The Demonization of Humberstone Rd.

Tuesday 4th June 2002

To the editor,

I'm most gratified that someone else has noticed how far standards have dropped in this country since Armageddon. The Chronicle's article on the subject of the demons who currently plague our green and pleasant land was most timely and insightful. Insightful, I say, in calling out the shambles that represents the current state of our assorted theologians, meta-physicists, and other so-called thinkers, who, having had a relatively undemanding two millennia, are abjectly failing us now they have a problem with real-world repercussions to actually sink their teeth into.

We were led to believe that Armageddon would be the ultimate battle to decide good versus evil. Two years on since the conflict and still nobody seems to be able to say what happened with any kind of certainty or clarity. The most intelligent or apt thing I have heard on the subject was the summary from my good friend Dave who is a regular at the Shepherd's Arms. He compared it to a World Cup Final ending in a no-score draw with no penalty shootout. Not only has the world not ended, but no one seems to be fighting the final battle anymore. As a result this country seems to be stuck, for the foreseeable future, with tens of thousands of the hosts of both heaven and hell just milling about until the whole sorry mess resolves itself.

Who knows what they are plotting or what we are going to do with them all?

Certainly not the Prime Minister!

Yours,

Concerned of Kirby Muxloe.

Friday 7th June 2002

To the Editor,

Regarding the letter from Concerned of Kirby Muxloe published in the Chronicle on the 4th of June, I would like to reassure your readers that we really are just as confused about how the apocalypse went down as he is. We are certainly not plotting anything! I encourage everyone to look on the bright side and reflect on how nice it is that we're not killing each other anymore. I'm sure everything will sort itself out soon. It generally does.

Yours,

Azandarenial, Angel of Hope (Junior).

Monday 17th June 2002

To the Editor,

I'm writing to draw your attention to the unacceptable situation developing around the London and Humberstone Roads in Leicester. Scores of female Lust Demons, most scantily dressed, can be seen gathering there nightly and standing around soliciting passing cars in plain sight and often in plain daylight. They are shameless engaging in every stripe of prostitution openly in the bushes and council houses of these long notorious roads. In years past the police would periodically sweep the area of street walkers. Now, they seem to be too scared to do anything at all. Is the council even aware of the situation?

Yours,

Concerned of Kirby Muxloe.

Thursday 20th June 2002

To the Editor,

While it is true that the London and Humberstone Roads are an officially designated resettlement area for a wide variety of demons, many of whom identify with the cardinal sin of lust, I must take extreme umbrage with the characterization of activity taking place in this area as prostitution. We do not and never have accepted money for sex, and to suggest otherwise is libelous in the extreme. Shame on the Chronicle for printing such nonsense.

It is true that, in prior times, we engaged in sexual congress to tarnish the souls of the sinner and quicken their descent into the abyss, but, as the Land of the Living is now completely separated from the Fires of Hell there doesn't seem much point. These days, since our exile, we're mainly just doing it out of habit and as a chance to get to know our new neighbours.

Had 'Concerned of Kirby Muxloe' actually bothered to speak to any of the very welcoming demons in this fine area, he would already know all this, but as always he is too busy rushing back to his type-writer to bash out his latest batch of prejudicial bilgewater in time to meet your publishing deadline. Despite his attitude, if he is willing, I myself would be more than happy to meet with him and put all his concerns, and indeed the rest of him, to bed.

In closing, there isn't and never has been a law in this country against having a good time.

Yours,

Cruvictaria, Proud Resident of Leicester

Wednesday 3rd July

To the editors,

I read with great interest your story about the gentleman who was assaulted and robbed by a Dentata Demon last week. No doubt, the idea of a vagina that could perform oral sex was enticing, but he obviously didn't expect that she was going to clamp those labial teeth down on his genitalia and lead him in flagrante delicto through the streets of Leicester to the nearest ATM.

