by: Roy Del Frink and Jacquie Windsor
This story is a different kind of collaboration. We decided on a loose set of rules, including the opening line, and a line that had to be included somewhere in the story. Each contribution had to be roughly 1000 words. The title was also jointly agreed upon. After that, it was just "go for it".
The text of one of our decisive e-mails:
Alright, how about calling the story "The Incu-Succubus"? The first line of our story will be, "'Balthazar, Prusidia, you idiots!' the devil yelled." The middle of the story must include the line, "And that's what really happened, boss." Categories will be totally up to you and I!
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The First Truth. By Roy Del Frink.
"Balthazar, Prusidia, you idiots!" the devil yelled. "How could you let this happen?"
"Let me explain," Balthazar explained. "You see, ..."
"... we didn't know what was happening, and - " Prusidia added.
"An explanation. Great. And I'm usually the one that CAUSES torment. Oh, well, at least I have a couple free centuries or so to hear this. Go on," Satan told his underlings. And so Balthazar and Prusidia told their Supreme Leader exactly what went on.
It all began a sunny spring afternoon. Balthazar was laying back and resting. Days like this always brought out the most in him. Love was in the air, and the singles scene was thus ripe for conquest. After dinner and a date, Balthazar always enjoyed taking his latest fling over to his place for a little playful romp, followed by dinner. His favorite kind of dinner. Female human souls. You see, Balthazar was an incubus, a male demon who feeds off the sexual energy of females. He needed to have sex with at least eight women a day. Visiting prostitutes would usually take care of that, but Balthazar's greatest need was for souls. At least one every week was needed to satisfy his voracious appetite. That's where the dates came in. He always did the deed on a Friday night, screwing his victim, then squeezing her very being out of her body as she climaxed. It was time for Balthazar to hit the rounds for his weekly "date," so he disguised himself as an ordinary human and left for his favorite bar.
He assumed the guise of "Barry," a well-built, well-hung body builder. As he scanned the Cat's Meow, he found an erotic, exotic woman. She had blonde hair down to her buns. Her unusually exaggerated hourglass form was marked by huge fake breasts, a lithe waist, and firm, enticing hips. Her face was coated in makeup, and the mole on her cheek made him drool. She almost oozed "sexy slut". Perfect for the incubus. He walked up to her, and asked her name. She told him, "My friends call me Priscilla, but you can call me anything you want. What's your name, you big, gaping, hunk of a man?"
"I'm Barry. Wanna go out with me?"
"It's a deal!" The lady gave Balthazar the name and time of a good restaurant to meet him at that night, and she walked off in an oh-so-sultry manner. The mere thought of her made Balthazar's lips drool. "Balthazar, my boy, you are going to have one kick-ass dinner tonight!" he thought as he left the bar.
Back at his apartment, Balthazar prepared for his date, thinking with lustful pride at how much he'd enjoy his Priscilla Cutlets. "Wow, two deadly sins at once," Balthazar thought to himself, "The boss should promote me for that!" When the hour came, he went to the restaurant and met Priscilla.
"Hiyah, cutey," she told him. "You look like a sight for sore eyes."
"So do you," Balthazar replied. As they sat down to dinner, the incubus couldn't keep her off of his mind. When the meal was over, he escorted her over to "Barry"'s place for some good lovin', and eatin'.
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In another part of town, Prusidia was laying back and resting. Days like this always brought out the most in her. Love was in the air, and the singles scene was thus ripe for conquest. After dinner and a date, Prusidia always enjoyed taking her latest fling over to her place for a little playful romp, followed by dinner. Her favorite kind of dinner. Male human souls. You see, Prusidia was a succubus, a female demon who feeds off the sexual energy of males. She needed to have sex with at least eight men a day. Working as a prostitute would usually take care of that, but Prusidia's greatest need was for souls. At least one every week was needed to satisfy her voracious appetite. That's where the dates came in. She always did the deed on a Friday night, screwing her victim, then squeezing his very being out of his body as he climaxed. It was time for Prusidia to hit the rounds for her weekly "date," so she disguised herself as an ordinary human and left for her favorite bar.
