Invoking a God

Green Rage Monster

The first thing I realized upon returning to my own body is that I'd really done a number on it. I was sore in places I didn't expect. Yes, I'd truly fucked myself hard. That thought made me embarrassed all over again. The second thing I realized was that my body was still experiencing the aftershocks of ecstasy. Everything down there clenched and shivered, gaining my undivided attention at random intervals.

Loki faded from tattooed blue back to smooth, pale Asgardian ivory while he watched me with interest as I took mental inventory of my physical status, his grin widening with each one of my realizations.

"You are truly an amazing creature, you mewling quim." It wasn't the words that got me, it was the way he said them, with a lofty air of superiority and a condescending look in his eyes.

Hey! "That's rude. I know what that means, you know."

Just to spite me, he said an epithet in old Norse. I could tell it was rude by the way he said it, although I had no idea what the words meant.

I narrowed my eyes at him. You're just trying to goad me now.

And what are you going to do about it, you weak mortal child?

I had to think about the answer to that. What could I do about it? Verbal banter? It wasn't like I had a hope of overpowering him, either physically or mentally.

"You mortals have such short memories, it's amazing you know where you hide your nuts."

"I'm not a squirrel." That was just plain insulting, and I wondered what he was getting at. Why was he suddenly trying to be so mean?

"Oh, please." He rolled his eyes and spat another Norse insult at me. "You can't even defend yourself."

He was starting to piss me off. I sat up and glowered at him, my physical state forgotten as I thought seriously about the ramifications of slapping him.

He grabbed my wrist before I could raise my arm. "No, my dear," he intoned. "Not that way." He studied me carefully, his emerald eyes boring into mine. "The way only you know how."

I glared back. What in Hell are you talking about?

Hel has nothing to do with this. "Get angry, show me your true self."

I frowned. "Not named Bruce," I tried to explain to him. "No enormous green rage monsters here."

"He's a fiction, you imbecile. You're not."

"Just who do you think I am?" I demanded, yanking my wrist from his grasp.

Loki shook his head in angry disappointment. "You are truly ignorant of your heritage. Perhaps I was in error, although it pains me to admit it. I should not have chosen Midgard as a testing ground."

"God! You are so evasive!" I railed at him. "Just tell me what you're going on about!"

"I made you!" he growled, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me. "You're mine!"

"No, I'm not!" I argued. "I have parents; I can name them for you."

"Oh, by the nine realms - not my child, you blundering buffoon. As if I would commit incest with my own offspring -" he shuddered at the thought, then continued, "you're my creation."