…October thirty first, Halloween, a pagan holiday ironically enough, and here I am doing collections again, in the damn suburbs, but for the evil dark one himself this time. Ten years for one of us is usually nothing but the blink of an eye, but for you mortals it seems like forever, REALLY? At least this one is highly, highly attractive, dare I even say hot, although I know in hell that can be an overused term. And, her whiny bitch of a "husband," the one that struck the original deal with the dark one in the first place; he's so deserving of his fate.
"'Oh, I'd do anything just to be rich, and bag the hot little cheerleader of my wet dreams.'" I have it right here on my iPad, the desire so common that it should be standard evil-one contractual boilerplate. He's now a thirty one year old multimillionaire, made his money in software even, not writing it, but stealing it from others. I even have a version of it running on my iPad right now, it freezes all the time, oh the delicious irony.
Speaking of delicious, his wife, the former cheerleader, is certainly something to salivate over, even for a demon. So much so, that I'm surprised that the evil one didn't take time from his busy golf schedule with long dead former dictators, terrorists, and serial killers to grab this one himself. She's a looker, and in the contract too; I've been watching her ever since I got this assignment handed up from the bottom floor. She's also quite flexible, and I don't necessarily mean in yoga class either, although I've watched her there as well.
She's a very highly sexual being, odd though as it seems, as her ten second once a week jiffy lube husband is a serious workaholic shrimp dick, but he does have a big checkbook, and a big work ego to match, so there is that. Back in my own mortal days - and I know I'm dating myself here - music was string instrumental, no vocals at all, and a girl having a girlfriend meant that they were FRIENDS! Not carpet munching wrestling inverted lovers, although I obviously just love to watch that crap, and listen to those impassioned yelpy moans, like any other lusty demon might.
…We demons actually use those images on the big screen to get fired up on a Wednesday night at our local corner bar - there's nothing but old reruns of crap mortal sitcoms and gameshows on hell cablevision anyway - and then we all sneak down into the depths of hell itself, and we fish out a few of the baby rapists from the erternal burning lake of sulfur, and then we rape the shit out of them for a few mortal weeks in a row as they scream their heads off like little girls… good times, GOOOOOD TIMES!
…Oh, that's right, nobody actually HAS a carpet anymore; when did that become a thing? Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I know, like three or four eye blinks ago. There you go, I've answered my own rhetorical question, a sure sign that you're either going nuts, or need a vacation from the office; it time once again to put in my request into HR I suppose. If this one did actually still have her carpet though, it would at least match the blonde drapes; now how many times does that actually happen, in southern California?
…With a pop and a flash of light I eventually drop onto the sidewalk of the upscale cul-de-sac to make my collection. I've procrastinated long enough on this one already, but I just have a feeling on this one. Trick or treaters dressed as little devils and angels-yuck are everywhere though, as well as some other very creative and naughty costumes for the older ones, and their hot mommies. I appear as if in costume too, but my six and one half foot height and red complexion, combined with my for-real moving tail and horns make me stand out. I feel a little like Elvis taking the stage at the Tropicana… but I had to leave that particular show early before the final set, for obvious reasons, when he did an impromptu gospel number and I'd thought I'd burst into flames right there.
Anyway, I see the shrimp dick's magnificent large home; "he's compensating" I tell myself consolingly. His address is on my Ipad so I can't miss it - one has to triple check such things in this line of work - but there are also children on the porch collecting their own candy from the costumed pair, so I have to wait my turn. Children are strictly off limits in this business, I can't even go near them, it's one of the few rules. Anyway, I have a plan for that too, as Mrs. Smith just next door is giving out full sized Nestle's crunch bars this year, my favorite, and I stop there first to get one. She's a handsome older woman herself, although that's work for another day; you see her husband is both a slip and fall lawyer, and a politician, but his contract isn't due just yet. She's blown away by my costume though, and she tells me so in animated fashion, her gimungous just-done new breasts threatening to leap out of her low cut shirt, and if not for my red complexion I think I might have blushed…
It's finally my turn at the shrimp dick house, and I ascend the grand staircase of this fine home all alone; my own little place in hell nothing but a summer bungalow in comparison, and I've no trophy wife of my own waiting there for me either. I obviously know why envy is one of the seven deadly sins, as is lust; we have to attend refresher and sensitivity training back in hell at least one a century, and the seven deadly sins are always discussed in depth. "How do we increase production demons? There is no 'I' in team you monsters!" that kind of thing. For the first five hundred years or so it was just okay, now I'm simply jaded. Can't they come up with some new material? It's not like there aren't any Hollowood writer types in hell you know, or casting couch directors that took advantage of pretty and innocent teen girls with dreams of making it big in the movies, the place is simply full of them. And they call me a monster? But I digress…
Anyway, the second she opens the door and I lay my evil glowing eyes on shrimp dick's stunning wife, in the flesh, I know that I must have her. Her given name is Jessica, and her husband's, the shrimp dick, is Arnold, and I greet them both by name instead of saying trick or treat like they might expect.
