Demon's Desire

Michael shook the salt canister, trying to shake every last granule from its container and onto the basement floor. Then he grabbed his broom, gripping the green plastic handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and began to furiously sweep at the floor. Precious minutes went by as he did this, but Michael resisted the urge to check his phone while he was working. It had taken longer than expected to etch the protection circles into the linoleum. The symbols in particular had taken forever to get just right. It would be worth it, though. If he could finish in time.

Wiping a little sweat from his brow, and sweeping the shaggy brown locks from his face, he finally examined the phone screen. It was already eleven fifty, and the young man felt his heart beat faster in his chest with both anticipation and worry. The spell had to be cast at midnight. That meant he had less than ten minutes to check everything was in place, and then start reciting the spell. Otherwise... well, it would only be a day's delay, but Michael had never been patient.

Even still, there were some things too important to rush through, and Michael took a minute just to survey the effects of his sweeping. While there was a little salt gathered in the corner of the room, most of two containers had been spent filling the grooves he'd made in the floor, until both the circles and the glyphs gleamed in the limited light of his electric lantern. It took another minute and a half to walk around each of the circles he'd carved, making sure to examine every symbol. That left Michael with just enough time to hurry into his own circle, lantern in hand.

A leather bound book laid in the center of the circle, its poor spine abused and cracked, with small stones on each corner holding it flat. Michael would usually feel bad for abusing a book in such a way, but not this one. This one had given him the creeps ever since he inherited it from his grandmother two weeks ago. The way it was always warm, almost hot, to the touch. The way it felt like someone was staring at him, whenever he turned his back on it. Not to mention that he had found the page flipped over to a less secure summoning spell on three separate occasions before he finally put the rocks in place. If the book hadn't fallen open to a page on summoning demons, when Michael first opened it, he would have already stuffed it in the attic and forgotten about it.

It wasn't too late to do that, Michael knew. It wasn't too late to say no to all of this. Maybe he could even sell the book as a curiosity to someone less believing. It wouldn't be a bad idea; all the wealth in the estate was tied up in maintenance for the house, and the brunette wasn't exactly doing well on his own. He could use the cash... if he didn't think he could get more from a demon. Not to mention power, and good looks. Though maybe it wasn't exactly good looks he was after.

In fact, Michael knew he was already handsome. He stood at five foot nine. He had a perfect smile, expressive brown eyes and long lashes. His build was slim, but with obvious muscles beneath the white tee that had been stretched over his chest. Some girls had even described him as gorgeous. Yet... somehow, no matter how much work he had poured into his body, he had never been comfortable. It hadn't seemed like to change, after twenty six years, but if the spell could fix even just that... it would be worth it. All he had to give up was his soul.

A beep from Michael's pocket told him that time was up, and he tugged the phone out of his too tight jeans to turn it off. Then he took a deep breath, picked up the book, and began to recite. He'd practiced the pronunciation, and he spoke slowly, making sure to get every single word out. He felt silly, though, speaking words in latin. He wasn't sure that anything would actually happen. As soon he spoke the last word, however, the room plunged into darkness.

"...Lantern must have gone out," Michael muttered, wishing that he had thought to bring some back up batteries. He leaned down to put the book carefully down on the floor, and then paused. The salt circle he'd made for his protection was glowing.

"Aw. I was hoping you'd break the circle before you noticed..." A flash of fire filled the other circle, forcing Michael to cover his eyes and look away. When the roar of the fire had faded to nothing, and the spots had cleared from his vision, he looked back. A woman stood in the other circle, a soft red glow emanating from her dark skin, giving her bared flesh a red hue. There was a lot of bared flesh.

"You're... Naked..." Michael whispered, hoping the demon couldn't see the light blush on his cheeks. He tried to keep his attention on her face, to keep looking into her red eyes, but he couldn't help but glance down every few seconds to see the perky black nipples and soft, pillowy breasts. Though he also spared a thought to the curved horns that rose from her curly red hair.

"Am not!" Despite the indignant tone, and the way she put her hands on her hips, the demon didn't look annoyed. She was smiling, her black lips spread wide to put her fangs on full display. "I'm wearing boots."

