Demon Dorm

Hey guys, this is sort of a vertical slice of some of my hot girl characters, I can definitely write more if there's any interest.

***

Within the lands of the Domain are many a place of power, clashing places in which the confluences of many different magics ground against one another like arcane tectonic plates. In many of these locales these natural magics proved of great use to the peoples that chose to live there, resources which could be tapped, stoked, co-existed with. Others were more dangerous, places one could go to mine from the living earth the things one needed, but where no being could comfortably live.

In a few, plant life would never grow again.

Only one remained completely out of the public eye, somewhat oddly considering that it was the most harmonious of them all. A chamber of stone and wood set into the side of a mountain, open to one side through gaps in fine marble columns, those with a sense for magic might see that the different sorts of arcana present there followed unnatural, strictly defined boundaries, mingling at the edges but never truly mixing. Neatly divided into triangular wedges that grew narrower the closer they got to the center of the room, from above it would have looked like a Trivial Pursuit piece, completed and of a deeply weird makeup.

This, high above the rest of the Domain and in a place that very few could reach, was the chamber of the demons.

Of course, designations like demon and angel were only a convenient shorthand, in fact describing a great many entities that had not ever dwelt in a heaven or hell; they were names of metaphysics, not specificity. Planes across the multiverse tended to order themselves, by some strange gravity of the worlds, into Upper and Lower orders, homes of the light and dark entities that arose within them. The fact, regardless of what one wished to call them all, was that such creatures required... care to fit into any given reality without clashing in harmful ways.

Many a plane had fallen when two entities of significant cosmic size had merely brushed up against one another. There were things out there that cracked worlds with a simple step...

The demons of the Domain, under the direction of its founder Lady Tyriah, had approached cohabitation deliberately and carefully, knowing full well that their mutually exclusive auras represented a true instability to their new world. The greatest among them had created this isolated place as a neutral ground, where disputes could be settled and issues of their inherent magic dealt with. It thrummed with the constant flow of their energies.

Mostly they just called it the Demon Dorm, though.

'Y'all ever fucked an angel before?'

Currently, the chamber atop the mountain was occupied by a cadre of horned women, wings stretched and tails curling in idle, relaxed patterns. The combined arcane energies within that room were a world-ending threat, but they remained carefully demarcated and separated, washing constantly around the edges of what was, in fact, little more than a loosely affiliated hangout session.

'I'm like ninety percent sure that angels don't even have the parts to get fucked,' Tyriah, Indigo Lady and de facto ruler of this combined land, presently lounging upside-down on a lushly padded chair, regarded her interlocutor with vague interest.

Gremory, being of chaos and seducer of women, puffed out her cheeks in defiance. She wore little, beyond a mesh body stocking, a pair of panties, and two black, diamond shaped nipple covers; everything about her was obvious, a book laid open on a page entitled "listen, what you gotta know about me is..."

'I'm telling you, they do,' she grinned a particularly nasty grin, full of fangs and dirty in a way that seemed to expect a blush in response. Of course, she did not get it, not from a room filled with the most hellacious women currently residing in the world, but Gremory hardly seemed to notice.

'Okay, I'll bite.' From across the room the fallen angel and current demon detective Armoniel Watson sat up straighter, regarding Gremory flatly. 'It sure does seem like you're speaking from experience.'

'She definitely needed prompting to show off, totally,' Eisheth Zenunim, true succubus, rolled her eyes. 'Grem would absolutely have waited patiently until she got an opening.'

'Grem's not even gonna ask a second time,' the demoness herself cocked her head to one side, a challenging glare in her eyes. She raised her middle finger, turning it into the beginnings of a magic gesture: 'Lailah! Come!'

What happened next was near instantaneous, but breathtakingly complex from an arcanological standpoint. Right in the middle of the intersecting demonic leylines, a new power began to emerge, something antithetical to the mana that had been stored there. The world shuddered, bright light spilling from the empty air in the center of the chamber, a being from the Upper Stratum shoving its way into physical existence amid the powers of the Lower.

