Devilish: Crimson Reborn V

“Morning, Oliver!” Alice chirped from the couch. Her roommate blinked at her with a sour, sleepy face before passing on by into the small kitchen. Alice frowned. She had hoped that Oliver would be in a good mood again. The past two days they’d had breakfast together, almost like a real couple. Alice had her bagel and Oliver mauled an overfull bowl of cereal while they joked about the news. A little taste of the perfect life, she thought. So, why not get up a little earlier to wash her face and tame her bed hair. Maybe he’d notice.

Oliver padded back through the apartment, bowl of cereal in hand and head tilted away and to the side. He doesn’t want to look at me, Alice thought, her heart sinking as she withdrew into her blanket on the couch. Shame washed over her in huge waves. Foolish to think he cared, foolish to think he even noticed me at all, foolish to think this was finally the start of something more.

After a few moments, Oliver reappeared at the hallway entrance. He leaned out, his hair falling somehow perfectly around his face. “Hey, sorry, late night last night, you know. Gotta go in for an early shift too. You’re working today, right?”

Alice nodded, trying not to explode with giddiness.

“Great we can carpool. I’m almost out of gas, so you’re driving.” He smiled and retreated down the hallway.

Better than nothing, Alice thought. She didn’t have to rush to get dressed. Despite the pajamas and the blanket wrapped around her, she’d already showered, fixed her hair, and put on most of her makeup. Of course, she hadn’t intended to go so far in her morning beauty regiment. And of course, she didn’t do it for Oliver, necessarily. But, on the off chance that he suddenly decided to sweep her into his arms, she wanted to look the part.

She slipped off the couch and headed back to her room. Pausing at Oliver’s door, she saw him through the small crack. He was sitting at his computer eating, but no longer wore a shirt. He’d put it on just to walk out into the house. That puzzled Alice. She’d seen him without a shirt on hundreds of times over the years. In high school, when she’d been in band and Oliver on the football team, she’d watched him walk around without a shirt on all through practice. Her mind started to unravel the difference. Here it’s more intimate. Her stomach fluttered and she blushed, slipping into her own room to get dressed.

In an hour, they would get into her car and drive to their jobs downtown. On the way, Alice knew they’d finally get that morning chat, joking about the news or what she’d done last night while Oliver was off at work. Maybe Oliver would complain about his boss keeping him late. Maybe she would get a chance to do some complaining of her own. Maybe she’d finally have the right moment to bring up the idea of going away together. Not as a couple of course, but just as friends. Alice wanted to go to Nashville. She had some friends in the city and it would be nice to see them. It would be a nice, normal reason for her to spend hours in the car with Oliver. To share a hotel room with Oliver. To go to museums and galleries and nice restaurants with Oliver. It would be nice.

She stopped in front of her mirror. Alice frowned. Her hair had started to frizz, falling victim to the humidity. Her pajamas, covered in cartoonish moons, looked ridiculous and childish. They didn’t fit either, essentially swallowing up her gangly body in their vast, if comfortable, depths. The little voice in Alice’s head, the one which had always been with her since she first saw a boy and though of him as more than just gross, laughed at her. Not a woman, it said. Just a girl playing dress up. He’d never notice you. He wouldn’t even be friends with you if the rent wasn’t so cheap. How much is your friendship worth to him, do you think? Another $100 a month, maybe as little as $10. A man will never love someone through exceeding convenience. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. I am pathetic.

Alice lowered her eyes and let her thoughts drift away. She sighed and started to get dressed.

Oliver had a headache. He found that being a bartender meant often having a headache. Maybe it had been a full hangover once upon a time, but now it was just a perpetual, unending headache. He took another gulp of water from his cup as they rounded a curve onto main street. The short stretch of storefronts had been “revitalized” over the past few years. That included the Spanish Moss, the drearily named restaurant and bar where Oliver worked. It kept an air of sophistication primarily through serving lunch to the gaggle of businessmen that operated downtown and the occasional patron coming in from the countryside for a “fancy city” meal. No one came for the food, really. They just came to waste time — time away from work or home or a spouse. But then came was the evening service at the Spanish Moss. In a town with only one bar and, as Oliver had learned, an unreasonable supply of closeted alcoholics, the bar stayed slammed almost every night until close. Few of the patrons tipped well, but the owner, Lowell Cammack, paid well. Lowell was an old barback himself and seemed to appreciate the toll it could take. In the end, though, Oliver had a headache.

