The Devil's Sweet Embrace

My name is Danny Delaine. I turned 18 on October 1 last year, and my friends took me out drinking to celebrate. We ended up very late at night in a dark, dingy club where almost everyone was too drunk even to attempt to dance. When I was stumbling unsteadily back to our table from the bathroom, I was greeted by a young guy dressed in tightfitting black leather pants and a black leather jacket with black wings fixed to his back. The devil effect was somewhat undercut by his long blond hair tucked behind his ears.

"Hello," he said in a cheery voice. "You look at though you're having a fun birthday."

I squinted at him in the dark.

"Is it Halloween already?" I asked, confusedly.

He laughed. "No, not for another few weeks."

"Purim, then?"

"No," he replied with a shake of his head. "That was in March. And devil costumes aren't really a hit at Purim"

"So why the costume?"

He shrugged. "We don't really need an excuse to dress up, do we Daniel?"

I tried to focus on his face through the alcoholic mist clouding my eyes. "How do you know my name?"

He shrugged again and smiled. "Lucky guess I suppose."

I made my way back to the table and thought nothing more of the encounter. When we left the club, my friends helped me into the back of a car. The car drove off and I fell asleep. I woke up to hear the driver telling me we had arrived.

I looked at him. I noticed the black leather jacket and the wings tucked back against his seat. It took me a few moments to understand.

"You're the devil guy," I said.

He smiled at me.

"You work for Uber?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, but you needed a ride."

I looked around. A Mercedes. An expensive one.

"How do you know where I live? "

"Another lucky guess?"

I opened the door to get out. The sudden blast of cool air made me stumble and I fell. I sensed the devil guy beside me, helping me up.

I woke up the next morning with bright sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows. My head was surprisingly clear, but try as I might I couldn't remember how I got from the car to my bed. I turned my head slowly to look around my room, fearing that any sudden movement would bring a hangover crashing down on me. I saw my clothes folded carefully on the chair beside the bed. Odd, I thought. I usually don't fold my clothes when I go to bed. My shoes were tucked tidily under the chair. Odd again. My phone was on the bedside table with the charger cable inserted. A glass of water was placed next to the phone.

I reached for the phone to see the time. Ten thirty. The house was quiet. My parents and sister had gone to work hours ago. There were four unread texts. Three were from friends telling me how drunk I had been last night. The fourth had arrived at two in the morning from a number I didn't recognize. "Sweet dreams Daniel," it said. It was signed "S." I stared at the phone. That had to be from the devil guy. So he helped me to bed and left me this text? But if he helped me to bed, he must have undressed me and folded my clothes. With this thought I sat up in the bed with a start. As I sat up, I realized that I wasn't naked. I felt soft fabric against my body and some thin straps over my shoulders. I jumped out of bed and stood in front of the mirror. I was wearing a white silk nightdress with spaghetti straps.

I stared at my reflection. The nightdress draped softly over my slim body. It was cut low to show off my boobs if I had had any, and was so short that it barely covered my cock. I moved slowly, watching the movement of the fabric over my chest and abdomen. I lifted my arms and the nightdress lifted to expose my cock. I stood in front of the mirror, arms aloft, examining my body, turning to see the reflection of my ass, then turning back to see the reflection of my cock.

My phone beeped to tell me a text had arrived.

"I hope you like my birthday present. S."

I sat down on the edge of the bed. What is happening? Am I still so drunk from last night that I think I'm sober? Or did the booze make me start hallucinating. I ran my fingers over the silk. It feels real, I thought. But isn't that the whole point of a hallucination? That it seems real.

Another beep, another text. "No, you're not hallucinating. The nightdress is real. Quite expensive too, I might add. I hope it's the right size."

"Who are you?" I wrote.

"That would take a long time to explain."

"Start with your name."

"Star."

"Star?"

"Yes, Star. Well, Morning Star really, but Star by itself is much cooler, don't you think?"

"Maybe. Morning Star is a little weird."

"It comes from the Bible," he wrote. "From one of the Prophets. Isaiah, I think. Or perhaps Jeremiah. Or maybe Ezekiel. Whatever. The Bible isn't my special subject."

"Your parents were religious?"

"Not at all, but they had a strong sense of irony."

I felt that we had got somewhat off track here.

"About last night," I wrote. "You helped me to bed."

"Yes."

"You undressed me."

"Yes."