Michael's eyes darted down, again, further this time. It was true: the demon was wearing high heeled, red leather, thigh high boots. They clung smoothly to her flesh, added about six inches to her height, and made it very clear that her nudity was by design. Was it a plan to distract him? Or was she just that open with her sexuality?

"My name is Arialla. If you're wondering. Or if you just wanted to continue looking at my body, that's fine." Her voice carried a note of mirth in it, but Michael's eyes darted hurriedly back up to hers. The demon was still smiling, and her own gaze was wandering over him. "I think one part of you is certainly eager to see me."

The man's gaze darted down. There was a slight movement inside his jeans, but Michael's cock wasn't hard enough to give him away. He didn't think. "I don't know what you're talking about..." he muttered, wishing he hadn't looked.

"Really? My bad. Thought I sensed a little lust in you..." Arialla licked her lips as she spoke, her black tongue sliding across the tips of her fangs. "Well, whatever. If you didn't summon me here to look at, what am I here for?"

"Demon..."

"I told you. My name is Arialla." The woman's lips had shifted to a pout, and Michael fought back a sudden sense of guilt.

"Demon," he repeated, trying to take back control of the situation. The book had included suggested formal language when speaking with the denizens of hell, to make sure they couldn't twist your words. "I wish to make a deal. My soul, for my heart's desire. I want you to-"

"Deal." Arialla was smiling, again.

Michael blinked, nonplussed. "But... I didn't even tell you what I wanted."

"You said you wanted your heart's desire!" The demon stepped forward as she spoke. When her foot hit the edge of the summoning circle, the glyphs surrounding it flickered and went out. "Isn't that right?"

Michael's jaw dropped, and he took a step back. "My - my circle! You were supposed to be trapped in that!"

"Did you not read the directions in that summoning spell? Particularly the part about deals..." Arialla walked forward, as she spoke, her hips swaying in a way that invited attention from her male viewer. Attention she got, as Michael's eyes finally shifted to her thighs. He expected to see curls of natural red hair, or at least a carefully trimmed landing strip of fuzz. Instead, he found red scales surrounding the entrance. "Unless my body distract you too much to focus?" As she spoke, he spotted something moving behind her. A black, whip like tail, with a spade at the end. It was wagging happily back and forth, as if excited by the thought.

"I..." Michael felt like his face was going to burst into flames. "Of course I remember! Deals form a lasting bond between the human and demons. Since you're giving the demon access to your soul, they become able to mimic your aura and break your seals... But I haven't even told you what I wanted! I just said my heart's desire!"

The red headed demon came to a halt, just outside the second circle. She was tall. She would have been tall even without the boots, but the heels put her at easily six feet. This also put Michael face to breast, with Arialla's perky black nipples so close he could stick out his tongue and touch one. "Oh, Elishe... I can see your heart's desire." The woman's smile had shifted into a sly grin. "I could see it the moment you summoned me. It was etched into your very soul. That's how much you want it, deep down. So aren't you glad I'm going to grant it?"

"I..." The uncertain summoner took a step back, away from the circle's edge. Away from the demon. "My name is Michael." He lifted his chin as he spoke, pressing his lips together to try and create an air of annoyance and determination, even though all he felt was fear. Fear, and a little bit of arousal. "If we've already made a deal, then go ahead and grant my desire."

"Michael?" The redhead asked, tilting her head to one side. "Mich...ael..." she repeated, a black tongue darting out to lick her dark lips. "Is that what your parents named you?" She shook her head. "I much prefer your true name, Elishe. It's so much cuter."

"I don't care what you prefer! My name is Michael! Now are you going to grant my request or aren't you?"

Arialla blinked, then frowned. "Of course I'm going to grant your request. We made a deal, didn't we?" The demon crouched, placing a finger on one of the glyphs. Michael took a deep breath, and held it, wondering if the touch would be enough to break his protective circle. After a moment, though, he realized it was a wasted worry: the symbols she touched actually began to glow brighter, the effect spreading to the ones next to it until there was actually enough light to see himself, again.

"What did you do?" the summoner asked, nervous.

"Oh, I was just starting the process," Arialla promised. "You made such a good circle, it seemed a shame to waste it! Especially when I could trap you in it."