It took a lot of very quick, very hard adjustments from everyone present to correct the situation such that the chamber itself did not disintegrate beneath the new stresses. Gremory did not seem bothered.

'You can't just do that!' Tyriah snapped, scrambling upright and only eventually turning her attention away from Gremory toward the interloper. Her mouth fell open. 'How did...?'

Angels came in many shapes, but not a one of them could avoid detection by demons. Upper beings were plainly antithetical to the Lower ones, literally made of opposing elements, their very presence in the same space often running the risk of cataclysmic consequences. Care was needed, and in the face of that knowledge the collar around the newly summoned angel's neck put one in mind of a rickety bridge, erected over a sheer chasm.

Lailah was a tall being- angels were always tall, they chose their avatars specifically to tower over others- but far more inoffensive to look at than some of the other angels that Tyriah had met. Her shape was basically human, for one; two legs and four arms, the latter of which seemed a little like putting on airs, but that was okay. Her skin was a deep brown, her hair platinum blonde and tied up in a ponytail that flowed through the center of her halo, achieving a sort of heavenly weightlessness once it did so. Its tailing end floated out behind her, drifting on an unseen, celestial current.

Atypically when compared to the angels that the demonesses were familiar with, this one wore very little. Her white robe was barely more than a complicated ribbon, a strip of cloth covering the nipples of her bountiful brown breasts, but almost nothing else. It trailed off into a free floating loincloth, sparkling with gold sunbursts and leaving those watching in no doubt at all of the fact that this angel was going commando.

Her thick thighs were encased in sheer black lace, leading down to a pair of severe heels that were locked to her feet. Her forearms, all four of them, wore white, disconnected sleeves, the cuffs thick enough to hold a restraint, and the collar around her neck was golden, its leash a pure white. The regalia of a slave.

She squeaked upon appearing, the sound ringing through the sudden silence in the Demon Dorm, her arms pairing up and racing to cover her chest and between her legs. She was too tall to do so effectively, however, and her outfit too small. Gremory snickered, bouncing over to her.

'Everyone, this is Lailah.' She said, poisonous smugness infecting her smile. 'Lailah, these are my... hmm, allies, I guess. Not friends. Uh... we're stuck in the same reality together and we're all immortal, leave it at that.'

'Miss Gremory! I don't feel at all comfortable being summoned in front of all these-' The angel started talking, her voice lyrical and cultured, but Tyriah leapt to her feet, the mere clack of her hooves on the floor enough to demand silence once more. Her power flared around her, a purple light that was ravenous, intelligent, wrathful, an extension of her and projection of her true form from... somewhere else.

It was easy to see, looking at her now, that she was of the world that formed the basis of the Domain, and that the Indigo Lady was one of the oldest, most powerful entities within it.

'You actually captured an angel and brought her here?' Tyriah's eyes flashed, the lenses of her glasses going almost opaque in the purple glow. 'You brought an Upper creature here? To this place?!'

'Tyr? Tyr, wait,' Eisheth Zenunim, not quite believing what she was doing, put herself between the demonic supernova brewing in front of them, and the angel cowering behind. Her tails stood on end, their tips practically vibrating with nervous energy, but she held her ground, her habitual grin far more taut than it had been in a long time.

'What?' The glamor of Tyriah's everyday form was beginning to slip, her teeth now dagger points that clenched together when she spoke. The point of her tail was sharp enough to cut the air, sizzling with arcane violence as she scythed it through the air.

'It's Gremory, I know, but this time she maybe has things under control?' Eisheth held her hands out in supplication, not daring to even turn her head to check that she was right. 'That collar... she might be onto something here, and we won't know what if you just burn it down without thinking.'

'I don't allow Upper things into my Domain under the best of circumstances, Zenunim, and these are not that,' Tyriah growled. 'They absented themselves from helping when they were needed, and now they are unwelcome here. Gremory knows that.'

'Oh, so now it's your Domain,' Gremory snapped, having remembered to bring her rhetoric today, but apparently not her sense of self preservation. 'Where's all that high minded talk about it being everyone's-'

'I get that you're angry. I get it, we're demons. She's an angel. No brainer. But you're better than this, and you know it. Let me check her first.'