I do, however, have a couple of notes for readers interested in the physiology of this particular demon. It's incorrect by omission to say that the Dentata Demon merely has a pair of teeth in her vaginal canal. In fact, the whole canal itself is a complete, separate, and fast-working digestive tract. Therefore when, as reported in the Chronicle, the demon threatened to 'chew off his [organ] and then [defecate] the remains back onto the bloody stump' if he didn't withdraw all of his money, readers should be under no doubt that this was a distinct possibility rather than a mere scatological threat.

There is an interesting corollary of this. The Dentata Demon's is the only living creature that I'm aware of whose vagina has a gag reflex. Intercourse with such a demon, if it is to be attempted at all, must be attempted with all due care and attention. Many a suitor who has failed to appreciate this has ended up having to pick chunky vomit out of their pubic hair.

It should be noted that Dentata Demons have traditionally been employed in the punishment sections of hell rather than the temptation department. Even so, they do still have a small set of particularly devoted fans.

Yours,

Professor Norman Rutherford, Department of Demonology, de Montford University

Friday 5th July 2002

To the Editors,

I join the voices condemning utterly the recent assault which took place just off the Humberstone Road. Alas, one bad apple spoils it for the rest of us demons. It was thus ever since the Garden of Eden.

I must however stress that since money changed hands so that the victim couldstop having it away with their assailant, any fool can clearly see this is the complete and total opposite of prostitution. Yet again we see the same old claims printed in this newspaper and echoed in the letters column.

How many times must we refute the calumny of lies which surround us daily? And how many times must we urge the Chronicle and its readers to do better?

Yours,

Cruvictaria, Proud Resident of Leicester

Monday 15th July 2002

Dear PlayDemon Magazine,

I'd never realized how beautiful demons could be until I started reading your magazine late last year. I didn't know it at the time, but plucking up the courage to pick the September copy off the top shelf started me on a journey of self-discovery I could never have dreamed of only a few years ago. I'm so much happier now that I had to write in, had to say thank you to PlayDemon and just had to tell all your readers my story.

It only took one look at Faustalingania to realize I had a new fetish. Those horns awoke something in me and then and there I knew I was going to be a demon devotee for life. After nervously raising the subject down the pub with my mates, I found I wasn't the only one. All of them already had a copy! It was a miracle that the newsagent wasn't already sold out when I got there! We were wracking our brains trying to think of how we could find ourselves ladies even half as amazing as your She-Devils of the Month. That's when we discovered the advert for the Succubi Strip in the back of the magazine. We'd all been so taken with Fausta's mind-blowing talon nipples that we hadn't noticed it before!

The wait for the first Friday night after payday was excruciating, but when it came we all set off with excitement for the Humberstone Road. We were amazed when we got there that not only was there no cover charge, but that the Gluttony Demon behind the counter actually gave us all free beers. We were shocked to realize that we could have come down here any night of the week. We didn't even need all the money we'd been saving!

The club was rocking. You know how they say the devil has all the best tunes? You'd better believe it. There was wall-to-wall metal playing all evening and the girls came out and strutted their stuff to Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. We were just getting settled in, watching the first few girls bare all, when suddenly I saw her -- Faustalingania herself -- she was going to be the next dancer and was just squaring away the tunes with the D.J.

She came out and rocked my world. That seven-foot physique was more amazing in real life than it could ever be on the page. Curves which had looked pretty damned good on paper were just indescribable up close and personal. I just couldn't get my head around how she was there -- I remember your magazine said she was in Scandinavia. It didn't make any sense.

When she crawled across the stage over to where we were sitting, I pulled out a twenty-pound note to slip into her garter, just like I'd done at the old-style human strip clubs. She just gave her finger a wagging no, reached into her garter, pulled out her very own twenty-pound note, and stuffed it in my shirt pocket. "Bring your friends," she said before slinking off to the other side of the stage.

I didn't realize what she meant at first, but then when I looked at the note, I saw there was an address on it. It was Number [Redacted by the editor] Humberstone Road and the words '2am' were written above it.

You can imagine, hot as the girls were, we couldn't wait for the middle of the night to roll around. We were excited but apprehensive about what might be waiting for us and tried to lay off the alcohol. The Gluttony Demon was having none of it. When we turned down his offer of more Carlbergs, he brought us out two whole bottles of Krug. There was no way we could say no to that.