"Trap me in it!?" Caution forgotten, Michael reached out for the edge of his protective circle. His fingers met a wall, smooth as glass but hard as stone. He pushed his fingers up the surface, until it curved out of reach above his head. "How is this granting my request?! Let me out!"

"But it is granting your request," the demon promised, her tail wagging happily back and forth. "I'm using the circle as a conduit for my energies. It'll be much faster this way. Less painful, too! In fact, it might even feel good! I wouldn't know, though; I've never transformed anyone like this."

"Transformed?" Michael swallowed, realizing suddenly what his heart's desire must be. Not riches, or power. Just a body he felt comfortable in. ...He could live with that. "Then. You're really going to grant my wish..?"

"I said I would, didn't I? Now just stand still, be quiet, and relax." Arialla stood back up again, smiling as she stretched a hand out and gently ran her finger along the wall imprisoning Michael. "You're just moments away from being the woman of your dreams!"

"...What?! I don't want to be a woman!"

"That's funny." Arialla's black tongue darted out, again, teasing the sharp point of one fang. "I could have sworn you wanted to feel at home in your body; you do want that, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

Arialla lifted her tail, placing the tip of her spade against her lips in what Michael assumed was a gesture to be quiet. "Tut tut. No complaints, then! I offer my personal soul back guarantee that you'll enjoy your new body. Trust me."

The summoner hesitated. The demon had said it wouldn't hurt - assuming he could believe her - and he could try his spell again if he got his soul back. He could do it better next time. He didn't think he'd enjoy spending time as a woman, but he hadn't enjoyed his time as a man either. There was still something that bothered him, though. "What about my old form? If I don't like my new body, will you turn me back? And what about all my ID? My friends? Changing a few things was one thing, but I can't just become a woman!"

"Oh, I'll be sure to take care of all that!" Arialla promised, placing a hand on her heart. "You have my word that it won't be a problem in the slightest."

Michael bit his lower lip, trying to think. His heart was beating, faster than it ever had before."This is insane," he whispered, after a moment. "Who's actually happy with their body? It doesn't mean I want to be a woman! Just. Do some minor changes - or. Or cancel the deal! You can keep my soul! It doesn't matter, I was wrong, I can't do this, so... so... just let me go."

The demon's eyes narrowed. She wasn't smiling, anymore, but Michael could still see the tips of her white fangs peeking over those luscious black lips. "Oh, we can't do that..." she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper in the still air. "We made a deal. I gave my word. And I always honor my word.." She reached out toward Michael, and the summoner took a hurried step backward. He had known better than to be drawn in by the demon's playful teasing, but now that the veneer of friendliness had fallen away, he didn't know what might come next. He didn't like not knowing.

Arialla's finger stopped in mid air, the tip flattening against the clear wall of Michael's prison dome. When she removed the finger, a faint red glow appeared, in the spot she had touched. As the prisoner watched, the opaque spot began to grow, curving as it moved overhead.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" Michael demanded, slamming a fist against a still clear part of the curved wall. "Let me out of here!" Arialla only gave him a little wave, and lifted her tail to her mouth for a kiss goodbye, before the shield turned completely opaque and blocked her from view. The trapped summoner slammed one hand against the wall, again. All it accomplished was making his hand hurt and, after pulling it back, Michael sagged in defeat to the floor.

"Maybe it won't be so bad, being a woman..." he muttered, trying to convince himself. "I mean. As long as I can be a lesbian..." Most of his friends were women, anyway. He'd always admired how close they could be to each other. "Plus, Arialla promised to turn me back if I didn't like it..." Which he wouldn't, of course. There was no reason to panic... assuming Michael could trust her.

Giving into his fate, the brunette let out a sigh, and lowered his head. He wondered how it would start. He didn't feel anything, so far, except for a slight tingling in the hand that he had slammed into the wall. At least it wasn't hurting, anymore. If anything, it felt a little good. Warm. Weirdly warm, in fact.

Michael frowned, lifted his hand up to his face, and then yelped in surprise, turning it rapidly around to stare at the back. The extremity had shrunk. The dusting of hair touching its back had faded. The skin, already pale from too much time indoors, had gotten even lighter. It had even shrunk, a little. None of that was what caused Michael to scream out, though. He'd half been expecting that. What he hadn't been expecting was for his hand to be glowing red; just like Arialla's.

