A college age man of questionable integrity makes a deal with a demon spirit, but not all goes to plan.

* * * *

Virginity is a cruel, cruel mistress, and it only gets worse as time goes by. Do you know how embarrassing it is to be twenty-one years old when you’ve never had sex? In a world where a man’s worth is measured by his virility I can think of nothing worse.

My female ‘friends’ - if you can even call them that - tell me that I need to be myself, or that “it’ll happen in time.” Like they would ever understand the struggle. Worse, they then hook up with jerks who treat them like crap, and ignore the nice guys right in front of them.

Something had to be done.

I was in the third year of my English literature degree, and living in the dorms with an alpha male, Dave. He always looked down on me for not having getting any pussy, and complained that I made his girlfriend uncomfortable. What, so she didn’t believe in men’s rights? Or maybe she thought I wasn’t good enough to cuck.

“Dude, you’ve got to get your brain out of the internet forums,” Dave said more than once. Maybe if he was in his room more than twice a week he’d understand.

Then, one fateful day in June, my internet brother gave me the encouragement I needed. His name was Jason, though his handle was ‘weirdocuck’ on Reddit, and I’ll never forget his advice. “Shit or get off the pot,” he said. “You know how to get laid. You’ve been sitting on a plan for years. Now stop being a pussy and do it!”

He was right that I had a plan, but it was too far fetched to be believed.

After an evening lecture I returned to my room. Dave was out, at a party or whatever it was he did, and I had the place to myself. It was the perfect opportunity to experiment.

I removed a tome from a box at the end of my bed; it was the ‘Occulta Quo Daemonia’, a family heirloom bound in leather I’d once used as a LARPing prop, and so much more. How did it land in my hands? Well, let’s just say my father would freak if he knew where it was.

The spell guide was simple enough, and I was able to draw a pentagram on the carpet with chalk. The ring of salt would be harder to clean, as would the dripping wax on each of the five points. With my ceremonial knife at the ready I began the ritual in earnest, and summoned the spirit with whom I would bargain.

“Cui ego invocabo daemonem adiurat turmasque pacisci humilitatem meam et potestatem et divitias pro sexualem uictoria!”

The candles flickered. Everything outside the ring of salt was swallowed into the abyss. An eerie cold ran over my shoulders as the depths of the void grew into absolute. From the darkness came a presence, one that lacked shape and substance, but who I was all too aware of. It circled like a hungry wolf.

YOU WISH TO MAKE A CONTRACT, it said but didn’t say. The entity did not use words; rather it projected its intent directly into my thoughts.

“Yes.”

WHAT, it didn’t ask, DO YOU SEEK?

My hands were shaking, but I didn’t balk. “I want money,” I said, “and I want to be powerful. I want to be sexy, and I want to be… irresistible!”

THESE THINGS ARE WITHIN MY POWER, it didn’t say. WHAT DO YOU OFFER IN EXCHANGE?

The moment of truth had come. I steeled myself and said, “my soul!”

For a while the spirit was silent. There was only myself and the gaping absence.

YOUR SOUL IS PITTANCE, it didn’t say.

I prostrated myself. “Then name your price, spirit! What can I offer you?”

The presence lingered until finally it didn’t say, YOUR BODY.

“What do you want with my body?”

THAT IS MY BUSINESS, it didn’t say. YOU COME TO BARGAIN WITH ME, AN EXCHANGE MUST BE MADE!

It didn’t make sense. All throughout history there were stories about men making deals with the devil, swapping their souls for wealth, fame, and more. Surely there was some truth to these stories; so why did the entity dismiss my soul as though it were nothing?

“If I give you my body, what happens to me?”

YOU WILL RETURN TO YOUR BODY, it didn’t explain, WHEN THE CONTRACT EXPIRES IN ONE YEAR.

I peered into the darkness. “And you’ll give me what I want?”

YES.

