The Devil and Angel Em

ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18.

Part I: The Devil

May 7th, 2021

It seemed like a good idea at the time, it really did. But then, bad ideas often do.

In his thirty-three years on this planet, she was the sexiest thing Job Silverstein had ever seen.

The first thing to catch his eye was the blood red dress, sequins sparkling like stars in the dim light of Sharkey's Tavern.

Then of course there was the body beneath it; like Merle Travis sang, "So round, so firm, so fully packed."

Her breasts seemed to defy both gravity and the stretchable limits of the fabric barely restraining them. Her slim, tapered waist and wide, full hips were an almost perfect dichotomy.

The dress was having just as much trouble keeping her ass contained beneath it as it was her tits. Every step she took towards the bar threatened to release her swaying bum.

Job had been banging away at the ancient pinball machine when she'd sauntered in, and barely noticed as the silver ball rolled past the flippers, his focus instead on the voluptuous newcomer as she took a seat at the bar.

Despite the usual Friday night crowd, Lenny the bartender was attentive and quick to fetch her a drink.

It was late, about quarter to midnight, but Job had been at Sharkey's since shortly after he'd gotten laid off from his shitty auto parts stockroom job, despite having put in a solid three years, the longest he'd ever worked anywhere.

He'd been alternating between playing pinball, shooting pool, and indulging in the George Thorogood "One Bourbon, One Scotch & One Beer" approach to drinking his troubles away.

So it was with liquid courage that he made his way over, taking the surprisingly open stool beside her.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

The stranger turned to regard him. Her skin tone and facial features suggested a Middle Eastern heritage. Her eyes were almost as dark as her long, flowing hair.

Her silent, stone cold stare sent a chill up his spine.

Her ruby red lips twisted in a half smile, revealing just a hint of brilliant white teeth. "You blew it."

"Um, what?"

Her smile became a wicked, full blown grin that still didn't feel any friendlier. "You blew the line. You were supposed to ask 'Did it hurt?' then wait for me to... oh, nevermind."

Her eyes never left him as she brought her reddish-orange cocktail to her lips; long, talon-like fingernails clinking softly on the frosted glass as she sipped.

Job's face turned as red as her dress. "Yeah, I... I suppose I did. Guess I didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell with that line anyway, did I?"

To his delight, she laughed. "Oh, I dunno. You'd be surprised."

Feeling he'd recovered from his blunder somewhat, Job decided to press his luck. "Well, hey, let me make it up to you by buying you a drink. What ya having?"

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "El Diablo. But I just ordered this one, silly boy."

"That's okay," Job shrugged, still trying to remain confident despite his two rookie mistakes so far. "I'll just keep you company 'til you're ready for the next round."

"You're assuming I'm staying that long?"

"Well, sure; I mean, who comes into a bar this late on a Friday night for just one drink, right?"

"Maybe someone who just came here to meet someone," she smirked.

Again, his face flushed. "Ah. So you're here for a date."

"I didn't say that, now did I?"

Job sighed. "Look, I'm really confused. You said you're here to meet someone. But you haven't told me to piss off yet, either. If I'm wasting my time, just say so. But I'm really not in the mood for games."

"I'm sure you're not," she snickered, "not with the week you're having."

Job jolted upright. "What do you mean?"

The beautiful stranger again sipped her drink while regarding him. Her eyes were piercing, as if looking into his soul.

"Girlfriend dumped you for her old boyfriend, lost your job, rent is due in two weeks and you've barely got enough in the bank to last until your first unemployment check, if you're even eligible for it. And yet here you are, drinking yourself into oblivion and dropping cheesy pickup lines on a woman obviously way out of your league. So yeah, I'd say that's a pretty shitty week."

"How... how do you know all that?"

Again she offered her twisted grin. "Oh, I know all sorts of things about you, Job."

Despite the rather high alcohol content currently running through it, his blood went icy cold.

"Who... who are you?"

Her laughter was both melodious and terrifying. "I go by so, so many names. But for tonight, I suppose you can call me... Cozbi."

Job could feel his anger beginning to boil over. "Did Lauren put you up to this? You tell that cheating bitch she can fuck right off with her silly games!"

"I don't have time for this." Raising her free hand above her head, Cozbi snapped her fingers.

The bar went deadly silent as everyone instantly froze in place.