The car pulled into the small lot behind JoLean’s Boutique. Alice turned off the engine and Oliver leaned back into the seat, trying to force the tension out of his muscles. He never had the time or the inclination to go to the gym anymore, but at moments like this, the brief lapses between forced constraints of society, he felt a remorse for letting his life take such a toll on his body. Not for much longer though.

“Are you working all day?” Alice asked. She’d been quiet the whole ride, another of her strange moods. Now she was back to her overly interested self, Oliver noted. “I thought I might come over for lunch.”

“Um, not sure,” Oliver said, his body tensing up again. “Lowell said I’d need to open, getting everything cleaned up from last night, but that I could knock off after that. If I get done, I may just go home and crash for a while.”

“Oh, will you need the car?”

I wish, Oliver thought, but that would just put me more into your debt. “No, I can catch a ride with Mason. He usually drives in for an early lunch and then goes back our way. You should still go over for lunch, though. Today’s your favorite, meatloaf and potatoes.” He watched her face transform with a happy glow. God, she loves me. “We better head in.”

They shared another brief, awkward moment as he headed toward the alley and she lingered at the back door of the boutique. What does she want me to do? Spend five minutes chatting with her before daintily touching her shoulder. Fuck, even walking away brooding will make her think I’m being bashful or something. He skipped across the street and in through the front door the Spanish Moss. The smell of stale beer hit him and his headache throbbed more violently. Somewhere beneath the caked in smell of spent alcohol was the cutting smell of floor cleaner. Humphrey, one of the cooks, was at the back of the restaurant putting chairs on tables. “Morning,” Oliver called.

Humphrey responded with a swat of his hand in Oliver’s general direction. “You left this place in a right fucking state,” the middle aged man groaned. “And when did we get all these damn chairs.”

Despite himself, Oliver grinned. If anyone suffered more than him, it was Humphrey. The man had a banshee for a wife and an entirely out of the closet alcoholism problem, but, as Lowell put it, “he shows up on time and does more than his share of work, mood notwithstanding”. Oliver slipped behind the bar and grabbed his apron. “I’ll do the mopping,” he said grabbing the bucket of soapy water.

“Damn right you will,” Humphrey said, but continued to work on moving the chairs. “What goes on up here at night lately? Lowell’s not one to let things get so messy. You remember what it looked like when you locked up or were you too drunk? Oh, I know how it is, alright. I tended bar here too, you know. Pour two drinks for the lushes and have one for yourself. You need to keep a clear head on that stuff, boy. Or you’re gonna wind up like me. Like everyone else. Doing what’s fun or what feels nice. Doing it so long that you don’t notice the hooks in your skin. Doing it so much that it feels like its supposed to be. Then, you’re forty five and wondering what happened, singing the same song as every other forty five year old loser all across the world.”

“More cheerful than ever this morning, aren’t we?” Oliver quipped as the mop splattered against the floor.

“I ain’t wrong,” Humphrey insisted. “You still saving money? Still going?”

“Still,” Oliver answered.

“That’s good. Man shouldn’t stay where he’s from. I shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t. That little girl comes over and makes doe eyes at you every day. You watch her, she’ll sink her teeth into you the first chance she gets. You’ll have a little taste yourself and think it ain’t so bad. Regular and safe, those are what bring a man down. Then, boom, you’re making damned meatloaf every day for the same shits you went to high school with.”

“C’mon, Humph, Alice is alright. She’s not for me, but you don’t have to be nasty about her.”

Humphrey paused and leaned against the chair in front of him. “It’s not nasty. It’s the truth. You watch’em long enough, all these folks, and you’ll start to see it. Something leaves them. Something good and right that everyone’s supposed to have. But they stay here, people like me or Alice or you if you’re a damn fool. They stay and that good thing leaves them. It slips out a little bit at a time, but then its gone and you ain’t getting it back. I’ve seen the way that girl looks at you. She hasn’t got any of it left in her. She wants to stay here. And wants you to stay with her.”

