Hell's Belles

I hope y'all love Trans Eggs becoming Scary Demoness Princess because GOLLY do I love that. As for content, it's the usual stuff. Lust control, transformation, some religious prejudice/internalized transphobia stuff. There's a good end tho it's totes worth it.

Enjoy!

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Ross had many things he wanted to do on a Saturday morning, and none of them involved knocking on the doors of strangers. It was the dead of summer, and he was already sweating through his pressed dress shirt and pants. Beads trailed down from his short-cropped hair, occasionally stinging his eyes. He'd kill for some ice water, let alone an afternoon off. But there he was, a bundle of magazines clutched in his hand, helping to spread the word about his Lord and Saviour.

"I hate Witnessing. I hate it so much," Ross said, squeezing the roll of literature tight in his fist. He half wanted to crush them.

"Quit being so dramatic," Michael said, jabbing an elbow sharply into Ross' ribs. Mike was a lot of things Ross was not. He was taller, confident in his own abilities, and had that toothpaste box smile. With shoulder-length wavy hair, he was pushing the Church's tolerance for aberrant appearance. But he got away with it. Michael always did. "We only have to do this til 2. Then Pastor Dan's pool party! Barbeque, cold drinks... Jenny'll be there."

Ross nodded, faking a smile. He liked Jenny. A lot. But the shit he'd have to go through for a chance at awkwardly conversing with his crush while munching on a hot dog wrapped in Wonderbread was almost not worth it. Plus swimming meant putting his body on display. And though objectively he knew that he didn't look terrible, the thought of Jenny seeing him without his shirt made him cringe. So even the reward for this slog was tainted. But Witnessing was what was expected of him, and Ross always did what was expected of him.

Another suburban block. Hedgerows, well-manicured lawns, the occasional bushel of flowers. Michael knocked on a beige door leading into a beige house, Ross stepped up to take his turn making the pitch.

The door creaked open on a middle-aged man, maybe mid-forties, wearing just a pair of shorts. His hair was thinning, and he looked like he'd just gotten up. Ross envied him.

"Good morning!" Ross said, "I've come on behalf of the Church of the Penitent Witness to bring you a message of hope. Have you a few moments to hear about our Lord, Jesus Christ?"

The man scowled. "Pennies, huh? I've heard of you. You're the ones who hate demons, right?"

The canned response poured out. "Of course not! The Church believes there is hope for all of God's creatures. Some infernals have even joined our congregation, blessing our faith with unparalleled devotion to the true God above, not his Fallen Angel."

The man was unmoved. "I heard one of your pastor's talk about how the Unshackling was a mistake. How letting demons come to Earth was the worst thing to happen to humanity."

Michael cut in, his tone and demeanour just as styrofoam as Ross'. "Our church is open to many different opinions. But rest assured, we aren't all the liberal media says we are."

The man opened his door all the way. Standing to the side, peeking around the corner, was a shorter man with blue skin and horns. A spaded tail flicked furtively around his leg.

"I think you'd best be on your way," he said, then slammed the door in their faces.

Michael waited until they were out of earshot before muttering his reply. "Fine, go be a sodomite with that demon, you fucking..." He trailed off. Ross didn't join in with the invectives, but he didn't speak up either. He knew better. "I can't believe they let people like that into a good neighbourhood like this. Makes you wonder about the whole country, y'know?"

Ross made a noncommittal noise. For all the lip service to acceptance, his whole life he'd been told about how 'certain people' were unworthy, or degenerate, or were downright evil. The Unshackling had brought up a lot more of that sentiment. Those folk consort with demons are vile, we were right all along. But Ross couldn't shake the knowledge that the people they'd just got chewed out by were just...living their lives, not hurting anyone. Ross had brought his book to them, not the other way around. How would he have reacted to a door knocker from a group that clearly hated people like him?

They tried a few more houses. Most didn't answer, either out already or ignoring them. The few that answered were about as receptive as the other man had been. At best they got indifference, and at worst...

"Get off my property," an elderly woman in gardening gloves and a wide-brimmed sunhat told them, her expression seething, "I don't deal with the Godless!"

"But ma'am-" Ross had tried to say, but got a clump of black earth tossed at his shirt for his troubles.

