The House of Sighs Demon's Deception by **Sigh** Copyright © 2013 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

Hello and Welcome to the House of Sighs. Sigh couldn’t be here, so she left me in charge. You can call me … Moan. The House is the new repository for any and all stories by Sigh that are creepy … or eerie … or horrific. No romance here, nor humor. See, Sigh used to read comic anthologies like the “House of Mystery” and “The Witching Hour”, and she loved the stories. This one, for example, is a TG adaptation of one of those stories — a “fanfeast”, if you will. I mean, “fanfiction”. Sorry, I’m getting a little hungry. So please read the story, and afterwards, I’d love to have you for dinner … heh heh heh …

“What?” The daemon’s five eyes opened wide, then narrowed with rage — the infuriation that a behemoth might have when being ordered about by a shrew. “You want me to … to …” It’s eight rows of teeth gnashed and ground in a horrible screeching racket. “FOOL! GREEDY IMBECILE! You do NOT call out the ruler of the sub-seventh level to do PARLOR TRICKS!”

“I can ask anything I want of you,” said the short, squat man with a snide grin. “It says so in the tome.”

“Insolent maggot, you think that some rotting book can rule me? Can predict what I will do to you? DIE!” A tentacle of living fire shot out from the specter towards the human’s neck — only to be sliced in two by a shard of red light blazing up from the floor of the dank basement. A roar/shriek of otherworld agony filled the tiny room.

Shaking his head, the man cackled an evil laugh. “I’ve learned from other’s mistakes, Gzalnur. I’m encircled in the sphere of Bildad. While here in this room, I cannot be touched. And after you answer my request, you’ll be bound back to She-ol, where you’ll be too far removed to affect me. Accept your fate, and fulfill my wish.”

“I am to be called,” howled the shadow, “to accomplish the impossible. What you ask for is something that is done daily by mere mortals. A man changing to a woman’s form? Why, that is something for your chemical brews and knives to perform. Why do you not seek out those methods, mealworm?”

“What, and take years of expensive therapy and shit, along with the pain and embarrassment of public transitioning? No, thanks. That’s for losers. I’m gonna use you to make me into a hottie instantly; my old life erased, no one ever knowing I used to be a stubby hockey puck of a guy. No repro organs, please; I can’t stand kids.” The oily, hunched male held up a poster with pictures of ten women spread across it, each with one or two particular body parts circled. Below the portraits was writing and numerals. “Here are the specs I want for my new body. You’ll find I left no stone unturned.”

The daemon snarled. “I shall have my revenge. I may not be able to touch you now, but when you eventually die, your soul will be mine to torture and consume, over and over again, for all eternity.”

This set the man to guffawing. “You must really think I’m a doofus, right? I have prepared for that contingency. In the summoning spell, I have bound my soul from hell; at worst, I’ll have purgatory. Safe from you and your threats. In exchange, you get to take one small, unnoticeable talent from me — nothing major, like my ability to speak, or hear, or orgasm; it must be something I won’t miss, like, no ability to learn the violin.” He held up the rune that contained the spell.

The daemon seethed with frustration as he read it. He had never beheld a summons so protective, so foolproof. Then he raised three of his five eyebrows. “This spell … it’s for your own personal gain, is it not? Not to help anyone else, but just to satisfy your own desire? Using majiks because you’re too slothful to do it the hard way.”

“I’m not a bad guy, dammit! I just never got any breaks, like most people do! I’m telling ya, Karma owes me this!” blurted the short man, losing his cool for the first time.

“Funny you should talk about Karma. For everything you do, there is a price to pay, little man. And just taking ‘some talent I won’t miss’ is too small a price for this. I declare an additional penalty, of my choosing.” Now the spirit was doing the cackling. “Your first spell, is it not? You may read all the cookbooks you want, insect, but your initial French soufflé will still be amateurish. You missed something.”

The man saw the sudden look of glee on the specter’s horrific face. Could the devil be correct? He suddenly dropped all but the book and frantically flipped the pages.