The subject cut a little close to the bone. Oliver slammed the mop down and whirled to face Humphrey, but saw a look of sad fear in the man’s eyes. “What the fuck are you on about, anyway? Since when do you start rambling on about the philosophical fucking dangers of small towns?”

Humphrey shuffled away. “I dunno, Oliver. Something ain’t right lately. Like this mess. Folks are drinking too much. Can you tell me what it was like here last night?”

Oliver opened his mouth, ready to say that it was just like any other night — all the people from town gathering over their cheap wine and watered down beer to bitch about the heat or the rain or the cold or the news. But, he couldn’t remember. I wasn’t that drunk, he thought. “I dunno, actually. It’s all a … blur. I remember it being fun, though. Like real fun.”

“That’s fucking alarming in itself. This place isn’t meant to be fun. It’s meant to be a sinkhole for folks’ sorrows. Something weird is going on in town, Oliver. Things are changing. I don’t know what or how, but you mark my word.” He slammed the last chair onto the table top. “Lowell ain’t in yet. I’m gonna go throw some eggs and bacon on the grill. You look like you could use something real in your stomach. Me too.”

Humphrey thudded away into the kitchen, leaving Oliver alone in the restaurant’s front. Oliver shivered as a chill ran across his neck. Things are changing.

“He left already,” Humphrey said as he dropped a plate of meatloaf on the table. Alice’s face fell immediately. “Bout twenty minutes before you came in, I reckon. Had a hard morning’s work and the damn fool was about to fall on his face so I sent him off.” Humphrey started to walk away, but hesitated. “He was trying to wait, I think. But he needed sleep. Had to force him out of the place.” He grunted and shuffled back toward the kitchen.

Alice smiled. Humphrey was nice to her, even though it seemed to pain him to do so. It was a lie, she was sure. Oliver probably hadn’t given her a second thought all morning and ran off the first chance he got. But Humphrey’s lie was nice and almost believable. She picked up her fork and jabbed at the plate. And Oliver did remember my favorite, even if he’s not here to eat with me. She took a bite and her mood improved. Normally, she would have brought along a book or her earbuds to listen to music, but she’d forgotten everything except for herself today. The Spanish Moss was too crowded for any type of concentration, so reading was out, and too much noise for earbuds to be of much use without bursting her eardrums.

As she ate, she scanned the crowd seeing many of the usual faces, but not the usual moods. People seemed happy, or more than happy, almost deliriously amused. At one table an anecdote elicited lengthy bouts of near choking laughter. The mood seemed to bounce from one table to another. Sometimes Humphrey got roped into it, and he too would spend an inordinate amount of time laughing. Strange didn’t begin to describe it. Small town people never acted so raucously. On any other day, Alice would expect to hear the tinkling of silverware on plates and the soft murmur of polite conversation. Instead, she found herself in the din of a speakeasy.

Looking to her right, Alice gasped and dropped her fork. A woman in a red dress sat a few feet away at the next table over. Was she there before? Alice thought. It did not seem possible. How could she have overlooked such a stunningly beautiful woman. The sun dress hugged a voluptuous figure that should have drawn the attention of every man and half the women in the restaurant, but none of them so much as glanced in the woman’s direction. As Alice tried to avert her eyes, so as not to be rude, she realized that no one else was looking at the woman at all, as though nothing occupied that space, a terrible sort of nothing that dared you to look. A cup of steaming coffee sat on the table in front of the woman and her hands tapped idly beside it as she smiled, her eyes flickering from one table to the next before suddenly snapping to match Alice’s stare. The woman’s smile widened. She picked up her coffee and crossed the short distance between her table and Alice’s with an indefinable grace, as though a sculpture of a goddess had sprung to life. “Mind if I join you?” the woman asked as she placed her saucer and cup down.

“Um, please,” Alice muttered. She watched as the woman settled down across from her, yet still no one looked toward them.