'I'm not a total idiot, you know,' Gremory sniffed. 'I can control my toys.'

'We have a deep well of evidence against both of those statements,' Tyriah spoke without ever moving her flaming gaze from Eisheth. The next time the succubus blinked, Tyriah was standing directly in front of her, having snapped across the space in the span of a moment. Her eyes were orbs of a deep and troubling violet, no longer concerning themselves with matters of appearance like pupils, or sclera.

Or anything at all, really, beyond the raw, elemental color that she embodied.

'Show me, then, that this creature should be accepted here,' the Indigo Lady said. 'Soul magic is your domain, Eisheth. Show me.'

For Tyriah, the existence of an Upper creature here was more than just a personal slight; the Domain functioned by a delicate balance of spiritual forces that, strictly speaking, should never have coexisted to begin with. Life here, particularly for her as the Domain's main patron, involved countless adjustments that could be thrown into chaos by the presence of such demonic antimatter as an angel.

They had been given a chance to help form the foundations of this place, and as a result the Upper world here was sealed shut to they Below. The angels and gods had chosen isolation; they were no longer welcome here.

But then, that made Lailah's presence here a rare treat, the sort of thing Eisheth would not let slip through her fingers lightly. Not the sort of thing she wanted to see disintegrated before she'd gotten a chance to... take a look.

Still though, Eisheth didn't turn around until Tyriah made some moves to stand down. Eventually, when it became clear that she wasn't going to get to sweep this heavenly problem under the rug without instigating a fight, Tyriah shrugged, let her magic recede to the backstages of reality where it usually lurked. She went back to her seat and Eisheth, feeling very much like a child standing up to an adult, nodded with the satisfaction of small victories.

'Now you're gonna want to play along with me here,' she said, once she had gotten close to the angel unmolested. 'Because I don't think you can take what my purple friend can dish out right now. So be a good girl...'

Eisheth could feel Tyriah's gaze on her back, a sort of magic pressure that could very easily heat to literally burning intensity. She approached the angel as though the two of them were standing with a bomb between them, conscious at every step that the truly ancient demon behind them had only barely been persuaded. Like a lot of the things that had been attached to the newcomer, her leash floated in accordance with some unseen force, drifting through the air like a strand of errant seaweed.

Carefully, with fingers that shook just a little, Eisheth reached out and took hold of the golden orb that flitted, somehow magnetically, from the tip of the leash.

Lailah's painted white lips parted, a shuddering exhalation blowing from between them.

It is possible, under specific, hard to reproduce conditions, to create a cloud indoors. All that's needed is the correct technology and know-how, and such things can be accomplished, at least for a little while. If the conditions are naturally impossible, then they can be made; in the same way, a soul tether like the one ringing Lailah's neck could make it so the demonic and the angelic could, if only briefly, touch.

The magic poured into that golden orb and channeled down the leash existed to disarm the most violent of reactions between Upper and Lower matter, to submit one to the will of the other and cancel out the domain of divine authority in which the angels operated. To operate it made the soul touch its bearer, commingling within the neutral territory the leash represented.

The collar around Lailah's neck shone, active magic both diabolic and divine working as one, glittering along its intricate curvature. The angel shifted on her knees, hips moving, thighs tensing; the buds of her nipples pressed outward against the thin fabric of her gown. The tips of her ears flicked, her halo a star field of tentative, lustful lights.

Eisheth Zenunim, the true succubus known Below as the Lady of Whoredom, smiled. Pointed teeth in white, tessellating rows peered out, made to give the most truly demonic love bites one could possibly give. Something in her aspect shifted, pieces of an unseen puzzle clicking into place to reveal the picture that had always been there; a desirous creature, the every slope and angle of her form turning toward unerring sexuality.

Even a demon as ancient and powerful as Tyriah found herself caught in her now. Staring.

Blushing.