"Totally."

"Yes."

"And you dressed me in this nightdress."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought you'd like it."

"Why did you think that?"

"You do like it, don't you? It might be hard to exchange it after you've worn it."

I felt my head starting to spin. "It's not a matter of one nightdress rather than another," I wrote. "It's why you think I would like any nightdress at all." I surprised myself by the clarity with which I had expressed my thoughts.

"But you do like it, don't you?" he responded. "I think that you've been admiring yourself in the mirror. And I think that your little cock was starting to get hard wearing something so sexy and feminine."

I replied in a huff. "My cock's not little!"

"It didn't look so big when I undressed you last night. Admittedly I didn't have a ruler with me."

I had had enough. "Look," I wrote, "whoever you are, the joke has gone on too long. I don't want your nightdress, and please don't text me again."

"Okey dokey," came the reply, with a smiley face added at the end.

I stood in front of the mirror again. The nightdress was pretty, and I did look sexy and feminine, and my cock was beginning to get hard. I touched it through the material, feeling the caress of the soft fabric. But no, I told myself, this is too weird. I stopped touching myself and took the nightdress off. That's when I saw the marks on my chest. Two small red punctures to my skin about an inch apart just about my left nipple. I froze in horror, staring at the marks, then grabbed my phone.

"You're a vampire!!" I texted. "You bit me!!"

"Ha ha!" he replied. "Just my silly joke! I'm a devil not a vampire. It's only a red pen. It'll wash off in a week or so."

*****

I hid the nightdress behind some books on a shelf in my bedroom and tried to forget about it. But a few nights later I locked my bedroom door, undressed, and put it on again. I stood in front of the mirror, and watched my cock get hard as I saw how pretty I looked. I touched myself, but again the voice in my head said no, that this was too weird for words. I stopped and took the dress off.

Each night after that it was as if there was an intoxicating drug in my room, just a few feet away, that I could grasp and make myself feel sexy and feminine. Each night when I undressed and went to bed there was a debate between the voices in my head.

"Just put it on," one voice said. "You'll look so pretty, and it will feel so good."

"You want to make him into a pervert?" the other voice asked. "If he gets turned on by dressing as a girl, what's next after that? Wearing pretty panties that horny guys will pull down so they can fuck his girly ass?"

"Ah-ha!" said the first voice, "You're admitting he has a girly ass! Why shouldn't he wear some sexy panties?"

"But he's a guy! He has a cock!"

"But quite a small one. It will look good in panties."

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" I said to the voices. "I'm not going to put it on."

"So boring," said the first voice with a theatrical yawn.

"Nothing wrong with boring," said the other.

But a couple of nights later I again reached for the nightdress from behind the books. When I pulled it out, folded in with it was a pair of panties matching the nightdress. A note was attached. "These will show off your pretty ass beautifully. S." I looked at the panties. They were tiny; a small triangle of fabric at the front and cut very high at the back.

"No, no, no! Don't do it!" said the advocate of boringness, but it was too late. I locked my door, put on the panties and the nightdress, and took my position in front of the mirror. My cock quickly got hard as I looked at my reflection, my erection pressing against the thin fabric of the panties. I looked so pretty, I thought, so feminine. I looked at the deep neckline of the nightdress and imagined that I saw some tiny boobs. Up until now I was never aware of my nipples, but now I saw them hard and red. I brushed them lightly with my fingers and felt a pulse of pleasure shoot through me. As I touched myself, I remembered the advocate of boringness warning me that wearing pretty panties would make me want horny guys to pull them down and fuck me, and I imagined a guy finding me dressed like this, my nipples and cock hard, and leading me to the bed and putting me on my knees, then pulling down my panties and fucking me.

"Yes," said the voice, "that's what will happen if you don't stop right now!"

"But it sounds so delicious!" said the other voice. "Make yourself cum thinking about a big hard cock fucking your pretty ass!"

I gave in. I lowered my panties to release my cock and stroked it. Each stroke of my cock, each pinch of my nipples, elicited a gasp of pleasure. Yes, I told myself, I want a horny guy to come through the door right now and fuck me, and that admission made me cum, spasm after spasm shooting out of my cock.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the panties down around my ankles.

"You're a sicko," the voice said. "You're ashamed by what you just did, aren't you? But it's not too late. Take those clothes off and throw them away right now."