“You’re not going crazy,” the woman said. “I don’t want them to see me, and so they don’t. It is magic after all. I’m Lucy and you’re Alice. Such a pretty name, Alice. Fits you.”

Alice could not help but blush. She’d never been attracted to a woman before, but she couldn’t imagine how anyone could not be attracted to Lucy. She also had the faintest memory of knowing someone named Lucy, but as she tried to picture the woman, who’d only been a few years older than herself, the memory grew even fainter. It didn’t matter though, that Lucy was clearly gone and this new one was sitting right in front of her, hanging her cleavage out for all to see. And yet, still, no one was looking. Filled with a sudden desire to prove herself sane, she grabbed hold of Humphrey. “Hey, sorry, um…I know this is a strange question, but do you know…her?” Alice gestured vaguely toward the other side of the table where Lucy sat, continuing that eerie, predatory smile.

Humphrey looked in the direction Alice had gestured, his eyes lost focus and his mouth hung slack. Then he looked back to Alice, “Sorry, hon, did you need something?” Before she could answer, Humphrey shuffled off toward another table bellowing for more beer.

“See, magic, of a sort anyway.” Lucy lifted the coffee and took a sip. “I’d rather not waste time convincing you. You know the truth anyway. You can feel it wriggling around in your belly, but you just don’t want to accept it. Not that I would have been any different in your shoes. Well, that’s not true maybe. When I was given the gift, I took it happily. So many can’t accept it right away though. They just aren’t willing to accept the cost. I give them little tastes. Little flourishes of happiness, so that when they finally do come to me, they’re desperate for more. They’re gagging in their want for me. In the want for this.” She slipped a hand between her breasts and pulled out a vial filled with a red liquid. “I think the color reflects the strength. Early batches were only a little pink, but this,” she flicked the vial with her fingers causing the liquid to slosh up the sides, “this is sinfully red.”

Alice watched the liquid in the vial and felt her mouth water. “What do you want?”

“I want the town, but I’ll get it in time. For now, its more about what you want. Oliver.”

Jealousy flared within Alice. She knew instantly that if Oliver ever saw this woman, Alice herself would a distant memory. This woman was everything Alice aspired to be, elegant and voluptuous, seductive and menacing. “How do you know Oliver?”

Lucy’s smile faltered, “Come now, please. I don’t want to waste the entire morning working through those little walls in your head. I know Oliver in the same way I know you. I can hear him prickling through your thoughts and I can smell your pussy getting wet at the thought of him. Yet he’s not giving you the time of day, is he? A few drops of this will change his mind. It’ll change everything about him, really.” With a flick of her wrist, Lucy threw the vial across the table. Alice caught it reflexively. “Good girl. Just this morning you were wishing for an answer to your prayers. You want Oliver and I want to help you get him. A few drops will do, but…” the devilish smile returned, “I admire a bit of boldness.”

Alice looked down at the vial in her hand. Instantly, she had a strong urge to throw it away. Was it burning her hand? Was it filled with blood? Yet she held onto it, clutching it to her chest as a voice deep inside her begged her not to keep it. Images flashed in her mind. Oliver standing in front of her naked. Her kneeling before him with her hands on his muscular thighs, her mouth open. Alice quickly tucked the vial away and realized that Lucy had gone. The room had become more subdued, with many people looking around as though ashamed. Humphrey stomped around with a visible irritation, eventually passing Alice’s table and snatching up the coffee cup still stained with Lucy’s ruby lipstick.

The vial felt warm in her pocket as Alice stepped out into the street. She looked across at the little boutique and frowned. Of course she couldn’t contain herself for the rest of the workday. Instead, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to her boss. The words blurred as she typed them, but she hoped she’d conveyed the ideas of sick and emergency. Alice slipped through the alleyway and got to her car where she paused to catch her breath. Had she run like a mad woman across the parking lot? Why did she feel as though something were clawing at the back of her neck. Why did she want to drink the vial and use the empty container to pleasure herself? She cranked the car and turned on the air conditioning full blast, trying to quell the heat on her skin. She pulled down the vanity mirror to compose herself, but found a stranger looking back at her.