But it was more than that. Job gawked in fascinated horror at Lenny, standing behind the bar, immobile, the bourbon he'd been pouring now suspended between bottle and tumbler.

The second hand on the vintage Kit-Cat Klock above the bar had stopped moving, as had its swishing tail. The normally shifting eyes were now locked in place, looking right at him.

"What... the... hell???"

Cozbi laughed. "What the Hell indeed. Look, I'm gonna get right to the point. I'm here to make a deal for your soul, and I only have until the stroke of midnight to do it. So let's stop wasting time with stupid questions like 'Who are you?' and 'How did you do that?' and get right down to negotiations."

"I'm drunk," Job whispered hoarsely, "I'm blacked out drunk and hallucinating. I'll wake up in a few hours with a bad hangover and..."

Cozbi slapped him across the face. "Does that feel like a hallucination? Stop being an idiot."

Reaching out, she cupped his face with both hands. Her black as night fingernails felt like cold steel against his cheeks. "Look into my eyes. Look closely. I need you to see."

Job looked. Her dark eyes dilated, the whites of them disappearing entirely, leaving the sockets black and utterly lifeless. Behind them, far off in the distance, flames danced in a flickering glow.

"Jesus Christ," he gasped.

"He's got nothing to do with this." Cozbi's eyes returned to normal, or at least what passed as normal for her, and she released her grip on his face. "Now, are we done with Twenty Questions?"

"Wh... why me?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Cozbi pounded the bar angrily. "Why NOT you? You've been meandering aimlessly through life since you graduated high school. Could have gone to college, done something with yourself, but instead just drifted from one dead end job to the next. You married the first woman that would fuck you at 21, only for her to divorce you two years later, and you've been unlucky in love ever since. You lay awake almost every night worrying you'll die alone, unloved, and forgotten. I can change all that. For a price."

"But... but I don't even believe in God!"

"Which makes you the perfect candidate," Cozbi responded. "If you don't believe in God or the Devil, Heaven or Hell, why not make a deal with me, right?"

"I.... I need another drink."

Cozbi rolled her eyes, exasperated. With graceful ease, she reached over the bar and retrieved the half filled tumbler of bourbon Lenny had been pouring. Job stared wide eyed at the long strand of dark liquid that still hung suspended from the tip of the bottle until he felt the glass pushed into his hand. He downed it wordlessly in one gulp.

"Better?" Cozbi arched a meticulously sculpted brow.

"Yes. No. I don't know. I need a minute."

"Tick tock," Cozbi frowned. "Look, I can't keep this little parlor trick up all night. Against the rules, and I've got till the stroke of midnight to seal this deal, so let's get to it. What do you want? Money? Power? Fame? Name your price."

Job couldn't help but laugh. This was preposterous. Not that he no longer believed her; he'd seen the truth of who she was in her eyes.

Yet the idea of selling his soul seemed ludicrous. He'd been an atheist all his life, but he knew enough about Christian dogma to understand the consequences of such a deal were it true.

"So wait, seriously, are you suggesting I sell my soul to you to get rich, live a luxurious life, find love and happiness, only to spend eternity burning in eternal damnation? Not exactly a bargain."

"It doesn't have to be like that," Cozbi explained. "I know my reputation, but Hell doesn't have to be a BAD place. Not if you agree to work with me."

"Work WITH you? Doing what, exactly?"

"Taking Heaven back from God, of course."

Job shook his head. "Look, I don't know all that much about religion, but I know enough to know you can't win that fight."

"Says who?" Cozbi sneered. "Some ancient book of myths? You think God wrote that? That book was written by stone age sheep herders who didn't understand where the sun went at night! They didn't know a fucking thing! And neither do any of you barely evolved primates!"

"Well, actually, no, I never believed God wrote.... So, wait, if Hell exists, that means Heaven does too, right? So why sell my soul to you? Even if you're right and I die alone and unloved, at least I go to heaven and am happy for eternity, right?"

"Not necessarily," shrugged Cozbi. "You could just wind up in Limbo."

"Limbo?"

Cozbi sighed, glancing up at the clock, which had slowly begun ticking again. "Limbo. The place in between. Neither Heaven nor Hell."

"And what happens there?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes. Literally, nothing."

"So, I'm just, like, DEAD dead."