My imagination turned with the possibilities. The things I would do to have an endless cash flow, and a string of bitches falling to their knees to be a part of it. Why, I may even be able to run for president one day.

“It’s a deal,” I said.

SEAL THE PACT, it didn’t command.

I took the knife and pressed it into my palm. A trickle of blood ran from it, and along the blade until it dripped to the floor.

Suddenly there was a gale wind, corkscrewing into a tornado, and driving into my wound. The abyss melted around, and flowed until a universe existed inside my chest. Endless power, and infinite possibility, had become a part of me.

My room was back to normal. On one side was my bed, and on the other was Dave’s. He had his Nickelback poster, and I had mine from the last Ron Paul campaign. The pentagram, however, was nowhere to be found, and neither was the tome.

I opened my mouth to speak, only… I didn’t. While I wanted to search the room my body had other ideas, and stepped into the small bathroom.

It was only when I watched my body inspect itself, regarding its own shape, and making movements with my mouth that I realized what was going on; my body was no longer under my own control.

“One year, and then you will have your reward,” my mouth said. “Until then I would appreciate if you did not complain.”

The spirit had taken over my own body, and I was a passenger, watching his every move! What special kind of hell was this? There had to be a way to get out.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said with my lips. “Now quiet, please.”

It was going to be a long wait, but I told myself the result would worth it.

I settled into the corner of my psyche, and tried to content myself on watching the new host in action. Given the way he grimaced at my reflection he didn’t seem too happy with his situation. Whatever. He may not have been a fan of my body, or my clothes, but he would have to live with it.

He slipped on a jacket, some shoes, and left the dorm. Where did he have to go that was so urgent?
Across the campus was a department store that was open twenty-four hours. It was a veritable warehouse, and employed a large number of students. That, and it was a favorite go-to for every night owl, stoner, or would-be academic pulling an all-nighter.

The spirit wandered inside, and grabbed a basket. He browsed the aisles in search of this item and that; first razors, assorted creams, and other girly smelling shit. It wasn’t a big deal until he moved toward the clothing section, and evaded menswear.

I screamed, what are you doing?

He hummed, “quiet.”

Surely it was unreasonable for him to expect silence as he sifted through the lingerie, and selected various cuts of panties; hipsters, bikini briefs, and thongs. He moved from one section to another grabbing new clothes, all feminine, and seemingly without regard for the sideways glances he was receiving.

I was dying inside.

When the basket was full he turned for the counter. Of all the people working there he had to come across Kate Walsh, one of those vicious feminazis in my course. She scowled as the spirit unloaded the basket, though her expression turned when she caught sight of what he was buying.

He smirked, and chuckled. “I bet you’re wondering what this is for.”

“Nope,” she lied.

“Sorry I’ve been such an asshole,” he said. “I’ve had a chance to rethink a lot of things, and I want to make amends.”

What was he saying? I wanted to die right there.

“That’s a nice top you’re wearing.” It was red with layers crossing over the bust, and split sleeves.

Kate shrugged. “Um, thanks. It’s from our new collection. They like us to model stuff from the store.”

“Well, it looks good,” he said.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, and laughed as she rang up the bizarre purchases. “So are these for you, or…?”

He grinned a wicked grin. What evil things did he have planned?

With every step I kicked and screamed, helpless to do anything. It was torture to watch this thing take my money, my body, my life, and to waste them on women’s clothing. I failed to see how this was going to make me the powerful, or rich.

Once he was back at the dorm he threw the dozen or so bags on the bed, and removed the toiletries. First he produced a pair of scissors and gazed into the mirror. Then he started to cut the beard I had allowed free reign since I was sixteen.

I bellowed for him to stop.

“We haven’t even begun,” he hummed. “Please, be quiet.”

Snip after snip he thinned the hair, then after applying the cool smelling cream shaved my face for the first time in my adult life. The transformation was jarring, stripping the years away, and rendering me unrecognizable. It was even worse when he plucked my eyebrows, shaping them into high, less-than-masculine arches.

