DEMON TOWN 1

At the foot of the mountains in a colonized land where the people now chose to live their lives in boxes and only holidayed where the colonized people roamed was the capital of a small state. The state struggled with a lack of the mineral resources that made other out of the way places rich. The state was also too far away from significant crossroads or waterways and so had not mastered the art of international commerce. Regrettably, centuries after the colonization, the state had not branched out into invading neighboring states and gaining riches that way. That’s not to say it has nothing going for it. The mountains provided plenty of flowing water which efficiently became electricity. The same water, frozen in the winter, brought tourists to slide along the slippery slopes. The plentiful electricity allowed the development of an industry based on electronics.

Still, more affluent neighbors and tourists resulted in a situation where the people were always looking for a financially richer future. The source was unexpected and undreamt of. As with any benefit, there was a catch. The opportunity required the state to accept refugees. Eventually, the refugees would number in the millions and match the state’s current population. The influx of strangers would be regulated over many years, but it had to start somewhere. Like our story, it begins on a pleasant September day when the morning traffic had dissipated, and those with no reason to rise were only just starting to clamber out of bed.

The doorbell to number thirty-six Court de Real rang to the theme of a contemporary science fiction film where the heroes were brave and the villains dark, and on the whole, the place was much more straightforward than the world in which the doorbell rang. As she rushed to the door, Marie straightened her hair. Marie was somewhat of a rarity in this country. She was a hausfrau or housewife. Marie had helped people with disabilities in the past, but since her husband’s meteoric rise thanks in part to the brand new opportunity, she had embraced the life of a stay-at-home wife. She adjusted her tie in the mirror by the front door and brushed the front of her waistcoat. Her suit skirt fell beneath her knees, and her whole outfit was traditional and typical of the region. She was very proud of her choice of tie. The yellow ducks popped from the deep blue background and were guaranteed to catch the attention of anyone. The look was precisely the effect she was going for.

Marie opened the door and looked out. At first, there was nothing to see, and then a tiny five-fingered hand rode up into her view. Marie was close to one meter seventy in height, and while tall for a woman on the world stage, she was about average for the women of her home country. She looked down to find the person who would be part of the life of the house for at least the following year, one of the first of the refugees and her heart did a little skip.

“Well, hello,” Marie said as she gazed down at her new house guest. She had known what to expect and had gone through extensive cultural training for this moment. The glossy red skin and black eyes were as Marie had expected. The long black hair and the long polished nails, too, were something she had become very used to during those training sessions. What she hadn’t expected was to find such a petite version on her doorstep. The nose that tilted up a little at the end would fit neatly between Marie’s breasts. As expected, the visitor wore a white strip of cloth across the chest and a similar band across the hips. The city would be cooler than their homeland. One of the duties of Marie and those like her was to provide appropriate clothing. A shopping trip was going to be in order very soon.

Marie’s thoughts lasted a few milliseconds before she began the ritual greeting of her guest’s people. She threw her arms wide and braced herself. Her new charge leapt forward with a sob and wrapped arms as far as they would go around Marie’s torso. Marie hugged back. Marie smelled the spicy smell of the dark hair and felt the heat radiate off the small body. The skin was smooth and soft, something Marie had not been prepared for. Somehow the photographs made it look hard. This was a pleasant new piece of information.

After the traditional greeting, Marie used hand gestures to invite her guest into her neat home. After a moment of nervous hesitation, the visitor smiled to show a row of neat, white, sharp teeth, bowed in thanks and entered a human dwelling for the first time. Across the city, this same performance played out with equal or lesser success than at Marie’s house, but everywhere the welcome was as genuine as the relief on the part of the visitor. All parties had undergone extensive preparation. It was vitally important that the first of these transitions take place successfully. For the time being, we will focus on Maire’s house as the exemplar for the city as a whole.

Once inside the house, the visitor pulled a folded sheet from the abbreviated clothing and handed it to Marie with a nervous smile. It had been decided that the language of the state, which was handily a lingua franca around the world, should be the one spoken, and the visitors learn this language rather than teach their own to their hosts. Language learning is an involved process for the learner and is best achieved in situ. The visitor had little of the new homeland’s language, and the sheet’s contents bridged that gap.

Marie took the sheet and learned that her guest would like to be referred to with the feminine pronouns and by the name Zeefa. The guest wanted to try as much human culture, food and life as possible.

Marie introduced herself and decided the first thing for Zeefa to try would be a cup of chocolate. To this end, she ushered the new member of her household to the sitting room and bade her sit upon the sofa. Zeefa enjoyed the bounciness of the cushions and grinned broadly at the feeling. When Marie returned with the cup of chocolate, Zeefa was still sitting on the sofa, her dark eyes wide as she looked around the comfortable room. Where she came from, life was not this good. She almost fell off the sofa when she sipped the chocolate. The delight on her face made Marie’s heart race with her pleasure at bringing such happiness. With half the cup drunk, Zeefa knelt in front of Marie and pushed Marie’s skirt up. Marie had been meticulously trained and was fully aware that something like this was expected and had deliberately not worn underwear.

Zeefa’s dark fingernails left red marks along Marie’s inner thighs. Marie gasped at the contact and tried to close her legs. Despite her small stature, Zeefa easily found the strength to keep the woman’s legs parted. Zeefa’s tiny sharp teeth found purpose as they joined her long nails to create more light marks along the inside of Marie’s legs up to her sex.