So, unavoidably, we were a bit the worse for wear when we finally staggered to the house on the Humberstone Road. The door was open and we could hear the sounds of hard partying going on inside. So we just walked in and the first thing we saw were people going at it hammer and tongs - demons and humans. A woman old enough to be my mother was being fucked on the lounge carpet in three different holes by a trio of three-foot imps, each with dicks as long as their legs. On the sofa, an elderly gentleman was being blown by a woman who could pass for human, until she came up for air and we got our first look at her meter-long forked tongue.

I was feeling bad about turning up half-cut, but when Faustalingania turned up, she just leant all the way down, threw her arms around me, and said, "I'm so happy you came."

"I'm glad to finally meet you," I stammered.

"Who do you think I am?" she asked. The question might have suggested she was confused, but she didn't ask it that way. It was just a request for information.

"Faustalingania," I replied, confused. There was no way I could possibly have mistaken her for someone else. I'd taken the habit of carrying around that copy of PlayDemon magazine everywhere I went, so I pulled it out of my jacket pocket and showed her.

"I see," she said. "You've excellent taste. Sorry to disappoint you though, I'm a kumiho, a fox demon."

"You're certainly a fox," I replied. I apologize to your readers for the corny line. It was the Krug talking.

She laughed it off. "I'm a shapeshifter. People who look at me tend to see the woman they are most attracted to in the whole world. I'm Zandanalumina. You can call me Zandy."

I guess that all my mates really were as crazy about Fausta as I was, or else we might have noticed we were seeing different people!

"Hi, I'm Paul," I said.

I think my name just washed over her. She barely registered my introduction and instead just said, "I want your cock."

She didn't have to ask twice. Without saying anything I let myself start to be dragged out of the room. Just as we hit the stairs, Zandy turned back towards my three companions and gave a single short whistle. The door of the opposite room immediately opened and through it walked three hidden figures. Even wrapped in cloaks I could see how feminine their figures were as they solemnly marched passed. The last I saw before being dragged into a bedroom was each draping themselves over a different bloke, their hoods still up. No doubt, the guys were all gutted that Zandy had chosen me over them, but I hoped these girls would help ease their angst a bit.

How do you describe sex with a lust demon? You can't. It's like you know with every thrust you are satisfying some deep primal urge within them, just as you know that you could thrust away for a thousand years and never satisfy them. You know that every time you move inside them they are having a mini-orgasm, every ten thrusts they are having a big one, and every hundred thrusts they are having a mind-blowing orgasm. Then you want to know what happens when you hit a thousand thrusts and you think you will never last that long, but then, just when you are about to release, she looks at you, and that look dips your privates in ice, and suddenly you have your second wind and then you hit that thousandth thrust...

And their private parts. Did you ever see that movie Dune? Where, at the beginning, the hero has to stick his hand in a box, and if he removes it for any reason the witch will kill him. Imagine that scene, except instead of your arm, it's your dick and instead of being set on fire, it's being given a blowjob by every woman in the world simultaneously. And you can see in her eyes that if you slip out of her even accidentally for a second she will rip you into a thousand pieces out of pure sexual frustration.

Man, Lust Demons are a trip.

We made love all night. And I don't mean we had sex a couple of times at the start of the night, once during the middle of the night, and once just before breakfast. No, we fucked for seven hours straight. Each time, I came, I found I was hard again before I'd even finished cleaning my dick off. She did something to me. It was like my cock was a Tardis, somehow bigger when it was inside her than outside. That was some freaky sci-fi dimension shit. The difference in our heights might have meant that my head only came up to the start of her tits, mountains in themselves, but somehow I suddenly had the biggest pornstar dick the moment I penetrated her. It was surreal.

And then, with sunlight streaming into the bedroom window, an eternity was somehow over. We're lying there, side by side and she turns to me and says, "You're an amazing fuck."

And somehow I had been. That was the weird part.