Arnold is dressed head to toe as a cheerleader, and it's obvious that both of them have put some serious effort into his costume, shaved pale legs and all, but despite the overdone cheek blush his face still goes pale white when I greet them by name, horns and all. A disguise perhaps? I think to myself, how original, do they think this is my first decade on the job? I don't know if I should be angry, amused, or even hurt; demons have feelings too you know. Jessica, for her part, looks to me and not her husband though, and I see the churning scheming thoughts in her stunning blue eyes, this one is way more than mere eye candy, so I have to be especially careful here; don't forget who gave Adam the apple.
"How do you know us?" she asks calmly, almost seductively, her recovery time and grasp of what is happening in the here and now is rather impressive all things considered. I mean really, how often does a for-real demon walk up to YOUR door, in the suburbs, even on Halloween? Shrimp dick in comparison looks about to faint, or maybe throw up and wet himself simultaneously; perhaps he's just remembering the specific details of the contract that he signed with the devil himself, if he even read them, ten years to the day earlier though.
Jessica, well Jessica is dressed as a naughty devil's helper, her red dress of the short cocktail variety and ending at her delicious tanned upper thighs. I ordinarily don't like blondes in red dresses, but Jessica is absolutely rocking this one, although her faux horns and tail to match my real ones possibly have softened my opinions. We'd make quite the pair at the annual terrorist cookoff; yes mortals, we actually have that, it's very popular. And the nature of where I work and live means that we could theoretically roast and serve the same terrorist over and over again for like a millennia, year after year, after year… Last year the old devil himself won with his secret chilli recipe, but none of us had the courage to recount the actual votes ourselves… some things never seem to change.
"You do know why I'm here, don't you?" I ask in my deepest and most intimidating voice just to get things back on track, all while staring at the feminized, trembling Arnold. I keep my distance from him though so as not to have still another mortal puke on my cape. I get no special breaks on my dry cleaning bills in hell, even if it's work related, and chunky human puke makes me want to puke myself, it's an occupational weakness that my coworkers taunt me about back at the office all the time.
"Yes" is the answer that I expect to eventually hear, and I do, but not from Jessica's pretty painted lips.
"I know why you're here, and I have a counter offer to make if you're interested, Evil One?" Jessica offers in her very most sexy come-hither tone. She gets points for being bold, and her "Evil One" term of endearment too, I'll give her that, but I have a signed contract that includes her as well, the little shrimp dick weasel sold her soul too, along with his own. That's right on the edge, or to be honest past the edge, of what's allowed. All kinds of legal contractual things come into play now; did she gain from this sale personally, is she truly evil herself, or just naughty? Or, more importantly, do any of the seven deadly sins on her chart have a black permanent check mark next to them?
To make sure that I know what she's hinting at offering up though, her sexy blue eyes look slowly down the length of her magnificent body, and then back up again to my own glowing ones, and I smile. I could have already had her right here and now, if she were as dumb as a brick like I thought her to initally be. It's in the actual contract, and I could have even made femboy Arnold watch as I took her to the mortal version of "squeal town" half a dozen times in a row, right here in their foyer, his proverbial initial "welcome to hell" introduction.
Now before we all go "there" not all demons are hung like racehorses, despite what you might have heard on the street, or seen on the late night helomax porn channel. My average human-like endowment is quite average for a demon as well, or so my psychologist has told me in session. I have a complicated existence, but I'm making real progress now, so please don't judge.
Anyway, a part of me wants to tear that dress from Jessica and have at it like right now, but to have a stunning creature like her a WILLING participant, well, that's an entirely different thing! It makes this sketchy contract easier to execute, as it could be argued that one doesn't have the right to sell off another's soul without just compensation, and now I know why my employer is on the back nine with some really evil dead mortals, as opposed to here himself with stunning Jessica and feminized shrimp dick boi, attempting to make a collection that suddenly doesn't look so slam-dunk as it did when handed this assignment.
"What do you suggest Jessica?" I ask warrily, and her pretty confident face suddenly gives away that she may well have the upper hand here with me. She's a beguiling temptress, and I get the feeling that I'm about to get played by her.
"I'm obviously not in your line of work, but surely there must be a percentage of 'ones that got away' or something like that. Every business has them. And… and I don't seem to recall signing my own soul away, you'd think I'd remember something trivial like that, don't you, Evil One?" she asks in snarky fashion.
"I haven't lost a soul since Mozart wrote, it's quite a record!" I defend, my voice coming out like a pathetic squeaky whine though, like a naughty little boy about to cry while being scolded. It's embarrassing for anybody, but for a six foot plus tall demon with over five hundred mortal years on the job it's especially bad. I even have my own Lucifer's club gold watch, for good performance reviews and attendance. And besides, all these kinds of mortal/demon interactions are recorded now you know, they tell us for "training purposes," but I know it's to laugh at the screwups that we sometimes make, I've even done this myself, to others though.
