Demon on Demand

On a small cabin in a forest near Lee, Massachusetts, two young women were dancing awkwardly around a tarpaulin that covered most of the floor of the only room of the diminute wooden building. On the tarpaulin some runes and a pentagram had been traced using pig blood, and five lit black candles had been carefully placed on the points of the star. A semi-decent rendition of supposedly satanic chants, delivered by a cheap pair of speakers, filled the air. The two women were wearing just their birthday suits and cheap makeup. They had been planning this ritual for months and had been taking the whole endeavour quite seriously, all things considered, but after about thirty minutes of prancing around they were starting to feel silly. However, just as one of them was about to voice her reservations about the project, something started to happen inside the cabin.

The smoke from the candles started to billow, growing denser and darker, slowly gathering in a thick cloud over the center of the occult circle. The air inside the room was still but the girls felt something like cold wind pass through them, leaving behind a faint hint of sulphur and a tingling static sensation on their skin. The cloud swelled and turned above the pentagram, almost touching the ceiling but never extending past the circle set by the candles. Deafening thunder roared outside the cabin, echoing for an unusually long period before fading away. Something solid fell on the floor and, while the women watched aghast, the cloud of thick smoke gradually disappeared, revealing a humanoid silhouette.

An anticlimactic cough and the relatively mundane aspect of the being that had answered their summons immediately killed the girls’ growing sense of wonderment. The creature, a bespectacled short bald man of apparent Jewish descent, was wearing an elegant and expensive-looking suit, with perfectly matching shoes, but his apparel didn’t make him the least bit interesting or attractive. There was, however, something both unnerving and fascinating on the silvery-grey eyes of the otherwise unremarkable man. He cleaned his glasses and looked around the room with surprisingly calm demeanor. Then he greeted the women with a wave as he shamelessly proceeded to thoroughly check out their nude bodies, nodding with a smug judgemental expression of approval. The shortest one snapped out of her confusion and quickly covered her body.

“Well,” he said with an annoyingly nasal voice, “what do you want from me, young ladies?”

The girls looked at each other, then back at him, then at each other again.

“Look, I appreciate the old-style summoning and everything,” the man explained, pointing at the mystical paraphernalia, “but I hope you had something in mind when you called me. I’m a busy man…” He seemed to recall something, took out a cellphone from a pocket of his jacket, very quickly slid his right thumb on the display a few times and promptly returned the device to his pocket. “I just had to cancel a meeting with G.S., so please tell me this isn’t some kind of drunken dare or something like that.”

“N-no,” managed to say the short one, still looking at the bald man with disbelief. “No, no, no.” She composed herself and bumped her partner with her elbow. The two women bowed before continuing. “Oh, great demon, we request a service from you.”

“Alright.” The man smiled and puffed his chest. “What do you request?”

“We,” she continued, “we want you, oh great demon, to bequeath to us the gift of Aphrodite, oh most powerful lord of hell.”

“You want me to what?” asked the man, visibly confused.

“Aphrodite is-,” started to explain the tall one.

“I know that,” interrupted the alleged demon, “what do you want, exactly? And drop the flattery.”

“We want to captivate the hearts of men, charm their minds and ignite their lust,” said the short one.

“We want to be attractive,” explained the tall one, in not so many words. “Really attractive.”

The man looked at them again. The petite one was a few inches below the average height and had almost no chest, very narrow shoulders and waist, but unusually wide hips and an unexpectedly round ass. Her skin was pale and she had thoroughly shaved each visible inch of her body except for her head. She didn’t seem to exercise very often but a few stretch marks on her lower body betrayed several possible attempts at losing weight. Her freckled face was surrounded by an unruly mane of curly hazel hair and housed two big, round and bright chestnut eyes, a snubby nose and a small mouth with pouty lips that she was apparently unable to keep completely closed. She gave off an aura of both childish bravado and cheerful obliviousness.

The other girl was incredibly tall, close to two meters of height, but had a very unbecoming posture and body language that made her look lanky and slightly humpbacked. She, however, had beautiful brown-golden skin, the well-toned body of an amateur athlete, a surprisingly generous rack, incredibly long legs and an overall slenderness that, with proper lighting and better ergonomic habits, would make her an eminent example of traditional beauty. Her face had strong squarish angles on her nose, brow and jaw, but the powerful look of her dark green eyes, her long eyelashes and the fullness of her lips dismissed any possible allegations of lack of femininity. She wore her jet black hair collected in a long braid and, unlike her friend, she didn’t seem to worry about shaving her body, as evidenced by the thick bush that covered her nether regions and the fuzzy shadow on other parts of her body. She looked completely calm, even slightly bored.