"'Love Thy Human Neighbour!' Ha! Pennies don't deserve to kiss my foot. You tell your no good pastor that he's not welcome in this neighbourhood! Good people live here, not bigoted hustlers!"

They left, steps quickened. Once they were out of tossing range, they dropped down to a disheartened shuffle. The sun was overhead, and Ross felt the heat suck the very life out of him.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's blow off for a few hours. We're not Saving anyone around here."

Michael scoffed, brushing the dirt from his shirt. "We can't let the unbelievers beat us, Ross. These people need our help, whether they know it or not. C'mon. One more street."

They stopped for water at a convenience store. Ross lingered at the beverage section, staring at his own reflection in the refrigerator's glass door. He'd never liked it. Impartially, he knew that other people thought he looked fine. His brown eyes had been called chocolatey by one kind observer, and he'd gotten 'handsome' compliments since he was little. But those never felt good to hear. It didn't sound right. It was confidence issues, the Pastor had told him. There was no sin of pride to admit to being blessed by God.

But that wasn't it. It wasn't that he disbelieved that he had lucked out and gotten a decent-looking face and a not-half-bad looking body. It's that his reflection was...wrong. Incomplete, distorted. He didn't have the vocabulary to describe it...but the doubt remained. He shook himself from his reverie, picked up two bottles of water, and brought them to the counter.

After drinking them down, they felt a little better about going forward. Dehydration was a killer, after all. They headed down Milton St. A long row of houses stretched to their left, while an undeveloped lot thick with weeds and signs for future projects encompassed the right. They tried the first few homes on the block, nothing.

Ross almost didn't see the white picket fence on his right. Strange. There was a single house on the undeveloped side. It was a bit of an eyesore. Shuttered, uneven windows, gaudy orange roof tiles, with flaking midnight blue paint on the walls. A garage door hung agape, casting a shadow down on a red and white car from the 50s. The car, unlike the unkempt yard and peeling house, looked brand new.

"What about this house?" Ross asked. Something about it pulled at him. It was so unlike all the other homes.

"You're kidding, right? That place looks fucking cursed." Michael's voice sounded strained. Ross raised an eyebrow.

"Are you scared?"

Michael flushed. He squared his shoulders and spat out a laugh. "No, of course not. But it looks abandoned. And there are plenty of others on that side. Why waste our time?"

Ross pointed to the light shining through one of the shutters. "Looks like there's power, if nothing else. C'mon." Not waiting for his partner, Ross opened the waist high gate and stepped through the thick greenery to the door.

Raising a hand to knock, the door opened before he could rap his knuckles on the wood.

"Good afternoon!" a beautiful blonde woman said in a warm Southern drawl. A moment's glance revealed that her chest was straining the fabric of a floral sundress. Wide hips only barely constrained by the skirt made him lock up. Michael was likewise dumbstruck, but broke through the mental vapour lock to speak.

"Good...good afternoon," he said before clearing his throat. We've come on behalf of the-"

"Church of the Penitent Witness, yes I've heard of you! But you fellas look terribly hot. It's a doozy out there, innit? Come on inside, we can talk over some lemonade." She stepped to the side, holding out her arm. Once out of the doorway, Ross could feel the blessed tingle of refrigerated air against his skin.

"We'd love to!" he said, and followed her inside. Michael joined them momentarily, dragging his heels only up until he felt the chilled air.

The home was much more welcoming on the inside. Incandescent lights hung on ivory sconces, giving the room a dim, cozy illumination. The walls were shades of pink, matching the upholstery of the furniture perfectly. She led them into an enormous living room centred on an unused brick fireplace.

"Take a seat there, I'll fetch the beverages. I'm Lily, by the by. What's your names?"

They introduced themselves. Ross sat with Michael on a comfortable pink couch. Lily placed two glasses on embroidered coasters on the table in front of them and poured two glasses of lemonade. After returning the pitcher to her fridge, she sat down on a loveseat opposite them.

"So tell me," she said, resting her chin on her palm, "What does your Church have to teach me?"

Ross took a long pull front the glass. It was perfect. Sweet but not too sweet, and oh so cold. "Well, we've been going around the neighbourhood, talking to people about Jesus Christ, God, and the plan He has for all of us. Ever since the Unshackling, mainstream churches have struggled to keep up for the changing realities of life in this new world. Hellmouths opening, the Descent of the Seraphs, it's all a lot to handle for theologies who have, for a long time, been without direct contact with the Almighty."