“I DECLARE,” the daemon boomed, “THAT ONCE THE WISH IS COMPLETED, THAT YOU WILL BE A SPECTACULAR FEMALE SPECIMEN… BUT I SHALL LIMIT YOU TO LIVING THE REST OF YOUR LIFE IN THIS SMALL BASEMENT ROO-“

“BALTHAGAST ROM TIGLIANO! SUM SCIPID!”

The daemon stood still, rendered temporarily mute and paralyzed by the man’s latest spell. The novice sorcerer swallowed hard; just a moment slower and the fiend would have trapped him. “I was too late to fully cancel your declaration, evil spirit; but I can modify it. You attempted to limit my mobility; that I cannot stop. But I can make it a limit of MY choosing.” But what do I choose? he thought. Hmmm… well, I hate the color red, so …

The man cleared his throat. “I SHALL FINISH THE DECLARATION. I SHALL LIMIT MYSELF FROM BEING ABLE TO PASS THROUGH A PORTAL WITH A SOLID RED DOOR. ANYWHERE ELSE, I MAY PASS WITHOUT CARE. SO I DECLARE.”

At once the daemon was mobile and verbal. “You disrespectful, interrupting cad! How dare you humiliate me like that!”

“Fulfill the wish,” ordered the man.

“FINE!” yelled the spirit. “YOU ARE NOW THE MOST DESIRABLE FEMALE ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH!”

Instantly, painlessly, the woman beheld her new body. She was indeed a goddess in human form, with a pixie face, long curly blond hair, heaving breasts and curvy hips, slender legs going down to tiny feet and toes. She screamed with ecstasy. “At last … AT LAST! America’s Top Model, here I come! Oh, and Mr. Evil Spirit: please take away my ability to play the violin.”

“You speak too slow, human. I’ve already taken your unnoticeable talent. Have a rotten life. I hope you hate womanhood. And remember — if you break your restriction, you lose all of your protection — and you are mine.”

“Wait! What talent did you take?”

The daemon smirked. “Your spell did not say I had to disclose that. I’m sure you’ll never find out; after all, you said you were not to miss it. Good riddance to you, now.” And in a puff of acrid mist, it was gone.

The local M2F transgender support group was meeting the next night. A gorgeous blonde, buxom woman walked into the meeting room five minutes late.

The others in the group all looked up at the striking beauty. The moderator smiled. “Ma’am, feel free to sit down. Would you like to tell us your first name?”

The goddess continued to stand, answering with a question of her own. “Do any of you know who I am? Anyone recognize me?” All shook their heads.

“Well, then, how about this. Do I look like a “cis” girl?” All heads nodded strongly.

A leery smile grew across the blonde’s lips. “That’s because I am one. A true girl, not a bunch of fake loser girls like you. You will never measure up to me. I am superior in every way to you, posers!” With that, the blonde turned on her heel and walked away, laughing. I can’t believe I used to be one of them, she smugly mused.

The blonde, who now called herself Tawny, had made appointments to meet with the modeling studio. She already had five thousand dollars made doing high end escort work over the last week. It was time to spend some of this dough. She chose Nordstrom’s. Parking her car, she walked towards the store, checking the door color as was her new habit. Green door. Safe. She walked through to the inside —

And found herself in hell.

“Hello, my delicate morsel. You’re just in time. I’m very hungry.” It was the daemon Gzalnur, spiked club in one hand, various blades in the other three.

“NOOO! This is impossible! I — I didn’t break my restriction, ever! The door I just walked through was green,” screamed Tawny, scared out of her wits.

“Aaah, my little forever appetizer — it was red. You see, that hidden talent I took? The one you didn’t notice? I took away your ability to distinguish red from green — I made you colorblind. Fool! Welcome to your eternal torment!”

I guess young Tawny got her just desserts, eh? Or, rather, she IS dessert! Haw haw haw! Oh my goodness, I kill myself. In fact, I was about to do just that. Want to join me? Of course, I never stay dead - silly old rule about the undead rising again, unless you use a wooden stake. That's why we frisked you for wooden objects when you came in. Um ... excuse me ... you have something on your neck. Here, let me get rid of it for you.....THE END

Thanks to Erin and the Closeteers for their help!

Thanks for reading! **Sigh**