The demon appeared in the middle of the pentagram, coughing.
“It worked! The spell worked! I summoned a demon!” I said. I looked at the short guy in the middle of the pentagram. It looked like a small version of a middle-aged man, a little bit like my astrology teacher. His skin was regular skin color, not red, and he was dressed in ordinary robes.
“You are a demon, aren’t you?” I asked.
He coughed again. “And what were you expecting to pop up in the middle of a pentagram? An elephant? Yes, of course, I’m a demon! What do you want?”
“I wanted a lass,” I said. “I’ve never been for a tumble, but I hear it feels good.”
“Oho! That would put you in the same position as nine-tenths of the males on this miserable planet. Damn straight it feels good.”
“So can you do it?”
“Depends on what you want. I can’t make anyone else fall in love with you. But if you could pay the price, I think I could arrange for a woman to bump bellies with you,” he said.
“So you’d magically create a woman, and she’d disappear after we were done?”
“Er—yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“What would the price be?”
“That depends on precisely what you want. You said you wanted to make the beast with two backs, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That is, you want to stick your beef bugle into a woman’s fleshpot?”
“Yes.”
“And if you were a woman, would you let some lad stick his rump-splitter up your flapdoodle?”
“Well, if I were a woman, I wouldn’t need your help,” I retorted. “That’s what pretty much all lads want to do, so if I wanted that I could find a lad easily.”
“Answer my question. Yes or no?”
“Well, yes, I guess. I want to make the beast with two backs, and I guess I would even if I were a lass and not a lad.”
He cackled. “Perfect! And what else would you want? Maybe you’d like to stick that cat’s meat of yours up her back alley, no?”
“I hadn’t thought of that! Could I do that too?”
“If you were a lass, would you let a lad stick his gravy maker up your back alley?”
I shuddered. “No.”
“Then you can’t have a lass do that. Any other special requests?”
“I’d like to piss my tallow into her,” I said.
“Would you let a lad piss his gravy into you if you were a lass?”
“I would if that wouldn’t put a roast in my oven.”
“Then that’s not a problem,” he said. “And what do you want this lass of yours to look like? Compare her to you on this mirror.” He conjured up a mirror, floating over the pentacle. I saw myself: a lad of eighteen, only three years into wizard school, still tall and gangly, with a long face with a few pimples on it, and messy brown hair.
“First, no pimples,” I said. The pimples disappeared.
“Bigger breasts and hips.” The breasts and hips of me in the mirror expanded. “Bigger. Bigger. All right, stop.” Now I had this odd look of being a lad with apples in all his pockets. “Narrower shoulders. Um, longer hair. Longer. Longer. That’s good.” The figure’s hair was reached down its back. It still looked mostly like me, but I wasn’t sure how to change that. “All right, that’s fine.”
“So you want to make the beast with two backs with this?” he said. “And you’ll pay the price?”
“I do, and I will,” I said.
“All right. Knock yourself out.” He vanished, and outside of the pentacle, the figure I’d indicated appeared lying naked on my pallet. She looked exactly like me, only with bigger hips and breasts, and with longer hair, and no pimples. She didn’t strike me as particularly lovely, but I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to make the beast with two backs. And she had a sort of dopey expression, like I have after I squirt my juice.
“Are you ready?” she said.
“Yes,” I said. I went to my pallet and took off my robes, and by the time I was done, my pizzle was as stiff as a ramrod.
I looked at the folds in between her legs. Beneath the mass of black, curly hair, there were two folds of flesh. I traced my fingers through them, and found the entrance at the base, almost at her back door.
I slowly eased my pizzle in. She panted. The sensation was incredible. I rub off almost every day, but the sensation of her soft, moist, warmth around my pizzle was nothing like my hand. I panted, and so did she.
I lowered myself all the way in and lay down on top of her. I couldn’t believe that I was finally rutting! Her face looked a lot like mine, but I kissed her mouth anyway. There was no taste.
Now that I was lying on top of her, with my pizzle fully in her pokehole, I rutted. I rocked my hips back and forth, grinding my pizzle into her pokehole, savoring that wonderful warm sensation. I felt her soft legs under mine, her soft chest under mine, and I gripped her soft back.
The sensation in my loins got even better. I felt my juices gathering in my loins. I let go. My loins pulsed, and I pissed thick paste, spurt after spurt. Each pulse felt as strong as dragonfire.
When all my paste had been pumped out, I lay on her for a few moments, breathing hard. Then, I pulled out and rolled beside her on the pallet. “That was amazing. Thank you.”
As soon as I had said that, the lass vanished. The demon reappeared in the pentacle. “All right, you had your fun. Now you’ve got to pay the price,” he said, grinning.
“Gladly,” I said. “For pleasure like that, I’d do a lot.”
“And so you shall,” he said. On my chest, my breasts grew, and the sparse hair vanished.