"But you could, if something, or somebody distracted you enough?" again with that sultry voice of hers, making my demon blood boil.
Femboy Arnold was starting to get his natural color back, which was actually pasty pale white anyway, imagine that, in sunny southern California. At least he's still terrified of me, so there is that, but Jessica, not so much. Anyway, Jessica has me thinking, I could possibly arrange for a little mistake, I haven't had one since the black plague and I'm overdue for one, I even have some PTO time saved up for just such occurrences. Or, perhaps I could actually read the entire contract like a lawyer myself, to see if any loopholes were accidentally left in there. It's a little like the legal mumbo jumbo they try to shove down your throat every time your cellphone has an update, nobody reads that stuff either.
"I need some time to think" I tell Jessica, but it's like I'm asking her permission; not very demon-like at all. To accommodate me though she places their candy dish on the front porch and writes a quick note, telling the good little trick or treaters to take only one candy each, she then closes and locks the front door to ensure I have my time. This is a take-charge woman, even a demon can appreciate that. Anyway, femboy Arnold moans painfully like a frightened little girl, and the stunning woman before me is as cool as a saint in confession. Arnold's costume even gives me an inspirational thought, but that's just too simple and cute, although the irony is delicious bearing in mind Jessica's tastes in extramarital lovers…
As I read my tail has a mind of its own, it's up under Jessica's little dress, and then down the front of it. At one point she gently takes it out of her panties, and she inadvertently rubs the tip just a bit in the process, one of my erogenous zones. Oh, does that feel good, no mortal can possibly know how good that feels.
I finally find what I'm looking for, and I have to credit shrimp dick for the inspiration. The contract is specifically with Arnold, and if there is no Arnold, as in a male Arnold, the contract is void. That alone doesn't put Jessica bouncing on my demon manhood like I want her, but it does provide for a price of some kind to still be paid by the very deserving Arnold. We always try to get something, we demons, even if we can't get the whole deal, they have that in our training classes too. Instead of lemons to lemonade, it's usually blood to blood pudding, seeing how we're big and bad demons and all that nonsense, but you get the idea.
"So, I have a solution," I tell Jessica, she's the boss here anyway.
"Yeeessss?" she asks, leading me to explain.
"Arnold gets to keep 'his' soul," I actually say that part with little air quotes, "and you and I go on vacation in Tahiti, you keeping yours as well."
"And the details?" she asks, but I can tell that she doesn't really care about those.
"Does it matter?"
"Not really, but I'll need to pack. How long will we be gone for?" she then asks with a seductive smile, she ever the more practical one of the pair.
"Just a few blinks of an eye." My eye, I didn't tell her, but the devil is in the details as they say.
I then snap both my fingers simultaneously for effect, the left towards what was once Arnold, and the right towards a now naked Jessica, both happening with a showy flash of light and a big smoky poof. Jessica is now standing nude before me, no tan lines at all, although I've left her heels, tail, and horns on her, I just love the way that looks. Her womanhood is just as bald as I knew it would be, but somehow it looks good on her.
What was once Arnold, well "he" thinks my magic has somehow failed for him, but he was startled to see his stunning wife magically stripped naked right in front of us both, and the little cute gasp that escaped her lips was very feminine as a result. I can tell by her just seconds old new female lips and perplexed face that she's confused…
"Your new name is Princess, Arnold doesn't exist any longer, unless you want to go to hell for all eternity as Arnold? Now I'm two behind on soul collections all because of you, and I have my bonus to consider here. But, I have like a hundred very desperate men in a remote mining village in Siberia, and they'll do ANYTHING for a female playtoy to pass the hours between shifts. Of course you'll be the only woman there, so you'll be quite busy, but so will I with Jessica on the beach in Tahiti."
What was once a wig is now her real hair, and the high pitched soft voice was spot on as well. Jessica and I both watched as she looked down inside her cheerleader's sweater, I knowing for a fact that a nice set of firm C cup boobs are now filling out her borrowed bra, they about perfect on her slight frame. I like to do things right, and Princess was not only a woman now, but a good looking and sexy one as well. She was also still a virgin, but wouldn't be for much longer.
She never had the opportunity to look inside her borrowed panties either, before I snapped my fingers once again, her ankles and wrists now encased in steel cuffs, the latter behind her back with the chains for each going to her belly chain, as if she were some hardened and dangerous criminal. The key to unlock them was on a string around her neck, so close, but so far out of reach!
"Bon voyage Princess" I told her cheerily, snapping my fingers once again. In a poof she was gone, but in that same poof I had transformed myself into the spitting image of Arnold, Jessica first confused, and then impressed.
"Evil One?" she asks.
"In the flesh" I answered, and as if to prove my point I snap my fingers and the still nuce Jessica and I find ourselves standing on the beach on one of the smaller islands near Tahiti, watching the sun set into the ocean…
Trick or treat!