But I wasn't ashamed. Odd, I thought. How can't I be ashamed by what I just did. Or, more to the point, about what I just imagined. Am I really not ashamed at having made myself cum while fantasizing about being fucked? I thought about it for a moment, taking stock of my emotional state. No, I concluded, I'm not ashamed at all.

When I woke up the next morning, I stood naked in front of the mirror looking at my body. My nipples were not hard like the night before but they were very red. I stared at my chest. Am I starting to get boobs? And my ass, I thought, looking at it in the mirror. Is it getting rounder and more girly? I never had much hair on my body, but now there seemed hardly any. Are my kinky fantasies causing some sort of hormonal change?

I texted Star. "Thanks for your gift."

"Hi Daniel," he replied. "You liked them?"

"Very much."

"So glad. I thought you would look great in them."

"I did. At least, I think I did. Can we talk?"

"Of course. I'll come round about midnight. I'll let myself in through the window.

"No need for that. Everyone will be asleep. I'll let you in the door."

"The backdoor?"

"Ok, if you want."

"Hee hee," he replied.

"What?" I wrote.

"Nothing. My sense of humor stopped developing when I turned thirteen. I'll come in the window. Much more devil like."

Just before midnight there was a quiet tapping at my window. I opened it and Star climbed in, folding his wings to get through the opening. He sat cross-legged on the bed and looked around.

"You're becoming tidier," he said. "No clothes thrown around. Bed made. I bet you're even brushing your teeth for a full two minutes morning and night."

"That's what I wanted to talk about," I said. "Things are changing." I sat on the bed facing him. "Ever since I started wearing those clothes. I'm turning into a girl."

He smiled at me. "A very pretty girl."

I smiled back. "You're very sweet to say so." But then I realized what I had said. "That's exactly what I mean! I would never have said that before. Now I'm pleased you think I'm pretty!"

"So what, then, is the problem?" he asked.

"I don't mind being pretty. In fact, I love it. But it's what comes with it I'm not sure of."

"The fantasies?"

"Yes, the fantasies."

"Are they very strong?"

"Very."

"You don't like them?"

"It's not that I don't like them . . ,." I began to say, then hesitated.

"So what then?"

"It's just that I don't know where this will lead if I give in to them."

"You mean to actually have a horny guy put you on your knees and pull down your panties and fuck you?"

"You've been spying on my fantasies, haven't you?"

He smiled. "They are rather good," he said. "It's hard not to eavesdrop a little."

"So what do I do?" I pleaded.

"Well," he said, "it's Allhallowtide soon. Odd things can happen then."

"Allhallowtide? What the hell is that?"

He laughed. "Very drole."

"You've lost me," I said.

"Oh, I thought you were making a joke. Quite a clever one. You know. All Hallows. What the hell?"

I looked blank and he decided he need to explain. "Allhallowtide follows All Hallows Eve. You call it Halloween and put on silly costumes and pretend to be spooky. As if you humans know what spooky really is! I could tell you some stories! You with me now?"

"Yes," I said. "I think so."

"Good. On All Hallows Eve, spirits are freed from their bodily tether and can make decisions denied them at other times of the year. It's quite a bore actually. Lots of anguished decision making. So many calls to the devil hotline for consultation. Should I do this? Should I do that? Not the sort of work I enjoy. I'm more of an action devil than a consult devil."

"Quite," I said. "But you were explaining how Halloween - I mean All Hallows Eve - might help me."

"Oh yes. Well, if on All Hallows Eve you decide to become a boring guy again, then that will happen. You'll forget about pretty clothes, and little boobs, and hard nipples, and a delicious ass. It'll be like it never happened. But between then and now, I suggest you give in to those desires. See what it feels like for a horny guy to put you on your knees, pull down —."

"Yes, yes, yes, I know the fantasy," I interrupted. "It is mine, after all. So how do I do that. Where do I find that guy?"

Star put his hand to his mouth. "Ahem," he coughed.

I looked at him. "You?"

"Why not? I've been told I'm quite good looking. And I can get very horny."

"Let me get this straight. To decide whether I want to be a girl, I should have sex with a devil?"

"Better a devil you know . . . ," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "How many times have you used that line on a girl?"

"It is one of my most successful."

"I'll think about your kind offer."

"Take your time. All Hallows Eve isn't for two weeks."

He got up to leave.

