. ‘The old man tested powers and tried to make more, but they were lesser…weird. Some had no shape, some had too many. Tentacles.’ With that he wiggled his fingers, encased in soft gloves. ‘Ugly things, freaks. So I tried my hand and the ones I made were better. I figured out how to borrow shapes from this world, before the humans came, and used the wee beasties as templates. They weren’t pretty, not like us, but they had power almost as great. The old man got jealous. ‘While you and your kind were mulling babies not ready to rule, we went to war. The old man made the realm of fire by our clouds. Our argument was who should be in charge. Obviously I had it, but the old man persuaded Gabriel and Michael to his way. So we fought and I decided, what the hell…no pun meant, but I would take. "We're going to train you to be a good little bitch. Just like Flat-top here."He tugged on a leash, and the woman with dreadlocks tottered forward on an absurdly high pair of clear, plastic, stripper pumps. Flat-top was wearing a spiked dog collar, a bright yellow, baby doll t-shirt that bared her pierced navel, and an old Star Wars pillow case that had been turned into a miniskirt. A wreath of thorns and roses around her right bicep, large two inch diameter gauges stretching each of her ear-lobes and a curved barbell through her septum completed her ensemble. If Paula had been a able to see her backside, she would have noticed Flat-top's slave name stenciled in tattoo ink just above her tailbone. Paula could count the Flat-top's ribs through her t-shirt - it was that tight. The girl had a flat chest, but her nipples poked through the t-shirt like pencil erasers."Oh my god, why are you doing this to me" The man was pulling her hair up by the roots, and her scalp felt like it was.
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