The woman in the mirror was still Alice, she realized, but a better version. A version that had everything Alice had ever dreamed of. Long, luxurious hair with high cheekbones and plump lips to start, but then a long thin neck leading down into a bust that would put even Lucy to shame. Alice wanted to angle the mirror to see more of this idealized self, but she couldn’t move it properly and when she looked again, only her plain face looked back. It was then that Alice decided. She let one hand wander to the vial as she thought about Oliver and started toward home.

Oliver heard the front door open and shut. He rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. “Too early for her to be home,” he mumbled before rolling over to the side and pulling on a pair of basketball shorts. As he opened his bedroom door, he heard the clink of glass hitting the countertops. Alice was in the kitchen, hunched over something out of sight and holding a bottle of his whiskey in her hand. “Hey, what’re you doing back so soon?”

Alice whirled around sloshing the bottle in a wide arc that splattered on the countertops. She giggled, a high pitched wild noise that unsettled Oliver. “Sorry, did I wake you? I..had to come home. I got fired. Well, not fired, but essentially, yeah, fired. So I thought that I would come home, have a drink, or maybe a few drinks, and then…then I don’t know.”

“Oh, Alice, that sucks,” Oliver said. He wanted to be compassionate, but his now out of work roommate was wasting his booze and probably wouldn’t be able to make rent. “Can I do anything for you?”

The wild look in Alice’s eyes went cold and her manic grin turned into a uneasy smirk. “Have a drink with me?”

“It’s a bit early,” Oliver said. “And I gotta work later.” For the briefest moment, Oliver thought that the person standing in front of him wasn’t his old friend at all, but some other creature. A creature that meant him great harm, but was impossibly beautiful. The feeling faded and it was once more just plain old Alice standing there in her ill fitted top half smiling at him. “Actually, go on then. Hair of the dog and all.”

She turned back to the counter and the room went silent except for the clink of ice and the slosh of pouring liquor and fizzing soda. When she turned back, she offered the drink, “Jack and Coke, your favorite right?”

Oliver took the drink. “Sure, I guess. Not sure I have a favorite, but…” The glass felt strange in his hand, heavier than it should. He raised it to his lips and sniffed, catching the faint whiff of something other than alcohol. He sipped and tasted something warm and…soft. A shiver went through him and he snapped from the reverie to see Alice staring at him with a furrowed brow, her own drink clasp in both hands before her. “…But I suppose if I did, then this would be it.” He grinned and took a larger gulp, the strange taste absent. “Come on, let’s watch some reruns or something. Er, unless you want to talk about what happened?”

Alice whisked by him, “No, maybe later. Getting my mind off it seems like the right thing to do.” She sat on the couch and patted the space beside her.

Oliver took the spot and went about getting the television working. Quick enough, he had an old cartoon filling the silence. All the while, Alice had not taken a sip of her drink. Oliver found it curious, but figured she’d rather wanted the company than the booze. Wasn’t the first time she’d done something manipulative just to get him out of his room. He picked up his own drink and took another swig. That strange taste overwhelmed him again, but vanished before he could pin down exactly what it was. He took another drink and another, gulping down the cocktail in only a few minutes while Alice watched. He even licked the dribble that ran out of the corner of his lips, but the taste vanished each time he almost had it. Stranger still, the normal deadening that came with the first drink hadn’t set in. Quite the opposite. Oliver’s limbs felt restless and his stomach fluttered. Most troublesome was the tingling sensation taking over his crotch. I’m fucking horny, he realized.

“Another?” Alice asked, ready to hop up and run to the kitchen to get him a refill.

His mouth had halfway formed the word “yes” before he caught himself. “No, one is enough for now, I think.” He crossed his arms, trying to suppress how restless he felt, and sat back on the couch. Alice frowned, but settled herself once more and turned her attention to the television, apparently not too bothered by seeing him chug down a full drink in minutes. Oliver watched her out of the corner of his eye. She looked at her own drink periodically, even going so far as to move her hand as if to take it, but never went any further.