She assumed the guise of "Priscilla," a voluptuous, slutty woman. As she scanned the Cat's Meow, she found a big, bulky man. He had muscles all over his torso. His tall, well-chiseled features were marked by thick biceps, a washboard stomach, and short, manly brown hair. His face was unusually handsome, and the bulge in his pants made her drool. He almost oozed "manly stud". Perfect for the succubus. He walked up to her, and asked her name. She told him, "My friends call me Priscilla, but you can call me anything you want. What's your name, you big, gaping, hunk of a man?"
"I'm Barry. Wanna go out with me?"
"It's a deal!" The lady gave him the name and time of a good restaurant to meet him at that night, and she walked off in an oh-so-sultry manner. The mere thought of him made Prusidia's lips drool. "Prusidia, my girl, you are going to have one kick-ass dinner tonight!" she thought as she left the bar.
Back at her apartment, Prusidia prepared for her date, thinking with lustful pride at how much she'd enjoy her Barry Cutlets. "Wow, two deadly sins at once," Prusidia thought to herself, "The boss should promote me for that!" When the hour came, she went to the restaurant and met Barry.
"Hiyah, cutey," she told him. "You look like a sight for sore eyes."
"So do you," "Barry replied. As they sat down to dinner, the succubus couldn't keep him off of her mind. When the meal was over, "Priscilla" followed him over to his place for some good lovin', and eatin'.
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At the apartment, things started off well enough. Since both sex demons were hot for each other, they skipped the chatter and went straight for the foreplay. After centuries of practice, they were experts at getting others off, and both had better sex than they'd enjoyed in years. Still, Balthazar and Prusidia couldn't help but think about the main course, and how delicious it would be.
"So, Barry, how's you wanna do me?"
"How about doggy-style, Priscilla? Then I can grab those luscious bags of meat on your chest as I penetrate you, and we'll both have more fun."
"I've done it every way you could possibly imagine with a man. Hope you'll like it."
"Believe me, I've done it every way you could possibly imagine with a woman, and I can't think of any other way I'd enjoy it more!"
Pleasantries out of the way, they headed straight for the intercourse. Though so enjoyable both thought it had to be a sin, Balthazar and Prusidia had other things on their mind.
"This is better sex than I've had in decades!" Balthazar thought to himself. "And to top it off, I've got the perfect soul to suck for dessert!" Similar thoughts went through Prusidia's head.
Instinctively, both Balthazar and Prusidia knew when the other was about to cum. (It's amazing what kind of instincts being a sex demon will give you!) So they both held off until they were ready, after nearly six hours of fucking. (It's also amazing what kind of sexual abilities being a sex demon will give you.)
Finally, both lost their patience. Balthazar and Prusidia would come simultaneously in seconds. Balthazar thought, "Here it comes, the greatest feast of my infernal life!" Prusidia thought the same thing.
Balthazar said, "Priscilla, I've got a little secret to confess. This is about to get better."
Prusidia replied, "I was about to tell you the same thing, Barry!"
Balthazar quickly changed into his true demonic form as Prusidia closed her eyes just before coming. Prusidia quickly changed into her true demonic form as Balthazar closed his eyes just before coming. And then, just as they both erupted, they started to suck on an enormous soul feast. Both incubus and succubus experienced an incomparable thrill as they felt the energy swell into their bodies, screaming in ecstacy the whole time. And then...
Nothing.
Balthazar was worried. "Shouldn't there have been a loud scream, like a person losing their eternal soul to damnation for all time?" he thought to himself.
He heard a feminine voice reply, "I know. Something is amiss here."
"Wait a minute. How can you possibly hear my thoughts?"
"And you mine? What's going on here?"
Both Balthazar and Prusidia opened their eyes, and were shocked at what they saw. Somehow, they'd sucked each other's souls into a single body, with no trace of their old ones! Both had separate heads, with two arms at each side. Despite that, "they" had just two legs between them. There was a magnificent pair of breasts atop a muscular, otherwise male chest. But the biggest surprise was in the groin. They had a male organ and a female organ, side by side.
"What the hell?" Balthazar thought to himself.
"I don't understand either," Prusidia replied. "This isn't supposed to happen to a succubus."
"Uh oh. So you're a succubus, right?"
"Of course. The Succubus Prusidia."
"Damn! I should have known something was wrong. No mere mortal could possibly have sex like that. I'm the Incubus Balthazar."