I let out a little exhausted laugh and she play-hits me. "I mean it. You're great. When can I see you again?"

"Tonight," I say immediately.

She looks disappointed. "I can't tonight. I have a business trip. Next Saturday?"

On the one hand, I don't want to exist when I'm not inside her. On the other hand, I'm stunned that this isn't going to be a one-off thing.

"Great," I say. "It's a date."

"Oh, and I want you to be exclusive with me," she says.

Now this I really can't believe. Aren't Lust Demons famous for their promiscuity? She can see my doubt.

"I mean it," she says. "I can't bear the thought of you fucking with anyone but me with that fantastic cock of yours. You have to promise me."

She reaches under the covers and starts to cup my balls gently. We really are done though because my dick doesn't even stir at this point.

Well, every woman in the world who wasn't Zandy had really lost her appeal, so I didn't have to think. "I promise," I said immediately.

She pouted. "It's not enough. You'll cheat on me."

"I won't. I'd have to be crazy to cheat on a...on you. What can I do to make you believe me?" I said, the words tripping over themselves in their hurry to get out.

"You trust me, don't you? Why don't you give me something valuable to show you're mine."

"You want my soul, don't you?" I said. I should have seen this coming, but even then I would have given it willingly.

"Don't be silly," she said. "It's not the old days. I can't send you to the boss with the Jaws of Hell shut. What am I going to with a loose soul knocking around the mortal realm waiting to go feral?"

"Oh," I said relaxing. "In which case, take anything. It's yours."

"Okay," she said, taking her hand off my crotch.

"Okay?" I asked. "Okay, what? What can I give you?"

"Oh, I already took it," she said with a giggle. She opened up her hands and I saw it.

She was holding my penis in her hands. My testicles were there too hanging beneath it. It was strange, I hadn't even felt it coming off.

"I'll just hold onto this," she said, opening up her purse and slipping my junk inside.

I started to speak without knowing what I was going to say.

"It makes sense," she interrupted. "You promised not to use it with anyone but me. I'll give it back on our date next week. That way I'll have piece of mind that my love is mine alone."

I was going to make a point about how I need to go to the loo. My hand had been wandering though, exploring the patch of completely smooth skin where I used to be a man. Now I'm just a life-sized Ken doll. Then I hit a hole, no bigger than the usual urethra at the end of a dick, and then I knew how this was going to work.

"Right," I said. "If that's what it takes, then that's what we'll do."

She jumped on me again, smothering me with her enormous breasts. There was horseplay, but I was very aware that even though I wanted her, I fundamentally couldn't have her. Eventually, we showered together, I pulled my clothes, still wrinkled and sweaty from the previous night, and kissed her goodnight. We seemed to be the last ones leaving the party house.

I met up with the guys at the pub that evening. They had a great time last night, but, of course, they wanted to know all the details of my time with Zandy before anything else. I tried to explain to them, but I couldn't, except for assuring them it was earth-shaking. I didn't mention that I'm now dickless. I'm sure any one of them would have given up their manhood to be the one she'd chosen, but here, in the pub, it's bloke rules again and I'd never have heard the end of it.

Bloke rules work in my favour as well though. Guys never go to the lavatory together and so it's easy for me to sneak into the stall when I need to go piss. Nobody needs to be any the wiser about my decocking.

I came back and we talked about their night. They had pulled to a man. Those cloaked girls were Zandy's acolytes. Human girls but trained in the demon arts. I try to get a sense of what sex with them is like. The guys are reticent until Toby mentions that the anal sex was amazing. Suddenly they're all in agreement. Every member of the trio was apparently a back-door-loving butt-slut.

I was glad things worked out for them.

At about that point, Pete gets a call from his girl, and he invites them over to the pub. I get to meet them properly. Pete's girl used to be called Elizabeth, but now she goes by Bathshiba. Her mates still trip up calling her Beth instead of Bath every now and then. The other two are Drusilla and Morgana. Absolutely stunning all three, if a bit human for my tastes.

I ask Bath how she became an Acolyte of Lust. Apparently, you can apply through the UCAS system these days.