"Not exactly. You're still conscious, aware, but surrounded by absolute nothingness. In a way, it's a worse punishment than Hell. At least in Hell you feel SOMETHING."

"But why would God send me there if I'm not an evil person?"

"Because you're not exactly a GOOD person either, Job. What exactly have you done in this world for anyone but yourself?"

Job had no answer.

"Look," Cozbi sounded almost sympathetic, "this isn't as terrible a deal as you think. All that fire and brimstone stuff? That's only for the worst of humanity, the absolute monsters; rapists, murderers, corrupt politicians.

"Sell your soul to me and I promise you won't suffer. You'll work for me, helping me recruit others, until I finally build a big enough army. Then we storm Heaven's gates and take back Paradise."

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the glimmer in her deep, mysterious eyes.

Or maybe it was just the fact that, despite everything, Job still didn't truly believe one could actually SELL their soul.

"Fine. So here's what I want. I wanna be rich, handsome, and able to seduce any woman I please."

Cozbi smirked. "That's all? What about fame? Power?"

Job laughed. "Not interested in ruling the world. Fame? Meh. Actors are so phony. Maybe semi famous, though, like a porn star or something. Oh, that reminds me! I'll want a bigger dick, too."

"Of course you do. How big?"

"Hmm. Nothing too crazy. Don't wanna be a freak. Maybe...

Eight inches? Eight and a half?"

"Done."

"And a decent girth too. And I want my foreskin back. I always resented that doctors took it without my consent."

Cozbi laughed. "Can't blame that one on me. Anything else?"

"Yeah. The ability to have multiple orgasms. What's the point of a big dick if you can't use it as often as you want?"

"Fine, done. I'll even give you control of when you orgasm; you can fuck as long as you want, cum on command, and go again immediately. Although you'll still need a few minutes between for your body to produce more semen, but even that won't take long."

"Fair enough."

Cozbi again looked at the clock, the second hand ticking slightly faster now. Taking his empty glass, she returned it to its spot under the bottle Lenny was holding just as the first drop of liquid fell from the suspended stream of bourbon.

Her eyes met his as she extended her hand. "So, we have a deal, then?"

Job hesitated only a moment before accepting it. "I guess we do."

With preternatural strength, Cozbi pulled him to her and, without warning, her lips met his. Her tongue forced its way between them; hot, slippery, and forked.

Breaking the kiss as quickly as she'd initiated it, she took her glass, downed her cocktail, then snapped her fingers.

Job jumped, startled at the noise of the crowded tavern as time resumed to normal. Even over the din, he could hear the clock behind the bar chiming midnight.

Cozbi reached into her cleavage, producing a scrap of paper. "Play these numbers tomorrow. Power Ball is up to almost three hundred million. That should be more than enough, right? The rest of our bargain will kick in tomorrow morning. Go home, get a good night's sleep. And try not to kill yourself on the drive. It won't void our deal."

Her cold hand landed on his shoulder, sharp nails digging into his flesh. "Be seeing you, Job."

In a flash, she was gone.

May 7th, 2022 - ONE YEAR LATER

"Oh, yeah, baby! Fuck me harder!" Penny looked back at Job as he plowed her sopping wet cunt from behind, her face flushed and perspiring, eyes wide and excited. He could sense her orgasm was close.

Grabbing tighter to her wide hips, he dug in deeper, pounding her with all eight and a half inches of his perfectly proportioned cock.

The lights were practically blinding, and he too was soaked with sweat, yet his pace never faltered, even as he felt her vaginal walls clench around his girth while the hot spring of her ejaculate forced its way past his shaft to gush out of her fiery hole and mix with the lube and sweat that covered them both.

Penny was wailing loudly, her massive natural breasts swaying wildly as she pushed her entire body back against him, matching the force of his thrusts.

With one last, ear shattering yelp, Penny pulled herself off of him, collapsing on the mattress, panting heavily. "Holy... fuck...."

"Cut!" Jimmy, the director, came over with some towels and bottles of water. "That was fucking amazing, Penny! Great scene. Take a moment, catch your breath. We still need the cumshot."

Patting Job on the shoulder, he handed him the other towel and water. "How you holding up, Big Guy? You gonna be ready for the grand finale?"

Job laughed as he toweled himself off. "Hey, you know me, Jimmy. No problemo."

Jimmy grinned widely. "True dat, my man. You're as dependable as Old Faithful."