In fact, Oliver found himself watching more of Alice than just the nervous twitch of her hand. He saw the curve of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest with each breath, and the slight pout of her lower lip. They were close enough together so that he could feel the heat of her body and even started to smell the scent of her skin. Oliver had always known he could have her if he’d only asked, but until that moment he’d never even considered the possibility of wanting her. She was a woman, but a plain one, he decided, though his cock didn’t seem to care. He could feel himself staying partially hard and worried that the friction of his shorts would be enough to progress the situation. It would certainly be harder to deny Alice if she caught him fully erect while sitting beside her. He tried to put it out of his mind.

They sat in silence for a little while, but Oliver grew more and more uncomfortable. Despite his best efforts, he found himself picturing Alice bent over the couch, her ass stuck up in the air waiting for him to enter her. He considered sneaking off to his room to masturbate and put the matter to rest, but he also didn’t want to leave. Perhaps the alcohol had finally done something because between thoughts of rough fucking his head swirled as though he might faint. He wanted another drink. And why had Alice still not touched hers. Would she freak if he just snatched it from the end table and guzzled it down? Or what if he just whipped out his cock and started jerking off beside her? She’d help, of course. It wouldn’t take more than three strokes before her tongue replaced his hand. And it would take three more before he filled her mouth with his cum.

Oliver slapped himself, hard. He did it so suddenly that Alice yelped. The racing thoughts dissipated and he tried to focus on the sting in his cheek to keep them from coming back. “Sorry, heads a little swimmy,” Oliver said, not looking at Alice. If he looked, then he’d think of fucking her again. “I’m gonna go splash some water on my face or something.”

He heard her start to say something, but his hand waved her off as he lurched to his feet and went to the hallway bathroom. He shut the door, turned on the faucet, and looked in the mirror. He looked different. Oliver had seen his face every day of his life, so far as he knew, and the man looking back at him from the mirror was not the face he had seen every other day. It was similar, nearly identical, and if pressed he wouldn’t have been able to say what was different, but Oliver knew the reflection was not him. He heard Alice padding toward the door as he lowered his mouth to the faucet and began to drink. He was maddeningly thirsty and his skin was scorching hot, but the water only seemed to make it worse. He started coughing as he heard a knock at the door.

“Oliver! You…you’re not supposed to resist it, I think. You have to want it. I don’t know what will happen if you don’t…” her voice faltered. She sounded frightened and yet eager.

Oliver shut off the water and wiped his face. The man in the mirror remained, stubborn and menacing. “Did you fucking drug me?” he whispered. His hand grabbed hold of the door and yanked, not bothering to turn the knob. The door-jam splintered as it swung open, his own strength surprising him. Alice staggered back away from him as he loomed into the hallway. “Christ, Alice, what did you do to me? Acid? Shit, I just ripped a door open, something worse?” He was angry, but he was still fucking horny. Oliver became aware that his cock was rock hard, but blamed it on whatever she’d given him. “Is this what you wanted? To drug me and get me to fuck you? Are you that fucking desperate?”

“No! No, you don’t understand. It’s not a drug…not really,” she pleaded with him. “It’s this!” She pulled a small vial from her pocket. It was three quarters full of a red liquid. “I put some in our drinks, but then I got scared. I didn’t want to take mine before…I don’t know really.”

“What the fuck is that? What the fuck is it supposed to do?”

“It supposed to make us better,” she said, the wild look returning to her eyes. “But you have to let it. You have to give away the part of you that doesn’t want it, I think. You’re changing, I can already see it. Just stop resisting and want this.”

Oliver took a deep breath. Concentrating, he could feel something inside of himself that shouldn’t be there, a poison invading his senses and warping his mind. It was coercing him, telling him all the wretched things he could do if he gave himself over to it. To Her, whoever She was. Oliver took another breath and sent back a message. “No,” he said. Immediately he felt worse, weak and nauseous. Across the room, Alice looked horrified. “Alice, listen to me. I forgive you, but whatever that is, it’s wrong. I don’t know if its evil, but it’s not…good. Its corrupting me. I can feel it and it’ll do the same thing to you. Throw it away.”

Alice’s face went slack. “Even with this in you, you still reject me. The gift of a goddess and I’m still not lovable. Fine. Then I’ll become something you can’t fucking resist.”

