This is a long story (even for me) but the idea took hold and it just sort of wrote itself. It wouldn’t work if it were a word shorter. But I think it keeps up at a nice clip and I promise that if you give it the time it needs, you won’t be disappointed. It has some of the nastiest stuff I’ve ever written. And I mean that in the best possible way. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Selling My Soul
“Hey Larissa, I have a date tonight, would you mind walking my dog sometime before you go to sleep?” I hadn’t heard my roommate Wendy open the door but I heard her request. I jumped up in my seat a bit as I noticed her voice and quickly closed the browser on my computer sitting on my desk. I was pretty sure that my body was blocking the screen from her view and I was very thankful I hadn’t taken off my towel yet (I’d just gotten out of the shower). If Wendy realized that my plans for Friday night were, once again, sitting in my room and masturbating to illegally downloaded pornography, I was just going to die. I turned and looked at Wendy as she moved inside my bedroom door.
“Yeah, uh… I am not going anywhere. I can walk her,” I said and then realized that I had basically admitted that I was a loser and didn’t have any plans. So what was I worried about in the first place? Wendy caught sight of the mirror on the back side of my desk and walked over and looked at herself over my shoulder. I quietly closed the laptop so that she wouldn’t be able to glean my viewing habits. She quickly started playing with her hair and pouting her lips.
“I knew I could count on you!” she said and I winced. Good to know that my roommate felt that she could be certain her schedule was open on the weekend because I sure as Hell wouldn’t be doing anything. She seemed to notice my discomfort, “You are just such a good student you know. I already figured you would be home working tonight. Saturday seems to be more of your ‘fun’ day” she said generously. It was nice of her to say, even if it wasn’t true. I may have been socially awkward, but it wasn’t because I was a nerd. No, what Wendy didn’t realize was that her college roommate for the past two years (me) had flunked out of school two months ago. My grades had never been good and this year, I lost what little motivation I had. What good what it do to pass? I would just be miserable with a degree.
I just felt like I could never concentrate on anything, a problem I’d always had. My mom said I had my head in the clouds, dreaming about stuff I’d never get when I should be focused on the real goals I could achieve. I guess she was right. For three years of college I had dreamed about being a social darling on campus. Coming up with elaborate fantasies about how it would play out. However, my extreme social anxiety meant that I didn’t even know how to begin to fulfill that dream. I didn’t even really go up to talk to people if I could avoid it. Before I’d flunked out, I don’t think more than a handful of students even knew my name. And so, my silly dream meant I was too distracted to pass my classes, which was something I probably could have done if I’d applied myself.
I hadn’t told anyone that I’d flunked out of school yet (just kept cashing those checks from dad!). I’d just gotten a job at a used video store near campus and hoped that something would come my way to fix the problem before anyone found out. And about that job, I had just been fired earlier in the day for staring into space while teenagers stole DVDs and smashed them against the side of the building.
Oh and before I forget, Wendy wasn’t right about the other thing either: Saturday wasn’t my fun day. Tomorrow’s night’ agenda: the same thing as tonight. So my life was an absolute shit show.
“How do I look Larissa?” Wendy asked. That shook me out of my self-loathing for a moment and I turned and looked in the mirror.
It was already 8 o’clock and she was dressed to the nines for her date. She was wearing a trendy, tight black dress that perfectly slinked over her curvy hips and shapely thighs. She wore high heel shoes that lifted her firm butt and drew out the shape of her calves. Her big green eyes were accentuated perfectly with her careful application of eye shadow and her think pink lips glowed from lip gloss. Her hair was long, honey blonde, and meticulously straightened. All those strong colors popped on her milky white skin. Wendy was one of prettiest girls that I had ever seen. Her body was spectacular and her face was flawless.
“You look perfect,” I said and she beamed.
“You’re sweet,” she said, “But I wouldn’t say perfect, I mean I don’t look like you!” I smiled wanly. Wendy was always very nice like that, even if a little ham-handed. Always complimenting me on my looks because she knew I was sensitive about it. But sometimes it came off patronizing. She was clearly cuter than me. I looked at myself in the mirror now and saw what I always saw. A decent looking girl, nothing more. I had long midnight black hair that fell in loose curls down my back (my best feature) and large blue eyes. My eyelashes were shorter than Wendy’s and my nose was a little smaller (not that hers was big). I was shorter than her (she was a statuesque 5’9 and slim, while I was about 5’3 and skinny to the point of being scrawny). My skin was much darker than hers, like an olive color. I had nice legs I supposed.