"So your church has had contact with God, then?" she asked, without a hint of guile or sarcasm. Ross tried desperately to not look at her breasts, but in the chilly air, her nipples were poking out the fabric. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath...

"We don't claim any special knowledge. We commune with Him and His will is known to us through the world and its many perils. We have some literature if you'd like to learn more." Michael gently nudged his friend.

Ross snapped back to reality and handed over one pamphlet to Lily. Leaning over, she touched his thumb with her finger for the briefest fraction of a second.

**The room was dark. Blackest night. Looming high above him was a violet-skinned giantess, her eyes burning with black flames. Savage horns speared outward from her forehead, dangling above which a twisted crown of golden thorns seethed and shimmered like a mirage. She was almost naked, a pair of broken manacles trailed limp chains from her wrists. She smiled with a thousand teeth and**

"Thank you very much," Lily said, slipping a flyer from his trembling fingers.

He blinked. What the fuck had he just seen? Did he just snap?

"Dude. You okay?" Michael asked sotto voce. Ross wanted to say 'no, of course I'm not fucking okay, I just had a waking nightmare', but they were in the presence of company.

"Y-yeah, sure. Just...the heat took a bit out of me," he said. He almost reached for the lemonade, but halted mid-motion. What if she'd poisoned him? Michael seemed unaffected though. What the fuck was going on?

Michael took over the sales pitch. Ross was grateful. He tried to look like he was listening, but his mind reeled through all the possibilities of what could be happening. Finally, like a slot machine landing on jackpot, his addled brain put everything together.

Lily wasn't human at all.

"I think we should be going," Ross said, "Thank you for your time."

"But we've only just begun talking, sweetheart. You were telling me about the wonderful plan God has for me?"

Ross tugged up Michael from the seat. "We have a lot of homes to get to. We really should be getting on that old dusty trail. Right Mike?"

"I dunno man," he replied, slightly dreamlike, "Maybe we should stay for a while. It's so cool in here...and Lily seems nice." He tilted his head to look at the buxom blonde, who waved playfully at him.

Ross realized with a sinking sensation that Michael wasn't acting like himself. He'd heard that infernals could trick humans in some ways. That had to be it. He steeled himself with his faith and pointed an accusatory finger.

"Alright lady, what in the hell is going on. Are you even human?"

A pause. Then, a peel of infectious laughter. She slow clapped for him, making his hackles rise even more. "Well done, Mr. Ross. It's been too long since someone had the strength to see past my glamours. Though I see your friend Michael isn't. Pure human rube, this one. Aren't you, Michael dear?"

"Yes ma'am," he answered without hesitation. Lily let out another laugh, this once laced with contempt.

"The Faithful are so easily led astray."

"What are you?!" Ross pulled out the cross from around his neck and clutched it tight. His faith would protect him, even in this terrible moment.

The image of the tyrant giantess mingled with the hospitable blonde, flowing into one until the two had merged. She was still blonde, but her skin had an alluring purple hue. Her eyes were entirely black, without iris or visible pupil. Four inch horns poked out from her head, looking more endearing than threatening. But the woman carried so much confidence with her that Ross couldn't help but be unnerved.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you, honey. My name is Lilith, but you can still call me Lily. I think it sounds cute.

The name echoed in his head like a gunshot. "Lilith? THE Lilith?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh hush, I'm not THAT old. I'm named after my mother, who's named after her mother, you know how it is. But I do take after her in certain ways. I don't put up with the foolishness for men, first and foremost. No matter who they are. Speaking of which, Michael? Be a dear and whip out your cock for me. I have a powerful thirst that lemonade just won't quite quench."

He obeyed. Ross' attention snapped between her lusting eyes and his friend who, nonchalantly, pulled out his dick in front of him and started stroking.

"Mike! What the fuck?" he said. Shaking the man did nothing. He was entirely enraptured by Lily's — Lilith's — body.

"He can barely hear you, dear. My words are like, what's the phrase, cheat codes? Yes, that's it. I've unlocked his brain, and he's giving me everything I want." She strolled over, kneeling before him. Mike, still locked in place, stroked himself off directly toward her waiting mouth. With a touch to his thigh, he stiffened, and hot cum surged out of him. Thick white globs splashed against her tongue, and she gulped greedily. Ross was paralysed. What the hell should he do?