He stripped my body, and took another bottle, and smeared its contents down my chest, arms and legs.

“You will be irresistible,” he said.

There was nothing I could do.

* * * *

The chance to sleep brought relief. For eight hours I could veer away from the nightmare that had become my life, hijacked by a supernatural creature!

There had to be some way to regain control. To hell with sex and riches; I was going to get them my way, and I wouldn’t have to dress up like a fag to do it!

My eyes opened, and the demon groaned with my mouth. Watching him rise was like sitting in a roller coaster teetering over the edge. All I could do was wait it out.

“Are you still complaining?” he croaked. “Relax, mortal. You may yet enjoy the ride.”

Like hell.

I was forced to watch as he dressed himself in the bathroom mirror, first by tucking my penis behind my legs and holding it in a pair of black, cotton panties. God, the way he wore them it was like I had no manhood at all. Then he pulled on a bra, which he only needed to hold superfluous mounds of silicon to my chest. Why pretend to have tits? It was disgusting.

The demon ran his hands down my sides, and giggled. Did he really like this? I could hardly watch.

He then reached into his bag of purchases for the make-up, and spent time applying cool, wet creams and fine powders to my face. They felt gross, like rolling in mud, but the demon behind the wheel seemed to think otherwise. He brushed along the contours of my face, rounding the shades and tints until it lit up.

After slipping on a low cut black top, and a skirt too short to be anybody’s business, he began to brush my hair. Worse, he styled it, straightening it so that it fell below my ears, and cut a line of bangs above my brow.

There was no mistaking the female appearance in the mirror where I should have been. God, if I didn’t know she was a trap I might have even deemed to fuck her. Knowing that would have turned my stomach had I still a body.

He, or perhaps she, smiled.

“You don’t think this is better?” the demon asked.

No, I didn’t.

It was a battle to ignore the fruity, sweet smells my body was bathed in, along with the silk sensation between my legs as I moved. God, why? I was determined to enjoy it as little as possible, but couldn’t help the tingling that ran goose pimples down my arms.

The spirit spent the majority of the morning in the dorm room. On the upside I didn’t have to see that face again, but on the other I spent the time watching her sort through my belongings; clothing, mainly. She went through my books, sorted them on the shelf six months after I’d intended to, and delved into my clothing pile. Old tees and slacks were the first to make their way to the bottom of a trash bag, but at least she kept my trilby.

Sometime around eleven the door opened. Dave had returned from one of his overnight adventures wearing the same clothes from the day before, and was desperately in need of a shower. Though given the look on his face grooming was the last thought on his mind.

“Uh, hello.”

My attempts to throw myself out the window were for nought.

The demon looked up from her chores and shot him a glossy smile. “Hey.” Her voice was a higher pitch, but still unmistakably my own.

Realization washed over Dave, and he stopped before closing the door.

“Uh…”

“You told me to be myself,” the demon said, as though she was anything but. That was my body!

Dave nodded. “Right.”

“This is who I am,” the demon said.

He fumbled for words with all the skill of a thousand-pound gymnast. “You’re a…”

“Sort of, and yes.”

The demon continued her business, throwing trash bags to one side, and stripping the covers of my bed. She contorted her face as though she could smell something, though I couldn’t tell what through all the crap under my nose.

Dave buried his hands in his pockets and moved toward his side of the room. “Listen, I can see you’re busy. I’ll just grab a few things and I can-”

“Don’t you want to stay?” she asked. She fluttered her lashes at him. Ugh, usual chick manipulation. How pathetic.

“It’s been a rough night,” he said. “Some stuff happened… for you too, I guess.”

Seriously? He was buying into it?

Like a typical female the demon strolled to his side, and placed a hand on his arm. She would soon learn that men weren’t so pathetic as to fall for a simple touch.

“Want to talk about it?”