"The circle," Michael called out, hoping she could still hear him. "You didn't modify it for transformations! You're just overloading it with your power. Letting it spread to me! But..." he looked at his hand again, and then fearfully stretched his arm out in front of him until the fingers were as far away as they get. He was careful not to touch the edge of the shield, though. "I'm mortal! If you fill my whole body with demonic power... I don't even know what'll happen! I could turn into a demon! ...I could turn into ash!"

There was no response from the demon, and Michael fought the urge to slam his already infected hand against the dome's wall all over again. The warm glow had already spread down his wrist, narrowing it, and was now creeping up his arm. The summoner was able to see it, this time, when his body hair turned slowly white, and then transparent, before finally disappearing from existence. He could do nothing but watch as his arm began to shrink. The skin lightened and tightened, momentarily bringing more definition to his arm. Then the strength began to fade from his limb, and the bulge of muscle dwindled to nothing. The appendage left behind was slender, graceful, and weak. It would have been on a ballerina, but fit on Michael's current body like a bad joke. He didn't want to think about how well it would fit him when the transformation was complete.

While Michael was occupied with his arm, the red glow spread its way beneath his tee, swallowing up the summoner's chest and stomach. When Michael finally noticed the warmth beneath his clothes, he hesitated a moment, before deciding he needed to see what was happening. He grabbed bottom of his shirt and started tugging it over his head. The tight fabric clung to his pecs for a moment, and then parted, coming up and over. He tossed it against the wall of the prison, and turned his attention back to the transformation.

Michael's chest had always been all but hairless, so there wasn't much change there yet. The snail trail of hair that he could usually trace up from his belly button, though, had disappeared. His skin had paled, matching the arm in tone. He hadn't shrunk, yet, but he knew it was coming. He knew what else was coming, too: his nipples already looked puffy.

The muscles were first, this time. They melted away like butter in a hot pan, and Michael had to fight not to cry at a newfound feeling of helplessness. He couldn't stop this; couldn't control this; couldn't prepare for this; but most of all, he couldn't understand this. Why he was losing so much muscle? There were plenty of strong women out there. Arialla herself could probably snap his new body like a dried twig, if she wanted to. Maybe that was her plan, though. Maybe she was just going to pick him up, pin him against the wall, and demand he accept the transformation. Then she would have his soul, and he would have no choice but to live the rest of his life as a woman.

The thought made Michael's cheeks warm, and he worried for a moment that the demonic energy had reached his head. The blush faded, though, and with a sigh of relief Michael focused on his chest, again, worrying that he'd missed some part of the transformation in his panic. Had his areola always been so large? He'd never paid much attention to them before, but surely they'd been no bigger than dimes. Now they looked more like quarters.

Michael lifted a hand to his chest, gingerly touching one puffy nipple. It was a mistake. Just touching the sensitive tip was enough to make both peaks stiffen, and he doubled over as a pulse of hot need shot through him. It felt so good, just touching one nipple. He had to fight the urge to unbutton his pants and touch something else.

There was no time, anyway. His breasts were already starting to come in, the flesh pressing against his skin. It felt so good, in that moment, feeling the flesh inflate beneath his hands. The growing breasts were soft and firm, and felt as real as any tit he'd ever touched. He lifted the untransformed hand to his chest, and felt it with both hands as the ballooning tits filled his palms. He didn't notice, at first, when the red glow began to spread from his chest and into his other hand. When he did notice, his only regret was that he hadn't squeezed the tit with all his strength when he had the chance. His entire body was going to be transformed soon enough, after all, and it felt so good just having his breasts in his palms.

Unable and unwilling to resist, Michael squeezed his breasts with both hands, grinding his palms against the nipples and using all the strength his shrunken fingers could manage to press in on his tits. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was like fire was being released into his veins, heat and need that could have burned through his entire body. Yet somehow it felt pleasant. Somehow, as his cock hardened in his jeans, the summoner found himself needing more. He gave his tits another squeeze, and hoped to heaven and hell that the demon really had sound proofed his prison. There was no containing back arching moan of need that came out, as the heat filled him.