Jimmy turned to Penny. "When you're ready, let me know, we can set the shot. No rush; we're ahead of schedule today."

Penny sat up, still wiping the sweat from her brow. "Jesus, Dirk. I gotta say, I've been in this business ten years, worked with some of the best. But I've NEVER been fucked like that! I almost passed out for a moment there!"

"Dirk" was Job's stage name; "Dirk 'Beefslab' Silvers," to be precise. Corny? Yes. But everybody had silly, made up names in the porn industry.

And it was certainly much better than his real name, a name he'd left behind the day after claiming his winning lottery payout.

He'd also left behind his old life. The morning after his deal with the Devil, he'd woken up with a brand new body, a brand new face.

Well, not exactly NEW. But most certainly improved. He was leaner, more muscular. His shoulders were broader, his waist more narrow, with a well defined V-shaped torso that tapered down to his now super sized cock.

His face had changed as well. He was still himself, but a more rugged, handsome version. His features were more symmetrical, his jawline more chiseled, his nose smaller and no longer crooked. His eyes were still the same odd mix of green and brown, but were brighter, more intense somehow.

His hair, which had been thinning in the back, was now full and thick with a lustrous sheen.

Job had gone to bed a slacker, and woken up a stud.

He'd had no true friends to speak of, and most of his family was dead, so the day after the lottery money hit his bank account, he was on a jet plane headed for California.

It didn't take him long to break into the porn business. His first audition with a small, independent company soon led to a deal with one of the larger studios, and his reputation grew quickly.

He was good looking, well hung, able to maintain an erection for hours, cum on cue, and shoot multiple scenes per day.

Producers were soon beating down his door. So were the actresses. Word of mouth about how he could make them orgasm repeatedly had some of the hottest starlets in the business clamoring to shoot a scene with him. Job was more than happy to accommodate them, of course.

It wasn't just about his dick size; there were guys in the industry still bigger. But Job had a distinct advantage none of his male peers had: the uncanny ability to discern EXACTLY what his partner needed to get off, and when to do it.

He'd had more than a few ladies tell him he was the first to truly make them orgasm during shoots, not just from penetration, but from oral or even fingering as well.

And so Job had finally made something of himself, or at least he certainly thought so. Working in adult films didn't pay much, but he didn't need the money.

And while he'd created a name and reputation in the business, the average person didn't know or care who he was. And he was more than okay with that.

When Job wasn't "working," he was spending his free time either partying, on the beach or in the gym. Job wasn't entirely sure if he NEEDED to work out to maintain his new appearance, but he figured better safe than sorry.

He was still single, of course. But why would he want to be tied down in a relationship when he was not only banging porn stars on an almost daily basis, but free to pick up any other woman he wanted as well?

Even women who didn't recognize him from his porn movies were drawn to him, and with his improved looks came a newfound confidence and swagger he'd never had before without alcohol.

Yep. Job was living the dream.

That is, until the headaches started.

At first, they were minor inconveniences. But recently, they had become incapacitating. Job had to cancel several shoots because of them, and of course had been to several doctors to find out what was going on.

In fact, there was an appointment later that afternoon to get the results of his MRI.

But first, he had a scene to finish.

Penny, now hydrated and rested, took her position on her knees in front of Job while Jimmy set the camera up for the shot.

Once the angles and lighting were to his liking, Jimmy took his seat behind the camera. "Okay, all set on this end. Penny, whenever you're ready, babe. Dirk, you don't have to hold back long, just a minute or two. Then frost her like a birthday cake."

Penny looked up at Job, her green eyes twinkling under the hot studio lights. "Now I get to find out if your cum tastes as good as I've heard," she grinned.

"Are you sure, doctor?"

"Unfortunately, quite sure. And while I understand you will still want a second opinion, let me assure you I've consulted with several of my peers and we're all in agreement. The tumor is simply too deep to remove. Now, I can write you some prescriptions, including medical marijuana to help with the pain, but..."

Job's drive home was a blur. Six months. Six months left. If he was lucky. And how much of that remaining time would be spent bedridden in some hospice care while his brain turned to mush? Even the doctors couldn't say.

Job wasn't the least bit surprised to find Cozbi sitting on his front doorstep when he pulled into the driveway.

"Rough day?" Her dark eyes smoldered with a gleeful humor.