Dave eyed her, and her hand. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged, and stepped away. “Just offering a listening ear for a friend. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Next thing she stepped onto the bed, reached for my Ron Paul poster, and… no! She tore it from the wall! It was one of a kind, autographed by the man himself, and she threw it in the garbage! After getting my body back I also expected to have all my things!

My roommate reeled. If anyone knew my admiration for the libertarian ideologue, it was him.

“Are you feeling like yourself?” he asked.

The demon smiled. “I’m a whole new person.”

She got that right.

“Come on,” she said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” She patted the bed beside her as though any self respecting straight man would get that close.
Dave sat on the end of the bed, and then inched closer. What was he doing?

“Heather and I broke up,” he said.

I didn’t care, but the demon nodded. She hung onto every word, from his whining about being an only child dating a girl with five siblings, about her insecurities, and about his insecurities. God, I thought this guy was an alpha. He was so pussywhipped, and he didn’t even know.

“That sounds difficult,” the demon said.

Then she placed a hand on his shoulder, and rubbed it. Like I cared about his stupid feelings! Even though I could feel stirring in my chest, like heartburn or something, there was nothing more insufferable than watching a grown man on the verge of tears.

Dave half smiled, seemingly not caring that he was in the company of a trap. “When did you become such a good listener?”

Like I had any choice.

The demon shifted closer to him, and snaked a hand around his waist. Just when it couldn’t get any more gay she put her head on his shoulder, looked up and asked, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

My worst fears came to life when he leaned in for a kiss, and there was nothing I could do to stop him! Our lips parted, and tongues met. He radiated warmth, just like I imagined a girl would. How could this be my first kiss? He wasn’t soft, he wasn’t feminine, and yet a tingle ran under the sickness in my thoughts.

Dave pulled away, and blinked.

“Is something wrong?” the demon asked.

Yes! There was something very wrong!

“I don’t know. This is weird,” he said.

He forgot gay; very, very gay.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” the demon said.

At that point a proper straight man would have stood up, walked away, and never talked about it again, but that wasn’t Dave. Instead he threw himself back into the kiss, addicted to the taste of man-flesh. It didn’t matter how girly my body looked, it was just wrong.

No amount of resistance could stop the demon from melting into his touch, and rolling under his weight on the bed. Worse, she was making me enjoy it, or trying.

She squirmed from under him and off the edge of the bed, where she waited for him on my knees. Dave turned over, unaware of the tent in his shorts that the spirit was fixated on.

No… anything but that…

When he noticed his erection he pulled his legs back. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

The demon bit her lip. “Why?”

Against all reason she leaned into him, guided his legs apart, and pulled the band of his shorts down. From them sprung a thick, fleshy appendage, red and bulging, bigger than the average sized tool I never wanted to compare.

This had to be some kind of nightmare. I was going to wake up any minute. Please God…

The demon shushed me, and then Dave, before leaning in. She wasn’t at all nauseated as she approached the organ, but rather she salivated. Fought as I did to pull away she drew my mouth down, ran my tongue along salt-tasting flesh, breathed in the sweat, and tickled my nose in the plume of hair above his penis.

Next I knew she had my mouth bobbing, up and down, slurping his cock, and of all the nerve even moaned like I was enjoying it!

Dave was slightly more articulate than usual. “Holy… oh fuck! How did you… oh!”

My mouth hurt, but the demon didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until he nutted that she let up, and even then made sure to swallow every single drop of the bitter goop. She even had the gall to smile at him like she was innocent and didn’t understand how dirty she was.

“Wow, um… I…”

The demon climbed onto the bed and kissed him, the dirty whore. “You’re welcome,” she said. Shit, I was being cucked by my own body!

She turned away, and walked to the bathroom. At the very least I was glad she hadn’t taken my virginity properly.

“Give it time,” she whispered.

The nightmare had only just begun.

* * * *

Every day that followed was a new chapter in the horror story of my life. It seemed there was no end to the demon’s depravity as she discovered increasingly novel ways to belittle my manhood.