Zeefa tensed her arms and pushed the woman’s legs further apart. “Pussy.” The word sounded strange as it came from her mouth. It buzzed in a way that caused said pussy to tingle.

“Yes,” Marie gasped. “Very good. That’s my pussy. Eeek!” The little shriek Marie gave was in response to long fingers and sharp teeth connecting with the delicate parts of her body. In shock more than pain, Marie grasped the arms of the chair and squeezed as Zeefa experimentally chewed on one outer labia and then the other.

Zeefa, for her part, was wrapped up in her first contact with a human vagina. There had been talks given and bad sketches passed around, but a human had not entered their world for so long that there were no accurate memories available, and everything had been a bit of guesswork. A model of sorts had made it through, but it was a poor substitute for the real thing and had burst long before Zeefa got to bring her sharp teeth to bear. The refugee from a dying reality was delighted to find that Marie’s body did not begin to deflate when she pressed her jaws closed around parts of the woman’s body.

Zeefa used her fingers to pull open Marie’s sex while the woman gasped and writhed but made no attempt to put a stop to the attention she was receiving. Zeefa uncurled her tongue. The muscular organ caused problems when speaking the local language, especially with her petite mouth. It was, however, very well designed for exploring deep nooks and crannies. She put it to good use inside Marie’s sex. It slid inside in a familiar way and then continued to slide deeper and deeper, much further inside Marie’s hot tunnel than her husband, Andres, tongue ever penetrated. Long, thick and wriggling inside her, Zeefa’s tongue drew short sharp pants and loud moans and groans from Marie. She had little control over her body and found that her hips pressed forward to the point where Zeefa’s sharp teeth scraped against Marie’s erect clitoris.

That last contact elicited the scream from Marie that sent Zeefa scooting backwards across the floor, her tongue curling back into her mouth. “Sorry! Sorry!” she exclaimed when her mouth wasn’t entirely as blocked.

Marie lifted a single hand, and that took all the strength she had remaining after the supercharged orgasm. She waved the hand and then formed the universal signal that everything was okay. It took a moment for Zeefa to recognize that the thumbs-up signal was one of those she had been taught to look for as an indicator of a job well done.

The red-skinned, dark-haired foreigner relaxed her petite body and breathed out a long breath in what a human would have interpreted as a sigh of relief. She got back on to all fours and began to crawl back towards the space between Marie’s spread legs. The woman obtained the energy and perhaps the willpower from somewhere to bring her knees together to block further entry to her pussy. “Sorry, Zeefa,” she sighed. “Another touch would be one far too many. I’m going to need a little recovery down there.”

Zeefa nodded and tried a tentative smile.

“Everything was wonderful,” Marie assured her guest. She sighed again. “The book we were given said that you would need to be involved in sex in some way regularly.”

Zeefa nodded and managed to form the word ‘yes’ around her tongue.

“So, once a day?” Marie asked.

Zeefa raised her hand.

“Twice…?”

It took a little effort, but the general answer that came across to Marie was as often as possible. Sex for Zeefa’s people was an activity that conveyed social connections and social comfort. Any time was a good time for it. Marie swallowed hard. And then said words she had never spoken before. “How about I… go down on you too?”

Zeefa gathered the meaning and nodded enthusiastically.

“I’ve never done it with another woman before,” Marie confided. “You’re going to have to guide me around.”

“Not a woman.” Zeefa nodded after she had spoken, the words had sounded good, just like she had practised. “A demon.”

Marie frowned a little as she watched Zeefa unwind the white linen around her hips. “Yes, but a girl demon, right?”

Zeefa shook her head. “We all made up differently,” she said and beamed with pride. This language wasn’t going to be as hard as she first thought. She unfinished the wrapping and neatly placed her clothing to one side.

Marie’s eyes fixed between the demon’s slim legs. “Oh dear,” she said. “Andre’s going to be a little jealous.” She thought some more. “And maybe a little more flexible than he thought he might have to be.”

The cock between Zeefa’s legs throbbed so that it bobbed in place. “You have a very pretty cock,” Marie said.

Zeefa’s grin could not possibly get any broader. “Zeefa like pretty,” she said.

Marie nodded. “We’ll see about getting you some pretty things that aren’t,” Marie reached out and ran her finger along the length from head to the root of the very human-looking penis. “Attached. But right now, I had better live up to my end of the bargain.” Marie’s hand slowly moved up and down the pretty red shaft as she spoke. Without hesitation, the woman crawled a little further between the demon’s legs and kissed the tip of Zeefa’s cock.

“Lovely,” Zeefa sighed.

A few kisses later, Marie surrounded the head of the demon’s shaft with her lips and applied a slight suction. It was now Zeefa’s turn to squeal. In long discussions afterwards, it was discovered that demons were not so good at giving head, something to do with the sharp teeth or lips that didn’t entirely seal. Either way, the long blow job Marie gave to her demon house guest was something Zeefa raved about for quite some time. Marie found the taste of the demon’s spunk more to her liking than the human cum she’d previously had in her mouth. That and the fact that once she had filled Marie’s mouth with her seed, Zeefa decided her host was recovered enough and, after a certain amount of skirt and other clothes removal, went down on her once more. In the warm afterglow, Marie decided that this was something to which she wanted to grow accustomed.

THE END OF CHAPTER ONE