Sometimes I would think that I actually looked pretty good, especially right after I got out of the shower feeling fresh like now. Sometimes when that happened, I would wonder why it was that she always had good looking men falling all over themselves to take her out on a date while I sat at home and played with myself. It didn’t make any sense. Why was it that she got to live my fantasies while I sat in my room feeling anxious and ashamed of myself? We weren’t that different.
Just at that moment, Wendy leaned over and to look at her lips and the difference between us pressed up against my left arm. Both of the differences. It would always take a moment and then I would realize: Wendy had perfectly shaped C-cup breasts that poured out of her dress. I looked down at my own chest, barely able to hold up my synched towel. I was 21 years old and I didn’t even have to wear a training bra. I looked like a 12-year old boy. Who wants to date someone like that? I know it sounds crazy, but I was positive that those two little bee stings were the root of all of my problems.
There was a honk of a car horn in the driveway of the house we rented and I knew that her date was here. Wendy appraised herself one last time in the mirror, “I really do appreciate you helping me out,” she said and then kissed my lightly on the cheek and rushed out the door. I could feel her kiss vibrating on my cheek. A kiss off, I guess. And then I was alone again on a Friday night with absolutely no prospects of that scenario ever changing.
I sat in my desk chair looking at myself in the mirror. For a moment the weight of my loneliness and self-criticism landed on my shoulder and I felt familiar tears start to well in the corners of my eye. And then, as usual, I dropped out of my actual life and imagined what it would be like if things were better. If I was more like Wendy and less like me. For a moment I thought about myself on a date, a simple little dream with dinner, a movie, maybe some coy glances and teasing jokes. It was my normal Friday night dream, I had it when the anxiety inevitably hit every Friday after I masturbated. And when I came down from that dream, I felt more miserable and alone than ever. I didn’t even feel like playing with myself anymore, so the night would be a total loss. If I sat here again, I was going to start crying again. I decided to call my best friend and hoped she would cheer me up.
“Come on Trixie,” I called, “Let’s take a walk.” The little fuzzball came bounding into the room. I pulled off my towel and quickly slipped on a pair of gym shorts and a white tank top. I didn’t even bother with a bra. I grabbed the leash and a few minutes later, my first date in 21 years and I were walking. Usually hairy women aren’t my type but you take what you can get.
I thought that maybe a little fresh air might improve my mood, after all I had been moping around the house since I’d been fired at 11 that morning. It was an early fall evening and already dark as Trixie and I made our way out. It was a little bit chilly and I wished that I’d brought something warmer. I resolved to go home as soon Trixie did her business. At least it was a nice place for a walk. I went, or had gone to I guess, a medium-sized public university in the mountains. There were lots of trees and Wendy and I lived on a nice quiet street in a good part of town.
As it was a Friday night there were many college students milling around. Freshmen in big groups moving around together because they hadn’t decided who they hated yet, stoners sitting on the grass and discussing the cosmos, nerds preparing for role-playing games in the student union, and more than everything else there were girls and guys my age heading to parties in ones and twos. Everyone just seemed so calm and happy; I didn’t understand how they lived in the same world as me. Part of me knew that all I had to do was act like them and I would fit in with them, but emotionally I just couldn’t do it. Instead, I made myself as small as humanly possible, kept my eyes on Trixie, and prayed that no one would notice me.
Finally, Trixie walked over to a nice spot next to a mail box and let loose. At least she was reliably quick when it came to this stuff. In a moment, we had turned and were heading back to the house. But we were no sooner headed in the right direction when an earsplitting crash boomed right over my head. My skin felt prickly and I actually hunched over. I had no idea what was going on. And then my questions were answer. In an instant it went from a clear, warm night to a torrential, freezing downpour.
The water fell in absolute sheets. Instantly the corners of the roads filled with water and started to climb up onto the sidewalk. Trixie was going nuts, jumping all over the place and barking her head off. Not knowing what to do, I put my hands over my head, but it was too little, too late. I was absolutely soaked.