First it was her treatment of my hair and the application of obnoxious, shining lipstick, but had soon spiraled into making a show of walking glass staircases without any underwear. In a week she had attracted a considerable audience, most of whom were male.

I could feel their eyes, and the way she shivered under them. How could she be aroused by something so disgusting?

It didn’t take long to gain a reputation around campus as some sort of slut. Even the jock types, the first ones to cry ‘fag’ were lined up for blow jobs. I swear I… she… must have sucked the entire health and fitness departments dry. My jaw had gone past aching, and was numb.

The following Friday she’d received an invitation to a frat party. I’d never gone to one before, on account that they were nothing more than an excuse for neanderthals to drink in excess. As a gentleman I considered myself above such things.

“Sounds great,” the demon said.

Of course she didn’t care about the quality of her company, so long as they had cocks to jam down my throat.

Were fortune and power really worth the humiliation?

On the night of the party she had me dressed in next to nothing; booty shorts, a top cut off at the mid-riff, and platform sandals with an open toe. They went perfectly with the hoop earings she stabbed through my earlobes, because the experience was nothing without permanent alteration.

She knocked on the door, and from the second it opened the brothers were pouring themselves over me. They had no control of their hands, and grabbed my chest, ass, and even my crotch.

“You look so fucking sexy,” they said, one after the other.

Ugh.

The demon smirked. “Who’s a girl gotta blow to get a drink around here?”

If I died in that moment I would have been too happy.

For hours she danced, and laughed, and kissed random men who wouldn’t know good conversation if it bit them on the ass. God knows what she ever saw in them, next to their alpha packages, the sight of which filled me with disgust.

It was close to midnight when she climbed the stairs of the frat house. There were at least five of the brothers trailing behind. She lead them to a room at the end of the hall, and to a bed with crimson sheets. The demon fell onto it, and crossed her legs.

Was she going to blow them all? I hated the taste of jizz the first time, and while I was getting used to it taking that many loads was still too much.

“I think I’m getting tired,” she lied.

The guys weren’t happy with that.

“Come on, you didn’t drag us up here to sleep.”

She tossed my hair to one side. “Maybe, maybe not. You could convince me to put out… if you make it worth my while.”

They looked to one another. “How?”

“Fifty bucks,” she said. “Each.”

One of the guys, a large strapping lad named Jody, scoffed. “You’ve been doling out hummers all week, and now you’re charging?”

“Fifty bucks gives you more than that,” she teased. My legs parted, and she turned over, offering them my semi-covered behind.

I was screaming. Of all the times to fight for control, this was it! No matter how hard I tried, nothing. She had my body, and I was strapped in for the ride.

They looked at each other. “All of us?”

She hummed, and nodded.

In the old days when men were men, and folk like myself weren’t in any way considered feminine, a fellow of integrity would have turned around and left the room. Unfortunately for me, America had long since gone down the drain.

A series of fifties flew at my face, and fell to the bed. They grabbed my legs, laid me out on my stomach, and pulled down my shorts. My thong remained to cradle the ill-timed erection, but was pulled to one side when a larger member of the pack pried my cheeks apart.

Something warm and slippery circled around my rear and wormed its way inside. I think it might have been a tongue.

Oh… oh god…

The demon closed her eyes, and all that remained was the probing sensations following my body. I was drowning in a sea of hands groping each and every way, while my own poured down the body of unclothed men.

One of them entered my mouth, impaling me on the taste to which I was fast becoming accustomed, before switching out with another of his brothers. Some were thicker than others, and some were longer, but all were big enough to stuff my throat and leave me gagging. I could almost hear the demon rejoice in the act, like she wanted to bathe in them.

Suddenly there was a presence behind me; something hard pressing at my end. My hole burned as the invader ploughed through the ring of muscle.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

No, no, no, no…

The demon screamed, and tossed back her head. “Yes!”

His cock was agony, but in the demon’s mind gloriously so. I could not resist, despite my best efforts, even when he rammed me to his hilt.