The cork came out of the vial with a comical plunk. Part of Oliver wanted to lunge across the room and stop her, but the other part wanted to see what would happen. Alice brought the vial to her lips and drank it in one long gulp, her tongue swirling around the rim to get the residual drops. With it all gone, she held the vial out in front of her and laughed, nervously. Moments passed and Oliver counted the thuds of his heart as they waited. Then, with a groan, Alice dropped to her knees. Oliver made no move to help her, horror keeping him rooted in place. The groan subsided and Alice looked up at him with a predatory sneer.

Blooms of red appeared on her skin as she arched her back away from Oliver, thrusting out her breasts. She mewled as she pulled her shirt up, revealing more of the vibrant crimson appearing on her pale stomach. “Oh, Oliver, it feels so goooood,” she hissed as she unclasped her bra and let it fall away. Oliver’s hand moved to his cock despite his concern and fear. Alice’s new coloring spread over her small tits, growing darker around the nipples. It continued up her neck and across her face, turning her from an innocent country girl into a crimson colored demon. Her lips darkened to near black as her plain hair grew thicker and turned the color of pitch. Alice’s hands moved up to cup her breasts, thumbs flicking across the dark nipples. Her eyes fluttered and lost their tired brown color, becoming a solid black. “You got something for me yet? That cock of yours probably won’t be enough, you know. Give in already Oliver, really. Oh, I can smell your cum just waiting. You’re going to make a mess.” She giggled, and Oliver came in his shorts with a frustrated grunt.

Alice stood, but did not move to him. Instead, she finished undressing, taking off her panties as she wriggled her small, tight ass at Oliver. She’d always been a little proud of her butt, but had never really been able to show it off properly. She didn’t think that would be a problem any more. She finished removing the panties by bending over fully and taking them down to her ankles, just to give Oliver the full view of her demonic red ass and her dark, hairless pussy. She felt a strange pressure at the top of her ass and a wave of intense pleasure rocked through her body, causing her to drop forward onto her hands and knees, ass sticking up in the air. Her tail jutting out into existence in only a few seconds, flicking erratically above her presented ass as she learned to control it. It didn’t take her long and she found the best place for the thick tip as she stuffed it in her tight pussy. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that Oliver had managed to stop masturbating, but he had pulled his cock out and it was oozing precum. “Almost there, I think,” she teased as another orgasm shook her.

A new sensation took over, a sense of becoming more that Alice could not have possibly described. Her muscles grew first, thickening her frame and giving her enough strength to break a door in half. Then came the softer changes. Her ass jiggled as it grew into a soft, cushion meant for fucking, but it paled in comparison to her swelling tits. They dangled underneath her as they ballooned into near udders tipped with fat, dark nipples that began to ooze her first few droplets of milk. Alice grunted and whined, wriggling her ass in the air as her tail fucked in and out of her pussy. She felt so full and yet so empty. She needed Oliver more than ever and if he wouldn’t join her by choice — a new pressure interrupted her thoughts. Above her temples, small bumps pushed up out of her skull. The bumps grew quickly into horns that curved back, disappearing into her black hair. “See, Oliver, I even have handlebars to grip while you fuck me stupid.”

Oliver’s internal war continued, even as he orgasmed again from the only the sight of her. He imagined the feeling of pushing into pussy and knew it would be infernally hot, wet, and tight. His cock remained hard, his cum dripping in vain from its tip, defying any sense of reason or biology. He wanted it to all be impossible, that maybe she did dose him with some kind of hallucinogen, yet that feeling inside him, that voice compelling him to give in and join her was too real. What was he holding on to after all? Humanity was clearly inferior. He held up his forearm and saw small specks of red on his skin. It had already started, he only needed to accept it.

“Oliver! Come fuck me…please.”