"Don't think about running," Lilith said, licking up the remains of Michael's orgasm from her beestung lips, "The door may look shabby, but it's enchanted with strength enough to keep out the Tarrasque, should he show up. Exes can be such a pain. But, I believe we were talking about you. How come you aren't on your knees, begging for my favour?"

Ross swallowed hard. He looked to his friend, blissed out of his mind, cum still drooling from his prick. He'd be no help against this demoness.

"I...my faith protects me. I am a servant of Jesus Christ, and thus-"

"Your friend Michael had the faith too, and he folded easier than spacetime. No. You saw my true form for a moment there. That's powerful Sight. You're obviously not a Sentinel. No tech about you either. That leaves..." She leaned over him, close enough that he could smell the cum on her breath. Hesitant to move, he let her peel his eyelid open. "Curiouser and curiouser. I wouldn't have expected that."

"Expected what?" he asked, terrified of the answer.

"Ordinary human men can't see through my power. Most women can't either. One in a hundred, maybe, have the gift of Sight."

"I don't understand. I'm not a woman," he said with a flat affect.

She raised a sliver of an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

Like the denials of anti-demon bigotry, the denials came out on autopilot. "You can't change the gender you were born as. And I know you demons try to lead people down paths of moral...degradation."

Lilith put her hands on her hips. "Now you don't be saying things like that. Demons are not evil. And we certainly don't force people to live lives contrary to what they feel inside. There is no repression in Hell. That's The Other Side's game."

Ross stood up. He straightened out his clothes and did his best to look like a confident, in control human being. "Let us go, demon. You might not respect the laws of God, but I do."

A pause. Then, she shrugged a shoulder.

"Okay."

The door to the outside audibly clicked open. Relief poured through him. He grabbed Michael's arm and yanked him to his feet. He was still in a daze, cock poking out his fly, but he was following along.

"But if you go," the demoness said, taking a sip from Ross' half-finished lemonade, "You'll never find out your true potential. Or why you feel that way when you look in a mirror."

Ross' eye twitched. His hand froze, fingertip brushing the door knob.

"How do you know about that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I thought you were on your way. Goodbye, Ross. I doubt we'll meet again."

Deep, long-repressed feelings knotted his gut. He'd had questions for longer than he could remember. At first he was dumb enough to ask them. First his parents, then his pastor. Both had told him, in no uncertain terms, to never ask those questions again. So he didn't. But...he still wanted answers. He had to know.

Ross opened the door, but instead of stepping through himself, he pushed Michael out. "Go to the pool party, I'll meet you there," he said, then shut the door.

"Alright," he said, spinning on his heel, "I want to know what you know."

"And if it goes against your faith?"

The cross on his neck felt like it was made out of lead. "Answers first."

"Hmm, very well. Hold still."

She reached for his shirt. He jumped back, but she was far too quick to dodge entirely. But instead of pulling on his collar, she yanked on something else. His whole body shuddered, and he heard this great tearing noise that made him reel. He collapsed, back sliding down the wall as all the energy left his body. Standing above him, clutched in Lilith's hand, was an apparition. A blue-green humanoid shade that bled off visible energy down its extremities, like it was a solid sublimating in room temperature.

"What the fu...fuck..." He couldn't breathe, his heart pounded but his lungs couldn't catch enough air to keep up with the panicked demand. The figure twisted in Lilith's grasp. Its neck twisted left and right, and Ross finally got a good look at it.

It was a woman's face.

Lilith let go, and the spectre shot back into his body. He inhaled, suddenly able to breathe again. Ross checked himself for wounds, though if anything else, he was merely checking to see if he still had corporeal form.

"You're fine," Lilith assured him. She knelt down beside him, but not in lurid desire. She got to her knees because she wanted to talk to him. "Hey. So, uhh, I guess you saw what I pulled out of you."

"Why was there...a woman...inside of me?" he asked, still terribly confused.

"Oh Ross. Poor, sweet Ross. That woman is you. That's your soul, silly!"

Silence.

She feigned a smile. "But you already knew this deep down, didn't you?"

He didn't respond to that either. He slid past her and dropped down onto the couch again. Drinking the last of the lemonade, he struggled to put his feelings into words for the first time in almost twenty years.