After a moment of being completely frozen with surprise, I started to move back towards the house. I considered running, but I figured that I was already as wet as I could possibly be. I just crossed my arms in front of my chest and kept my head down. You know, my sort of normal position. Trixie tried to jump in all of the puddles as we moved, but I kept her on a short leash and we started to make our way home.
About two blocks from my place I saw two guys standing next to a fire hydrant and just acting like they didn’t notice the rain. I could see they were laughing and looking around. I didn’t want them to notice me (because I never wanted anyone to notice me) so I swung wide on the sidewalk to get around them. As I got closer, I could hear them talking.
“Seriously, I couldn’t have planned this any better if I tried!” One guy said and the other one laughed.
“Totally bro. I mean it is one thing to get a free wet t-shirt contest, but what are the odds that we’d be on the same street as the Delta Zeta house when it happened?”
“Especially when they are all wearing white shirts of some reason!” the first guy said. I followed their eyes and saw across the street there was a handful of sorority girls running around and laughing. They were wearing white and as they ran their large breasts bopped up and down on their chests. The dudes seemed to be mesmerized by them. I guess I was as well and despite my efforts to steer around the two dudes, I found myself brushing against one of them.
“Oh sorry,” I muttered.
“No problem buddy,” The guy said and I felt my face turn red. The other guy turned and looked at me.
“It’s a chick man,” the guy said. Then both guys turned and looked at me. They must’ve seen that I was also wearing a white shirt and their eyes instantly gravitated towards my breasts. I saw a familiar look of disappointment in their eyes and they quickly looked away.
“Yeah, no problem miss,” the guy said. ‘Miss’ being the least sexy possible thing for a frat boy type to call you. It was like I was his twelve year old sister’s best friend or something. I looked down at what they had been looking at. I saw my shirt wet and flat against my chest. I saw the small pink bumps of my nipples pushing through. And I saw nothing else. No bumps where my breasts should be. Maybe I could see my ribs along my side. I looked at the dudes and didn’t even blame them for looking at the girls all the way across the street. I pulled on Trixie’s leash and, as the rain started to relent ever so slightly, I walked as fast as I could to the house.
As soon as I was safely inside the door, all of the tension I had been holding in while I was outside burst out of me. The discomfort with being out on the street, the feeling that the eyes of others were on me and that they were laughing, and finally the humiliation of knowing that I was not sexually attractive to even the horniest, stupidest college students I could possibly walk by. I felt a scream building in my throat as I dropped Trixie’s leash and she bounded into the house to shake the water off of her fur in the kitchen.
“Fuck!” I screamed, “I would sell my fucking soul for a nice pair of tits!” I said and then let out something that sounded like a primal scream. And as my voice rang out in the hallway, I felt the tension slowly ebbing from my body. I heard the rain falling on the roof of the house and knew that I was inside for the night. Wendy would be out late and I would be a lone for a while. My face was still red from humiliation and I was hyperventilating a little from anxiety, but I felt a little better.
“Jesus, Larissa,” I said to myself, “Try to get a hold of yourself.” I shook my head and wondered what had come over me. I thought I was used to this stuff, was my anxiety getting worse? I shook off that feeling and moved into the kitchen to clean up after Trixie.
It took a while to clean up all of the water all over the kitchen, but it was nice, it kept my mind off of my troubles. When I was finished I realized that the whole place still smelled like wet dog. I looked up and saw Trixie staring at me intently. I smiled at her and then took her to the bathroom and gave her a bath. After she was cleaned and dried I changed my clothes and dried my hair. By the time all of that was finished, it was already pretty late (I mean like 11:00 or so) and I had successfully avoided feeling bad for myself for several hours. I decided that that was as good a sign as any that I should take the opportunity to go to sleep. I climbed into my bed.