"Shit! You know what that means, don't you?"
"Or course. Chapter 7 of the Sex Demon's Guidebook, Page 666, on devouring souls: ‘No incubus shall ever be able to devour a succubus's soul, since they are immortal. Similarly, no succubus shall ever be able to devour an incubus's soul. Should this law ever be disobeyed, Satan himself shall set the punishment'."
Prusidia recalled. "I'm surprised. I've been around the block many times, and I don't recognize you."
"Nor you I," Balthazar replied. "I wonder why"
"Because you're the stupidest sex demons in all of Hell!" a thunderously ominous voice yelled. Both Balthazar and Prusidia turned their heads towards the Big Man Downstairs. "Now you've got some explaining to do!"
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"And that's what really happened, boss," Balthazar concluded.
"Fine. I'm willing to let you off this time since it was an accident, but don't EVER do it again. If you do, you'll be assigned to the lowest, most degrading form of punishment in all of Hell."
"Oh no! Not writing speeches for politicians!" Prusidia yelled.
"Of course that's what it means. So un-straighten up and crash right! You two will remain conjoined until the end of this century. In the meantime, you will be confined to Hell. Fortunately, I've altered your body chemistry so you'll no longer need to suck on human souls to survive. Be lucky your uncles are both powerful arch-demons!" With that, Satan walked off, leaving the incu-succubus to contemplate their fate. They walked together into Balthazar's quarters, then lay there bored.
"Well, this bites," Balthazar complained. "What do you wanna do?"
"Why don't we watch TV?" Prusidia replied.
"Okay." Balthazar picked up the remote, and the two watched "Djinn Drek," one of many really dumb sitcoms created by Hell's advertising executives. It was a dull episode, even by Hell's standards. Djinn ordered his crew to search for lithium crystals to get the ship going.
"Dammit, I'm a doctor, Djinn, not a miner!" Dr. Skin N. "Bones" McKay replied. "Why don't you just generate the crystals yourself?"
"Because of the laws of conservation of energy, which I am bound to uphold despite my magical powers."
The engineer, Scotchy, put down his glass of whiskey and complained, "Are you saying you canna' break the laws of physics, Djinn?"
"Boooring," Balthazar complained. "Honestly, I don't understand why I even keep this thing." With that, he turned the TV off.
"So, I guess there's only one thing left to do," Prusidia replied. She picked up Balthazar's penis, and inserted it into her own vagina. As they started up the sexual activity they knew so well, both Balthazar and Prusidia felt the thrill of penetrating themselves, a joy neither had known before. As the creature came twice simultaneously, Balthazar couldn't help telling Prusidia something.
"You know what?"
"What, Balthazar?"
"I think I could get to enjoy this!"
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darreljones@juno.com
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The Second Truth. By Jacquie Windsor.
"Balthazar, Prusidia, you idiots!" the devil yelled.
Patrons at 'Le Jaune Bec du Canard' were beginning to complain to the nonchalant serving staff. The presence of an indescribably hideous vermilion-tinged daemon and the two grey-skinned hellspawn was increasingly more disturbing than whatever floated half-submerged in their soup bowls. The cream of Marseilles' society rued the day they collectively chose the Lord Of Darkness, who used the surreptitious moniker Mortimer Satan (the last name pronounced 'shay-tan' in the Czech style), to be the Mayor of their beachside city.
"Balthazar! You explain this first," demanded the King Of The Underworld. "How could you allow Jesus Christ to return to earth, as the new lifeguard on 'Baywatch Venezuela', no less."
Balthazar scratched at his long grey hair with his yellowy talons.
"Urgh, the spell musta kinda fucked up. It's Prusidia's fault, ya know."
The Emperor Of The Undead turned to his other henchman. "You got an answer? Maybe at the same time figure out for me how Lao-Tzu got back. And that shit is the high-yield bond king out on Wall Street. He killed the Cameroun government with a simple signature. You know how much work it took for me just to subvert those motherfuckers in the Camerouns?"
"We didn't mean to, Your Filthiness. We can fix it. Balthazar forgot that we daemons read from right to left, so he got all the spells the wrong way. Instead of banishing the unholy and powerless to the ether, he accidentally returned the sage and the true from the ether to our, uh, Your domain here on earth. They're more powerful and irresistible than ever, Your Crappyship. It was nothing but a slip of the forked tongue. And that's the way it really happened."