'This is good work, Gremory,' her voice layered with wanting harmonics, a flowery lilt that none could deny, Eisheth turned her crimson gaze momentarily to the other demon, before returning it to Lailah. 'The angel really has submitted. This isn't the type of collar that would accept false acquiescence.'

'And where, pray, would one find a prostration collar in the Domain, let alone an angel willing to wear it?' Tyriah had settled down now, reclining back in her chair content to watch, though her words were still clipped and miffed. Grinning, Eisheth pulled the leash tight, dragging Lailah up with it.

'Let me find out,' she said. Stepping forward, she moved to straddle the angel, limber and smooth thighs up around Lailah's waist. Leash in one hand, the succubus reached out and wrapped long-nailed fingers around the upper ring of her halo. It sparked, just momentarily, against her skin, and even Tyriah gasped at Eisheth's daring, perhaps expecting the flesh to melt from her bones at the merest touch.

The prostration collar kept them both safe, however, and through the soul bond therein, both temporary mistress and divine slave felt themselves... connect. There was nothing that could be denied the holder of one of those leashes, not even the contents of the bearer's mind.

Her handhold on Lailah's halo keeping her gaze steady, Eisheth looked down into the sweetly aquamarine eyes the divine woman possessed, seeing in them everything she needed to see...

***

When realities die, the heavens are the last to go. But they do go, in the end.

In the Upper realm that Lailah had come from, a roiling sea of clouds had lapped at the shores of the Islands of the Saved since the beginning of time, a pure white constant of her world that only occasionally shaded to darker hues. Storms there were rare, but when they did happen, the rain ascended, welling up in the whorls and divots of the cloudseas before rising into the bared blue skies.

It had a rich, clean taste, like the finest wine; though they had no need of drink, they would collect it anyway.

The cloudseas had always been there, and in Lailah's mind always would, but on the day the Islands fell their ceaseless churning stilled, whatever great celestial clockwork that caused their tides winding down entirely. For hours they lay inert, like strange sculptures molded in white concrete toward obscure purposes. It was... eerie, the sky itself one great corpse, bereft of life; more than enough of a reason for the majority of the population of Lailah's island to draw inward, away from the shore. Away from the still blanching skin of their heaven.

So she was alone on the damp beach sand when the clouds began to peel apart.

Whorls of reality itself curled away from the world, some of them miles across, revealing the raw, protoplasmic matter that undergirded the real. Patterns of sickening depth and complexity spilled out from beneath the flesh of normalcy, great two-dimensional works of inexplicable art ripping away across the sky in crazy arcs. It all happened with an awful, total silence; when a universe broke down, it seemed wrong for there not to be at least a few death rattles.

But the wallpaper of reality was being stripped away now, and seeing beneath it for the first time brought the realization that the walls had always been alive, always been merely held back. A set of jaws trillions of lightyears wide, held in place by a layer of normality only a nanometer thick.

After all these years, set to close at last.

She ran, of course, because when the underpinnings of your whole world begins to decay around you, you will want to flee that, but there was equally nowhere else to go. Lailah's reality collapsed around her, taking with it the vast majority of the people that lived there. But...

But...

In every plane there are places where the barriers between it and not-it had worn thin, erosions in the world that would fade away first when the place entire began to die. If one were particularly lucky, and their footsteps during the apocalypse carried them over one of these weakened points, one might find themselves not fading away with the rest of their home, but falling...

***

It works like this.

Alternate realities are often referred to as "planes," which brings to mind a certain wideness; one pictures horizons, open spaces. This makes sense from the perspective of individuals living inside those realities, because by comparison they are small and worlds are big. But as with most things that make total sense from the perspective of individuals, these associations are entirely false when applied to the universe at scale.

If you want to picture the shape of a reality, imagine instead a tree...

Worlds do not come into being all at once, after all, they accrue slowly. They grow from the unformed protomatter undergirding reality like shoots from spontaneously generated seeds, rising up into their newly created space over their newly instantiated time. They wind their way upward, complexity built atop simplicity, detail atop foundation. From the simplest base atoms, to the vaulted heights of the heavens themselves.

And like all trees, when they fall, it is the top that hits the ground last...