Oh, how far I had fallen; one day I was a man going in his own way, and the next I was prize bitch in the house of cuck. I couldn’t even cry for help, not while the demon screamed “fuck me! Fuck me!”

He rocked me until I was whipped into a haze, barely able to register my surroundings. Then, something strange happened; it started to feel good.

How could I enjoy this perversion? And yet as one man switched out and another entered I became acutely aware of something inside stirring with their movements.

It built for what felt like hours; one college brother after another, having his way with me. I screamed every time they pulled out, and yearned to be filled again.

What was happening to me?

“Fuck me!” the demon screamed.

My legs were trembling, but still I held on. Sweat poured down my body, and the pressure inside mounted. God, I was full, like I needed to piss, but the demon clenched. I begged her, please, please, please let go.

I was hunched over the headboard when my body gave out. For a moment I was afraid she’d wet the bed, but it was something else. My erection exploded, and sprayed sperm across the pillows with all the accumulated force driven into my ass.

A chill ran over my body, my dick fell limp between my legs, and we collapsed onto the bed. I was lost in the haze, so much that I almost felt the demon’s satisfaction.

The string of men, more than the five I’d dragged to the room, took turns at waving their cocks in my face. I was fuck drunk to the point of blindness, and didn’t fight the strings of semen blowing across my hair, my mouth, and my chest. I didn’t even fight when they used my tongue for clean-up.

Was this my life? There was no question I’d lost my virginity.

The demon smiled, and collected her fee.

* * * *

ONE YEAR LATER

I don’t know when it happened, only that one day I woke in a body that no longer belonged to me. The demon had changed things so much that I could no longer recognize the person in the mirror. The tattooed make-up, the long hair, the collagen lips, along with the false breasts that spilled out of every item of clothing she wore was far removed from anything I could have imagined for myself.

Then there were the ‘niche’ alterations; having ribs removed so that I could fellate myself, shortening the tendons in my ankles so I would be forced to prance on tip-toes, and worst of all having my balls clipped. Yeah, she had me castrated, because she thought the empty, hanging sack was ‘cute’, along with the string of men who got off on my emasculation.

Once upon a time I might have called it ‘Hell’, but the human mind has a remarkable ability to adjust. Even a forced-femme dickgirl nightmare could be tolerated given enough time.

Ultimately the demon had delivered on her promise; I was wealthy, and living in an upscale New York apartment. She’d dropped English Lit in favour of sex for cash, moved up to high class escorting, until finally milking a fortune out of a dozen different sugar daddies. With the right investments, and supernatural foresight, she’d accrued resources enough for me to live on for the rest of my life, and then some.

She’d helped me lose my virginity a thousand times over. Though I’d regretted it at first I learned to love the touch of a man, and the things he could stir inside. It was that, or fight every step of the way, and lose. After a while I just wanted to cum too.

Looking in the mirror there was no question whether or not I was desireable. Those curves were good enough to eat off of. If I were anyone else I would have pulled my string bikini off with my teeth.

“Honey, are you ready for more?”

She shimmied my hips as she strolled up the stairs with a pair of mimosas in hand. What can I say? The demon had fine taste, and because of her I was living the high life.

Our lover, Ian, an older gentleman who’d donated a car to our expensive garage, opened his robe and sprung free. How strange it was to see a cock and think it was delicious. Of all the ways to start the day it certainly wasn’t the worst.

She dropped to her knees, stared into his eyes, and took his member in hand. Then, something strange happened.

THE CONTRACT IS COMPLETE, the demon didn’t say.

Suddenly, my body jolted, and I blinked; not the demon. I looked around of my own accord for the first time in a year. Finally, control was mine again!

Ian ran a hand through my hair. “Everything okay, honey?”

I turned back to him, and that handsome face. His body was just as rugged as it had been the first time we met, and his surging erection no less enticing. Shooting him a wicked grin I opened my mouth and engorged his cock.

Life, I decided, was good.

THE END