"Undo what you did, eh?" squinted the Captain Of The Stygian Mists. "Might be worth a whirl."
"My soup's got no hair in it," added Balthazar. "Can I order one with at least a strand?"
"Arrrrrr-rrrrr-ghghghgh," cried Monsieur Satan. "No time to waste, you stupid, anti-smart, witless piece of devolution. We have to get to Orly in an instant. We have work to perform. Deeds to do. Muck to rake. Doings to undo. If I see the face of that fat-ass Buddha once more on my television, exhorting me to rinse with Listermint, I'll just puke!"
In an unearthly flash of inspiration, the trio was at once aboard a healthy Concorde, winging stealthily across the Atlantic Ocean to fix the errors caused by the two ridiculous minor shades that worked, loosely defined, for the Grandee Of The Doomed. So quickly that even a death mask's grin would curl, the supersonic jet deposited its occupants at the Miami International Airport, with a suitably black limousine whisking them across the peninsula to the resort town of St. Petersburg.
Settling into a fine hotel room, and bribing the staff with exorbitant sums of ill-gotten cash, the daemons prepared to enact the plan that Monsieur Satan had contrived on the flight over to the United States.
"I still don't get it," sighed Balthazar. "How is opening a new strip joint in Florida gonna undo our stupidity?"
"Oh me, you are retarded," smirked the Overseer Of Mangled Spirituality. "Regard with a pensiveness that no doubt exists beyond your capacity. See these fine young men and women co-mingling in this fiery atmosphere of sex and abandon?"
Prusidia and Balthazar watched silently as the willing patrons, young male college students on leave from their colleges for a single week in spring, lined up and paid borrowed cash to the hellish bouncers in order to gawk at dozens of lithe female dancers.
"The girls are all my shades, in sooth," smiled the Anti-God. "One kiss from their lips shall force such transformation upon those imbeciles that they shall never recover."
The two henchmen followed the wide gesture made by their hell-born boss. In one corner of the flashy new club, a gorgeous, tanned, silicone-enhanced girl writhed in the lap of a drooling young fan. She leaned forward to kiss his neck, rubbing her ample breasts into his chest as she did so. The college boy sat in quiet shock after she pushed away from him, tasting the air for a fresh victim.
Before their eyes, the two error-prone subjects of the Un-Diety saw a remarkable transformation unfold. The fraternity brother shrank into his seat, softening, ageing rapidly, and turning into a very old woman.
This scene repeated itself in rapid succession throughout the night-club. The rear exit opened and allowed a procession of cane-wielding, stooped, transformed retirees to escape the smoky interior of the building and into a line of waiting buses.
"Old women in buses?" asked Balthazar. "What's the big deal?"
"The deal, as you put it," snorted the devil, "is that those buses are all headed for Palm Beach."
Prusidia frowned in complete ignorance.
"Prusidia, you ought to be more clever than a mound of sawdust. Remember when we recruited Carmen Electra during her last TV season? I managed to deflate her into a bodysuit, just waiting for the right candidate to use it on, if you'll excuse the expression."
"Pretty much, I always pack her in your suitcase, too," Prusidia answered to the Greater Daemon From Hell. "But, the transformed frat boys? I dunno."
"Those old ladies are being transported to Palm Beach right now. To do a little voting."
Balthazar noticed a television screen in the corner of the club. A grave-looking newscaster indicated a row of grey-haired old women heading towards a polling station. He recognised that some of them had just been at the new club they'd started on the western coast of Florida.
"Old women voting?" asked Balthazar. "How's that gonna fix anything?"
"Simple as one, two, three," beamed the Supreme Condemnificationist. "You two screwed up royally, but I'll more than make up for it once Dubya succeeds. Those old women are just the tip of the Satanic iceberg. Once he wriggles into the Carmen Electra bodysuit, we'll really see the fur fly!"
"How are you so sure that Dubya will win?" asked Prusidia.
"Because," grinned the Ultimate Evildoer, toying with a half-punched
electoral ballot. "I had these designed specifically for this moment."
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jacquie@sissy.net
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© 2001
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this
story must contact the author for permission.