"One more thing," I said. "These changes. How far will they go? I mean, will I get big boobs and a big ass?"

"Completely up to you. When they get where you want them to be, the changes will stop. If you want to have small boobs and a pert ass, then you will."

"And what about other things?"

"You're talking about your cock, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said, blushing.

"You'll keep that," he said.

"No vagina?"

"All the pussy you can eat," he said. "Sorry," he added, "my juvenile sense of humor again. No, you won't get a vagina. But you won't miss it. Rather overrated they are in my experience."

"And the same cock as now? In terms of size, I mean."

He laughed. "Oh yes, and you'll come to love it being so small."

*****

A week the fantasies had become unbearably strong. I texted Star. "I accept your offer."

"That's wonderful," he replied.

"So how do we do this?"

"Are you free Saturday night?"

"You know I am."

"Then we have a date. I'll pick you up at eight."

"Where are we going?"

"A surprise."

"How should I dress?"

"As a boring boy. You can change later."

He texted me just before eight on Saturday night. "Be there in one minute. Meet you outside."

His Mercedes pulled up and I got in the passenger seat. He looked at me. "Nervous," he asked?

"I'm about to dress up like a girl and get fucked by a devil. What do you think?"

He smiled at me. "Keep this in mind though. You're in control. These are your fantasies we're exploring, and if things get too much for you, we stop."

That helped. A little.

We drove a few minutes into town, then stopped outside an expensive modern hotel. Star handed me a room key. "Room 665," said. "666 was unfortunately booked. The elevators are on the left of the lobby. I'll meet you in the room in a while."

I walked across the lobby and rode the elevator up. I unlocked the room and went in. I closed the door, then turned on the light. The room was a replica of my bedroom at home. Same bed, same desk, same shelves, same mirror. Only one detail was different: the walls and the bed covers were pink, not the dark blue at home. There was a note on the bed. "You know where to find your clothes. See you soon. S."

I felt behind the books on the shelf and found the nightdress and panties, freshly laundered and wrapped in tissue paper. I stood in front of the mirror and undressed. My eyes explored my body, roving over my little boobs and large nipples, my slim waist, my little cock, and my long slim legs. I slipped the panties on over my cock, now hard, and put on the nightdress. I pulled the neckline down to expose almost all of my boobs. My nipples pressed against the soft fabric. I ran my hands over my boobs and across my abdomen to my cock. I felt it through the panties, and again I imagined being found like that, excited by my own femininity.

I heard a slight sound behind me. I didn't turn around. I knew who it was. Star's reflection appeared in the mirror, standing next to me. He was naked. My eyes moved from my reflection to his, taking in his muscular chest and arms, his defined abdomen, then his erect cock. He was very big and very hard. I took his cock in my hand, feeling its hardness and warmth. He sighed a little and stood behind me. He ran his hands down over my shoulders to my boobs. "So pretty," he said. "So sensitive," I said as he gently caressed them. We stood there for a long while, my hand on his cock, his hands caressing my boobs, watching our reflections. Then his hands moved lower and he took my cock from my panties, and started to stroke it slowly.

"Such a pretty cock," he said. "It's going to turn all the boys crazy."

"How crazy?"

He took my hand and led me to the bed. I knelt on the edge of the bed facing the mirror and he stood behind me.

"So crazy that they'll be lining up to fuck your pretty ass." He pulled down my panties and I felt his big cock against my skin. I watched in the mirror as he rubbed the tip of his cock over my ass.

"Please," I begged, "don't tease me. I need you to fuck me." I felt him press into me, stretching me open, a brief spasm of pain, and then, as he started fucking me, pure pleasure, and yet greater pleasure. His hands held my hips, pulling me deeper onto his cock with each thrust, and with every movement of our bodies my hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the nightdress. My cock spasmed each time he thrust into me, each spasm getting stronger and stronger.

"Is this how you imagined it?" he asked. "When you dressed up and played with your little cock?"

"Yes," I said between sighs. "But better. I love how your cock feels, how it fills me up." More sighs. "I love watching you as you fuck me. I love what you're doing to my body." Then my sighs turned into moans, louder and louder as the spasms in my cock got stronger and quicker. Then a long-drawn-out moan as he thrust deep inside me and I saw on his face that his orgasm was close, and I came, each of his thrusts forcing cum to spurt from my cock. My moans turned to a long loud wail of pleasure as my orgasm coursed through my body.