Of course, the instant that I was no longer busy, all of my thoughts and concerns came back to me. I thought about Wendy and what she was doing. I wondered where those frat boys were. And I wondered where those big-titted sorority chicks were at 11 on a weekend night. Unlike earlier, I didn’t feel the intense embarrassment of being a loser as no one was around to see me. I was just sad. Without even realizing it, I slipped into a relatively vivid day dream in which I went to a party and all of those people were there. And they were all trying to talk to me and get my opinion about their looks and their make-up or wanted to ask me out. And I was too busy to talk to any of them, so I just sort of soaked in all of their attention. It was just the sort of day-dream that usually let me into falling asleep. I felt my eyes starting to sting from fatigue and slowly started to drift away…
And suddenly there was a soul-rattling crash, about ten times louder than the crash of thunder that had struck while I was outside. My eyes flew open and I sat up quickly in my bed. My heart was beating like a hummingbird’s wings and I felt adrenaline rushing through my body. For a moment I was disoriented, especially by the fact that I could tell this was not thunder. The noise, despite its almost unfathomable depth, was definitely coming from my room.
I didn’t have much time to figure out where the noise was coming from. Just a few second after I sat up in my bed and I heard a terrible cracking noise and in a moment my room seemed to fill with smoke. But it wasn’t normal smoke, it smelled heavily of sulfur. I was trying to figure out what kind of fire was happening in my house, but even as I was thinking that I felt a glowing heat. I looked over to the right side of my bed where I felt it and I saw something that made my mouth drop open and, without conscious effort, I felt my head shaking left to right.
I could not believe what I was seeing. In the middle of the floor there was suddenly a gaping hole. It was belching that sulfur smoke and glowed orange and red. And the craziest thing was that I could see down into the hole, or at least partially. It seemed to go down forever, far past the point where I could see. And I was on the first floor of the house, there wasn’t even a basement! I couldn’t even string together two thoughts. My mind was just a scrambled mess and I just kept shaking my head. Suddenly the cracking noise stopped and the hole in my floor stopped growing. Now I could hear a different noise. Emanating out of the hole in my floor, along with the smoke and the glow I could suddenly hear terrible wailing, like a thousand people crying in agony all at once. My skin crawled and I wanted more than anything to get out of my bed, but I couldn’t move.
Suddenly, the glow stopped and my room was plunged into absolute darkness. The wails became louder and the smell of sulfur was thicker. Then, in an instant, the wailing stopped, the sulfur dropped out of the air, and the lights in my room burst back on in all their electric comfort. My eyes immediately flew back to the floor and I saw the hole was still there, darker and more ominous than before. I could still not see the bottom, but it no longer glowed. I wasn’t imagining this!
“Ahem!” a voice said and I jumped quickly in my bed. My eyes flew to the foot of the bed where the voice had come from. I’d been so intent on the floor that I hadn’t noticed someone in my room. Or I guess I should say, something.
The figure I saw at the foot of my bed was so strange and unexpected after my uneasy experience that I could barely believe what I was looking at. The voice was a woman’s voice. A very sexy woman’s voice, thick and breathy like an old-time movie star’s. And the creature that gave birth to the voice absolutely fit it. For the most part, the creature looked like a beautiful woman. She (I will refer to it as a she, what else can I do?) had incredibly long, straight black hair and large, ovular black eyes. Her nose was small and her teeth were incredibly white behind very thick black lips that looked like they’d been painted thickly (but attractively) with charcoal. Her face was fiercely lovely with angular features, dark brooding eyes, and sharp looking teeth. Her body was amazing. Her neck was long, elegant, and thin with thin, feminine arms. Her shoulders were slight, but athletic. Her breasts were covered with what looked like a black bikini top, and they sort of poured out the skimpy fabric. Her stomach was flat and her exposed midriff looked like an underwear model. Her hips flared deliciously and I could see the muscles of her hips underneath of a micro skirt. Her thin legs tapered down to small, delicate feet.
I know what you are thinking at this point: you are describing a hot chick, nothing particularly unbelievable about that, there are millions of them. That is true. But I left a couple of things off. First, her skin. It was red. I don’t mean like she was an Irish girl in Miami red, I mean she was RED red. Her skin was an even tone of ruby from head to toe. Except, as I stated, her lips which were black, as were her eyelids. I told you about her long black hair, what I didn’t say was that sticking up through the hair, above her temples, were to three inch horns, one on either side pointing slightly towards one another. And most disturbing of all was behind her. Swishing around behind her was a long, red tail that ended in a pointed arrowhead shape. In short, she was beautiful, but terrifying.