“Uh-hu. OK.” The man took off his glasses, folded them and tucked them in a pocket of his shirt. “First, let me introduce myself,” he said, taking two business cards from a silver case and offering them to the two women, “nowadays I go by Seele Kaufmann, but you can call me Amitael.”

The girls looked at the man’s hand with distrust.

“They won’t bite,” he promised, smiling and waving the cards. The tall girl took one, the short one followed soon after. “See? I normally work giving advice to top executives and investors these days. One doesn’t need many magic tricks to take souls anymore but, since you called me, I’ll see what can I do for you. Your names were?”

“We didn’t tell you,” said the tall one. “I’m Catarina, pleased to meet you.”

“And your friend?”

“El-Elphaba,” answered the petite one.

“Look, lady, everybody knows Wicked,” said the man, trying to look more annoyed than entertained. “I understand being cautious, but I bet I can find you on facebook if I check…”

“Ellen,” she corrected after a long, awkward pause.

“Nice to meet you both,” he said as he bowed. “Well, back to business. I think I can help you, but you have a choice to make. I could do some old-school voodoo trick for you in exchange for some post-life services. It wouldn’t take too much time, a few years of soul enslavement and you will be free to proceed beyond. Standard procedure but not very nice, from what I understand.” Ellen looked appalled but Catarina seemed more curious than worried. “However, I have no shortage of souls at my disposition in the foreseeable future, so I propose an alternative service with a different payment method.”

“Go on,” said Catarina.

“It has been far too long since the last time I took part in a proper bacchanal,” he said, taking off his jacket and throwing it on a chair, “so I will gladly help you with your problem if you help me relieve stress the old, eco-friendly, sweaty, natural way.”

“You mean sex?” asked Catarina.

“Bingo!” he said, winking.

“Do you want to take our virginities?” worriedly added Ellen.

“What? You are virgins? I didn’t even check!” he answered, laughing. “No, I don’t particularly care. Use whatever you like. Do me once for each and I‘ll help you.”

The girls started to notice that a pair of horns had begun to grow from the man’s forehead and he seemed to be getting taller and bigger as he continued removing his clothes.

“What are you doing?” asked Catarina.

“Getting naked before I grow out of the suit,” he casually explained in a much deeper voice than before, taking off his trousers and showing two slightly animalistic legs covered in dense but soft-looking grey fur. “This is pretty expensive,” he continued, “and there’s only so much a hot-blooded demon can do to avoid getting horny in front of two young barenaked ladies like you.”

The small man in a business suit had been gradually transforming into a proper demonic creature. Although he was still slightly shorter than Catarina—if you didn’t count the horns—, Amitael had a much heavier build. His top half was hairy but mostly human, with wide muscular shoulders, arms and chest, and a gut that extended a few inches past his waistline, seemingly impervious to gravity. The demon’s strong hands had only four burly fingers each, topped with short jet black nails. A short reptilian tail grew from the end of his back, swaying leisurely over his hairy behind. His legs had a strange unnatural shape, halfway canine halfway human, and ended on feets with hooves instead of toes. The demon’s head was much more stylised than the one of his human disguise. He had no facial hair but a reddish mane grew between the stag horns that crowned his forehead, going past his neck and most of the way into his back. His silver eyes were now almond shaped, his nose thin and perfectly straight, and this, coupled with his slim lips and strong cheekbones, managed to make him look both slightly dangerous and eerily attractive. The only clothing he was still wearing was a piece of underwear that was about to burst due to the impressive pressure of the massive demonic erection it was barely covering.

Ellen almost fainted when confronted with the actual form of the demon but, at the same time, she felt weirdly complimented by his evident anticipation of their venereal payment. In stark contrast Catarina continued to keep a cool head, apparently unfazed by the diabolic presence of the paranormal creature they had summoned.

“I don’t mind either way,” she said to her confused friend. “I don’t plan to die soon anyway, but his second offer seems less risky on the long-run. Your call, Ellie.”

The pale amateur witch glared at her friend with a expression of disapproval. She took a deep breath and looked at the demon. He was pulling the elastic from his undies and looking at his own boner, nodding slowly with a proud look on his face. She didn’t like the idea of consorting with the devil so literally but the payment seemed much more lenient and she reluctantly had to admit she felt some degree of attraction towards the burly and evidently well-endowed unholy aberration.

“All right,” she decided. “Second option. But we do all the work. You can look, but you can’t touch us. O.K.?”

“You drive a hard bargain, young lady,” he said, smiling as he easily ripped his underwear open and threw its remains, revealing a bright red phallus of mighty proportions. “A hard bargain.”

[To be continued...]