Clawing and grabbing the earth in the end came to no avail as the traveller sank yet deeper into the opening.  all of a sudden the opening blew open into a seemingly bottomless chasm.  foul winged beasts erupted out of the hole, shrieking and wailing. 
    The traveller, too weak from travel fatigue, was dragged into the hole by a mollusc-like being. The creature dragged him down, lower, deeper into the chasm.  The sound of tortured souls' moans became louder and the stench of rotting carcasses grew more pungent.  "Please let me go..."  he begged as the shelled beast continued to make his downward journey.  He begged and begged until his fatigue grew too much to handle and a blackness was soon over him.
    The traveller opened one eye.  A blurry red image reached his retina.  he strained and opend the other and screamed.  "My God but you do faint a lot," a profoundly British accent observed.  Two hands gripped his shoulders and shifted him into a sitting position, with a knee shoved against his back.

    "Where am I?" the traveller groaned, painfully raising one eyelid.
    "Most unoriginal," the voice said disapprovingly.  "On the other, it is a line with a fine literary tradition...even King Lear, i believe."  The traveller felt hands dust him down briefly.
    "Can you stand up now? Upsa-daisy..."  Hands hoisted him into a standing position.
    The traveller opened both eyes and found himself staring up at a ridiculously aristocratic nose and a shock of blonde hair.
    "Look here," the man said earnestly, "You have to get out of here."
    The traveller rather thought he could agree with that.
    "They won't like it if they find you here."  He looked significantly at the scratches the winged monsters had inflicted on the traveller.
    The traveller rather thought he could agree with that too.
    "It's all imaginary, of course," the man added, waving his hand over the traveller's (i'm sick of "the traveller"; let's call him Bob) form. All Bob's (isn't that so much better?) scratches disappeared.
    "But a potent form of illusion," the man (let's call him John) said.
    "Illusion," Bob murmured faintly.
    "Well, yes," John agreed, sounding amused.  "You didn't think any of this was real, did you?  Flying creatures?  That's a good one..."
     "Oh THOSE things." Snort. "Not ME. You couldn't catch ME that way. I'm much too smart for that." More snorts.
     "Really. Most impressive, I say. Let's suppose we're out of here then," as the surroundings melted away with a snap of Trevor's (John? What a commonplace name. Let's try Trevor) fingers to reveal... New York City?!
    Indeed, our wonderful characters were now in the heart of every moviegoer's favourite city. Monstrous skyscrapers reached for the skies as cars whizzed past at blinding speeds.
    "Y'know," Bob remarked, "I've always wondered why those yellow cabbies can drive so fast and never ever..."
    Crash!  went a typical beat-up yellow cab as it drove into the Statue of Liberty. Bob's eyes widened. They widened more as he watched the whole of the landscape fall to bits while cameramen scurried to avoid the falling debris. Bob turned to stare at Trevor, who was calmly whistling with a look on his face that plainly said "I told you so".

    "Whoops." went the cabbie.

    "Life's a stage and all men , actors . . . " intoned the wry Trevor, a sly grin splitting his handsome face .
    "Reality is only as you make of it dear boy. Who's to say I'm really standing in front of you?"
With that, Trevor vanished. "I might be behind you ," he continued. Bob whirled around only to see propsmen scurrying around like so many termites. "Then again I hardly have to be next to you for you to hear my voice, do I? " asked Trevor playfully.
    "Enough of this!" cried the frustrated Bob "What's the point?"
    "What's the point ? Really Bob, you should have guessed by now. . . I am really the devil in disguise here to make you a deal. Simple business proposition really . I know what you want and surely you know what I want ... will you shake on that ?"  Trevor extended one exquisitely
manicured hand, with tiny wisps of smoke curling out from under his fingernails.

    Hesistantly , Bob reached out with a trembling hand and touched Trevor's face tenderly.
    "My dear," he whispered. "I've waited all my life for you. Where have you been?"
    "In the toilet, dummy," said Trevor.
    "That was the only time which you allowed your socially unacceptable desires to show themselves.  So naturally I was waiting there for you.  So back to the deal. Are you willing to take it?"
 
    Bob stood uncertainly for a moment, torn by the strong desire to fulfill his passions with this seemingly ideal partner, but at the same time he had this nagging thought that something similar had happened before, with unpleasant circumstances.  Wasn't there someone called Foster or Fostus who had a similar experience?

    Bob was never too sure about such decisions, having had condemned his brother to a lifetime of damnation with the devil through pure accident before. He coughed nervously and tried rubbing his hands together... but suddenly realised that his hands were littered with giant purple dots. It was too late! The Evolution had caught up with Bob...

He groaned and felt the tentacles grow from his back.
 
    "-ob." a voiced muttered.

    Bob tried to ignore the pain coursing through him and turned towards the voice. "What?"

    "I said, it's time, Bob."  Trevor lurked in a dark corner of Bob's room. The walls around him appeared to shift.

    "I- I can't, Trevor!  Stop this!" Bob shouted. His eyes -something was happening to his eyes -

    "You can choose, you know."  Trevor stepped out from the darkness and strolled around the room.  He had the appearance of a decent looking man.  Perhaps too decent.  'Faust, ah - he was a lardbag, but you!'  - with a blinding flash, Trevor was right next to Bob, his hands roaming Bob's body.
    "You are fabulous!"  With another flash, Trevor was in sitting cross-legged in Bob's armchair.
    "I can stop the Evolution". he said, syllables pointed and direct.
    "You only have to say the word."

    "It's... not...right..." Bob muttered, his knees giving way from the pain of the Evolution.  Wait- his knees -

    "You're really becoming rather unattractive, Bobby darling..." Trevor commented, watching the writhing body before him with interest.
    "Purple doesn't look good on you too - I'd say, a bright pink - " Pink spots began erupting on Bob's body.
    Bob lifted his hands to his eyes. Two twenty-fingered tentacles wriggled in front of him.  He couldn't take it anymore.  "Stop it!  I submit! I SUBMIT!"

And then he was Bob again.