Even after this, it was still down to Alice begging him for attention. Years of her hanging around him, batting her eyes, hoping he’d notice her. Years of her manipulating him into spending time with her, even becoming his only option when he wanted to get a place of his own. All of this was her fault. Rage supplanted the last of his hesitations and the specks on his skin turned to large blotches. “You fucking bitch. You sold our fucking souls just to get me to fuck you.” He peeled off the remainder of his clothes as he crossed the room. With one arm, he lifted her up and carried her over to the wall, new strength coursing through him. He took her by the throat and slammed her into position, Alice grinning down at him as he choked her. Her tail wrapped around his waist, teasing at the crack of his firm ass. “You want us to become beasts fit for nothing other than fucking? Then fine, I’ll make you my bitch.” Hand pressing on her throat, he leaned in and took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, hard.

The milk streamed into him as his hand moved down to Alice’s smooth pussy. He slid two fingers into her hungry snatch as he continued to drain her tits. Her hands raked at his back, new claws leaving small tears in his transforming flesh. His muscle grew in more quickly, broadening his frame and causing his whole body to swell with thick cords of new flesh. Alice felt his cock throbbing against her lower leg and was desperate to see it grow. Her hands settled into his hair as it thickened and two large horns erupted from his scalp. Oliver pulled his mouth away, a stream of milk spraying out and down his chest. With a careless motion, he dropped Alice to the ground and stumbled back to look at himself.

He looked to be sculpted of ruby, a horror out of the dreams of an ancient cleric. A thick patch of coarse, black hair covered his chest and ran down his abs to surround a cock four times the size it had been. It still matched his frame though, as he’d grown nearly a foot, his horns scraping against the ceiling as he moved. A tail of his own moved languidly behind him, a cord of muscle strong enough to knock a man down. His muscular hands ended in black claws and his feet had gone entirely, broken and reshaped into hooves. Alice could not take her eyes off the cock jutting out between his legs. She could smell it and desperately wanted to have it shoved down her throat while her tongue attempted to bathe the pair of fat balls that would create all the delicious cum she could ever drink. Oliver flashed a smile at her, revealing a pair of thick fangs and a tongue longer than it should have been. “This is what you wanted? You fucking whore.”

Oliver pounced on her, spinning her around and shoving her chest to the floor. With his other hand, he yanked her ass up by the tail and slowly lowered her onto the head of his cock. “You’ve waited years for this, haven’t you Alice? How many times did you touch that fat pussy of yours while imagining your fingers were my cock? Is it everything you hoped? Or does a big demon cock spoil the fun?” He thrust forward, engulfing his monstrous cock in her fiery pussy. Alice howled with delight, pushing her ass back against his hard body, wriggling the soft cheeks against his hairy abs. The walls of her pussy squeezed him as he started to pull out of her, not wanting to relinquish her prize. Her milk dripped on the floor as her mouth hung open and drool pooled on her lips. Alice was burned away by pleasure, leaving only a demonic harlot humping back against Oliver’s cock.

The sensations commanded Oliver’s attention. He released the demoness’s tail and it immediately wrapped around him, pulling him forward with each thrust. His hands took hold of her plump ass, squeezing it in time with each bottoming out inside of her. It was still all impossible. His cock shouldn’t have fit, they shouldn’t be red, and they shouldn’t have tails, but it was real. Oliver’s mind was overwhelmed with lust and possibility. He thought of all the women who’d ever snubbed him and pictured them knelt in front of him waiting to take his demon seed and become new whores to fuck for eternity.

With a grunt, his balls emptied into Alice, filling her up until it gushed out around his cock and dripped beneath them. Alice purred and raised herself up to press her back into her mate’s chest. Oliver’s cock slid out of her, leaving her feeling empty, but she knew that wouldn’t last. His clawed hands came up to squeeze her breasts, causing more of the corrupting milk to flow out over his hands. He nuzzled into her neck and the last fragment of the girl that had been Alice was happy to have Oliver so close. Then it was gone and only the whorish creature remained. Oliver licked her neck and pushed her back down to all fours. His cock slid up between her asscheeks as it continued to drip cum, covering her tight, perfect asshole. He pushed forward lazily and felt slight resistance as she mewled in front of him. He gave her ass a hard smack then once again took hold of her tail. “Alice,” he said with a grin. “Do you like being my little fucktoy?”

She hissed at him gleefully, and he pushed his cock into her ass.